The check-up in the medical bay took way longer than you anticipated. Normally, you would be in and out within about five to ten minutes max. This time it seemed as if Medic took things a lot more casually than what you were used to. Maybe he was still concerned over any injury you may have obtained from your teleporter attempt (especially when he pushed you), but he confirmed that everything was still on track.
You took no time to retreat to your room. Engie must have entered while you were with Medic because the teleporter was no longer on your floor. You flopped onto the bed and stretched out your arms.
You studied the grooves in the ceiling's drywall as you felt your chest slowly rise and fall. It was nice to have a moment to collect your thoughts. The lingering suspicion behind Engineer and Medic's behavior still danced in your mind. Engie's words echoed in your ears. His voice started as soft as he originally spoke to you,
"... I don't know if I'm going crazy, but I could have sworn I made eight. But we left with six... I'm just wonderin' if you may have happened to of seen them around at any point...?"
... but it seemed to become more aggressive and distressed.
"... I just can't help but worry about what would happen if they got into the wrong hands. I guess my biggest spook is if one of those dastardly BLUs got a hold of them..."
... Why did you give it to him, Backer?
You're assigned to be a RED for a reason! Why did you give it to him??
What are ya, some kinda back-stabbin' traitor?!
Quickly, you brought fingers to your temples and began to massage them in a circular motion. "I'm not a traitor..." you whispered to yourself. His voice didn't want to listen.
Do you not care about our team??
Answer me, Backer! Why would you give it to an enemy Spy!?
Your once steady heartbeat grew faster. Lord, just make it stop!
The southern accent had vanished. Now, a voice deeper within you surfaced.
How inconsiderate can you get?
They ought to throw you into the furnace!
You're a backstabber! A liar! And a TRAITOR!
"I SAID I'M NOT A TRAITOR!"
You immediately shot up from the bed. Your eyes were plastered wide open as you took in deep quiet breaths. You knew you cried out but were unsure how loud you truly were. It didn't matter, and you didn't care. The important thing now was bringing yourself back together.
Beads of sweat formed on your forehead. You slowly opened your eyes again.
The door remained on its hinges, the floor was wooden like always, and the drawers of the nightstand were still shut. All observations that things were normal came as a relief to you; this was always a good exercise to reassure yourself that everything was okay. You cooled down as the shaky sensation from your limbs faded. Your lips were dry and your hands were clammy.
You wiped the sweat from your palms with the thin blanket. What on earth was going on? For a moment, it felt like those thoughts weren't your own. The guilt came down on you like a pile of bricks.
God, words could not even begin to describe how much that sucked.
You covered your eyes as you slowly fell on your back and exhaled sullenly. There you were again. You turned to your nightstand and gazed at the card-style alarm clock that sat upon it. It wasn't even four in the afternoon yet...
Then you looked at your wardrobe. Knowing what was inside, a lump in your throat formed, and your ears rang a little from the depths of their canals.
You slowly approached its wooden doors. You weren't going to sit around and have another episode by looking at a wooden box. Nope, not happening.
Swiftly, you opened it. Under one of your shirts peaked out the metal box. That damn little box.
You scooped it up and rotated it to study it. Why should you go through all this emotional stress just over a small stupid teleporter? It's not that big of a deal... right?
Your grip tightened on it.
... Maybe you should just destroy it.
It wouldn't expose either Spy or yourself. Engie could just accept the fact that it was left behind in Austria and everyone can move on.
You quickly turned around to go back to your bed. You already started to plan the device's demise. It shouldn't be hard, you've got plenty of tools that could do the job.
That was until a solid thud hit the ground.
In front of the wardrobe lay one of your holsters, but the grip of the gun inside didn't look like any of yours
You set the teleporter aside and picked up the holster. Your eyes widened upon removing the weapon.
It was Spy's revolver.
How did this end up here? You stopped keeping the mercs' weapons once you made your truce with the BLU Spy. Plus, you already had your own firearm. The sudden realization hit you like a freight train:
"Do you have a weapon?"
"No! They pushed it away from me when I was on the balcony!"
...The revolver that once stuck up in his hand now sat in yours...
You forgot to give it back.
You face palmed yourself and let out a frustrated groan. Of course, it was only NOW that you rediscovered it. Your eyes hopped between the two objects: the revolver and the mini teleporter. Your fingers tapped around the edges of the handle of his gun. With a grimace, You tucked them in a baggy part of your uniform as you made your way to your newly renovated office.
You roughly plopped the items you concealed on the wooden desk.
You rummaged around in the room's large shelves until you dug up a fancy-looking ballpoint pen and a large yellow notepad.
Placing the writing materials off to the side your focus was hooked to the teleportation device. You pressed the button and watched it sluggishly unfold to life, leaving you to wait there achingly. As you tapped your foot impatiently, you silently prayed that his was on too.
While you swam in your thoughts the teleporter finished constructing itself. A weight pressed on your throat as you quietly waited. For a while, the teleporter sat idle. For each moment passed you could feel your heart sink. You flopped onto your new office chair, brow furrowed in worry.
This was to be expected, but you still couldn't help but feel disappointed. Having to wait delayed your plans of destroying the teleporter. The longer you waited, the guiltier you felt.
Ten minutes passed, and you kept yourself entertained by taking the pen and drawing random little patterns on a piece of paper, ripping them out, crumpling them up, trying to toss them into a wastebasket across the room like a basketball star (only to miss more times than you would admit to anyone), and spinning around in some circles in your chair. While you were fiddling around with your pen to balance on your furrowed lips, a strange humming noise filled the room. You lost your concentration and dropped the pen on the floor. Your head back towards the device.
The teleporter was beginning to spin.
Scrambling to retrieve your pen, you shot up in your seat and had a piece of paper ready. Your heart skipped in anticipation. After a few more seconds the bright red glow of the teleporter was present. He was trying to communicate with you, too. You stared down at your paper dumbstruck. What should you say? Should you write it like a letter? No, that would take too long and is probably overly formal. You tapped the end of the pen against the paper for a moment, but you finally made up your mind.
You began to write:
Folding the paper in half, you gently laid it on the teleporter. It took a few seconds, but the whirring of the tool grew louder and louder. The bright light in the center expanded. In an instant, the paper was nowhere in sight. Now you played the waiting game once again.
It only took about a minute or two before the sound of the teleporter began to hum once again. The flash of light flickered for only a split second before what looked like the same folded notepad paper sat in the center. You picked it up and opened it.
His handwriting was so graceful and clean. You couldn't help but sit there mesmerized by each stroke. It even made you a little bit insecure of your own. ... Well, there wasn't much that you could do about that now. You began to write once more:
You sent it through and got a response within only a couple of minutes.
Even though he said he understood, you couldn't help but have a splash of guilt overcome you. But a smile soon spread across your face as you reread the last part a few times. He kept the teleporter on to wait to hear from you? That was kind of adorable if you were being honest with yourself. You wrote back quickly.
This time around, it took a little longer than normal for a response. You sat patiently and giddily waited.
About five minutes passed when the light shone brightly again:
Your face began to heat up upon finishing the note. You looked up and forwards at seemingly nothing for a moment in disbelief while pressing the piece of paper close to your chest. Were you getting flustered by some handwriting?
Yes, yes you were.
You couldn't help but giggle to yourself a tiny bit. Enthusiastically, you placed the paper back down on the table and began to develop a response. With each given letter, you tried your absolute damnedest to craft your best penmanship.
For quite some time Spy and yourself exchanged notes. When the paper ran out of space, either you or Spy would include another sheet. Though each old piece of paper was held together by a paperclip (which Spy supplied). On the side when he first included it, he wrote to keep all the papers together and either burn, shred, or keep them in a secret place where nobody but yourself would find them. That was probably a smart idea, you didn't want to raise questions from any of the other guys if they were to discover any of these notes in the trash.
You picked up your head and glanced over at the clock that hung above the door on the wall. Holy crap! Two hours have already passed? It was already almost six, which is usually the time when Engie started calling everyone to dinner. ... Maybe it was time for you to wrap things up and head back to the living quarters. You didn't want anybody to ask where you've been for the last few hours-- that is if they haven't already noticed that you've been gone.
While starting to pack everything up to get ready to leave, let out a surprised gasp as you stared at the corner of your desk.
You completely forgot to give him the gun back!
Shaking your head you picked it up and brought it closer to you. Ripping another yellow sheet from the notepad you added a note explaining how you accidentally forgot to give it back after the bar situation. You folded the piece of paper, took a piece of tape from the tape dispenser, attached it to the gun's barrel, and sent it through.
Then you finally began to put everything away. The paper, pen, and reorganized your desk. There was also the question you pondered about keeping the teleporter here in the office or bringing it back to your room.
... Perhaps it was smarter to keep it with you just in case.
You couldn't help but be in way better spirits than earlier. Once you began writing with him, you felt all the worries and anxiousness from before wash away. Plus, look at how fast time flew by!
Giving him the teleporter wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Finally, you walked over to the device to finally shut it down for the evening. Though just as you went for the button something began to materialize on the platform, and it wasn't just a note. You waited for it to finish coming through. It was a white box. On the top was yet another folded piece of paper that was taped onto it as well. Also, right underneath it was the papers the two of you were writing on prior. Before you were going to tear through the little container, you took the note and read it.
A grin spread across your face as your eyes looked back at the box. Spy must have shut off his teleporter, for the light from the middle was no longer present. Placing the separate note and the rest of the papers off to the side, you slowly grabbed for the box. The top seemed like you could easily lift open, so you took hold of the little flap to reveal the item inside.
It was a wooden Newton's cradle!
You've been wanting one of these for a while. They were released around four years ago, but you just never got around to getting one.
Cheerfully, you placed the little desk toy down on the table. Bringing one marble on the end up, you pulled it back and released. You listened to the rhythmical bounce of the marbles hitting one another. Your eyes followed as each marble on the end flew up to take the place of the opposite ball's height.
You felt like a child again. Being so caught up in trying to do different ball tricks made you completely forget about getting back to your room. If you could, you would sit there forever and watch the motion that applied Newton's laws. Just like how you heard them constantly advertise the cradle over the radio and television.
It was then when you were going to finish up by doing one final trick. You lifted the ball on the far left back so it was away from the others. Then, with your free hand, you began to swing the other four marbles into motion. The group swung about two or three times in harmony without any interruption.
Then, with a little bit of force, you pushed the ball that was held into your hand to impact the other four hard. The ball on the opposite end began to fly up high, almost reaching level with the cradle's structure. That's when the unthinkable happened.
The ball swung up a few times, then in an instant, you saw the marble travel a lot further than it was supposed to. Your eyes darted back to the cradle. Oh no! One of the marbles became loose from the string. The sound of a tiny piece of steel clattered to the ground and was rolling away.
"Shoot— no!" You hissed to yourself. The marble was bouncing straight towards the large shelves that lined the wall. Jumping out of your seat, you chased the metal down as if a cat was pursuing a mouse. Of course, keeping in mind about the state of your foot.
The marble bumped into one of the shelves. You knelt down on one knee and picked up the ball.
A small huff left your chest. Observing the top of the marble, it seemed to have a small indent where the string was supposed to go. It stunk that it was already a flimsy model upon getting as a gift, but it wasn't Spy's fault. You were being a little rough. There was probably a way to fix it, right?
Your hand hovered just above the ball preparing to pick it up, but you paused.
Something strange caught your eye.
An odd figure was being reflected onto the marble's surface. The color was what grabbed your attention. It had a bright golden flare; it almost looked like it was glowing.
Compared to the other items that surrounded it, it stuck out like a sore thumb. It looks like it sat on the bottom shelf. Now on all fours, you scanned the section to find an item that matched what you saw.
Paper clutter and dust bunnies sat around a box. Just out of the corner of the cardboard structure poked out the same strange object. A skinny rectangular surface faced you. The same golden tint reflected what little light the deep shelf absorbed.
"What the hell is that?"