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Spy stares at the empty doorway. The Teufort Daily newspaper lies crumpled in his fists. He finally comes back to his senses when ash snows down from his cigarette and onto his arm. Scout’s terrified scream replays in his ears as he releases the newspaper from his grip and takes the cigarette from his mouth.
“Pardon me,” Spy says as he stands up from the table. Heavy doesn’t respond. He seems to be just as shocked as Spy.
Spy hurries back to his room. His mind is racing. Replaying the scene. The desolate look on Scout’s face as he stood in the doorway. Then the scream. A sound so desperate and terrified it could only belong on the battlefield. But that fear was directed at him. He saw it in his eyes.
Blue eyes.
“Come closer.” she whispers. “Look, he has your eyes.”
Spy closes his door behind him and shuts out her voice. He stubs his cigarette in the ashtray beside his chair and walks up to the bar. He grabs a glass and pours himself a generous amount of scotch. The first sip sands his throat and leaves it raw.
He puts his drink on the table beside the ashtray and tosses a log into the fireplace. He crouches down and sets it ablaze with his lighter. The flames crawl along the logs, slowly infecting the wood’s tough skin until they’re completely engulfed. He remains crouched there for a moment, just watching the flames dance and letting himself become warm.
There have been times before when Scout has acted awkward around him, probably because he has his suspicions. But he’s never been scared of him. And never has he witnessed Scout have a panic attack.
The warmth from the fire begins to make him feel feverishly hot. He retreats to his chair and continues to stare at the flames.
Scout screams. Time slows as Spy watches the lollipop fall from his lips and hit the floor. Scout is hyperventilating and clawing at the doorway. His eyes lock with Spy’s, and Spy feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Blue eyes full of terror. Pupils pinpricks like the sharp tip of a sewing needle.
And then Scout clings to the wall and pulls himself up, not breaking eye-contact. As if Spy is a predator he can’t take his eyes off of. And then he’s gone, leaving only the echo of his frantic footsteps.
Spy’s heart freezes over inside his chest. It couldn’t possibly be…
He must have finally remembered the day that Spy’s had replaying in his head for over two decades. The last day he ever got to speak to his son before joining this war.
Spy doesn’t realise he’s begun to cry until he feels a cold tear trickle down his cheek.
Scout is paralysed by his revelation.
Everything is starting to make sense. Spy’s eerie familiarity. The awkward tension between them that Scout’s never been able to understand. The strange dream. And the memory that’s so vivid he can’t doubt it.
Spy is his father.
Part of him wants to scream and shout. The other wants to curl up and wonder why Ma never told him, feeling betrayed and rejected by Spy leaving and never reaching out to him.
Scout numbly retreats to the wall his bed is placed against and sits with his knees hugged to his chest. He swallows thickly and stares at the door that seems miles away. He can still taste the plastic-tainted cherry flavor from the lollipop. It makes his stomach churn.
A pressure begins in his chest. At first he thinks it’s sadness. He’s already had to blink the beginnings of tears from his eyes. But as the pressure continues to build and his chest tightens, he realises…
The feeling is anger.
Scout clenches his jaw. He digs his nails into his palms and pierces his hand-wraps. His chest trembles. But this time his heart isn’t shuddering with fear. It’s pounding with rage.
Ma lied to him about his father for his entire life. And Spy left her, just like all the others did.
Scout sucks in a breath through his teeth. He pulls in on himself as close as he can. His muscles coiled like a spring.
He just wants to take his bat and—And…!
Scout sighs and drops his shoulders. He buries his head between his knees. It wouldn’t matter if he took his bat to Spy’s face or not; he would just respawn. And no matter how good it would feel in the moment, it wouldn’t stop him from hurting. And it couldn’t change the fact that he left in the first place.
Scout finally allows himself to despair. Tears flood out from his eyes like water pouring out of a broken dam. He hugs himself and sobs into his knees. His cries are ugly and loud. And he doesn’t care if the entire base can hear him, because he can’t stop the hurt from spilling out of him anymore. He’s been holding it in for far too long.
“Why did you leave?” Scout imagines himself asking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His mind can’t supply the truth for him. But if he had to imagine what he thinks Spy would say, it would go a little something like this.
“Because you weren’t worth staying for.”
Spy has just polished off his glass of scotch and finished drying his tears when he hears a knock at the door. Dread seizes him. Could that be Scout? He hopes it is as much as he prays it is not.
“Guten tag, mein freund! Open up.”
Spy’s heart sinks to his stomach. No. Not now. He can’t do this right now.
“I’m busy!” He shouts. “Go away.”
“Oh, please. I just need a little favor. Surely you can spare a moment or two.”
Spy clenches his teeth. He forces his breath to steady before he speaks.
“I assure you I can not. Go away.”
The fire crackles violently in the tense silence that feels ten minutes longer than it actually is.
“I feel I don’t need to remind you why this is not your choice. Let me in.”
Spy swallows hard. He decides to remain quiet, listening to his drunken heart shudder inside his chest.
“Come on, you don’t want me airing our private business from outside your door, do you? Anyone could be listening.”
He doesn’t take the bait. Medic sighs.
“I’ll give you an hour. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Spy listens intently to the footsteps until they finally fade. He exhales and puts his head in his hands. Medic always manages to demand things of him when he’s at his lowest.
“Merde. J’aimerais pouvoir le tuer.”
[Piece of shit. I wish I could kill him.]
When Scout was done crying, he looked at the polaroids from his Box of Things and cried some more. Normally, he wouldn't get so emotional over pictures, but he was missing home. He wishes that he had stayed with Ma and Anthony instead of joining this stupid war.
He has to do his pre-round breathing exercises to finally calm himself down. Breathe in for ten seconds. Breathe out. In for ten seconds. Out. He rolls his shoulders to release the tension. Don't look at that picture. Don't think about how much you miss them.
"I'm okay," he tells himself. "I'm okay."
He looks down at the polaroid in his lap. He and Anthony are pictured hunched over a canvas painting together. Anthony's hands are clean while his are crusted with paint. If the photo was colored, it would depict Anthony’s startled green eyes and his own smiling blues. This was one of the few times Scout was allowed to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and that was remarkable because usually, Anthony hates people touching him.
Scout wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and flips the polaroid face-down. He wishes Anthony was here.
Wait. Anthony. He should call Anthony. (Nevermind that Ma would be there too. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to her when he gets the chance to, so he just hopes she isn’t there when he calls).
Scout stands up and places the polaroid on top of his dresser. He pauses at the door and sucks in a deep breath. Just go. Ignore everyone on your way out. Get to the payphone.
Scout pulls open his door and steps out. The moment he shuts the door behind him, he hears the door down the hall creak open. Scout glances to his right, towards the sound.
Spy stands at the end of the hallway, seemingly paralysed by the sight of him.
The moment that follows him leaving the room, Spy can only describe as a stand-off. He and Scout stare at each other from opposing ends of the hall. Surprised by each other. Afraid of each other.
Finally, Scout moves. He reaches behind himself and grabs the door knob.
“Wait—” his voice leaves his throat before he can stop it.
Scout freezes like a deer in headlights.
“I think we need to talk.”
Scout grimaces. He glances between Spy and the door. After a long moment of contemplation, Scout sighs. He shoves open the door and disappears inside.
When he doesn’t hear the door slam, Spy warily treads over and peaks inside. Scout stands in the middle of his disasterly room with his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother.
“You think we need to talk?” He asks with an edge to his voice. “Fine then. Let’s talk.”
Spy swallows hard and steps inside. He closes the door and traps them inside with the tense quiet.
They stand like mannequins, their bodies useless and their tongues tied. Scout's eyes dare him to say something. Spy's throat is suddenly too dry to speak. He blames it on the scotch.
"Scout—"
"Spy—"
Their voices clash and force them back into silence. Scout hides his face behind his hands and groans exasperatedly. He drops himself onto his bed and sits with his head in his hands.
Spy joins him with trepidation, his steps feather-light but his heart lead-heavy. He sits, leaving a large gap between them that still somehow feels too small. This room is too small. But even if they were in his huge, uncluttered smoking room, the walls would still feel too close.
A thought occurs to him, and he finally knows what to say.
"Just so we are on the same page, you are aware that I'm—"
"—my father?" Scout asks dryly. "Yeah."
Another lapse of silence.
"Should I ask the obvious, or do you wanna explain yourself?" Scout raises his head and looks him in the eyes.
Blue eyes, a mirror of his own, scorching him with a critical gaze.
"Would you believe me if I told you I hadn't wanted to leave?"
Scout's eyes flash dangerously. "No."
Spy averts his gaze. He had considered them having this conversation, at some point. But he never could have prepared himself for the blunt hatred he would receive. Not that it isn't warranted, to some degree.
Scout sighs.
"Anthony told me you were around until I was three. Why’d you leave? And why’d you…" he trails off and shakes his head.
Spy pointedly decides not to correct the fact that he was only consistently around until Jeremy was two, not three. That Anthony was always nosy, though, so he's not surprised that he might have been caught visiting the very few times he did when Jeremy was three.
"I did plan to stay, that much is true. But I underestimated the amount of business I had to finish before I could be a… family man." He avoids saying "father" although he wishes he could refer to himself so.
"So you were a Spy, even back then?"
More of an observation than a question, but Spy nods anyway.
"Once you're in, it's very hard to get out," he says. "I was two decades younger, then. I didn't quite understand that yet."
Spy feels confident enough to raise his eyes again. Anger lingers in Scout’s glare, but his posture suggests curiosity more than anything.
And this is when Spy realises that this will probably be the longest conversation they’ve ever had since working together. Or, well, ever.
"Whether you believe it or not,” Spy continues concisely, “I left for my safety and yours. Visiting was risky, but I met up with Jasmine a few times after you turned four.”
Scout cringes at the mention of his mother’s name. It hadn’t occurred to Spy to be wary of mentioning her outright, but beyond this point in the story there’s no way to avoid it.
“Our last meet-up in person…” Spy swallows hard. It pains him to remember her words. “She told me it would be best if I cut off all contact. Even if I somehow managed to eliminate all the threats, she wasn’t interested in seeing me.”
Scout grimaces in disbelief. Spy can’t tell if what he’s saying isn’t considered trustworthy, or if he’s simply shocked his mother would deny his father from re-entering his life. If it wouldn’t pain him so, he would recite the exact words she said to him.
Because he remembers every word.
“I’ve raised seven boys on my own just fine,” she says coldly. “I can handle another on my own. You weren’t any help when you were around, and no matter what you say, I can’t ever believe we’ll be safe from your past. I say you leave us be and go find some other broad gullible enough to love you.”
Scout balls up his fists. The anger penting up inside his chest forces him to grind his teeth. His initial instinct is to shout that Spy’s a liar, but the hurt in his eyes kills his voice in his throat.
He can’t be completely convinced that what Spy’s saying is true, but he can for sure tell that the hurt is genuine. It’s a hard thing to disguise, and even then it’s obvious that Spy has taken down all his defensive walls. Which is… jarring. Where has his haughty persona gone? Why is he being so raw and honest?
Why is he making it so hard to hate him?
Scout can’t stand to keep eye-contact any longer, so he averts his gaze to the floor. He exhales the anger from his chest.
“I…” he wants to say she wouldn’t, but considering what Anthony told him, she would.
“I’m aware this may be a lot to process,” Spy says, “but I have to ask what she told you about me. It may help clear up some of the confusion.”
Scout feels empty, much like he does after a respawn. The reincarnation of his body is always empty-stomached and numb-skinned.
“She told me you were dead,” he mutters gravely.
Heavy silence prevails long after he finishes uttering his words. Though said quietly, just above a whisper, the pressure in the air makes it seem as though he had screamed it.
“Well, dead to her, I suppose.”
Spy’s bitter words take a moment to register.
Once he understands, Scout can’t help but laugh. His chest shakes, for the first time today, not with fear or anger, but amusement. The tension evaporates as his somewhat-hysterical, almost-teary laughter fills the room. Spy joins in, somewhat reluctantly, with a chuckle of his own.
Bit by bit, shuddering laugh by shuddering laugh, the energy slowly leaves him. And by the time the room is quiet again, Scout is both clutching his stomach and his head.
“I can’t freakin’ believe you.” he says.
“I apologize,” Spy amends, not sounding sorry at all.
He raises his eyes again, and when he looks at Spy, he sees that fondness in his face, identical to his expression in the dream that he’d had. At first it frightens him, but quickly following, he feels comforted. As strange as it is in the moment, it’s proof that Spy cares.
But then, he seems to become aware of himself and looks away, embarrassed. He clears his throat.
“What I meant to say was, though she may have considered me dead, she knew very well that I was alive. I did contact her throughout the years to check up on you.”
Scout briefly thinks back to late nights with his brothers. When he was around eight, maybe nine, there were many movie nights where he couldn’t stop glancing into the kitchen, where Ma was quietly arguing on the landline phone. Anthony would often wander in, and get kicked out immediately.
“Who’s she talkin’ to?” Jeremy whispers.
Anthony criss-crosses his lanky legs. He sits with his usual slouch, looking quite perturbed.
“Dunno,” he mumbles. “She's mad, though.”
“Hmm.” Jeremy glances once more into the kitchen before fixing his gaze on the television screen.
Scout has no way to know if it really was Spy she was talking to, but it would explain the random hushed phone calls and letters she tried very hard to hide. It had always sort of hurt him, since Ma was usually very open with them all. But the possible explanation for her secrecy stings deep.
Scout sighs. He finally decides to ask a burning question that's been on his mind.
"Fine. Say I believe everything you said. Why didn't you tell me when we first started working here? Why hide it? If you really wanted to be a part of my life so bad, why wouldn't you at least freakin' talk to me?"
Before this, he and Spy had hardly spoken at all. Scout doesn't really know what he would have done if Spy had confessed to being his father back then, but he really wishes they would've had this conversation sooner.
Spy visibly pales. His eyes flick down to his watch, and Scout thinks he might make a run for it. He furrows his eyebrows and sharpens his glare.
"It's—complicated. But one of the main reasons was..." Spy pauses, seems to contemplate what he should say. "I wasn't sure how you would react. And it had been over a decade since I last saw you, I wasn't sure if..."
Spy fiddles with his wrist, anxiously adjusting his watch.
"In any case," he starts again, "I thought it might be best I didn't tell you, even though I wanted to. I knew you would be angry with me, and... I really didn't think you'd accept it. Or, well—me."
Scout feels all the tension leave his shoulders. He opens his mouth to voice that he, too, feared he wouldn't be accepted—but Spy interrupts before he can get a single word out.
"That being said; it didn't seem you needed me. Your mother took good care of you, I know that. It would be unnecessary, and I suppose, against your mother's very wishes to tell you."
"Spy—"
"—And I didn't want to complicate our already-tense relationship—"
"Spy!" He shouts.
Spy looks down at him, seeming a little shaken. He finally stops fiddling with his wristwatch and sighs heavily, as if trying to expel the entire world's weight.
"Sorry. I was just trying to explain."
"It's..." Scout hesitates. He's deeply disturbed by Spy's talkativeness. "It's... okay."
Finally, with a second to breathe, Scout takes a moment to think. So, that explains why he didn't tell him... but, as Scout continues to study him, he realizes just how panicked Spy looks. He's as pale as paper. And he keeps glancing at the door.
"I wasn't expecting that question to freak you out so much," he says warily.
"...I've just had a lot of time to consider it," Spy replies absently.
Scout frowns at him.
"Are you, like... okay? You're actin' shifty."
"I'm fine."
He doesn't look fine.
"Okay, well—"
"—Actually," Spy interrupts, not looking at him at all, "if you don't have any more questions, I have to go. We can further discuss later if you'd like, but I have reservations with Medic."
Spy stands up. Scout is so shocked is takes him a few seconds to process what had been said.
"Wha—of course I have more—what the hell do you mean reservations?"
Scout is grabbing him, and he's yelling, and Spy's trying to pull away, and he knows this will probably destroy the very fragile framework for their relationship going forward, but he has to leave. Right now. Medic is expecting him, and if he doesn't make it, the Administrator will find out.
"Argh!"
Scout loses grip on his sleeve and stumbles backwards. He almost falls onto his bed but manages to catch himself. He throws himself forward and Spy manages to avoid him and runs for the door. He gets his hand on the door knob, but then Scout's fist slams into his back and he staggers and hits his forehead off the door.
"I cannot freakin' believe you. How the hell is anything you got goin' on with Medic more important than what we're talking about? You ain't goin' anywhere until you explain yourself."
Spy blinks the stars out of his eyes. For some reason, Scout is taller than him right now, and glaring down at him with fire in his eyes. Oh, he's on the floor. That's why. He tries to speak, but what comes out of his mouth is closer to a groan than any words from the English language.
Scout crosses his arms, looking quite unimpressed.
"Alright," Spy sighs. "Fine."
But now what does he say? He's never told anyone about this.
"I... when we were in the hallway, earlier, I was intending to meet up with Medic. He's..." Spy swallows hard. "He's blackmailing me."
Scout's face falls. "What?"
"It's part of the reason I didn't tell you when we started working here. He found out we were related, and the Administrator doesn't know. So, to prevent him from giving her that information, I have do favors for him."
"Spy, I..."
Spy shakes his head. "Just help me up, please."
Scout grabs his hand and hefts him up to his feet. Spy rights himself and glances at his watch. Two minutes.
"Look, Spy, why don't we just—I dunno, beat him up or somethin'? There's gotta be something we can do to stop him, other than..."
"Trust me, Scout. I've tried. Now, please."
Scout bites his lip. He sighs and moves away from the door. "Fine. But you come find me right after your done, and we're goin' to figure somethin' out."
"Fine," Spy grits out. "Just promise not to tell the entire base about our situation."
Scout squeezes his shoulder. "I promise."
Somehow, Spy doesn't believe him. But at least he knows that when he comes back from whatever bloody or expensive expedition Medic is going to send him on, Jeremy will be waiting for him, and they can finally begin to mend their broken relationship.