Complete brightness had suddenly transitioned to quenching blackness in the Medic's vision. The vacancy and darkness of the realm was uncannily similar to the process of Respawn, but the lurching feeling in his gut that the process always induced was absent. After concluding that he was indeed not Respawning, the first thought to go through his head was whether he was dead or not. He could barely feel anything physically, only the slightest sensation of floating stimulating his mind. His hopes sunk a bit. He was never a very religious man, but the thoughts of possibly being in some sort of purgatory came into mind. Feeling immortal for much of his employment with BLU, the Medic had never pondered death all to deeply.

Without warning, his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his hand. Suddenly the darkness began to lighten somewhat. The pain didn't go alleviate, and as he looked down, he could finally see something through the hazy atmosphere. His hand, with a familiar dagger stabbed through it.

The Medic lurched awake, momentarily thrashing out of his unconsciousness. He found himself covered in sticky sweat, his eyesight and thought process hazy. Flipping over onto his stomach, the familiar throbbing from the dream filled his hand, and he cursed under his breath. The Spy, who was now lying next to him unconscious, was apparently the culprit who stuck the knife into his hand. Not that it was very surprising. Extracting the knife with a small wince, he pushed himself up, looking behind himself at the fire. His eyes looked upward, finding that the roof was also creaking warningly with the introduction of heat and fire. The licking flames around the walls were starting to get dangerously close, despite the Spy's efforts to buy time. Not to mention the room filling with smoke. His breaths were becoming increasingly labored as he slipped off his medical coat.

Squinting through the fumes, the Medic could not see any sort of other exit besides the one already consumed with scorching fire. The copious amounts of smoke made his eyes water behind his glasses. Looking back to the planks on the wall, the Medic attempted to find a realistic solution.

His Bonesaw could have made easy work of the aged wood. Unfortunately, all weaponry had been transferred with other necessities to Dustbowl in advance. He was trapped, only having the Spy's knife and the unbearable heat at his disposal. The situation was looking grim for both men; there was no time to loose. Medic leaned into the wood, observing the makeup and condition of the building. The planks were nailed in lazily, few actually fastened to the wood tightly. If he could push the nails out of the planks, or possibly loosen them, he could remove the wall in-between them and the fresh air. Glancing back at the quickly approaching flames, he went to work.

Closing the butterfly knife, the Medic took the handle in his good hand, hammering the exposed sharp side of the nail. He knew the Spy wouldn't have approved of ruining the tool, but at the moment it was of no concern. The haft of the knife got the job done surprisingly well, although it was still in question whether there was enough time to escape. He wondered if the singing heat on his neck was his imagination or the fire taking a taste of his skin.

Taking on the nail diagonal to the first, it slid out almost immediately. Putting pressure on the plank, the piece of wood popped out of its hinge. Hope elevated inside of his chest with a sudden rush of cool air from outside. He quickly continued onto the next plank. It looked that only about four planks would need to be removed for the escape. Taking another glance at his surroundings, the fire was starting to come dangerously close to the Spy's limp figure. Taking another breath from outside, the Medic crawled to his teammate, wrapping an arm around his torso and pulling the man along with him towards the work-in-progress of an escape route.

The second plank came off with a little more difficulty, and the Medic noticed that the fire began to consume Spy's discarded coat, mere feet away. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the German began to work on the third plank. Twisting it out of its position was relatively easy, but the fire was now just about closing in on them. There was no time to try and remove the last board properly. Sighing shakily, the Medic packed his remaining energy into a kick towards the last plank, breaking it impressively in half. He wanted to let relief come over himself, but now was not the time. Grabbing the Spy from under his arms, the Medic dragged him backwards, away from the danger. Shimmying through the hole with a bit of difficulty, the Medic finally made it out into the night, scrambling backwards as he pulled the Spy out of the fiery mess.

Letting go a few yards away from the damned shed, the Medic let himself collapse into the dirt, breathing heavily. After a few seconds of listening to the fire take over the wooden structure, he heard the thundering of the roof collapsing in. Despite the fear still trying to break out of the Medic's system, he found himself laughing quietly. A few days ago, dying in this sort of situation would have been no big deal on the battlefield. It was quite an adrenaline rush to face something of this sort with actual risk. His laughing quickly faded away as he put his hands over his face, mood swinging abruptly. He was nowhere close to out of danger, despite escaping the shed with the Spy. Two of his teammates had already been lost. The Pyro still roamed free, creating havoc. The predicament was still cornering them in the underdog position.

Collecting himself, the Medic's thoughts came to the Spy. Picking himself up regardless to the exhaustion he was feeling, the Medic moved over to the man. Leaning over, the Medic could hear the Spy breathing, although they were raspy breaths. The Frenchman was also covered with sweat due to the immense heat; being reminded of this made the German thirsty. His tongue felt like leather. However, he had no idea where any water at all could be found in the apocalyptic area. He shook the Spy slightly, wondering whether he should let him wake up on his own. This thought was quickly dismissed. There was no time.

Patting the Spy on the face did nothing either. The Medic sighed. The Spy was not going to like this, but... The Medic put all the force he could into a backhanded slap across the Spy's face.

The man jolted awake, his eyes opening hazily as his hand flew to his face, tenderly feeling the skin. Not even a balaclava could protect him from that. His eyes focused on the Medic, and shut again as the Spy coughed slightly. The Medic nudged him, hoping that he had not fallen unconscious again or worse. The Spy waved him away somewhat, only the fizzing of the flames filling their ears.

After giving the Spy a fair amount of time to gather himself, the Medic prodded at him again, crouching. "Ve must go. Can you stand?"

The Spy sighed, turning over with a hiss of pain. A burn up his left arm and hand came into the Medic's sight that he hadn't noticed before. Helping the man up, the Medic made a side note of tending to his burn when the opportunity arose. After a few shaky steps the Spy got a hold of himself, mind cleared with the now fresh supply of air. Glancing at each other, the two cautiously made their way into the street, towards the area where the Pyro had drawn blood.

The Heavy came into sight first – it would be hard to miss the axe sticking out of the massive man's forehead. They approached the body, a puddle of blood collecting around the man's corpse. Looking down, the Medic gazed at his friend's glassy eyes, still open. The Spy turned away from the stomach-churning display, making his way towards the Scout. A regretful frown came to the Medic's face. Bending down, he closed the man's eyelids, staring at his friend's body with repent. There was no use in checking for a pulse. The Heavy was definitely dead. Returning to his standing position, the Medic was brought out of his mourning by a sudden choking sob from a bit away.

The Spy had found the Scout, but this cry did not come from the Frenchman. Whipping around and hurriedly running towards the Spy's bent over figure, the Bostonian came into view. It looked as if the boy had just come out of unconsciousness, whimpering quietly as the Spy comforted him. The flare had seared a streak across the left side of his face across his cheek, narrowly missing the Scout's eye. At first it had seemed that the Scout had not been hurt much, but as the Medic approached, he noticed a deep wound on the Scout's leg, undisputedly a blow from a fire axe. Blood was still flowing out of the wound. However, the Scout's mental state seemed considerably worse.

His eyes were still wide with fear, despite being among his teammates. The Spy carefully pulled the Scout up into a sitting position, the boy struggling and choking out unintelligible words. As the Medic came up on the Scout's other side, he began begging them to stay away. "D-Don't hurt m-me," He finally began to form sentences, sobbing as his eyes squeezed shut with pain and fear. He was no longer the smart talking teenager that the two of his teammates had known. "P-Please, l-leave me a-al-lone."

The Spy kept the boy upright, patiently wrapping his arm around him and whispering calmly to the Scout as the Medic began tending to the gashes in his thigh. "It's okay, you're safe now. Please, hush, everything is going to be alright." The young man began to quiet down, giving up on trying to fumble his words. He cried softly into the Spy's chest, sniffling faintly. The Medic had very limited resources, but the fabric of the Scout's running pants would be adequate to put together a makeshift bandage. He used the Spy's knife to make a small tear in the fabric, pulling the rest of the fiber apart with his hands to not accidentally spook the Scout with the sharp object. Removing his gloves with a wince at his own wound, the Medic pulled at the material, wrapping it snuggly around the wound.

The Scout jerked away from the pain with panic, the Spy coaxing him to sit still again. The boy was shaking uncontrollably, hanging onto the Spy as if his life depended on it. The Medic finished up on the improvised bandage, coming to sit next to the Scout as well. He had his head down, leaning into the Spy tiredly. From time to time a small whimper or sniffle emitted from the boy. His cocky nature had been completely extinguished by his close touch with eternal death, or at least the fear of it. He looked as if he was going to say something a couple times, opening his mouth and then clenching his jaw shut again, his blue eyes staring locked ahead.

"Doctor," The Spy started, looking up. Upon his name being called, the Medic glanced up from observing the Scout with concern. "We should get 'im out of 'ere, zhen see if any others have survived." The Spy spoke quietly, as if not to alarm the Scout. The Medic nodded wordlessly, standing. The Spy stood after him, draping one of the Scout's arms over his shoulders as the Medic took the other one. The Scout's reacted minimally to this, his breathing still trembling. The Medic's eyes narrowed slightly. He still couldn't tell if he was traumatized, or this was an effect of the blood loss from the gash.

It took considerably longer to make it outside of the town's boundaries, the group trying to stay near the buildings despite the fact that most were on fire. If the Pyro returned, they could not be out in the open. Along the way nobody spoke. Finally, the group turned, the town only being a mere burning catastrophe in the distance. They had found a couple of large rocks to let the Scout lie behind, hopefully away from the danger. They set him down, the Medic speaking to him slowly. "Ve are going to see if zhere are other survivors. Vait here for us to come back. Do you understand?"

The Scout looked up slightly, nodding after a bit. The Medic wished he could comfort the terrified boy more, but there were important matters to attend to. The Spy gave the Scout a comforting rub on the shoulder as they left, moving back towards the very disaster that they had aimed to escape.

A longer chapter for the previous, shorter one. The conclusion will be in a couple chapters, hopefully. I don't want to drag this out.