Chapter Text
------Engie------
So that was it, huh? That was how it ended. Ms. Pauling finally found out the Administrator’s pointless plan and did the right thing. Well, by my standards she did the right thing, at least. Walking away from the team like that… it would’a hurt like a rattlesnake bite. So I didn’t just walk away. Once we got back to 2Fort to get all our stuff together before we went our separate ways, I hunkered down in my workshop. A few parting gifts couldn’t hurt, I figured. And they weren’t the painful kind ‘neither.
“Fellas! Get in here, I wanna say good-bye before we all never see each other again,” I hollered, standing in the kitchen. I managed to find some wrapping paper left over from Smissmas, so everything was all wrapped up on the counter behind me as everyone filed in.
Scou- Jeremy walked in shakin’ his head, muttering, “Jeez, Dell. A little depressing, dont’cha think? I mean, at least three of us are all gonna be in the same country. Uhh, maybe four, actually?”
Pyro scampered in after him like the arsonistic rabbit they were, holding their only two possessions, their pet bread and their stuffed unicorn, their dalmatian puppy trailing close behind. I always did love Pyro’s energy, hoppin’ from place to place, but still calmer than Jeremy or Jane.
“You’ve got a point there,” I chuckled, “but I still got gifts for ya’ll. So line up, all of ya’s.”
Everyone shuffled into place, the unusual order we tended to line up in when Jane insisted we do a little drilling. No rhyme or reason to it. Just the way we always fell. I grabbed the first gift, packed into a little gift bag for Pyro. “I’m gonna miss you, ya little maniac,” I snorted as they peeked through the tissue paper at first, then resorted to flinging it away to reveal a horse plushie, sewn and stuffed by yours truely. As they lifted it into the air with a thrilled “hudda!” I explained, “Based it on one of my horses back home. Figured your unicorn would like a buddy.”
Next came Spy, who I was just realizing then never told any of us his name either. Him and Pyro, our two wildcards. Felt kinda appropriate, I gotta say. I handed over a small box, shining glossy red in the sunset light. “I know it ain’t much,” I hummed as he took off the lid to reveal a perfectly pocket-sized multi-tool, “but I know you’re the practical sort. Machined all of it myself.” Spy gave me a little nod in that oddly stiff yet warm way he did sometimes, muttering, “Merci, Monsieur Conagher. Your craftsmanship will not go to waste, I promise you.” And then he gave me the teeniest smile you ever did see. I’m glad I saw it.
“Who’s next… Mikhail! This one’s a little heavy, no pun intended,” I laughed as I heaved a box into his hands, which somehow looked small when he was holding it. Inside he found all my workshop journals, some testing notes, some random thoughts, some reflecting on the day. Shrugging a little awkwardly, I said, “I know you like to read an’ all, and there’s a lot of ‘em. Good mix a’ notes from when I was makin’ the teleporter an’ just random stuff from the days.” I watched as he ran a few massive fingers over the cover of one, a fond smile on his face. He gave me a nod, chuckling, “Lots to read. Good! Will help me improve English too.” Thank goodness. I was a little worried it would be underwhelming, but it was the best I could do. I’ve never been much of a writer (oh, the irony).
Mick, quite like Spy, was uncharacteristically relaxed, even if his eyes were still darting everywhere like he was on the job. I’d made a toolkit for him, all stuff to make sure his camper was in tip-top shape. “And,” I hummed, pulling off one of my gloves and putting it on top, “I know owls and birds of prey tend to like you, so I figured a good, thick glove could save your skin from bein’ even more ripped-up than it already is. Feedin’ that horned owl should be one helluva lot easier.” Chuckling, he rumbled, “Thanks, Dell. The old bird’s gonna be thrilled, hehe. And with tools like yours, my camper’s probably gonna be in better shape than it’s ever been.”
Jeremy came next, and he was unsurprisingly bouncy. “Argh, I’m all excited,” he laughed. “C’mon, Engie, what’cha got for me? Y’know I hate waitin’!” To just about anyone else he would’ve sounded like a petulant, bratty kid. We all knew that was just him being happy. And after all the shit that’d hit the fan over the past year or so, it was good to see him this pumped-up. Passing him a flat package, I warned, “Careful now, it’s fragile. This one was fun to make, I gotta admit. Never made a record befo- well shoot, I just gave it away, didn’t I?” His hands were shaking a little as he tried to unwrap it as gently as his probably Bonk-ed up energy would allow. He held it out in front of him with a big ol’ smile on his face, the spitting image of Tom Jones’s on the sleeve of the vinyl. I could kinda see why he insisted Jones was his old man for so long, actually. Giddy, he smiled, “Holy crap, Dell! This is perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“And onto you, Jane,” I declared, pressing a little box into his palm, “I figured a soldier of your caliber really aughtta be decorated properly, yeah?” Inside was a gold medallion with the RED Team logo on it. Engraved around the edge were the words “Bester of Bears, Leader of Men,” a little phrase I came up with off the top of my head. Fits him pretty well, I think. I was a little surprised when he full-on crushed me in the kind of hug that earns a man the title “Bester of Bears.” After helping him attatch it to his uniform, he grabbed my wrist and barked, “Thank you, you grease monkey!” About what I anticipated, really, but I knew it meant a lot coming from him.
Tavish’s gift was a two parter. First, a big ol’ bottle of American-style bourbon whiskey, the fancy expensive kind too. And then came the part I made: “A brand new whisky flask, twice as big as standard. It’s got a metal cup built into the cap too. Thought you might like something to take your scrumpy in that ain’t glass when yer’ makin’ yer’ explosives.” Our resident alcoholic was thrilled, to say the very least. “Awe, Dell, ya’ didn’t have ta make me nothin’. Ah’m happy enough with just the booze! But since ya’ did, thank ya’ kindly,” he managed to say, slurring his words just a bit. Maybe a bit less than usual, however.
“And for you, Doc, my teleporter blueprints,” I hummed, handing Herbert a bag full of rolled-up schematics and instruction manuals. “If anyone could find a use for these outside of battle, it’s gonna be you. I was thinkin’ it might make it easier to transplant stuff or somethin’.” Not that he needed help doing transplants. He was pretty damn good at doing that himself based on the fact that he managed to sneak an entire organ into Mikhail without him ever noticing. Well, until he gave birth to a baboon. Anyway, Herbert’s eyes lit up in that manaical way they often did alongside that terrifying smile. So I figured that means I did it right. “Danke! Danke, Herr Conagher!” he cheered, pulling out a random blueprint and scanning over it with glee. “I’m certain this will make my experiments far more productive! Well, far more fun, at least.”
The rest of the day was bittersweet. Everyone piled in Mick’s camper to ride to the airport, crammed in like sardines with all our stuff. There was a bit of a sad silence on the way there, like none of us really wanted to accept this was it. Once everyone had their belongings all sorted out, Jeremy, Jane, Pyro and I walked everyone to the main terminal. The silence was unbearable. Eventually, I let out a sigh and declared, “Well look here, I ain’t gonna try and tell ya’ll what to do, but Jeremy was right. We’re gonna be seeing each other again! No way I can spend the rest of my life without a visit or two from you guys. Not after all the bullshit we’ve been through.”
Everyone looked to each other and nodded, silently agreeing. “Maybe we can do Smissmas together,” Jeremy suggested, much to everyone’s joy. Smissmas it was, then. “I’ll be holdin’ ya’ll to it,” I chuckled, tone jokingly menacing.
Tavish’s flight came first. He just about bawled saying bye to everyone, giving everyone the tightest hugs he could muster. He lingered on Jane for a moment, his hands resting on his shoulders after their hug. Jane just gave him a big, toothy smile and a nod. They were back on good terms, finally. I was certain they’d be seeing each other long before Smissmas rolled around. Spy being Spy, he’d managed to sneak an extra bottle of liquor past security and presented it to Tavish as one last gift. And then he was really sobbing as he walked to the flight gate, tucking the bottle into his carry-on and waving goodbye.
Turned out that Mikhail and Herbert were leaving on the same flight, which had me a bit surprised. I was under the impression that Misha was just headed to Canada or New York or some place like that, but the look they gave each other told me all I needed to know. Only death could do those two part, and Medic wasn’t likely to let himself or Mikhail die anytime soon. Archimedes landed on my head as they said their goodbyes and gave me a parting “coo-roo-roo” before flapping back to Herbert’s bag, quickly nestling himself inside. The two of them spent an extra second on Jeremy; I knew him and Herbert had an odd kind of friendship, probably through Mikhail given how protective he could be of the kid. As they wandered off to their gate, I was certain I’d be hearing Herbert’s name on the news one of these days.
Spy’s departure was the quickest and quietest. Him and Mick just shook hands, though they held a look of respect for each other. One professional to another, I assumed. Jane clapped him on the back, making him stumble forward a little and earning a rare genuine laugh. It was a surprisingly nice sound, all things considered. Pyro had somehow managed to get their hands on a faux daisy and they reached up and stuck it in his lapel. Spy made a little show of giving it a sniff, making them clap giddily before they skipped off to who-knew-where. Our goodbye was short and sweet, just a promise to write and a side-hug. Jeremy’s was the most awkward, unsurprisingly. And yet, it was also the warmest one yet. They both had tears in their eyes when they hugged— an honest to god hug. It lasted a little long too, to the point where Spy almost missed the last boarding call.
Jeremy came to lean on my shoulder a little, hiding his face under his hat. I could hear the quietest little sniffles coming from the poor kid. Realistically, I knew why Spy couldn’t stay. He was a spy. Staying in one spot was a death wish. At least at 2Fort he had a room full of mercinaries on his side. Now that we were all going our separate ways, he couldn’t afford to hang around for too long in case some ghost of the past decided to rear its ugly head. Still… I kind of wished things were different. I wanted Jeremy to have his dad back, especially since they knew each other again. But he’d have his Ma, and given the way Pyro was pressing into his side, the Willis household was about to have an extra member. He wouldn’t be alone, I had to remind myself.
The two of them left together, Pyro scaring the daylights out of some poor flight attendant. Imagine my surprise when Mick gave Jeremy a little kiss on the cheek while he thought I was too caught up in Pyro shoving yet another fake flower of mysterious origin behind my ear. Jeremy stumbled onto the plane with a drunk-looking smile plastered on his face, probably a side effect of Mick.
Speak of the devil, the kiwi offered to drive me out to Texas, given his flight was in a few days. He had to get his camper back to Australia somehow, and cargo flights weren’t exactly frequent. So we dropped off Jane at his cave (where Zhanna was waiting with open arms) and started off for my farm. It had been a long time.
------Spy------
Ze flight was unusurprisingly unremarkable. Working for ze Administrator did not exactly pay well, so economy class it was. However, zhis unfortunately left me with far too little to distract myself from ze reality of my new situation. I had lived in 2Fort for so long zhat I did not know what to do now zhat I was going home. Home. Yes, I supposed zhat was what France was to me. I had been born zhere. I had been raised zhere. And yet, after so much time away, it felt foreign to me.
Ze feeling only compounded upon landing at ze Charles de Gaulle Aeroporte. Ze village of Louvres was my destination, and yet ze white-washed buildings suddenly felt fairytale-like. As if it was my very first time zhere. Never in my life did I think zhat I would be wistfully reminiscing on the dusty old building I had spent so much time in with those lunatics. And yet, zhere I was, standing in ze middle of a walking street, luggage behind me like some lost tourist, silently wishing zhat when I turned around I would see Mick with his rifle trained on some far-off rival. Or ze Pyro handing me yet another flower. Or Dell and one of his contraptions. Or Jeremy.
Oh, Jeremy. I couldn’t think of my son for too long or else I would begin to tear up. He had grown into a far more charming, passionate man than I could have ever anticipated. It killed me to leave him at ze airport like zhat. But what could I have done? I had written to his mother and it was clear she wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. Not zhat I could blame her. And stay there in New Mexico? Non, not when I had made too many enemies in my day. Not in zhis profession.
What did I have in zhis profession? Pride. I had pride. But what else? … Nothing. It took me quite a while to realize zhat. Being a spy, you have no name. You have no personality. You have no family. You have no home. Zhat was ze cost of zhis life. You couldn’t exist, lest you get attatched. You couldn’t get attatched, lest ze plans go to pot. You couldn’t allow the plans to go to pot, lest those you got attatched to get hurt. But I couldn’t stand in zhat street forever, especially when people began bumping into me and muttering profanities under zheir breath. So I made for ze safehouse in town, lighting a cigarette as I walked.
Ze safehouse was as bland as I had imagined, somehow even more blank zhan ze Red Team base had been when we all first arrived. But it had a bed, and ze flight had tired me out. So, stretching out on ze bed, my mind began to wander once more. What were my former teammates doing at zhis time? I wouldn’t be shocked if Herbert was already holed away in some lab, picking apart a cadaver and trying to keep Archimedes from nesting inside ze openings. Jeremy would be playing with Pyro around zhat time of day normally— had zhey left together? I remembered Jeremy saying something about Pyro to his mother over ze phone. It was a nice thought. Tavish was probably looking after his dear mother right about zhen as well. I wondered if he was finally going to find something to fill where his eye had once been. He always seemed fond of the idea of finding some odd thing to use to spook people when he removed his eyepatch.
Ah, but ze plane had tired me out. My mind could only run for so long before it succumbed to sleep. But even then, my sleep came restlessly, dreams of battles both funny and frightening making me toss and turn. Oh well. I would settle back into it eventually. I had to.