Run Away [TF2XREADER]

Chapter 44- Bloody Nose

You watched as a familiar figure paced back and forth, head in their hands and looking as if they were on the verge of having a panic attack. Before them stood a wall which was covered with string and pinned papers, documents, newspaper clippings, and all sorts of lettered information highlighted and connected with string. Even more papers laid on a table in front of the wall, messily skewed about in a way so only the owner could have a way to navigate the piles. They murmured to themselves under their breath. You turned to your left to find another room mirroring them, along with a figure, this one more feminine. They both said the same things, muttering things like, "I have to deal with them somehow" and "I can't let them get to me, or them." They turned to one another, staring off as if their counterpart wasn't there, which from what you saw, they weren't. They stared off, the woman's brows curved upward in worry and fear, but there was a fire of determination within her eyes. Whatever she was going to do, she had to accomplish it, or everything would be over. The man's face was contorted into an enraged frown, and yet there was fear within his eyes for what events could come to fruition. And for a moment, you weren't completely sure if they couldn't see each other, or simply stood in a mirrored room. Something changed within the atmosphere, colors draining from the rooms as the figures froze, just as they were about to speak. You glanced between the two, weaving between them to look them in the eyes. You couldn't recognize either of them and yet you felt as if you knew them like the back of your hand. You frowned, a light forming in front of you as a door that wasn't there before opened. Unfazed, you walked into the light and went through the door.

Currently, you were lucid within this dream. You didn't know what it meant, but what you did know is that you had some control and remembered things. Knew things that you'd only clearly remember in the waking world. You didn't know how this happened, or if you'd remember the events that followed once you awoke, but you hoped that with the time you had you would at least gain something within your subconscious. Perhaps if you didn't remember the specifics of the dream, you'd at least recognize and remember the feeling and bring back what you had gained. This was purely experimental at the moment, so all you could do was hope.

Falling through the door, you entered a spacious void; a blank canvas.

"So, what do we have to work with?"

You spoke to yourself, conjuring up a similar desk and corkboard you had seen earlier, but wiped clean and barren of papers. You had a feeling you wouldn't be able to read in this state, due to everything being blurry, but you were certain images would work. This was your realm after all. For the moment, at least. "Everything that I've found out about Spy, or anything that could mean something..." You remembered the photo of him and the woman, the blurry image recreating itself on the corkboard. You shook your head. "This image feels familiar, but I don't have any reason to believe it means something." You thought back to the first fight you both had, the one where you had nearly killed him. You remembered the fear in his eyes, the anguish etched within his features as you pushed the knife towards his neck. Shaking your head, you frowned as a recreation of the event appeared as a short clip. "Anyone would look that way if they thought they were about to die." The next thing you could think up was the time you had found him hunched over the cameras, you shook your head again. "I don't see how that could mean anything." The image of his back turned to you, his face towards the screens plastered itself on the board as you began to pace, chin in hand. You thought back to when he disappeared, and how Sniper lied to you. "When Spy reappeared, he- well, Spy did what his name says he's meant to. He spied on me." This caused you to stop pacing, eyes widening. "Why would he do that? He never gave me a reason, did he?" You turned towards the corkboard, the image of him finally uncloaked on that long night lighting up. You took the image between your fingers, holding it like an old polaroid. You frowned at it, trying to look into that Spy's eyes, searching for something. Finding nothing, you let go of the photo, allowing it to hover on top of the cork-board. But it was still lit up, so you were sure it meant something. You began to dig through your memories again. The next one you could find was the time you and he had argued; the time he discovered that you had murdered. You grimaced at the memory, casting the imagery aside. "That definitely doesn't have anything. He was nice to me afterward, but when it comes to him, it could have been pity for all I know." Something in the back of your mind told you he did not pity you, but you decided to ignore it, and continue. The way he polished a knife? "Nothing." The way he reacted when he found out you had stabbed someone? Your brows rose, this memory glowing, but not as much as the memory of him proving his name's meaning. "That could mean he cares." You just barely smiled, but your face immediately went back to its natural, thoughtful expression. "But that's not what I'm looking for." You felt as if you might have been forgetting something. Your eyes widened. "The necklace."