In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Seventy: To Bide the Time

[A/N: Baron's character and this chapter's art is brought to you by @islandercrows on Instagram!! Show 'em some love!}

I've stared at the ceiling for what feels like an hour. It might just be five minutes. I don't want to get up. It's ten in the goddamn morning, there's a man living in my vents, and my clone is walking the streets. Just for one day... Can the world not be wacky for one day? My heart hurts. Please let this all be a very detailed dream. Maybe I'm in a coma.

I should call Engie. The phone is in the kitchen, though. Sitting up, blood rushes to my brain and clouds my vision for a few moments before it passes. My feet touch the cold hardwood floor, and I push off of my bed to stand upright. Throbbing picks up in my skull, and I stumble my way over to the bathroom and wash up before going to make breakfast. Opening my door, Baron and Salvador sit on the kitchen floor several feet away from each other. Baron is real. Solves that dilemma. I don't think they're having a staring contest, but rather some kind of mental battle they're having with each other that's so intense that they don't acknowledge me when I step around them.

It's darker than most mornings because the curtain to the balcony is closed. I stand behind Salvador as I observe Baron now that there's more light. His face says that he's older... Fifty? Maybe? Saying that he looks exhausted is an understatement. I didn't notice until now that he could move his eyes independently in pairs. His main eyes stay train on Salvador, but the smaller ones below them follow me as I move over to the fridge. That tail of his gently taps on the floor like a cat's. His biological hands rest on his knees and the extra pair cross around his body. He's hunched over as though he's cold. Giant but almost unnoticable scars run rampant on his chest and under his arms on the shoulders of the second set.

"What do you two want to eat?" I don't get an answer. "Crepes it is, then." The floor creaks when I turn around to get the milk. My body backs up into the fridge when all that's behind me is Baron. "Sweetie, could you move?" He steps over. "Thank you." Turning the stove dial, pulling a pan from the cabinet, and getting a bowl, I look for the flour and sugar to make the batter. Baron inches along behind me as I move around the kitchen, imposing on whatever it is I do.

He carries an expectant aura as if he's silently asking for something. Asking for Medic. I don't acknowledge him and let him continue with his little charade, akin to a young child bothering their mother. 'Ma. Mom. Mama. Mum.' I'll let him tire himself out. Just as I'm about to pour the batter on the pan, Salvador takes a rogue swing at Baron from behind. The tall German avoids it as if he had a warning and grabs onto Salvador's arm, picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Salvador lands on his back and curls immediately upon impact, groaning as he rolls over.

"What did you expect?" I inquire as I move around Baron.

"I was testing his reflexes," Salvador strains, still on the floor.

The corner of my lip twitches. "What did you expect?"

Baron looks over my shoulder. "It is not below me to fight a child."

"I would prefer you don't," I tell him. "Both of you, no more putting your hands on each other. I know neither of you are fans of the situation, but I'd appreciate it i--" I stop myself and turn to Baron. "I'm sorry, you probably don't understand what I'm saying, uh..."

"My English is scattered, I understand and speak about the same."

"Okay, then... Try to get along for as long as you're here. Baron, what are you even planning to do once or if you kill Medic?"

"Rückkehr nach Deutschland. Er... Return to Germany." He crosses his arms. "America sickens me." There's a knock at the door and Baron moves around the island to check the peephole of the door in hopes of it being his enemy. He backs up and lets me look through, a girl on the other side. She's more than likely the person who lives below us. Baron's taken to the vent once again as Salvador leans against the kitchen island with a hand on the backside of his hip. I open the door.