In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Thirty: 'Til it Runneth Over

"People don't cry for nothing, Accomplice, what's botherin' you?"

"I'm fine, Engie, dear," I push.

"Hell, this again," Engie exhales. The dam breaks, and I can't hold any of it back. Just the mere notion of Engie being just as horrible to me broke my limit. The more I wipe it away, the faster it comes out. I give up when my hands are drenched in sorrow and droplets fall onto my lap. My only answer is to sit here and sob, any self-preservation I have left washing out as I belt out squalling like a baby in front of them both. Engie flips on the light again, and I switch it back off. "I didn't mean for that to come out that way, I'm sorry. I know that you don't like what we do, but you have to at this point."

"I know," I whisper, my face in my hands with the hope that keeping my eyes closed would stop the tears. "I'm not cut out for this."

"Which is obvious. You're too kind for that sorta mess and it's eatin' at ya."

"I'm not cut out for dealing with you guys either," I add.

"Whaddya mean?" Engie asks.

"I don't know how to organize any of you, we're always on different pages, I haven't done any official paperwork because Miss Pauling doesn't trust me," I gasp, keeping my volume down, "I'm just here. I'm not adding anything to the team. I never know what's going on going half the time, and I'm pretty sure some of you are pretending to like me."

"Pretending?" Scout inquires, sounding offended. "What makes you think we're pretending? Who do you think is pretending?"

"Heavy, Demo, you," I almost choke on my own spit. "Spy."

"Spy hates everyone, don't worry about him. Yeah, we all act different, but I mean, c'mon. Engie and I are, what, thirteen--?"

"Sixteen, bouta be seventeen," Engie answers.

"We're sixteen years apart from each other. Hell, Heavy and I are... Carry the one..."

"Twenty, bouta be twenty-one" Engie inputs.

"Heavy and I are twenty years apart from each other. We almost never agree on anything together, Accomplice. You're cool with all of us, actually."

"But you yelled at me." My nose burns.

"Yeah, because that shit pissed me off!" Scout groans. "You'd be fucking mad if someone just never told you that they were alive. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks we thought you were fucking dead."

"Simmer down," Engie quietly slides in.

I swallow before I talk. "No, no, I get it. I, I get it. I've felt the same way. The only difference is that we never found out. Just passing the torch of pain is all," I sigh. "My parents just disappeared one day. Got up and left without a trace. Not even a note. We still don't know if they'd be alive at this point. They'd..." I sniff and runs my hands down my face. "They'd be about Heavy's age at this point, I think."

"It's not gonna make you feel any better, but my dad walked out on me as a baby," Scout shares, even though I felt I was oversharing myself. "All of my brothers' dads did. I, uh, I kinda know what you're feeling."

Engie exhales slowly through his nose. "It felt like my daddy went missing. He'd come around every now and again since he lived there, but he was always workin'. Never home. This job took him away and looky where I am now," he grumbles and scratches his chin.

We ride in silence. I told them too much, I'll regret it later. I smirk at how much like shit I must resemble. "I should be dead, Engie."

"Whoa, hey, who said anythin' like that?" He shuts the radio off, panic in his voice.