Thanks for the reviews! You guys reminded me that I needed to update this thing. Sorry for the wait. College is demanding.

I just wanted to say thanks again for the reviews. Half of this chapter is written in the 'old' writing, and some of it is written in my 'new' writing. Hope it's not too annoying. Next chapter will be consistent, I swear.

Once again, I own none of these characters. The very lucky Valve does.

"Doktor is sick? Is not possible!"

Heavy stood outside the closed infirmary door alongside Engineer, Pyro, and an ever-so-slightly peeved Soldier.

"'Fraid so, big feller. Maybe 'e just needs his rest." the Texan took his hat off, studying it intensely. The firebug patted Heavy on the back reassuringly.

"Hh wll plhh chss wff yhu, Hffhh."

"You will?" the Russian looked into the reflective eyes of Pyro's mask, receiving a thumbs up in return. Engineer fiddled with his hat, testing the cup of it as if to see if it still worked before sticking it back on his head.

"Doktor is still sick, though… "

The group was silent.

"So the nurse has the sniffles!" Soldier spoke up, "I still expect him to be at the gates by 9:00 in the AM!" Walking stiffly over to the glass of the infirmary door, he rapped on the window.

"Y'HEAR THAT, SICK SISTER?"

A muffled groan answered him.

"He'll be fine. He's just being lazy," grumbling, the American stalked off to find a new victim to scold.

After what seemed like hours, the group dispersed, leaving Heavy standing alone in front of the infirmary door. Shuffling his feet, he turned around and headed for the kitchen, returning to the infirmary door about a half an hour later, Sandvich in hand.

As quietly as possible, he gripped the handle and let himself into the once-cold-now-stuffily-warm room. Medic was on a gurney, his back facing Heavy. The larger man placed the food on a table in front of Medic's line-of-sight, looking over at the German. Medic's glasses were askew as he slept dressed fully in uniform. With a sigh, he removed the man's glasses and left as quickly as his large stature would allow.

With pale skin and dark circles under his eyes, Medic showed up slightly late to his team's gathering at the gates. Once again, the BLU team was defending their last point, and they rushed out early to set up.

The battle did not go well. Medic was the first to die, courtesy of a single bullet along the side of his abdomen; something he would've easily been able to survive, had he his medication in possession. He didn't realize how painful a bullet really was until now. After respawning, the German kept up his streak of death all throughout the battle, even passing out in the middle of fights. The BLU team, without their strong medical support, relied heavily on Engineer's dispenser. With a little help from the RED team's Spy and his sapper, the entire BLU team crumbled, the REDs capturing the point in minutes.

After the little game of cat-and-mouse called the Humiliation Round, the BLUs sullenly returned back to their base. Heavy carried Medic in his arms back to the infirmary, the older man out cold.

"I find it interestin' how people act differently when they think nobody's watchin'." Sniper leaned back in his chair, his boots on the tabletop. The entire team had gathered for dinner, minus their Medic. Pyro was tonight's cook, and a fire extinguisher was at the ready just in case.

Engineer looked up from the book he was reading, "Y'don't say. What brings this on, pardner?"

"Well, I saw that wanker Sniper of theirs readin' through my scope today!"

"So?" Scout leaned forward in his chair to look at the Australian with a 'so what?' expression.

"It was one o' them girlie mags, mate!"

"Lucky faggot. Wish I could have some magazines like 'dat…" Scout got an angry look from Engineer for using poor language at the table.

"Nono, not those kinda mags. I'm talkin' like, the magazines that sheilas read! With 'gossip' and stuff about blokes!"

"Aye, tha's doonright embarrassin'." Demoman chipped in from across the table.

"Naw man. Not even close. Y'know what's a real freakin' embarrassment? The doc's sleepin'!" Scout sat up straight, a fork in his wrapped hand. He continued, "He whimpers like a freakin' wuss in his sleep!"

"Leetle Scout will be quiet about Doktor. Is not feeling well."

"Yeh, mate. Don't be pickin' a biffo with th' doc." The Aussie shook a finger at Scout, "Need I remind everyone about how you sleep at noight?" Scout immediately shrunk in his seat, red in the face.

Pyro arrived moments later with their dinner, cooked perfectly to a burned pile of who-knows-what.

There were three kurt knocks on the infirmary door.

Medic stirred slightly before becoming unmoving once again.

The knocking continued. The German groaned and sat up slightly, his sleep ruined.

"Urrggh… vas…" he squinted at the clock on the table next to his glasses, "…Wieviel Uhr ist es…?" the clock read to be 6:00AM exactly.

There was one more sharp knock on the glass of the door. Frowning, Medic shuffled over to the door and opened it, revealing no one. He stuck his head out the door and into the hallway, looking both ways to see if anyone was there.

Nothing.

Then his blurry eyes rested on an object on the ground. A small wrapped box with a note attached stood awkwardly in the doorway. Medic gingerly picked it up, eying the purple wrapping. He closed the door and set the box on his desk and read the note.

-Dear [insert class name here],

We here at Builders League United have realized how detrimental our actions against you and your team have been. In compensation, we give you this, a perfectly-suitable solution for your predicament. You are required to use it if you wish to stay employed at BLU.

Have fun-

Frowning more, he opened up the box, unveiling a weapon. His eyes widened as he realized what is was and with a gasp, he shoved the package away, the box toppling over the table's edge, and its contents spilling out, clattering across the white floor. Medic shook his head, muttering under his breath in German.

"Vhy vould zhey… z-zhis means zhey know about…" he rested his head in his hands and sighed. Medic stood up abruptly, coughing lightly as he made his way back to bed. He didn't manage to get back to sleep, but rather rested on his back, looking up at the dull ceiling.

"Vhat an insult. Do zhey not realize vhat zhat weapon is?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Nein, of course zhey do." answering himself, he turned his head to glance at the weapon that lay on the floor.

"Der Blutsauger ist not für Healing Medics…Er ist für Combat Medics."

The German shivered, pulling up the blankets more.

"I vill not…I vill nicht ever resort to zhat level of…utter brutality."

"Never…"

"Heavy? Haff you seen mein Syringe gun?" Medic's voice echoed through the hallways from the Resupply Room.

"Da." the Russian's voice answered, "Cleaned it for you. Maybe help you fight better to heal team and kill RED babies!"

The BLU team was getting ready. They were defending their last control point today. If they lost, they would have to be relocated. Rumors said that Coldfront was in store for them if they lost today. Nobody wanted to go to Coldfront.

Heavy made his way to the doctor, holding out the gun to Medic, who backed away from him and made a sound akin to hissing, followed by a sneeze.

"Zhat is NOT mein gun. Zhat is EVIL in zhe SHAPE of a gun." he crossed his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Is gun. Is all that matters. Looks new." the Russian shoved the weapon into Medic's crossed arms, wedging it in against his chest. "Take it, otherwise will not be credit to team." he gave the doctor a stink-eye expression before he turned to go get ready, leaving Medic alone.

Fussing a bit, he examined the weapon. It didn't look as friendly as his old syringe gun, and that said something about its nature, for sure. What did it even do? The Blutsauger, according to myth, was similar to the American Dracula, but how did that pertain to weaponry? He frowned and met up with his teammates, still feeling ill.

He swore that the gun made him feel worse, now that he thought about it. How was this compensation for his condition?

An alarm interrupted his thoughts and he whipped out his Medigun, giving his teammates an overheal as they marched out to set up. Medic lagged behind as he did during the last match, but still kept his healing beam trained.

With a countdown followed by another alarm, both RED and BLU greeted eachother with nothing less than hatred and the desire to kill. Both teams' heavies were going at it, miniguns whirring and bullets littering the ground. Both medics were healing their Russian partners, determined to have theirs be the victor of this battle.

A stray grenade lobbed over the fight, rolling and finally finding its way to Medic's feet. The BLU barely had time to open his mouth to warn his partner before it detonated, sending him flying backward, breaking the Medigun's beam. Medic landed and came to a stop with a quiet thud, barely audible over the war's noise. He stirred, breathing shallowly as he got to his knees and called out for his heavy.

Medic looked up in time to see his partner get mowed down, the RED doppelgängers laughing heartedly at Heavy's demise. He felt sick, and not just because of his condition, but because he'd let down his team. His Heavy, especially. He should've been paying attention to the demoman off to the side. Nausea welled up in his stomach, and he gagged along with a cough.

The German focused in on his opposite, narrowing his eyes.

That RED bastard. So smug. Always laughing at the most horrid of things. Always getting improved weapons. Anger replaced nausea in his stomach as he willed himself to stand up, the new feeling of determination and utter hatred for the RED medic fueling his actions.

He had a new weapon, though. Something that wretched RED didn't have. Medic glanced down at the gun in its holster, glinting devilishly in the sun's rays, just waiting to be used to shut up his opposite that dared call himself a medic. The doctor briefly regarded these unfamiliar feelings, perhaps spurring from the Blutsauger itself. Begging for its use. Pleading to put an end to the RED medic's domination over him and his Heavy.

Ignoring the damage he took from the grenade, he ran at his clone, deftly dodging stray bullets and shrapnel. He whipped out the Blutsauger and fired without taking aim.

It seemed to aim by itself, the syringes arching just over the enemy heavy's head and making contact with the RED doctor's flesh. An anguished cry escaped from the medic, and a smile tugged at the BLU's lips.

A rush, a sensation of pure energy and health flooded into Medic. The air seemed cleaner, and it felt like he could breathe normally, as if he weren't ill. Realization sank in just before the enemy Sniper's bullet found itself through his prefrontal lobe once again.

He was the Blutsauger.

.

.

.

Reality and the senses flooded back to him as Respawn restored his body.

He'd found his way out. If he managed to do enough damage during the battle, he could enjoy the rest of his day, maybe even his night, without worrying about sickness.

It was a miracle.

His mind raced. If he were to get the most health out of his enemies, he'd have to be light and quick. Unseen until it was too late, and when he would make himself visible, he would be the last thing his enemies saw. The white-coated figure covered in their blood.

He would get back at that damned RED medic for all the pain he'd caused him and his team.

Medic undid the straps that bound his Medi-pack to him and carefully set the backpack and the Medigun aside. He stocked up on ammo and drew out the Blutsauger, his Bonesaw nestled at his hip.

An explosion rocked the base and an alert was issued. The Announcer's voice echoed throughout the building.

"Alert! Our last point is being captured!"

He ran outside just as Engineer's sentry exploded and crumpled, giving whatever RED who was on the control point little resistance. Medic whipped out his saw and launched himself at the Scout that was capping the point, tackling the boy to the ground. The two rolled off to the side and into the dust, and a death cry rang out from the unfortunate Scout's body a few moments later. The German stood up quickly and drew out his Blutsauger, firing at any possibly retreating REDs. The area was quiet and desolate.

Time seemed to slow down as the RED Medic and Heavy rounded the corner, the doctor grinning maliciously as he spotted his counterpart standing alone near the control point.

"Zhe point is nearly ours, mein Lieb." he heard the medic say to his heavy, patting the Russian on the shoulder. "Let me handle zhis."

Medic's blood ran cold. He was the only one defending the point. His teammates weren't anywhere nearby, perhaps they fell victim to whatever had exploded Engineer's sentry. A demoman, perhaps? They must be respawrning.

The RED had his hands folded behind his back and an almost bored expression on his face as he approached the BLU. Their coattails fluttered in the light wind that had kicked up.

"Ve meet again, BLU." the RED medic hummed, drawing out his Übersaw and cleaning its blade on his white coat, streaking it with red.

"Verpiss dich." Medic hissed, reloading the Blutsauger.

"Tsk. With that attitude, you might get kicked out of this war. Perhaps like you got kicked out of Germany all those years back-" Medic leapt forward, catching his opposite by the neck and bringing him to the ground with a thud. Red clashed with blue as the two clawed at eachothers' faces. The RED Heavy stood back and watched, unsure as to whether he should help out his partner or let him fight his battle with the BLU.

The Übersaw flew into view, and Medic moved out of the way just in time for it to miss his neck. However, it slashed as his arm, blood splattering and staining his labcoat. He kicked, his boot came into contact with his enemy's abdomen and launched the man off of him. He aimed the Blutsauger at his doppelgänger and fired, the needles drawing in energy and health. The wound on his arm scabbed over in seconds, healing quickly.

The RED medic stood up and tore out the fired syringes from his skin, unflinching as he did so. His spectacled eyes fell upon the Blutsauger, lingering on the weapon and lighting up in realization. Medic took this moment to fire again at his opponent, who moved just in time and jumped to tackle him to the ground, Übersaw in hand. The BLU switched to his Bonesaw, the two saws clashing, sparks flying for a split second. Medic glanced at the Übersaw's meter. It read about 75%. If his opponent managed to get one more hit in, he could easily Über…and he would win.

Medic stamped down onto the RED's foot, watching as his enemy howled in pain and recoiled. The BLU lashed out with his saw, and, with a well-timed strike, watched as his opposite fell. With an undignified thump, the RED collapsed, blood oozing from a wound at the base of his neck. Medic straightened up and brushed himself off. It was done.

The enemy heavy cried out, shouting something in Russian before charging at Medic. He drew out his Blutsauger and fired rapidly, syringes whistling through the air before coming into contact with the Russian's skin. This, however, did not stop the man from tackling Medic into the wall and pinning him there.

"Leetle man will pay. Is not nice to keel Doktor." his stubbled face was contorted in anger and reddened with fury. The colossus of a man drew back his fist in preparation for the BLU's unrelenting beating, and Medic squeezed his eyes shut.

The punch didn't come, however. With a cry, the enemy heavy released him and was yanked back. Medic opened his eyes just in time to see his Heavy swing the enemy around and, with a well-placed punch that could kill a man, knocked the RED unconscious.

Maybe the punch killed him.

Honestly, Medic didn't care, because at that moment, his previously missing team emerged from the base, smiles decorating their faces, save for Pyro. Heavy wiped blood from his fists and turned back to Medic with a grin.

"Medic is credit to team."

Before the German could say anything, the alarms sounded and the Announcer's voice declared victory for the BLUs. The team whooped and hollered in response, dragging Medic into the base to go enjoy their victory and prepare a dinner feast.

"Good job out there, man." Scout patted the doctor on the back before running to the kitchen.

"Aye, laddie. We were watching' ye as ye' sent tha' nurse back to where she belongs!" Demoman clopped the doctor on the back, too, sending him forward into Heavy, who brought him into a hug.

"Da Doktor! Is good day to-"

"You all vere vatching me? Vas…Vhy…" Medic stammered, shocked to hear that his teammates held back on purpose, and at such a crucial time. Engineer stepped closer to the German as they continued their walk through the base back to the infirmary.

"Yeah, doc. We get what'cher goin' through, so we didn't interfere with yer lil' fight with the other doc." he tipped his hardhat and ran forward to catch up with the others as they headed for the kitchen instead. Medic and Heavy made their way to the infirmary, unlocking the door and stepping inside the now-chilled room. Heavy quickly exclaimed that he had to go help the others with dinner, and left without another word, leaving Medic behind with a confused expression.

"Vhat - 'vhat I'm going through'?" he quoted the Texan and mumbled to himself before he took his equipment off and sat down at his desk.

"Vhat is zhat supposed to mean…?"

Despite his desire to pitch in and help make dinner, Medic was shoved out of the cooking area and told to relax. The German sat down at his place at the table and biting his lip or twiddling his thumbs every time he heard a loud clang or a shout from the kitchen. He was fidgety, not being with his team, and even when they weren't in any real danger, he still worried for their safety.

Even when they were just in the kitchen, he felt obligated to keep those idiots - his friends - his family, from burning their fingers or cutting their hands.

When dinner arrived, it was a wonderful assortment of dishes from each of the members ranging from Scout's typical pizza to Engineer's delicious American food to Spy's fancier, smaller dishes, to Pyro's charred pile of ash. Each congratulated Medic on his victory, and Soldier made a short speech about how America wins all wars, and the hearts of her Americans. After congratulating on the victory of BLU, they dug in.

"So," Scout started, chewing a large piece of meat as he spoke, "now that'cher done kickin' that other medic's ass, we'll be glad to have you back healin' us, man."

The others murmured in agreement, some even nodding their heads.

Medic's blood ran cold, but he kept a stoic face as he cut a piece of steak with a knife, gripping the utensil a bit harder than needed.

After a few minutes, Engineer spoke.

"After a little thought and watching you, Medic, ah think I've figured out what got'cha so sick in th' first place." the Texan gestured toward the doctor with his fork. "It makes sense, pardner, ah mean, your lookin' like a new man after today's battle. It all adds up."

Medic swallowed his bite of the meal whole, the food threatening to choke him. They figured it out? Engineer's been watching?

"Y-you HAVE?" Medic rasped, taking a swig of water and trying to keep the look of worry off of his face.

They know my secret?

It's not a super nasty cliffhanger. It still counts as one, though.

Reviews are loved, critiques are loved, too. I wish I was a better writer, honestly, so then I could actually portray my ideas properly. But alas, I'm just an illustrator with fun ideas