Chapter Text
Medic knew how significant he was to the team. It wasn’t like he hyperfixated on the fact–he didn’t have Scout’s ego–but he knew his worth. Any Medic worth their bone saw should know they are just as important, if not more important than any Sniper or Spy. Though, if Sniper and Spy ever found out he thought this way, he’d soon find himself on the business end of their respective weapons.
Regardless, he was indispensable. The slight deranged nature of every word that came out of his mouth was merely a price the team had to pay. In spite of the experiments and medical malpractice, his healing, paired with his uncanny ability to bring someone back from the brink, was just what was needed in the life-or-death situations this team of idiots got into on the regular.
This constant life-or-death also meant that Medic was accustomed more than most to seeing a bloodied and barely breathing teammate half collapse into his lab. There was no active battle going on, it was mostly downtime, but he knew better than to assume that meant no injuries. Just last week, Heavy had nearly chopped off Demo’s head with a butchers knife he was using to carve his lunch. The week before that, Scout had wandered in with a bullet through his shoulder because he had managed to piss Sniper off enough that he’d deemed it worthy of a shot. Deserved, in Medic’s opinion. And this week alone, though it was only Thursday, he had seen at least five training related flesh carvings.
So when the alarm blared, all Medic did was brace for a patient.
This alarm meant an intruder, he knew that all too well. The rest of the team would be scrambling to find the Spy who had managed to slip in whilst they were training. He, on the other hand, would be cleaning his lab. No point experimenting if they were just going to die of sepsis! One might argue keeping doves in his lab was directly counterintuitive to this statement, but what was he supposed to do? Keep Archimedes outside like the common filth pigeons? Heavens, no!
Speaking of his beloved dove, he was sitting on Medic’s head, occasionally cooing contentedly. The alarm startled her, as it always did, but all he did was flap his wings, hop on the spot, and begun to preen Medic’s hair. It was… slightly annoying, but it was nothing Medic wasn’t used to. He’d deal with the mess that was soon to become of his hair later. Right now, he had to keep an ear to the comms and keep preparing for his next patient.
Surprisingly, it took a while for someone to show up. Around an hour and a half, which meant the intruder had either been apprehended quickly, and the injuries were mild enough to put off a trip to his lab, or the more likely alternative. The intruder hadn’t been found quickly, and had managed to injure someone before or after they’d been caught. The patient took so long to arrive that it startled Medic when the doors burst open. He’d been muttering to himself, looking over notes from an old experiment whilst Archimedes perched on the clipboard he was reading from.
The entrance doors to his lab–slightly blood-stained white double doors–flung open with such gusto that Medic was sure it had indented his wall, but he had no time for irritation. The smell of iron hit him like a bomb, sending him to his feet. Illuminated by the hallway lights, Spy limped in, a hand to his ribs as he winced. So this was their intruder’s victim. No one accompanied him, which made Medic think this injury was isolated. Spy wasn’t one to be willingly vulnerable around people, which probably meant that, one, this wound was fresh, and two, that Spy had headed over here as soon as he’d dispatched the threat.
“Medic!” Spy half called, half coughed, “Knife to the ribs.” He wheezed. Medic suspected a punctured lung, what with his wheezy speech and hand to his chest. “An inferior spy snuck up on me. Rather embarrassing, really.” Spy took another break to catch his breath, clearly struggling, “I’d trust you not to tell anyone, Doctor, but you never were one for sticking to the rules”
Medic chuckled at that whilst putting an arm around Spy to help him to the examination bed. Spy muttered a few curse words in French at the movement. Once he was lay down, after much wincing and cursing, Spy moved his hand and haphazardly removed his jacket to reveal the full extent of his injuries. Luckily for the both of them, the wound was partially plugged with the weapon, still firmly in place–right between Spy’s ribs. Medic would’ve grimaced if the injury didn’t look so interesting.
He had seen this kind of knife before. It had a long blade, which meant definitely some kind of punctured lung. The blade was only an inch deep, but considering how close the lungs were to the ribcage, this wound worried him. Well, worry was the wrong word. He wasn’t worried. Medic trusted his medical ability, but the risk of serious lung damage just… piqued his interest. Yes, that was it.
This kind of knife was used by Spy himself. It was good for backstabbing, but this knife had been used for frontstabbing. Or rather, frontslashing. The wound was horizontal, three inches across, approximately. Blood oozed down the right side of Spy’s chest, which would undoubtedly irritate him later. The only thing that irritated him more than other spies getting the jump on him was getting blood on his suit.
“How did they manage to attack you like this? You are usually so attentive, friend!” Medic questioned. He moved away from the bed momentarily, retrieving his medigun from the wall to hook up to a rig in the ceiling. That would be a steady source of healing that would at least quell the bleeding. He would need to fix the actual wound himself. Delightful! It had been a few hours too long since Medic had had his hands in a chest cavity…
“Scout distracted me.” Spy hissed, “That little… Ugh. He will pay for the blood on my suit.”
“I’m sure he will, mein Freund.” Medic agreed, “Now, just relax… Well, as best you can. I will have that wound closed faster than you can say ‘Mon Dieu’”
Medic chuckled under his breath as Spy rested his head back on the examination bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but Medic wasn’t exactly running a hotel over here. He was here to save lives and experiment. Not hold hands and kiss booboos.
The hum of his medigun was like a sweet orchestra of music. It pulsed and fixed whilst Medic leaned over Spy’s chest. Examining the wound, he realised he would definitely need to open Spy’s chest further to repair the injury to his lung. It… wasn’t pretty. Despite the blade cut being clean, a punctured lung was never good news. Medic was sure in his ability to fix it, of course. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be concerned by the extent of the injury.
There was always the risk that Spy could die before Medic had the chance to finish the repair to his lung. Usually, Medic could just let a pneumothorax heal with minimal medigun interference, but this was a slash. Spy… should most likely be dead. But Medic wasn’t exactly someone who treated any old injury. The Uber was likely why Spy was still standing… Fascinating. He assumed this upgrade would make the team more resilient, of course, but making them able to keep going with major wounds? Truly fascinating…
But experimentation could wait. He had surgery to perform.
X
After hours of rummaging around in Spy’s chest, Medic was proud to say that he had fixed the problem. Spy had passed out halfway through, and whilst that had slightly startled Medic, he managed to get everything under control. The medigun had decided to stop quenching the bleeding and help him on the lung repair, which was highly irritating, but no more irritating than when he cut the wrong vein. He just adjusted the output of healing energy, and continued with stitching.
Spy was awake now, although slightly groggy. This was intentional. Despite the Uber’s help with keeping the team going, it didn’t stop the pain that came with injuries. Medic had broken a few ribs whilst he was in there to get a better look at the lung, but they would heal. If this was Heavy or Demo, he wouldn’t even bother letting them heal–those two moved around too much–but Spy was sensible. He trusted him to let those heal. He was currently on a low dose of morphine and a high dose of medigun. That would speed up healing temporarily, but he couldn’t just sit in front of Medic’s medigun forever. Spy had things to do, like getting Scout back for ruining his suit, and making sure the enemy spy had succumbed to his injuries.
Of course they had, Spy wasn’t an amateur. It would be nice to check his handiwork, anyhow.
“You should be good to go soon, mein Freund.” Medic announced, checking the wound’s healing progress under the medigun. It was healing nicely, as it should be. Since there was no need for further medical intervention currently, Medic headed over to the sink to wash the blood from his hands. As much as he loved the feeling of blood and flesh under his hands, he decidedly did not like the sensation of dried, coagulated blood after the fact. One might wonder why he didn’t just wear gloves then, but that stopped him from truly feeling the field. “You are in tip-top condition for now. I expect to not see you back, unless that wound gives you any trouble. It shouldn’t, my work is top-notch, after all. But make sure to rest just a little. I would prefer if you did not break any ribs further, bitte.”
“Merci, mon ami.” Spy replied, his voice no longer haunted by a wheeze, “I would be dead without your expertise. I presume I may go and teach Scout a lesson, Docteur?”
“Of course. As long as you are careful. Archimedes and I have plans to study a rather interesting experiment idea, and I’d rather not have it interrupted by yet another emergency.” Medic huffed, “I will switch off the medigun, check your wound, and then you may go. Let Scout know that the next time he is in here, he will not have incurred kindness from me for interrupting my science.”
Spy nodded, smirking.
“I will do, Doctor. Thank you.”
And with that, Medic did as he said. He switched off the medigun, unhooked it from the ceiling, checked over Spy’s wound, and helped him up off the examination bed. A successful heal, if Medic did say so himself. He was safe to settle down with Archimedes on his shoulder and scribble down ideas for his latest project. Perhaps he could use Scout as his test subject!