Chapter Ten: Strangers in the Night

Author's Note: This chapter's a bit more of a breather moment for those who already read "Through the Fire and the Flames".

For being late to work one too many times, Hartmann punished Mort by making him work the night shift for the next two weeks. Grumbling about how blown out of proportion this punishment was, Mort heads for the fortress. While there are fewer REDs to fight, there are also fewer BLUs around to interact with, thus making these shifts duller than any other. Plus, there's the fact that he's stuck doing janitorial work, cleaning the blood and dirt off the floors and restocking the ammo in the Resupply room (wait, you mean the Resupply isn't just magically unlimited? Blasphemy!). On the bright side, the view is simply majestic, with the moon looming over the RED fortress and sparkling on the waters underneath the bridge.

As he sweeps the dirt out the door, he hears the skittering and chattering of the creatures of the night. Two glowing, beady eyes stare at him for a second, then scatters off in search of food. Mort can't help but smile; he hasn't had the chance to see many animals since he came here. But his joy doesn't last for long, as another sight forces him into hiding. Peering out from behind a wall, he watches as a figure travels across the bridge into RED. He cannot see the figure's face, but he has a rousing suspicion that they're not here to clean house, er, fort.

As soon as the figure is barely within sight, the bushman makes his first move. He's no Spy, but years in the Outback have taught him the benefits of being stealthy. Armed with his trusty blade, he warily approaches the mystery person, taking care not to catch their attention.

CREAK!

One toe lands on a wobbly plank on the bridge, and the figure whips their head in his direction. Thankfully, Mortimer proved himself agile enough to avoid getting caught—though it certainly won't be easy getting himself up from underneath the bridge. Grabbing hold of the edge, he clambers up and over the waist-high fence that lines the walkway. Then—more cautious of the flimsy boards holding him above water—he tiptoes his way to the other side.

His journey is interrupted by a single call. “SPY!!” The shrill sounds of gunfire and booms of bombs going off echo loudly from the fortress. Having sworn he felt a bullet fly by his cheek, instinct takes over and he jumps right into the river. Under the shadow of the bridge he waits, listening closely for a ceasefire. In a moment, all is silent, save for a sigh of relief vented from his lips. Sodden with smelly river water, he finds himself in no condition to clean after himself, instead running straight for the barracks. Screw the Doc's orders—I almost lost my life!

But wandering largely unfamiliar territory in the dead of night proves to be quite the task. Lost and alone, Mortimer wants nothing more than a warm place to sit down and rest. As he stumbles about, his ears catch a soft, lyrical sound. Curious, he follows the sound, hearing the twanging of the notes as they grow louder and clearer. Eventually, he catches a wisp of orange light in the distance, and begins to walk faster. As he predicted, the source of light is coming from a campfire, set up and lit by the source of the sound: the Engineer, plucking away at the acoustic guitar in his hands.

“Miller?” Mort says, a mix of relief and puzzlement in his voice. “What're you doin' out here?” Not bothering to wait for his permission, he settles down and starts stripping. “I thought you'd be asleep by now.”

Too exasperated to deal with Mort's shenanigans, Miller replies, “Sometimes, I like to just sit under the stars an' play my music.” He stops playing and shows off his guitar; he's clearly quite proud of it. “So what're you up to?” He takes note of Mort's stringy, dripping hair and wringing excess water from his blouse. “Did it rain earlier?”

“Jumped into the river,” the Aussie grumbles. “I tried to tail somebody coming into RED, but I think they're gone by now.”

“Oh. Well, that would certainly explain all the ruckus.” A raccoon squeaks as it runs by. “Looks like Janey's up to something.”

Mort blinks. “Janey's up, too?” When isn't he awake, anyway? Does he even sleep?

He nods and points at the raccoon running off. “Jane tends to the 'coons this time of night. He's had more than a couple of run-ins with RED's night watch because of it.”

The two of them watch the stripe-tailed critter rush in the direction of what Mort recognizes as the fortresses. “We should help 'im. It wouldn't feel right if he got himself killed over a couple of 'coons.”

“Not a couple,” a voice says from behind Miller. Turning his head, he and Mort see Jane Doe, cradling a young raccoon in his arms while several others circle and climb on him. “A whole family. They've been taking residence around the forts, especially RED's.” Jane's voice softens as he speaks. “I thought it'd be safer if I brought them to the barracks.”

He bows his head, trying to hide the disappointment that must be clear on his face, especially to Mort, whom he'd rather not get involved in his personal issues. Unfortunately, the Sniper has a habit of meddling into others' affairs, and this time is no exception. “Can I help? I can't guarantee nothin', but it's obvious you can't do this job yerself.”

From under his helmet, Jane's eyes peek at Mortimer's eager, borderline dopey smile. With some reluctance, he answers, “Put on some clothes and follow me. We can catch Lieutenant Blackstar together. Milller, bring his kids to the barracks.” He shoves the baby raccoon in Miller's arms and starts walking in the direction where the raccoon—Lt. Blackstar?—ran off, followed by Mort.

Finding Lt. Blackstar is not too difficult, as Jane knows the animal's nightly rounds by heart. The hardest part is getting close enough to the RED base to retrieve him and running off without getting caught. Through a stroke of luck, a fresh crop of BLU mercenaries have come out and begun their shift, providing the perfect distraction while the two sneak out back to corner and retrieve the raccoon. They stop short when spotting a Sentry propped right in front of the foxhole where the critter leapt into. Barely avoiding the gunfire, the Sniper whips out his rifle and shoots at the turret from afar, destroying it in three shots. They rush over to the hole and try to goad Blackstar out, using sweet talk and treats Jane had on him. Blackstar is a stubborn creature, but with enough bribing, he eventually gives in and pops out of the hole straight into the Soldier's arms. They make a mad dash for the barracks before the other RED mercs can find them.

Finally reunited with the rest of his family, Lt. Blackstar and his pack run around the barracks, digging through the trash cans and dumpsters like the adorable vermin they are. Watching their little antics sends a feeling of relief and joy to Mort.

“Thanks,” the Soldier says, his voice low, but lacking its usual harshness.

Mortimer is thrown off by this comment. “For what?”

The youngest raccoon runs up to Jane's leg, and he picks it up and turns to Mort. To the bushman's surprise, Jane appears to be smiling. “For everything.”

It is then that it finally hits Mort what he meant. “It was nothin', really! I... I'm sorry 'bout all the crap I said the other day.”

“Don't worry about that. I get it all the time.” Playing with the little kit in his arms, he continues. “I know I'm not a pleasant person to be around. I'm rude, I'm loud, I'm bossy. I know what I am. But sometimes I wonder if I'm just a nuisance to everybody. Vince isn't very good at his job, despite being around here longer, but everyone seems to like him better, even Duncan.” He puts down the raccoon and avoids Mort's gaze by pretending to observe the others playing. “Let's face it: everyone's better off without me.”

“That's not true! Sure, you might be a handful, but you're anything but useless. I was talkin' with Duncan that day. He may be busy an awful lot, but it's obvious from the way he spoke that he cares about you. Hell, he even put you before work—that's gotta count for something! An' when he handed you over to Hartmann, that's because he trusts him to protect you, not 'cause he's annoyed by you. I've seen what you can do in battle. You're strong an' bold an' just amazing! Not like me.”

Jane pauses before turning to face Mort. “Well, you are kind of a wimp, and pretty stupid, too. Not to mention lazy. But you always seem to know what to say, even if they're ridiculously sappy. And you're oblivious to the most obvious things, yet you somehow notice when somebody's feeling down or angry or disappointed. I don't understand how you—a rookie who hasn't even been here a week—could even tolerate me, let alone want to help me. Not to mention the way people and animals seem to act around you, like you're freakin' Snow White or something.” He crosses his arms. “I don't like to admit it, but despite your lack of skill in battle, you're the one that seems to be holding everybody together.”

For a long time, Mortimer does not speak a word. Then, he belts out a hearty laugh and pats Jane's helmet. “Aw, Janey, aren't you just the cutest thing?” As the laughter dies down, he places his hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, mate. That was totally cheesy, but I needed that.” Suddenly, he bends down and embraces the tiny Soldier, not letting go until Jane kicks him in the groin and leaves him in the dust.