Run Away [TF2XREADER]

Chapter 55- Sniper

Day 1:

Sniper ran a hand down his sweat soaked, dusty, bloodied, and battered face. He couldn't believe it. You were gone. He had watched as the beam of white hot flame burst through your chest. Or was it your abdomen? He couldn't clearly recall, but what he did know was that the beam had burned a hole right through you, and killed you. But he was pretty sure Medic would be able to bring you back. I mean, that doctor had done it before, with Snipers own body. So surely he could handle bringing a kid back to life, even if the majority of your insides were charred away through and through. He could do it.

Could he do it?

Sniper didn't want to have to think about it, but what were the actual chances you'd be able to be brought back. Medic had told him it had cost some tens of billions of dollars to bring him back, but did they have that kind of money, and materials, just lying around? Sniper couldn't be too sure about it himself. He would just have to hope that Medic had been stocking up. Sniper took a deep breath, trying to keep the pit of dread in his stomach manageable, and slow the rapid beating of his heart.

He tried to rest and get some sleep in his camper, but it was impossible. Restlessness crawled beneath his skin , and the man couldn't pass out no matter how hard he tried. He rolled over, stuffing his face into his pillow when he smelled something. He smelled you. It was odd, but he was able to quickly figure out why. During the week they had left to go on that mission, you had ended up sleeping in that small shelf of a bed. Somehow, the scent still hadn't worn off. That's what I get for not washing the bloody sheets. He sat, distancing himself from the smell. The feeling of dread and the hopelessness that came with the fact you'd likely be gone forever increased as he looked back on that beach day. His mouth twitched downward as he ran his hands through his hair. Rubbing his eyes, he left the bed. I need some fresh air. He ended up moving to the roof of the van, staying there until sunrise the next morning.

Day 2:

He took in a deep, heavy breath as he stood in the kitchen, brewing a morning cup of coffee. He didn't get any sleep the night before. But what now? If things had gone the same way they had when he died, the surgery would be complete and you would be awake. But you weren't, so the only thing that could mean is that you really were dead. The fact hit him like a train the first time he realized it, and made him feel as if the air was knocked out of his lungs, leaving him gasping and panting. But now he felt numb. The initial shock had worn off, and now his mind was filled to the brim with "what ifs." He took a sip from the black coffee, grimacing at its burnt and bitter taste. The day passed slowly, the man staying away from his van as much as he could, avoiding the inevitable. But as the sun set, he found he wanted his old van's comfort. He entered the camper, but didn't flop back into his bed, in fear of looking back on better times and feeling miserable for it. Instead, he headed for the front seat, sitting down and trying to relax. For once, he felt a sort of distaste and unpleasant feeling towards the silence, and decided to put on some music. He put it on low, allowing it to play in the background as a form of white noise as he drifted off to sleep.

He didn't quite like the dream he had. He liked it, but it was bittersweet. It hurt.

The dream was of a memory, the goofy little occurrence that had happened on the way to the beach, during a stop at one of the gas stations. The three mercenaries- being him, Soldier, and Scout, had walked in on you having a little dance. The memory flowed as it had originally, but somewhere within the middle of the song, you had waved him over, a pleading look in your eyes as you smiled in an unspoken ask to join you. He smiled, and put down the camera, which faded to nothing along with the rest of the surroundings as the two of you danced as a father would with their child. Lovingly, carefully, and full of a playful joy. Your eyes were filled with stars, smile white and glimmering. It quickly became aware to Sniper that things weren't right. This never happened, and it couldn't happen. You were gone. He backed away from the character he had been dancing with, only to find you with a fading smile. You glanced up at him, and as much as he wanted to say something- anything, he couldn't. The two of you stood in silence until he awoke, the song that had played that day echoing in the speakers of the radio. This was really bringing him to hate his little camper-van. He smacked the radio, turning it off as he punched the banister. He yelled out a curse as he did it once more, but not a third as he cradled his head in his hands. He let out a tired groan, unable to keep the tears from flowing down his face. He sniffled, letting them flow freely since he was alone. The man was a quiet crier, so there wasn't much noise for him to make save for a few sniffles. He ended up leaving the camper, still teary eyed with a puffy nose and bloodshot eyes. Treading through the halls, he headed for his makeshift room that had been there as a last resort. He rarely slept there, so it served as more of a personal storage room- even if he didn't have much to store. Luckily there was at least a floor mattress and a small blanket waiting for him there, even if he didn't end up getting much sleep anyway.