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Medic never expected death to come for him. And as of now, it hadn’t. But that wasn’t to say death hadn’t found other ways to make him suffer.
The respawn machine had broken. Heavy and Medic were out on a mission, Medic wasn’t able to uber charge him in time, and…
Medic didn’t like to think about it. He hated thinking about it, actually. The sound of his Heavy shouting out in pain as he protected him from a bullet. The horror Medic felt when he saw the respawn machine not… not working the way it should. No one came out of the damned machine. It was empty. The disbelief he felt, running back over to BLU base, killing anything in his way to try to retrieve the corpse. He could bring his partner back to life, right?
Medic gripped the operating table in the infirmary, tears welling up in his eyes as he strained every muscle in his body. He would not cry. He’s better than this. Misha was… Heavy was gone. People die all the time. No reason to get all worked up. He took a deep breath, cleaning off his glasses and pushing the pair of spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose.
Battles had been postponed because of the broken respawn machine. That, and the RED team still needed…
Still needed a new Heavy.
Medic sniffed, pursing his lips and biting into them to direct the pain he felt somewhere else instead of his chest.
He needed something to get his mind off of all of this.
Sneaking into the BLU base was easy. With a ceasefire in the air, no one was acting as security. It was almost comically simple to just walk right into the base and take someone away to experiment on. This was like some weird form of therapy. Being able to cut someone open, maybe have some fun banter back and forth while Medic shooed away his birds. He would do that with Heavy almost every other day. He was his willing lab rat, just enjoying being next to him for any purpose, even if that purpose was medical malpractice.
But now… now he was gone.
Whatever. This was why he was picking up a random BLU team member. Anyone would do, really. He just needed a warm body to be able to perform experiments on.
…In hindsight, it was a mistake to pick BLU Heavy.
He didn’t know why he did it. Why he was so drawn to picking the big Russian man that looked so similar, yet… different to his partner.
Before he knew it, the gunman was strapped down to the operating table and yelling curses at Medic.
“Shh. Quiet.” Medic hushed absentmindedly, holding up a finger to gesture for Heavy to be silent.
“Untie me and fight me like man!!” The Russian boomed.
Medic stole a glance at the Heavy, grimacing slightly when they pair made eye contact. “I don’t think I will.” He replied, going back to arranging his tools.
“You see, Heavy, I’ve had so many ideas. In fact, I’ve just been dying to try this new technique I’ve been reading about, and I think you’ll enjoy it!” He grinned, turning on the medigun and twirling around a scalpel in his hand.
Just like that, the stress reliever surgery had begun. Medic continued to ramble about whatever crossed his mind while the BLU mercenary sat there, a confused look on his face as he struggled against the restraints.
“…And when the surgery was done, they never even realized I didn’t work there! Oh, it was hilarious.” Medic giggled while playing around Heavy’s pancreas.
When Heavy didn’t laugh, didn’t fill the room with his joyful booming voice, Medic turned, giving him a bit of a glare.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, pushing up his glasses with his wrist to avoid getting blood on them.
Heavy glared right back, venom in his eyes still, but he seemed confused, more than anything. Continuing to try to wiggle out of the leather straps, he grumbled, “I do not see what is funny. You are insane.”
Medic huffed, “Well, my Heavy always laughs at my stories.” He pouted.
Heavy paused struggling, looking at Medic with… some form of sympathy in his eyes.
“…I see. I am sorry for your loss.” He murmured.
Medic’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden change in demeanor, before he shook his head and looked away.
“Don’t be. He was just another experiment.” His voice was so quiet it was near a whisper.
Heavy sighed as he looked at Medic, shaking his head sadly. Medic, meanwhile, stuck out his tongue slightly as he carefully placed in an extra kidney inside of the large Russian. It was just like his days of talking with his partner while doing totally necessary surgeries. If he really pretended, he could ignore the blue tone of the man’s shirt.
“He was a good man. He died with honor. I saw it.” He said in that thoughtful, gruff voice that sounded so painfully similar to the love of Medic’s life.
“If we did not know the machine was broken, we would not have done it.” He tried to comfort the doctor.
He looked down at his cut open chest, taking in the way Medic carefully rooted around his organs. His touch was surprisingly gentle. The way his brow furrowed, his weight shifted… it was endearing, almost.
“…But I am not your Heavy. You know this.” He sighed.
Medic paused, sniffling quietly. “Quiet, Heavy, I’m trying to concentrate.”
It was beginning to hit him. Why he was doing this. He stared at Heavy, taking in his features. The subtle differences in him and his late partner. This one was paler, just slightly. He had sharper eyes. More of a stubble that looked like he was trying to grow a beard.
“Just let me… let me move this around.” He muttered.
Tears were starting to well up in his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t think about this. If he just closed his eyes, and prayed to whatever god was out there, he would open them and see his Heavy sitting right there, smiling lovingly at him. But when he did, all he could see was someone who was so close to that, but so far frowning sadly back at him.
“…I miss him.” He mumbled, resting his elbow on man’s hip to put his head in his hands and begin to cry. It felt wrong. He shouldn’t be crying. Heavy wasn’t anything special, he was just another coworker. A teammate that he just happened to get along with.
“I miss spending time with him like this, and you- you looked just like him. I thought it would help, being able to see him again and do something like old times,” The quiet crying increased into full blown sobs, fat tears rolling down his face and hitting Heavy’s pant leg.
He let out a hiccup, his breath hitching in his throat when he looked up, “but you’re not him. Every time I look at you I see more and more just how different you are- and I can’t take it-“
“I could’ve saved him, if I had just ubered a second earlier. It was ready, I could’ve done it. But I didn’t, and now he’s dead. I’m a horrible Medic, I’m supposed to have control over my patients wellbeing, and I just let that go. I let him die.”
Heavy stared at the sight before him. This was a wildly uncomfortable situation, to say the least. This guy was a horrible, unethically cruel doctor that everyone on the BLU team was slightly terrified of… and he was sitting here crying into Heavy’s leg.
“I’m sorry.” Were the next words to come out of Medic’s mouth. Those were two words that Heavy was expecting the least.
“You’re free to go, I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” He muttered, clicking a few buttons on the medigun and patching Heavy right up, undoing the restraints with shaky hands.
Heavy flexed his fingers, getting up from the table. He had the chance to run away, to leave and never look back.
But he did look back. He saw Medic, but not any version he ever thought he would see as one of his biggest enemies, one of the most feared killers he knew. He saw a doctor who had failed to save a patient, a man who had lost his best friend, someone who was dealing with the loss of their lover. He watched as Medic stumbled over to the sink, turning on the water with shaky hands, only to not wash the blood off of them, instead staring into the basin like he was dissociating into his own thoughts.
He didn’t know what came over him. What drove him to do what he did in the moment, but something pushed Heavy forward, moving to grip Medic in a big bear hug.
“I’m sure he would want to be here with you.” He murmured. He didn’t know much about RED team’s Heavy, and he especially didn’t know what he would act like to comfort Medic, but he needed to say something.
And that something worked, because Medic turned right around and hugged Heavy right back. The embrace felt slightly uncomfortable with Heavy’s still healing torso, but he accepted it anyway.
The two stayed like that for what felt like eternity, until Medic mumbled something quietly, his face pressed into Heavy’s chest.
“I miss you every day, Misha. I love you. I never said it enough, but I love every moment I spent with you.” He muttered softly.
After that, the two finally parted ways. Medic went back to clean up the infirmary and himself, having took subpar care of both of those things since Misha’s passing. Heavy went back to his own base, none of the other RED team members bothering him other than a few questions. Most of them were actually quite understanding of the situation.
About a month went by, and the respawn machine was finally repaired. Heavy’s youngest sister, Zhanna, filled his role as heavy weapons specialist. And Medic kept her safe every second he could. Medic also found himself secretly sneaking out every so often to visit BLU Heavy, going out for drinks, or enjoying sandviches together in the kitchen. The relationship was purely platonic, Medic couldn’t live with himself if he ever thought about using BLU Heavy as a replacement for his late lover, but it was nice being able to keep something that felt familiar.
After about a year, everyone had gotten through their grief for Heavy’s death. The infirmary was spotless, and everything felt right again. But still, hanging in the RED base’s walls, was a portrait of Heavy, one that Medic couldn’t help but smile at every time he saw it.