Team Fortress 2: Companionship (Please Comment/Review)

[DrBeansMD]

((A/N: Ok, so here's a fan fiction I wrote for the game Team Fortress 2. If wou aren't familiar with any of the characters I would advise watching Valve's "Meet the Team" videos. The main character for this story is the RED Medic, a lonely German man who just wants some company. This was one of my first stories, and I'll probably also be posting some others. I would REALLY like some feedback on these so that I can improve my writing. Thanks in advance!))

Dr. Abelard Khan, or Abel, as his team called him, was your average RED Medic. He fought hard during the day, clung to the Heavy like his life depended on it during battle, healed his team faithfully, and played chess with the Spy in the evenings. He was a bit of a loner, but that was expected. In a position such as his, attachments were somewhat frowned upon. Of course, the Medics of the other RED teams had their companions; Erik at TeuFort had his doves, Charles at Coldfront had a wife and family back home that he wrote to regularly, Gretchen from Sawmill was in a secret relationship with her team’s Heavy, Wilhelm at Granary (RED’s youngest Medic) had a stuffed tiger he would occasionally talk to, and Josef from Dustbowl never went anywhere without his big Rottweiler, Otto. But Abel had no such companion.

You see, despite being surrounded by his eight comrades that he fought by daily, Abel was lonely. He was silent at the dinner table, only offering input when it was asked of him. When he wasn’t playing his nightly game of chess with the Spy, he would shut himself up in his infirmary and read that month’s medical journals. But even for the introverted Medic, Harvest was lonely at times.

Tonight, Abel was especially lonely. He stood at the only window in his small infirmary, and gazed at the moonlit fields outside. He had exhausted his supply of reading material for the month; there was nothing of interest to him. He had already finished and won his game of chess, much to the Spy’s chagrin. The Scout had come to him earlier, after the Soldier threw a steak knife at him after dinner, seeking medical attention. Fixing the Scout was easy compared to explaining to the Soldier that throwing cutlery at one’s teammates was considered ‘inappropriate behavior’. Even though the Scout probably did deserve it. Now, Abel had nothing to do for the rest of the night, and he wasn’t quite ready to turn in. It was Friday after all, and tomorrow was a ceasefire.

He grabbed his coat and headed out. It wasn’t terribly cold, but there was a chill breeze in the air, and Abel wasn’t about to catch a cold if he could help it. He stuck to the RED side of the area, hoping the BLU Sniper wasn’t in the mood for a practice target. Oh well. If he did get shot, he would just respawn and continue his walk. Not that respawning was pleasant. In fact, it was quite the opposite for him. Some handled it just fine, but Abel loathed even the thought of it. Every time he went through the system, he always woke with terrible nausea. He just never fought as well after respawning. So he did his best not to die.

The wind picked up as he rounded the top of a hill behind the RED base, and it ruffled his thick, brown hair. There was an abandoned shack below, one of the many strewn around the battlefield, which the Medic thought he might investigate. It was smallish, barely anything still standing. Perhaps there was something to be looted from it? He walked in through the fragile doorway, being careful not to bump anything that was too precariously balanced, when he heard a sound from the back corner or the ruined building.

“Prrrow?”

“Huh?” Abel’s head shot up at the sudden sound, “Who is zhere?”

He thought for a moment that it could just be that the Pyro had come out here for a little peace and quiet, and was unhappy at being disturbed. Although the sound was unintelligible, it didn’t have the muffled quality of the Pyro’s vocalizations.

“Prrrow, mrrowrrow?”

There it was again, it was some sort of animal. Whatever it was, it had one loud voice. He dug around the back of the shed a bit, moving some debris so that he might find the source of the noise. It was dark, but the full moon lit the place well enough through the many holes in the roof. He lifted away a bit of aluminum roofing that had fallen, and was shocked by what he found underneath.

“Prrr.”

It was a cat. It had a white muzzle and chest, a white belly, and white paws. The rest of it was a dark brown tabby. It was very skinny, and long in the body by the looks of things. Its eyes were bright green, and its face was long and pointed. There was a scar across its nose, and it kept licking its front paw.

Abel approached the animal cautiously, not wanting to spook it. He shouldn’t have worried though, the cat was going nowhere, and it was just as fascinated with Abel as Abel was with it. The man reached out a hand to the cat, which was promptly sniffed and rubbed against. Unexpectedly, the cat began to purr. That was when he noticed that the cat wasn’t putting any weight on the paw it kept licking. Perhaps it was injured?

Slowly, Abel scooped the animal up in his arms. It didn’t struggle or try to run. He carried it back over the hill and into the base, being very careful not to be seen by the Soldier. It took a lot of stealth to get into the infirmary without being seen. He set the cat down on a blanket he had draped over a table and examined the paw in question. In the good light of the infirmary, he could tell that the cat’s radial bone was fractured. It wasn’t too bad though, its ulnar bone was unharmed and the radius would heal correctly if given the opportunity. He rand his hands over every inch of the cat, looking for any other injuries, but all he found was the broken bone.

“Hold still Kätzchen,” he whispered as he gripped the paw tightly, “I von’t be able to set zhe bone right if you squirm.”

With a squeak from the cat and a pop from its bone snapping back into place, the fracture was set. Even though the cat’s ulna would act as a natural splint, Abel reinforced it with a couple of tongue depressors and wrapped the paw in gauze and tape to secure it.

“Stay here kitty,” he said, stroking the cat’s head and causing it to purr, “I’ll be back vith some milk und chicken for you.”

He took off for the kitchen, making sure the cat stayed on the table. The halls were empty all the way to the kitchen, but Abel found out why when he reached the rec room. The Demoman and the Heavy were in a drinking contest, and all the others were taking bets and cheering on their favorites. Abel edged along the back wall of the rec room to get to the kitchen, trying to remain undetected.

Luckily for him, there was just enough milk to fill a bowl and plenty of grilled chicken left over from dinner. He took his bowl and plate of chicken and tried to sneak back the way he had come. He knew exactly how the drink-off would end; Heavy would win, and everyone would end up drinking too much before going to bed. His infirmary would be full of sick mercenaries with bad hangovers in the morning.

When he returned to the infirmary, the cat had not moved from his perch on the table. Abel set the bowl and plate in front of the tomcat, and he immediately began to eat. He must have been hungry, because the chicken was gone in a matter of minutes. The milk was finished off shortly after the chicken, and the skinny cat was soon asking for more.

“Prrrowrrow?”

“Nein, Kätzchen,” he scolded, rubbing the tom’s head affectionately, “if you eat too much, your tummy vill be upset. Und zhen vhat vill I do vith you? Come on, it’s late.”

He picked the cat up in his arms, only to have it immediately drape its front paws over his shoulder, wanting to be held like a small child. The long cat purred loudly in Abel’s ear as he carried his new friend off to his quarters. The man set the cat on his bed and left to bathe in the adjoining bathroom. When he returned, clean and ready for bed, the cat hadn’t moved, but greeted him warmly.

“Mrrr.”

“Yes, kitty,” Abel crooned, yawning as he crawled into his bed, “It is time for bed.”

The man settled on his back. His bed was warm and comfortable. The cat of course, would not be left out, and crawled onto Abel’s chest where he settled, stretched out across the man’s torso. He purred with contentment through the night until they were both asleep.

The next day, Abel woke to find the cat curled up against his head, sharing his pillow. His fur wasn’t very soft, but that was probably from a lack of nutrition. Once he started being fed regularly, its fur would be silky, smooth, and soft. Perhaps he would give the cat an egg for breakfast? He had heard that was good for coat health in cats. Abel didn’t quite know when he had decided that he would keep the cat (or maybe the cat had decided to keep him?), but there was no going back now. The cat was staying, and he would need a name.

“I zhink I’ll call you Jan,” the Medic said, stroking the cat’s head and eliciting more purrs, “Ja, I’ll keep you around. You are such a sweet kitty, you must have been somebody’s pet at one point.”

Abel thought for a moment. How did this cat get here? There were no residential areas anywhere near the bases. There was, however, a road that ran through the area. Perhaps he was dumped here? Either way, he had a home now, and Abel finally had a companion. There would be no more lonely evenings with nothing to do, little did he know he would instead be spending them cleaning up spilled specimens that Jan had knocked off his shelves. He would never be so alone again.

“Ja,” he whispered again as he rubbed Jan’s chin, “you can stay.”