In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Seventy-Five: Solace

Leaving someone to die in this manner doesn't make me feel as hollow as I thought it would. I'm so used to thinking about what would be best for other people. Always is it about other people. I left the team for the betterment of Miss Pauling. Clearly, I was a thorn in her side, and she wanted me gone. I left for her. I gave up a basic high school diploma for all of my brothers. Suddenly, I was a mother to three. Then two. Quickly was a disgrace to one and a defective older sister to the other. Everything that I do for everyone else is wrong, no matter the intention behind it. This is me being selfish, and- for one reason or another- I can never get being selfish wrong.

I can hear my phone ringing in the front seat. After checking the trunk and the back seat windows, I climb into the driver's seat and pick up the phone. "Hello?"

Dell's on the other line. "Listen, you left out some papers on the table, so I was thinkin' that Sniper--"

"Is dead." I interrupt, deadpan.

"What- What are you on about?"

"I..." Guilt. "I killed him."

Fuck, what have I done?

"He was probably still alive when I buried him." My fingers tap on my lips. Shit, what on God's green Earth have I actually done? I gasp as my hands shake, clasping over my mouth. "Dell, I-" My breathing hitches, and I feel hot all of a sudden. "Dell, I-I-I-I-- Oh, God, I-- He--" I can't talk as I gasp for air. "Hole-- And I-- I-I-- Jesus Christ I killed him!"

I'm dead.

I'm a dead woman.

Word gets out of this, and I'm as good as a contract. A hired killed. Dell gets a head-start. A bounty on my head, the crazy Mann Co. bitch who drugged one of her old employees and buried him out in the desert with life still flowing through his veins. This is the crescendo. The symphony comes crashing down, and the conductor is impaled by her own baton. I orchestrated my own death.

I'm a monster.

"Mona, Mona," Engie eases. "Mona, please listen. That's good."

I choke on my spit as I inhale, eyes darting to the dark void outside my window. "Good?"

"Yes, extremely good. As in 'good riddance.' Darlin', you're okay."

"No, but, the team is going to kill me," I quiver. "They're going to hunt me like I'm an animal and--" I scream and drop the phone as something collides with my window. It's the dead of night, I sentenced a man to death underground, and now I'm already being hunted. I turn to the side, looking down the barrel of a rifle aimed directly at me with Sniper at the ready to shoot. He takes a step back and motions to the door handle. I slowly reach and pop the handle. He yanks the door open and grips my shirt, dragging me out of the van and throwing me to the ground.

"Get on your knees," he orders, hoarse. I struggle to get on my hands and knees. I can't control my breathing, my vision is blurred, and I'm light-headed. The barrel taps my head. "Get on your damn knees!"

"I'm trying!" I plead. "I'm trying, I'm trying!" He's in nothing more than boxers and an undershirt. Legs are scratched and bruised, multiple cuts in different phases of healing. His hair is wild and a beard marks how long it's been since he's shaved. This isn't the man I just murdered. "La-Lawrence?"

He bares his teeth. "Nowhere, New Mexico, the grocery store. What happened there? How did we get there?"

"You and Dell were in my apartment after you all thought I was dead. Y-You wanted to convi-con-con-co-convi-convince me get back on the team." I sniffle, gravel digging into my knees. "You drove me there after forcing me to go with you beca-cau-cause it was late, and you already had your van there. We talked, ngh, and the store clerk was-- He was following us. We reintroduced ourselves." His hands are shaky. He blinks tears. "You're Mick Mundy from Reliable Excavation Demolition as a contractor. Your, uh, your mates call you 'Sniper' 'cause you got a sharp eye."