When in Rome

Chapter Three: Worrisome

Smokescreen laid in the bed, atop the covers. She tossed and turned, checking the clock every other second to see how much time had passed. It felt like days had gone by, from her pacing to her looking out the window.

Her thoughts were like a nightlight too bright to sleep with. He was out there, doing something that could kill him. But isn't that how it always is? Why was she just now realizing?

It was no wonder that Delores broke up with him. She must have been worried sick!

Smokescreen sat up and cringed at herself. It's not that SHE was worried sick. She mustn't be worried at all.

Not in the slightest.

Smokescreen walked about the room, noting that it was already six in the morning. The more time that passed by, the more she seemed to think about him.

She recalled his morning routine, the exact same with a cigarette and coffee. He usually disliked being in the cafeteria, unless he was in a rush. That's why, when Smokescreen would see him there, she would often go out of her way to hold him up. Anything to make his life just a little bit harder.

Six turned to nine, and she found herself laughing at some of the things she remembered him saying. She smiled at his past reactions, even wondered what it would be like to live inside his head.

And then it was eleven.

And then twelve.

"Spy...where are you?" She wondered. She could feel anxiety well up in her chest. What was life without him going to be like?

As minuets passed, she kept hoping, praying that he would open the door. That she would see him walk pass the window. Maybe even see him trip and fall, if she were lucky.

And that was when she realized.

She couldn't live without Spy. He was a highlight, something to look forward to seeing.

One PM. Two PM. Three PM.

Is he really gone? Smokescreen sat up at the edge of the bed, one hand over her mouth as she inspected the small, velvet box. He can't be, right?

The ticking clock landed at four PM just as Smokescreen heard a knock at the door.

She quickly stood up, starring at the door. On one hand, she was anxious and hesitant. But on the other, perhaps it was Spy? She sped walked to the door and placed her hand on the knob. Just as she decided to turn it, it thudded against the lock.

She imagined his face, lifeless and apathetic. She unlocked the door, her gaze somewhere near the top.

But when she opened the door, all she could see were distant traffic.

"Room service!" A frail voice called out. It was cheerful and somewhat lady-like, with a thick accent. Smokescreen peered down at a stout woman, who pushed a cart with sheets and towels.

Smokescreen's mind was an endless string on nonsensical thought. "Oh, I didn't ask." She looked back at the passing vehicles, all monsters on a highway. 

"It's mandated." The woman explained. "May I come in?"

Smokescreen stood in silence. She had almost said yes, brainlessly in her blank thought. But she stopped herself almost immediately. Knowing Spy, he likely left behind some number of itty bitty illegal gear, hidden around the room for anyone to accidently find.

Saying 'yes' would have been normal. And lord knows a TF2 fanfic can't risk being normal.

At the very least, she couldn't risk it.