Drabble #32
Oct. 31st, 2008 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sagesariaPrompt: #73: Pessimistic
Fandom: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Notes: This took forever to settle into a mood X_X
“You better have good news, doc.” Soldier scowled, leaning on the wall as the Medic exited from his office. The German doctor sighed, slowly pulling off his work gloves.
“Physically, he iss fine; he only needed a few schtitches. Howeffer, I am afraid he may be going into shock.”
While his eyes were shadowed as always behind his helmet, the Soldier’s cold stare was still as obvious as ever. It was no secret that he didn’t like Medic, and even as he helped the team with their injuries, Soldier didn’t trust him. If he found a chance to blame the doctor for Scout’s position, he would take it.
“He was trapped under a dead body, Herr soldier.” Medic continued, “Zat vould be traumatic for anyvone.”
“Well you’d better fix him!”
“I am sorry, sir. Zere iss nossing I can do for him right now.”
Soldier snarled at that.
“You numb-nut Nazis are damn useless.”
With that, Medic’s soft voice suddenly turned sharp.
“I am not Sigmund Freud, Herr Soldier. I am a man off medicine! I cannot help Schkout any more zen you can. I am sorry, but I haff ozers who need my help.”
Clutching his clipboard, he brushed harshly past Soldier as he stormed away. The hardened leader of the team watched him until he was out of sight, then turned, his face softening a little as he peered into Medic’s office.
Scout was still there, sitting on the work table. He looked awful, not only from the sewn patch in his eyebrow and the gauze taped to his cheek and around his arm. His eyes stared straight at the floor, emotionless, not even fiddling with his dog tags like he tended to when he was feeling down, which was rare itself.
“Scoot,” Soldier addressed, using the team’s nickname for their youngest member. Recognition flickered in the boy’s eyes, but he didn’t look up as he responded.
“Hey, Sarge.”
Soldier frowned, hesitantly getting closer. He didn’t claim to be an expert on the mind or the heart; God knew his own were all but gone. Slowly he came closer, sitting next to the dazed Scout on the table.
“You gotta pull yourself together, son.” he continued, “I need you out there.”
Slowly, Scout spoke, his voice shaking.
“I can still see his face…I was looking right at him…I didn’t even know what was going on until they’d already shot him to shit…”
Soldier frowned. He wasn’t there when it happened. He hadn’t even found out about it until the team heard Scout screaming “get him off me!” and found him trapped under the dead Engineer.
“He saved my life…if he hadn’t thrown me down I’d be the one dead in the desert.”
“But you’re not.” Soldier pointed out, “You’re still alive and kicking. You oughta be grateful for that.”
“It’s just fucking wrong!” Scout retaliated, not even trying to hide the emotions in his voice, “I’m still alive, just so I can watch everyone else die! You dunno what it was like out there, Sarge! You weren’t stuck there as he got cold! I’d rather’ve taken those shots than to have gone through that.”
He buried his face in his hands.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore, sir…I just wanna go home. I wanna read my comic books and watch the Sox games on tv. I wanna talk to mom and dad…fight with my brothers…hell, maybe even go to college! I just can’t live like this anymore…I just can’t.”
Soldier was completely silent as Scout fell silent, shoulders shaking as he kept his face hidden behind his hands. He had never seen the energetic and cocky Scout like this before. Ever since he was that age he had dreamed of being in the army, but here was Scout wanting desperately to be out of it. He didn’t understand, but pain still got through.
Awkwardly Soldier moved a little closer, hesitantly lifting a burly calloused hand and resting it on Scout’s shoulder. The younger boy leaned into the touch, suddenly wrapping his arms around Soldier’s torso and burying his face in his vest. Soldier could already feel wetness soaking through the fabric. He tried to keep his face calm, returning the hug tightly.
“There there, private,” he muttered, patting him on the back, “Take your time.”
Fandom: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Notes: This took forever to settle into a mood X_X
“You better have good news, doc.” Soldier scowled, leaning on the wall as the Medic exited from his office. The German doctor sighed, slowly pulling off his work gloves.
“Physically, he iss fine; he only needed a few schtitches. Howeffer, I am afraid he may be going into shock.”
While his eyes were shadowed as always behind his helmet, the Soldier’s cold stare was still as obvious as ever. It was no secret that he didn’t like Medic, and even as he helped the team with their injuries, Soldier didn’t trust him. If he found a chance to blame the doctor for Scout’s position, he would take it.
“He was trapped under a dead body, Herr soldier.” Medic continued, “Zat vould be traumatic for anyvone.”
“Well you’d better fix him!”
“I am sorry, sir. Zere iss nossing I can do for him right now.”
Soldier snarled at that.
“You numb-nut Nazis are damn useless.”
With that, Medic’s soft voice suddenly turned sharp.
“I am not Sigmund Freud, Herr Soldier. I am a man off medicine! I cannot help Schkout any more zen you can. I am sorry, but I haff ozers who need my help.”
Clutching his clipboard, he brushed harshly past Soldier as he stormed away. The hardened leader of the team watched him until he was out of sight, then turned, his face softening a little as he peered into Medic’s office.
Scout was still there, sitting on the work table. He looked awful, not only from the sewn patch in his eyebrow and the gauze taped to his cheek and around his arm. His eyes stared straight at the floor, emotionless, not even fiddling with his dog tags like he tended to when he was feeling down, which was rare itself.
“Scoot,” Soldier addressed, using the team’s nickname for their youngest member. Recognition flickered in the boy’s eyes, but he didn’t look up as he responded.
“Hey, Sarge.”
Soldier frowned, hesitantly getting closer. He didn’t claim to be an expert on the mind or the heart; God knew his own were all but gone. Slowly he came closer, sitting next to the dazed Scout on the table.
“You gotta pull yourself together, son.” he continued, “I need you out there.”
Slowly, Scout spoke, his voice shaking.
“I can still see his face…I was looking right at him…I didn’t even know what was going on until they’d already shot him to shit…”
Soldier frowned. He wasn’t there when it happened. He hadn’t even found out about it until the team heard Scout screaming “get him off me!” and found him trapped under the dead Engineer.
“He saved my life…if he hadn’t thrown me down I’d be the one dead in the desert.”
“But you’re not.” Soldier pointed out, “You’re still alive and kicking. You oughta be grateful for that.”
“It’s just fucking wrong!” Scout retaliated, not even trying to hide the emotions in his voice, “I’m still alive, just so I can watch everyone else die! You dunno what it was like out there, Sarge! You weren’t stuck there as he got cold! I’d rather’ve taken those shots than to have gone through that.”
He buried his face in his hands.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore, sir…I just wanna go home. I wanna read my comic books and watch the Sox games on tv. I wanna talk to mom and dad…fight with my brothers…hell, maybe even go to college! I just can’t live like this anymore…I just can’t.”
Soldier was completely silent as Scout fell silent, shoulders shaking as he kept his face hidden behind his hands. He had never seen the energetic and cocky Scout like this before. Ever since he was that age he had dreamed of being in the army, but here was Scout wanting desperately to be out of it. He didn’t understand, but pain still got through.
Awkwardly Soldier moved a little closer, hesitantly lifting a burly calloused hand and resting it on Scout’s shoulder. The younger boy leaned into the touch, suddenly wrapping his arms around Soldier’s torso and burying his face in his vest. Soldier could already feel wetness soaking through the fabric. He tried to keep his face calm, returning the hug tightly.
“There there, private,” he muttered, patting him on the back, “Take your time.”
