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“Just long enough to watch you die.”
Before the Classic Heavy could reach for what Mikhail believed to be the gun, He grabbed his foot and pulled the other’s battered and bruised body through the bloodied earth. The Classic’s fingers scraped through the dirt as he lost his grip on something emanating a yellow glow. Mikhail stepped around his weakened body. He picked up whatever the Classic Heavy was reaching for. He didn’t recognise it at first. Is this the immortality machine he was gabbering about a minute ago? It’s true, Mikail didn’t want to live forever. Though, the only thing– The only PERSON he could ever see himself living with through the rest of his mortal life was…
And the Classic had just fucking killed him. He, “Dr.” Herbert Ludwig, was lying, somewhere in the rubble, dead. That sick bastard had shot him twice in the chest, to rile up Mikhail. Create a “fair fight”. But the brute was not a force to be reckoned with. Classic Heavy incredibly underestimated just how connected this team was. How well they knew and understood each other, and the lengths they would go for each other. That’s why this team was so unbeatable, not Echalon, not Citadel, and not even Ajax, for god’s sake, had interlinked as deep as the Team Fortress Mercs.
Mikhail crushed the immortality machine in his bare hand, the Australium trickling down his forearm, the glittery, gold substance shining from the tiny wisps of sunlight through the passing clouds, the precious liquified element dripping down his elbow and onto the floor. The Classic’s dulling eyes watched it spatter each time it hit the floor, his final chance of living, draining in front of his very eyes. Mikhail tossed the broken parts to the floor, if it wasn’t shattered then, boy was it shattered now.
The Classic Heavy had positioned himself just perfectly, he had propped his head up on a rock as he struggled for breath. Mikhail cast a shadow over him, walking up, he positioned himself with the Classic in between his legs. He wasn’t scared of the man suddenly jolting up and trying to topple him down, because Mikhail knew he had knocked all the fight out of him. Heavy’s breath quickened as his nostrils flared, huffing out breaths like a raging bull. His palms sweat and trembled, with some kind of emotion that was dying to get out of him. He wanted to squish this disgusting little bug beneath the underside of his boot. You will spread plague and disease no longer, vermin. Mikhail was never one for sentimentality, he didn’t have any monologues, or quippy lines to say killing a man.
He preferred to be a cold, silent killer this time.
He raised his boot, and stomped down with all his force on his head. It took a few blows, the sound of screaming and crunching being nothing but a satisfying melody to him. Mikhail didn’t look back at the brain painted rock. The amount of force put into those rage filled stomps was certainly enough.
Walking away, the clouds began to part, and a brighter day could be seen in glimpses. It felt like the light shining through the surface of the water as Mikhail desperately flailed and gasped for air. He retraced his steps of the fight, going all the way back to where Ludwig was shot. He knew what he was doing was stupid, hopeless. There was just part of him that couldn’t believe that the Doctor was dead. He was shot, twice, in the chest… there was no doubt it was fatal. So was it the fact that Mikhail couldn’t believe he was dead? Or the fact that he just didn’t want him to be dead.
If it wasn’t for this pointless war, Ludwig wouldn’t be dead anyways. If Ludwig hadn’t joined RED. If Mikhail had just protected him more. He felt so awful. He had this guilt in his head that all this was his fault. Ludwig DIED right in front of him. He should have been there to stop him from joining that team. If he wasn’t such a COWARD, maybe he would have invited him back to his home in Siberia. Maybe then they could have had a good life together.
He could see the spot where Ludwig was shot just ahead. The part where the rubble had parted and his Doctor… was supposed to be laying? He wasn’t there. Ludwig’s body had disappeared. A trail of blood winded along the floor from where someone had lifted him. Mikhail began to follow it like a hound dog. The blood went from a steady flow, to droplets, to nothing, though there was a trail of familiar footsteps that he recognised but he couldn’t just figure out who. The dragging footsteps led around the shadowed corner of a building,
And that’s when Mikhail saw him.
The Doctor, back from the dead, clutching his chest wounds.
His breaths were shallow, and his body heaved as he struggled to take in oxygen. His slate grey eyes were shadowed by his heavy eyelids. His nice, usually groomed noir hair had flyaways and frizz. A glimmer of hope beamed in his eyes as his top lip quivered, muttering a single word:
“...Misha.”
Before his knees buckled and he began to plummet forward towards the floor.
“DOKTOR!”
Misha caught him, one hand on his shoulder, the other resting on the side of his head, careful to dodge the open wounds. Despite all odds, Herbert Ludwig had bargained his way out of hell. This was a moment Misha never believed would come to him again, holding his Doctor’s live, beating body. He looked god awful, but all that mattered is that he still had a pulse,
So Misha could protect him again.
Ludwig slumped his head against Misha’s shoulder, which was ideal, as Misha could feel the comforting waves of his breath down his neck. He carefully scooped the injured up, curling him round his chest so his wounds wouldn’t get touched. Almost… bridal style. :)
Misha didn’t even register the background noise of the clashing of metal and gunfire that rattled your bones slowly simmering down, till it came to a stop. There was the lingering thought, which side had won?
“FREEDOOOOOM!”
Jane’s ever so patriotic cry bellowed out, breaking the silence of the quiet battlegrounds. Misha smirked. He had no doubt in his team of kooky characters that they would be the victorious side.
_________________________________________
The anesthetic medigun hummed over the Doctor’s head as its warm beam engulfed his whole body. It felt like one of those hot days in the summer, where Ludwig could lay on country grass shaded under a tree, a vast difference to the hostile concrete jungles he would hop in between, searching for work. He really enjoys working at RED. If it wasn’t for it, none of that would have happened to him. Sure, it had its ups and downs, but he was alive and kicking!
His eyes would slowly open. He could vaguely make out the path of the hanging ventilation system of the ceiling of the RED medical quarters, more importantly, the view from his own operating table.
His eyes stayed unfocused due to the absence of his glasses, he jolted up, patting around the blurry blobs to find them nearby. A large hand wrapped around his forearm, holding him still, and pushed the glasses into his hand. He knew exactly who’s hands those were.
“MISHA!”
Yelling his name in a much more positive tone this time, Ludwig pushed forward and wrapped his hands around Misha’s neck. Misha scooped him up, being cautious of Ludwig. He had no idea how fast, let alone how his body had recovered. He just wanted to make sure he didn’t end up dying on him again.
They held each other close, radiating body heat that would run warmer than the Medigun would ever go.
“Misha!”
Ludwig pulled himself out of Misha’s shoulder to cup his face. One of Misha's hands was supporting his back, so the other could lean back. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, till they could no longer bear the open gap between their faces. Their lips crashed together, hungrily longing for this moment ever since they reunited.
Breaking away from the kiss, Ludwig cackled, manic in his mannerisms. He was just grateful to be living once more, and in the arms of his favourite person once more.
And, he came to the realisation, that; Maybe it wasn’t just RED he loved so much.
“Doktor! Thought you had died!”
Ludwig took a moment. He didn’t answer that with an explanation. Maybe some things were better left unspoken.
“Me too… but I am back now, Ja? Magnificent, isn’t it?”
He grinned.
“I… I kill the Heavy who shot you.”
Heavy’s grip tightened. Recalling the event, he looked away to the floor, clenching his jaw. Ludwig guided his gaze back, brushing his finger down his jawline. Ludwig could tell something was tearing him up inside about this. A guilt about something. Ludwig has his mannerisms and tells practically mastered. Ludwig gently rubbed his thumb on his cheek.
“Misha. I am here.”
He seemed a little more grounded. Misha simply just pulled the other in a tighter hug.
“...Just never thought we’d get out.”
He grumbled.
…
“Well, we did.”
…
“And it’s only forward from here.”
…
That put a smile on his face. He lifted the Doctor off the table and held him tight in his arms, spinning him round. They both laughed together, the vibrations of their chests humming with one another.
“...When we get out of here, would Doctor like to take a trip with Misha to meet family?”
“Yes. I would like that very much.”
Medic smiled, the two touching foreheads as they stayed close to each other for whoever knows how long.