Three days ago Scout spent most of his time staring into the river between the two forts. As a joke, the BLU team’s Scout pushed him in and he surfaced, spluttering with curses and taunts and daring the other to come in and have a go.
Two days after that, he went to Medic with mild muscle pains in his arms and legs, Medic threw a heat pack at him and told him to stop wasting his time, he was sleeping.
A day later he came back with more austere muscle pains and severe chills. Heavy pressed a hand against his forehead and told him in his weird Engrish that he had the flu and should go to bed for a couple of days. It was when he started coughing up blood that Medic intervened. He piled pain killers on Scout (downing a couple of the stronger ones himself) and had a long conversation with Engineer about the human body and viral infections. Engineer told him he probably should wear his uniform once in a while, he was a Medic. Medic told him he didn’t like the coat because it itched so there was no point in wearing any of it.
When Scout started experiencing chest pains, along with a shortness of breath, Spy and Engineer brought forth the idea that it might be some sort of lung disease, the boy had been spending a lot of time around Spy and maybe the smoke affected him. Medic thought about it for all of a second before shooting the idea down in his own grumbly manner and swallowed more pilfered pain killers.
Medic questioned Scout about what he’d been up to in the past week; it seemed his entire existence rotated around baseball when he wasn’t in battle. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at least. Not getting anything useful out of the boy, Medic limped outside to walk the border between the forts. It was ceasefire and the only other people outside were the BLU Scout and BLU Sniper. The boy was jogging backwards and forwards while the Sniper watched, bored. Medic leant against the wooden bridge that separated the two bases and watched the lively BLU pick up his baseball and bat and start hitting the ball against the wall of the BLU base. He turned, leaning on his walking stick heavily and eyed his own base, what had happened that had caused Scout to get so terribly sick? He knew from experience that all patients lie, Scout must’ve left something out. A sudden sharp pain at the back of his head pitched him forward, onto the floor and he hissed angrily at the baseball that rolled out of his sight and towards the-
River! That was it! He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the ball from where it had rolled to a stop by the river. He tightened his grip on the walking stick and limped over to where the Scout and Sniper were. He wasn’t a battle Medic, that leg wouldn’t let him do anything outside much so the two didn’t feel exactly threatened. The ball rested against Scout’s forehead a little harder than Medic had intended- or had he meant to leave a bruise?- before he posed his question about what exactly had happened roughly five days ago. The BLU Scout laughed and explained in great detail about he’d pushed the ‘pansy’ RED Scout into the river, confirming Medic’s suspicion.
Medic limped back to the base and took great pains to throw a bottle of antibiotics in Scout’s general direction and tell him if he didn’t take them he could expect to wake up in Respawn very soon after suffering a great deal of unnecessary pain. Medic wasn’t one to mince words. He swallowed more painkillers and went back to knocking golf balls into a mug on the floor using his walking stick.