Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today was full of surprises

For one, the BLUs were barely even a challenge to fight against! Yeah RED was always objectively better in Scout’s not (actually very much so) biased opinion, but those BLUs always still put up a good fight! Even beat them sometimes! It’s not like he wasn’t proud of their victory, just kinda missing the element of challenge.

Second of all, their suspicions about Heavy and Medic had been confirmed! They had been caught kissing each other after battle, something Scout never wanted to see again. Seeing two old men kiss was just not his thing, thank you very much!

And lastly, but most relevant to Scout, a package had been sent to the base.

It took a good while for them to find out who the hell the package was supposed to go to, with the information being in a really inconvenient place, but the moment he saw the return address, he knew it was his.

He’d know if anyone else’s family members lived in Boston. 

So now, here he was, with the box in his room ready to be opened. The box was heavy, but it didn’t sound like anything important when Heavy helped him get it here. Needless to say Scout was curious. Very curious. 

It was now he realized he had nothing to cut the tape with. Normally, if he was back in Boston with his Ma’, he’d have a set of house keys to use, or heck, he could grab scissors or a knife to do the trick if he didn’t have those on hand. He did still have said house keys, but trying to find them in the mess that was his room was not something he had the patience for.

They didn’t have scissors. Why would they when they had knives?

Knives. Scout had a great plan.

Soon, he had returned to his room, shutting the door quickly and locking it. Bringing the knife into his view, he saw the familiar glint it gave off. This was payback. Payback for what that bastard Spy had pulled earlier this week.

He could last a few hours without his precious knife. Fair enough, wasn’t it?

Laughing a bit at his stroke of genius, his eyes wandered back to the box, and he suddenly remembered why he even thought of stealing the knife in the first place. Eager to see what was inside, Scout went right to cutting the tape right off. He practically tore the box open, not bothering to fully cut the tape in favor of getting the damn box open as quickly as possible.

Inside was a bunch of sketchbooks and notebooks. NO wonder the box was heavy, this thing was packed to the brim. There was also a note that laid on top of it all. Scout HATED reading—The letters always mixed around in his vision and made him read words wrong—but he’d always do it for his Ma’s sake.

…Well he never said he’d read the entire thing

Skimming over it, he got the jist. His mom missed him and thought he’d need some more things to draw in since she knew he loved to do so since his days as a young boy living in their home. Oh and something about some of them being old, pfft, as if Scout cared. Paper was paper, didn’t matter how old it was.

In truth, he did need more paper. He was starting to fill his current notebooks to the brim with sketches and doodles, covering every inch of every paper. Looking through them felt like a fever dream, with a million different drawings on the very same page. 

So, he didn’t hesitate to take out the bunch of sketchbooks and notebooks, all from different brands and times. All mostly empty ‘cept for maybe a doodle or word or two. Opening one up, he saw the refreshing sight of a blank piece of paper, just begging to be drawn all over. His hands were itching to start drawing, moments away from grabbing a pencil to do just that.

However, something caught his eye. 

The handwriting of younger him was unmistakable.

Picking up the notebook, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. This was his old journal, he’d write just about whatever he wanted here. With horrible spelling, sure, but he always told himself that just made it even harder for someone to go snooping! It was like his own coding system.

Opening it up, he was hit in the face with the memories while he read. He was going to have fun with this, and he made that clear with this first page!

(Not written how it originally was, for your sake)

Hey! This ain’t no sissy diary stuff. This is a journal, j-o-u-r-n-a-l , got it? Got it. 

I’ll be writing about just about anything I want, cuz screw you, I make the rules. And rule number one is, I do this whenever the hell I want. I ain’t sticking to any sort of schedule, I ain’t coming back to this thing everyday to tell you every mediocre thing that happens

No. This is for the interesting things I actually wanna talk about, you get me? If I ain’t got anything good to write, then I won’t!

Luckily, the streets of Boston are never boring, so I’ll have pleennty of things to write about

Anyways, this is just something I decided to do for fun, and who knows how long it’ll actually last. Whatever. All I know is that it’s gonna be absolutely awesome!

-Your super cool owner who’s name is already on the cover

God, was that a pain to read. Whatever, he thought, it was worth it. He could almost hear his voice at the time through the words, remembering how it was to be 13. He could tell this was gonna be promising, if that first page was to base anything off of. This was gonna be fun.

The next page was just as nostalgic.

WOOOOO!! Today has been GREAT! 

Okok so, I have 7 brothers, and they’re ALLL older and bigger than me! They always call me the runt. It’s not MY fault I was born the youngest and smallest! Whatever. Point is, they’re tough, but so am I!

They’re always fighting, packing punches, and being awesome! But, the fight used to always stop before I could even get to the scene.

Well, how lame would I be if I just let that be, huh?

What I’ve got that they don’t is speed! And it’s not like they’re the only ones who got the ability to land some blows! Street smarts also get you far in these parts

Ok ok, back to the point, today, another fight between my brothers and some knucklehead happened, and I GOT TO BE A PART OF IT! 

I landed so many blows, you should’ve SEEN me!! Hit him right over the head with my baseball bat! Needless to say my brothers were impressed, although it didn’t stop them from giving me noogies. 

Either way, the fight was awesome!! Can’t wait to be part of more

My ma was concerned about my involvement though, so it may be a bit difficult to do so. She treats me like a child, I swear. I’ll just have to be sneaky!

Pfft, there wasn’t even a sign off on that one! Well, Scout can’t say he was necessarily surprised. He knew he’d never remember to do something like that. Heck, he’d forgotten VERY IMPORTANT things before! Who thought he’d remember something so small?

The memories of his old days in Boston made him miss home. He loved fighting here with the guys, don’t get him wrong! But nothing will beat those streets.

Scout continued to indulge in the old writings, reading page after page, story after story. Laughing at some of the ridiculous things he’d written, agreeing with some of the injustice described, sucked into every single word.

Soon, time escaped him, and it was time for dinner. They all took turns making food, although the others always got other food when it was Scout’s turn, something about not trusting him. Pfft- they’d eat their words if Scout followed one of his Ma’s recipes, he’d become an expert at those and they always ended up tasting amazing!

Either way, it was dinner time, and so Engineer—who acted like he was his dad most of the time—called out for Scout.

“Scout! Come out, it’s time for supper!” Pfft- sometimes Scout was reminded of the man being from Texas.

“K! I’ll be down ‘n a minute, lemme finish this!” In reality, he just wanted to read one more page. He’d be thinking about the journal all dinner anyways, what could reading one more page do?

Flipping the page, he immediately started reading it. Although, what he read wasn’t at all what he expected.

It wasn’t some silly story. It wasn’t a recounting of his awesome fights or some trick he pulled off. It wasn’t complaining about school or girls who rejected him.

No, it was something much, much different.

Hey. Me again. So uh, this is gonna be a different sorta page

This is gonna be about my dad.

Those words were over many words long erased, a jumble of faint pencil showing just how much Scout went back and rewrote his words before just settling for the simple explanation.

I’ve been thinking about him lately. You see, I’ve got a different dad than my brothers. We all got the same Ma’, and they all have the same Pa’, but I got stuck with another dad. 

My brothers’ Pa’ died, that’s what I've been told. Never met the man, but I heard he was kind.

Then there’s my dad

The bastard that left my Ma’ to take care of 8 boys all by herself

He left when I was 3. Despite everything, I still remember. I still remember some things about him.

..This page will be dedicated to writing down everything I remember about him

Scout paused. Did he want to continue reading this? 

…He might as well.

Well uh. First of all, he had brown hair. That explains where I got that considering my Ma’s hair is black. He had uh- stubble? I dunno, the details are blurry. I can’t describe his face, but I’d probably recognize it if I ever saw it again.

Moving on from appearance. Well, he’d always tuck me in and sing me a lullaby when he was around.  Don’t remember the words though, only the melody. 

He’d also say “Ma petite chou-fleur” a lot, to my Ma’ I think. And, well, “Mon cheri” to me. I don’t know what kinda language that is but it sure ain’t English

And uh.. I remember feeling lonely when he left.

..That’s all. Maybe I should burn this page or something before anyone in my family finds it. As far as they’re concerned, I remember nothing. 

The bottom of the page was charred, indicating that he did try to burn it. Clearly he didn’t go through with it though. 

Scout stared at the page, lost in thought. That was until a voice broke through the silence.

“Scout!! Are you coming or not?!”

He had forgotten about dinner. Quickly closing the journal, he placed it back with the other notebooks, and sped his way over to the others.

“Sorry! Took longer than I thought it would” Scout was quick to sit down with his plate of food. It was Spy’s turn to cook, he could tell the Frenchman’s cooking from a mile away. He hated the guy, but he was a good cook, as much as he hated to admit it.

Some argument was going on with Demoman and Soldier. The rest were watching it and Heavy was trying to stop it. He can’t say he was surprised, there never was peace with this group. Sniper looked miserable, being close to the two arguing men. Or, well, he vaguely looked miserable. His expression barely ever changed.

His mind remained on the journal entry. What were those words? He couldn’t help but wonder what language his father had been speaking in those early years. He didn’t know any language but English though.

..Well, Engineer was sitting right next to him. And he did hear the man had like- 11 PhDs. Surely he’d know another language in all of that? Maybe the one those words were in?

Well, it was worth a shot.

“Hey, Engineer, can I ask ya’ somethin’?” The man’s attention was immediately brought to Scout rather than the fight.

“Hm? Yeah, sure Scout. What do ya’ need?” Okay. Here Scout went. He took a deep breath.

“Ok so I was reading an’... old journal my Ma’ had sent, which by the way, insane tha’ stuff that wa’ written in there! I could go on and on about tha’ stories-”

“Scout! Scout.. I’d love to ‘ear ya go on and on, don’t get me wrong, but, get to the point?” Okay yeah, that was a bit embarrassing

“Right! Right. Okay, well. There were some words in one o’tha’ entries..” Scout paused. Was he really doing this? He took a deep breath. “Do you know what “ ma petite chou-fleur ” or “ mon chéri ” means? What language they ‘r in?”

For a moment, Scout regretted saying a thing. He felt like someone was looking at him, someone other than Engineer.

“Sorry son, I don’t know. Sounds like it’s French though, so if you want to know what they mean, maybe ask Spy” Scout’s eyes looked away. He didn’t wanna think of going to Spy for anything, or Engineer calling him son. Well, at least not now. 

“Okay..Thanks anyways!” Scout went back to eating his food. Someone was still looking at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he saw Spy looking at him. But, when he raised his head and looked, none of the such. He was instead looking at the two still bickering men in disdain.

Maybe he was just imagining things. Or maybe it was because he stole his knife. 

Actually wait nevermind, it was probably that second one.

Soon, Scout was back in his room, with another stolen item from Spy. His lighter. This one wasn’t even for revenge, it was just to piss him off. 

He had to act quickly, Spy wouldn’t hesitate. 

Grabbing the journal, he quickly found the very one he had been reading before dinner. The one about his dad. Without hesitation, he ripped it out, and he left his room and the base before anyone could ask him what he was doing.

It was dark outside. It wasn’t hard to find a good spot, it’s not like there was much grass in this part of New Mexico. He let go of the paper, letting it flutter down to the ground. Then, he squatted down, and set it on fire using the lighter. 

He stood back up, watching it go up into flames and burn brightly in the darkness of the night. Pfft- Pyro would love this. Too bad Scout didn’t get him before he went out here. 

The paper burned completely, leaving a pile of ash. He smeared it into the ground using his shoe, before walking away.

He’d never think about it again.

Never.

Chapter Text

He should’ve known never wasn’t possible with his brain

It had been a week since Scout got the package, since he burned the page, and he still was thinking about it. It was always on his mind, being in the background while he did anything.

While he drew, while he talked, while he battled .

It was a problem.

He’d gotten called out for it too. Soldier kept getting on him after battles, about how his performance was bad, how he wasn’t giving his all, about how he was letting down the team. Every time Scout would have to stop the tears from forming, swallow down his negative emotions, and mutter out a promise he couldn’t keep. That he’d do better next time.

And that was that.

The only thing that ever stopped him from thinking of it, that stopped it from lingering in his mind, was running until exhaustion was all he could think about. It provided results, but the moments of relief from the thought wasn’t worth working his body to the bone like this. And he noticed it. He noticed the looks of concern from all the other mercs. Some were less obvious—like Sniper and that damn perfect poker face of his—but they still were there. He could feel their eyes on him, every time he walked into the room, every time they got back from battle.

Scout was sick and tired of it.

Currently, he was in his room, drawing in one of the sketchbooks his Ma sent. He figured, why not make use of it? That’s why she sent them, was it not? 

That package would’ve been a perfect gift. If only that damn journal wasn’t in it.

The sound of a snap! filled the room

As he focused his mind back down on the page, he saw his pencil pressed tightly against the paper, broken lead scattered close by. He sighed. Brushing the lead off the page carefully, he got up from his bed, walking over to the pencil sharpener he kept in handy. The others could say whatever they wanted, he wasn’t about to accidentally cut himself trying to sharpen a pencil using a knife or any other blade.

Sharpening the pencil over the trash can—He wasn’t about to get pencil shavings all over the place, he had standards —he found himself wishing he could block the words from his mind entirely. Like how he burned the page. 

Scout instinctively pricked himself with the pencil, like the checking of sharpness he’d done for many before. However, he had gotten it particularly sharp, and it’s not like he was being gentle with this brain stuff he was dealing with. Pulling his finger away, he brought it to his mouth immediately, sucking on it. The slight metallic taste told him it did bleed, just a little. Great.

Sighing, Scout returned to the bed, looking down at the page and finding he had no desire to draw anymore. He grumbled and dramatically threw himself back against the bed in frustration, hands over his eyes. 

God did he just want this to be over. 

Moving one of his hands slightly, he spotted the journal out of the corner of his eye. It had remained just where Scout had left it a week ago, when he had torn out that one page and left.

Maybe. Maybe burning that too would solve this. Burning the page didn’t matter if he kept seeing the journal it was from, therefore further reminding him of it. 

Yeah, that was it. He’d just have to burn the journal too. He’d just have to let the ashes float away with the wind, removing any thoughts of it from his mind.

He had a plan.

Grabbing the journal, he left his room, determined to get this done. He just had to do this, and this hell would be over. He could go back to living life as normal, leaving this state he had been in since the moment he read those words.

Scout didn’t pay any mind to any of the others, dead set on his mission. A lighter was left on a surface near him. It wasn’t Spy’s but it would do the job. He grabbed it.

Words were spoken around him, but he wasn’t paying attention to what they said. It was all muffled in his mind. He was going to do this, all would be fine-

A hand grabbed his arm before he could walk out the door. 

Scout’s head jerked back, and his eyes were met with a black, lifeless mask.

“Mmmh!! Dmm mm mmmnnn hm hm-hmmm mmph hmm?” Pyro’s muffled words were still hard for Scout to decipher, especially with his brain how it was right now. Something about doing something with him? It didn’t matter anyways, he had to do this now.

“Sorry, can’ righ’ now buddy.” He surprised even himself with what came out. It was serious and low, two things his voice usually never was. There was silence in the room, whatever the guys were saying earlier had come to a stop. 

“Hmmmm mmmnnnn.. Hm mmmm mph hmmm mmnd hm wmmnnnmmm hmmm hmmmnmm ss nn hm!” Somehow even Pyro’s muffled words sounded concerned, he didn’t even know that was possible! His hand felt like it was burning the longer he held onto the book. He had to get this over with. He. Had. To. Go.

“PYRO LET GO O’ ME!” Scout jerked his arm away from the gloved hand, his voice coming out louder than it ever had. It was almost as if it echoed in the silence. 

“Hm.. Hmm… Hmm gmmnn gmmm” Pyro walked away, going back to their room like a kicked puppy. And, in a way, that’s probably how they felt. All the eyes in the room were on him.

So, he did what he did best.

Run.

The sound of his sneakers pounding against the sand beneath him was the only thing he could hear, along with his own breath. Over, and over, and over again, the breeze on his skin as he cut through the air. He was certain he already passed Sniper’s van a minute ago

In any other scenario, this would be cathartic, exciting even. But not in this one. He could take no comfort in this feeling this time, it just ended up feeling wrong and foreign, yet the only thing he could do. Eventually, his legs gave in, and kneeling to the ground he went, the journal making a thud! as it dropped to the dirt. The lighter landed near it, Scout’s hands hard against the rough surface below him.

The words said rang in Scout’s ears as he stayed still for once. He did something wrong, he hurt someone he didn’t mean to. He was bad, he was in the wrong. He had to be punished for it.

He couldn’t just continue what he was doing, he couldn’t distract himself. He’d be wrong for doing that, he’d make it seem as if he didn’t care, even if no one was watching him. Even if no eyes were on him.

His hands were itching to do something, brain begging for stimulation, but Scout refused to move.

He wouldn’t let even the simplest thing go, stopping himself from tapping his nails together to the tune of a song because that was still a distraction. He needed to sit here, think about what he’d done.

After all, how could he really be sorry about what he’d done if he just went off and did something else immediately afterwards? No one would believe that!

Not even himself.

And so he stayed, who knows for how long. It felt like hours would go by even if it were just mere minutes. His hands were clasped together, not letting himself indulge in any stimuli. 

He was tired of feeling like this. He was tired of all of this. He just wanted it to stop .

Scout was shaking. He looked back down at the journal and the lighter and he knew what he had to do.

Picking up the lighter, he tried to keep his arm as steady as he could, and flicked it to life. The flame didn’t look as bright as it did at night, but it did look just as dangerous. Slowly, he brought his arm down, and lit it all up.

All the pages, the cover, the words . They all started burning away, the smoke rising. 

Scout scooted back as quick as he could, still on the ground and unable to will himself to his feet. As he sat back, eyes fixed on the burning wreck in front of him, he felt a sense of heat that didn’t come from the scalding sun above him.

Looking quickly, he saw the edge of his pants on fire, and he was quick to swat it away. Not the smartest decision. With a combination of that and rubbing his leg against the ground the fire did go out! But now he had a burn on his wrist.

Sucking a breath through his teeth, he accepted his fate, hoping the pain wouldn’t stay for long. Looking back over, the book was nearly completely burnt to ashes. Good. 

He watched as the last of it burnt up, the wind picking up slightly and bringing the ashes with it. 

He knew he had to go back now. Luckily, he could still see the base in the distance. Only problem? His legs felt like jello, and he’d probably just end up falling if he dared go the distance. 

God damn it. 

Scout laid flat against the sand and rocks. Maybe if he stayed here long enough, he’d regain the ability to walk again without getting heat stroke? It was a longshot but it really was his only option at this point.

That was until he felt the presence of someone next to him. His eyes shot open, and he immediately scrambled back, away from whoever it was. 

“Ay, calm down mate. I ain’t gonna ‘arm you” The Australian’s voice was instantly recognizable, and Scout’s eyes focused on the face staring down at him. There he was. Good old Sniper.

“Oh. Hey Snipes’” Scout tilted his head, wincing a bit at how the rock scraped against his scalp. “How you doin’?”

“I should be askin’ you that. What’re you doin’ on the floor like that?” Sniper remained standing, not even crouching down at all. Of course, with Scout laying on the ground, this meant that the man absolutely towered over him. 

“It don’ matta’. Though I uh- I can’ exactly, well, walk righ’ now.” He had to admit the truth, they'd get nowhere otherwise. Plus, maybe Sniper could help him get back to the base before he cooked like a fried egg out in the sun.

“Bloody hell, what have you done to yourself mate? Run your legs into the ground?” A hand was extended by the Australian, along with him crouching slightly, thank god.

“Guess you coul’ say that” Scout quickly pocketed the lighter, not really wanting Sniper to know why he was out here in the first place. Then, he took Sniper’s hand, immediately having to use him for support as his legs ended up being just as unstable as they felt.

“Alrigh’, Alrigh’, let’s get you back to base. Not about’a let you cook out ‘ere mate” Sniper hoisted Scout’s arm across his shoulders, giving Scout support and the ability to lean onto him as much as he needed.

It was a bit awkward concerning the height difference between them two, but that didn’t matter.

It took them a while, but soon, they got back to base, and Scout spotted Pyro’s room. He knew he had to do something.

“I can handle myself from ‘ere Snipes’, I’ll be fine”

“You sure?” He just gained a nod in return. "Alrigh’ bugger, I’m trusting you. I’ll be in my van” And with that, Sniper left. 

Scout steadied himself with the wall. He had gained some strength in his legs, much better than earlier, but they still weren’t all there yet. He soon reached Pyro’s door.

With a deep breath, he raised his fist, and knocked. 

He had never been more nervous to see that gas mask.

“Mmph? Hmm.. Hmmmnnm mmnn dmmnm phmm…?” Scout never knew muffled words could sound so dejected until today. He took a deep breath.

“Well, uh- Y’know, I jus’ wanted to- ABOUT EARLIER” He never was good at apologies when he actually needed to, when he was in the wrong. He never was but.. But he needed to try here. “I’m… I.’m ssorry..” He choked the words out, wholeheartedly meaning them but finding them so hard to say.

For a moment, there was silence. With Pyro always wearing that lifeless mask, it always was hard to know what they felt in situations like this. 

Scout had really fucked it up this time, hadn’t he? He’d just given Pyro, and well, everyone who saw him yell at them, a reason to finally stop dealing with him. A reason to openly hate him, instead of just tolerating him and acting like they liked him. I mean, that's surely what was going on, wasn't it? They all surely thought he was too loud, too annoying, too self-centered.. And now, well, now they just had even more reason!

To his surprise, though, he felt arms wrap around him.

“Hm wmm mph wnmmn phmm hmm tm snnm smmnm!! Mmm wmm hm hm-hmmm nnmm?” All tension in Scout melted at those words. Thank god.

“Yeah, okay bud. Le’s go do that” 

And for a while, all was right as they had fun with crayons and paper, even if the finished products weren’t the prettiest. 

And for the first time in a while, he didn’t think about that, just enjoying the moment.

And if anyone asked where he got the burn on his wrist?

Well he’d just look at it, slightly laugh, and say three words. 

“I don’ remember”