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Pyro was not very smart. That much Medic knew for certain. The fool ran around with utter disregard for their own and others' safety, constantly off in their own head. They were dense, in Medic’s humble opinion. The ridiculous gas mask that blocked almost 70% of their vision on the battlefield was a testament to that. Even Soldier lifted his bucket helmet to get a better look every now and then.
Regardless of Pyro’s mental capacity- or lack thereof- they were by all accounts the most interesting example of psychosis that Medic had ever seen. Which wasn’t a simple task to manage; he had broken hundreds of minds in the past, just to see what a fractured sense of self could come up with. That was back in college when he was more interested in psychology than biology. Thank god for that last-minute Major switch, without it he might never have advanced the medical science field as far as he has!
Despite Medic’s attempts to press, Pyro usually managed to keep their hallucinations to themself, with the few exceptions of the times the poor maniac was too far out of their mind to stop themselves from gushing about how much joy they and their ballonicorn had brought to the other team today. When they were off the battlefield, it was almost like they managed to be normal sometimes. Just like Medic though, you can’t hide that kind of psychopathy. Medic had always felt somewhat of a kindred spirit to Pyro in that regard; they were similar. Even if Medic knew he was smarter in almost every aspect.
With all that in mind, to say Medic was looking forward to Pyro’s examination today was an understatement. It was the first time Pyro had asked for an appointment, rather than waiting around for the bi-yearly examination that was required for all mercenaries. Medic was prepping the lab with an unfettered skip in his step, cooing to the doves that flitted about as he hemmed and hawed over what bonesaw he should use today, and if he would actually need the anesthetic he had set off to the side.
A knock on the door alerted him to his patient's arrival, and he couldn’t keep the glee out of his voice.
“Come in! Come in! Make yourself comfortable, Herr Pyro.” He waved the fellow mercenary in with his best smile, though he couldn’t tell if it was reciprocated behind that mask or not. As Pyro malingered near the examination table, Medic made his way to the lab’s doors and made a show of locking them and placing the key on the counter nearest it. Medic had learned quickly that Pyro would never take off their suit; if there was a chance of being walked in on.
With the doors suitably locked, Pyro gave a small nod more to themself than the doctor and began to peel the layers off their suit. Medic averted his gaze to spare the arsonist some privacy.
“So, Herr Pyro, what seems to be the problem? It’s not often you grant me the opportunity to examine you.” Medic snapped his gloves a little with his back still turned to them; he eyed his lineup of medical equipment while he waited for a response.
“My lungs. They hurt more than usual.” Came the scratchy result. If Medic didn’t know how vehemently Pyro detested smoke inhalation, he would assume they smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. Even from the simple sentence, Medic could feel the grit in their voice more than he could hear it.
Medic couldn’t help his smile as he reached for his stethoscope, “You mentioned that during our last examination if I remember correctly. Let’s take a listen and see what we can find, yes?”
Finally turning to face the arsonist, they were greeted with a familiar, if worn down face. Medic was proud of the fact that he was one of the only people who knew what the ‘fiery freak’ looked like.
Black hair, brown skin, lithe muscle albeit with a healthy layer of fat. They sat on the examination table with their suit around their waist, a black tank top keeping them modest. Their eyes are where the Medic's attention went. They were glassy; black holes that could draw a soul in if they weren’t so hazed over. Medic had wasted time looking for a spark in their eyes before, certain it was there buried under their clouded mind. He hadn’t found it yet and if anything, they looked foggier since the last time he saw them.
Even if a little hazy, something about Pyro’s face had always had a kind air to it. The way the edges of their mouth tilted up even when they weren’t smiling, the rosy cheeks, the welcoming if dull eyes. They were cute, even if cute was not a description Medic had personally cared for in a long time.
Medic took his seat across from them, pulling the wheely chair in closer to place his stethoscope against Pyro’s chest.
“Alrighty then, deep breath in…” Medic took his own deep breath to match Pyro’s, his eyes fluttering slightly to better listen to the sounds from the creature’s chest.
It sounded like a vacuum filled with gravel.
“...and breathe out.” Medic releases his own breath to the sound of Pyro’s rattling chest. They quickly turned their head and coughed into their arm as Medic pulled back and took the stethoscope from his ears.
“Hmph. Nothing sounds wrong with your breathing. I wonder what could be causing your cough?” He was lying. Of course he was lying, he had been since he’d first found out the pyromaniac's suit was lined with asbestos. The material was ridiculously carcinogenic. Most doctors worth their salt had known that for years but were paid off by asbestos companies not to spill the beans just yet.
Medic had been meaning to test and see if his Medi-gun had an effect on long-term diseases like cancers for a while now but hadn’t had the opportunity. Luckily for him, the perfect test subject had just landed on his examination table.
Medic turned around to grab for his bonesaw.
“Well, since I can’t hear any issues, I’d be more than happy to open your thoracic cavity and take a look at your lungs up clo-”
When Medic turned back Pyro was less than a foot away, having somehow silently moved to stand in front of the medic without a sound. Sitting down, Medic felt dwarfed by the arsonist's imposing figure.
But what caught him truly off guard were their eyes.
Gone was the fogginess, the glass that shielded a loosely kept together mind, and open were the black holes. Pits that sucked in every chance of light that surrounded them, drawing it into a condensing point.
A spark.
Hellfire.
Medic was not a scared man. He only truly felt nervous when he was excitedly waiting for the outcome of an experiment. People like him didn’t feel fear. But there was no other word in his mental dictionary that could encapsulate the feeling that gripped his stomach and twisted, leaving him breathless in a way that almost made his eyes water.
“I know you’re lying.”
Medic was all at once aware of the fact that other than his medical equipment he truly had no weapon, and no way out. Even if he could take a swipe with his bonesaw, he had watched firsthand as Pyro had once nearly lifted the other team’s Heavy to throw them over the edge of a building in an attempt to save a low health Scout Medic had been helping. A bonesaw can’t stop a killing machine.
Pyro leaned forward over the man and Medic was frozen to his seat.
“I know it’s the asbestos. I’m not stupid. I just want to know how much longer I have before it kills me.” Pyro’s voice was scathing, and in the back of Medic’s mind he wondered how he had overlooked the intelligence behind those eyes. Was it his willful ignorance convincing himself Pyro was stupid? Or was Pyro just that convincing with their gentle cover-up? Regardless, he needed an answer to Pyro’s question, before the arsonist decided to make kindling out of his intestines.
“W-W-Well, considering how long you’ve been wearing the suit and how it’s p-p-progressed since the last examination I would estimate….. 4 or 5 years?” Medic could only pray his mental math was accurate and that the answer was what Pyro wanted to hear. Asbestos was a slow-acting illness. It could take years before it even showed symptoms and those symptoms weren’t always the best way to gauge how long someone had. He could come up with a more accurate approximation with a few tests but for once experiments were not Medic’s immediate concern.
For a long time, Pyro stared down into Medic’s eyes, seeming to almost be searching for something. Medic didn’t know if he wanted them to find it or not. They pursued their lips thoughtfully, as if digesting his words then, like before, gave a curt nod more to themselves than to Medic.
In a blink, the spark was gone and Pyro’s body seemed to relax as a gentler expression overtook their face. They wasted no time in pulling up their suit.
“Thanks, doc.” They said almost dismissively, tugging their gas mask over their head and reaching for the key to the door.
Medic didn’t bother arguing as Pyro left just as quietly as they came. Medic’s body slowly began to relax and he swallowed a previously unnoticed lump in his throat. His fingers ceased their white knuckle grip on his chair and he let out a shaky breath.
Medic was not a humble man. He knew he had a god-complex, and more often than not his actions gave credence to his beliefs. But every now and then, everyone is humbled and made excruciatingly aware of how wrong they were.
Pyro was not an idiot.
They were just a monster with a very, very, good mask.