The Strongest of Us (Tf2 x Reader)

25. Tea Time and Training

It's getting closer to 600...

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(3rd person P.O.V.)

(Y/N) laid flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, her eyes glossed over as those precious images of her mother ran through her head. What would she give to go and see her again, to close her eyes, run up and hug her and never let go? Everything. (Y/N) would give everything to see her mother again.

She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as those images drifted away like flower petals on a stream. She wished they didn't have to go. She wished that she just could have taken at least one picture of her entire family with her. Not all wishes come true, though, so she stopped wishing. It wasn't worth it. You can't bring back the dead.

(Y/N) suddenly bolted up out of shock as there was a loud knock at her door. She groaned softly, sliding her feet off of her bed, pushing off with her hands and going down the ledge and to her door, while smoothing out her hair. She rubbed her eyes one last time before grabbing the handle and pulling the door open. "Oh, Jane, what a lovely surprise," (Y/N) yawned, leaning on the door frame as she took a gander at the soldier just outside of her door. He was dressed in his everyday uniform, his helmet still slightly wobbling with each movement he took. (Y/N) still couldn't wrap her head around how he could see out from under that thing. It was a mystery meant to be solved another day.

"You have morning training with me, today, Ms. (L/N)!" He boomed to her, proudly, a devilish smirk on his lips.

"What kind of training?" (Y/N) mumbled and stood up, her interests being caught. What did this man have in store for her? How many times was she going to die today?

"Hand to hand combat!" He said again, standing up straight, his helmet shaking side to side again. Oh boy. (Y/N) was okay with guns, she could use some work with knives, but she wasn't too good in a fist fight situation. If she ever got into one, there was always Ivan to help her in those situations.

"Okay..." she whispered, rubbing the back of her neck. "What time and where?" She asked, wanting to change and dress into something more suiting than her pajamas.

"Now," Jane said and that made the girl in front of him jump.

"Now?" She said, exasperated.

"Now," Jane repeated again. "You may change. I will be out here, waiting for you to finish and watching, so you do not chicken out on me."

"Pfft, chicken? What? Nooo...." (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders and tried to seem as calm as possible. Jane nodded, backed away from the door and sat himself, even with the door, on the other side of the hall.

(Y/N) closed the door again and gulped, before starting to stressfully look through her drawers for something suitable for combat training. She absolutely refused to be dressed like the women she had seen on the television screens, with their bright leotards and short shorts or suspenders. She just wanted to be comfortable.

(Y/N) chose out a pair of black leggings and a white tank top. She put on her big, black boots and stepped out of her room, gulping lightly. Jane was still there when her door opened, arms folded, serious expression, or what seemed to be one from beneath that helmet of his. She thought back to the mini snowman she had made of him. Except the real Jane wasn't smiling dopily.

He cocked his head to the side quickly to tell her to follow him, and (Y/N) caught his drift, following his steps as he began moving down the brightly lit hallway. A few of the men were still yawning and lazily hanging around their rooms, chatting before breakfast in their underwear and other pajama sets. They waved to (Y/N) as she passed them and said good morning. She waved back, and even got to talk to a few of them as they walked along side of her for a length of time, all until they made it to the training arena. That was where all of social contact with everyone but Jane stopped.