Save the medals, I've had my fill.

The rest of the roses are waiting for Jack if he does decide to show; and Gabriel can’t help but grin a little when he hears those telltale footsteps enter the base, quiet but audible to the wraith. 

He’d hoped, sure. But after their previous meeting, well-

He’d been more than convinced that he was just going to be making dinner for himself, which meant letting it spoil when he went outside to hunt.

The armor, for once, is ditched; instead, Gabriel is elbow-deep in some kind of meat-and-spices mixture with the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up, barefoot and looking remarkably domestic for one of Talon’s worst mercenaries.

Don’t judge the flour in his hair, please. 

He’s trying.

He had came open, no armor, nothing to hide behind, no mask, no nothing but a rose and a promise, and a hope, so when he found a safe house there was a chill down his spine of the last time he had been in one of these.

The dance they had done countless times played behind his eyes and the wounds he carried ached, why did he keep doing this to himself

But the rose that carried no scent had felt more like a promise of something then anything had in quiet sometime. So he came. He came open, and he wished he had brought his visor.

WIshed he had anything to hide the way emotions spilled into his eyes, a weight lifting off his heart and making him almost cry out verbally when he sees a sight so familiar that it makes something inside of him twist. 

It takes every fiber of his being to keep from rushing forward at that point, to wrap his arms around Gabe and hold him and pretend, that this? This was their reality. Instead, he manages a smile. Setting the flower on the table before walking into the kitchen, shoes toed off like they had a million times before and setting his hand on a cold shoulder that he hoped would turn his way for the first time in a long time.

Though his appointment in Venice had gotten in the way of his own scheduling in more ways than one, cause for a rearrangement in Reaper’s life, he had not forgotten about the cryptic messages and tense meet-ups with the old hero. Far from it, really; whatever happened, he was always at the front of his mind one way or another.

Usually, Reaper was not the one who was late for an appointment. 

He observed, for a while, the way the white-haired vigilante made his way to one of Reaper’s more well-hidden safehouses. They’d both always been good at tracking and staying untracked, but it almost wasn’t fair. The edge he had been granted was something Morrison wouldn’t ever grasp. No one suspects their ow shadow until it was too late, anyway.

When he made his way past the locks and the silence, Reaper finally slid forward, a rush of darkness and shadows that pressed up against Morrison the second he had his back turned. His shotguns heavy in his hands, reassuring; a light press against the back of Morrison’s head-

a quiet warning.

“Didn’t even knock,” sneers the wraith, pressing his half-solid body against the soldier to nudge him further inside.

“Didn’t think you’d lose your manners too but here we are. You must be doing worse than you thought.”

He should have been ready for death to dog his steps, the slight movement in the corner of his vision as the visor saw something before Soldier could ever have hoped to.

there is nothing safe in this safe house.

Could he trust his own shadow? Of course not, he hadn’t been able to since his body had crumbled away and his shadow had grown the heartbeat he lost. Didn’t suddenly help him move any quicker.

A gun to his head, and a question  unspoken in the air. Will you pull the trigger again

He understood the order. Stepping forward, farther into the darkness of a safe house that could have been home if it was another lifetime from now. Instead it could be a tome. If the call had been a trap, if this game of cat and mouse had finally become tiresome. 

He kept baiting, his words strict, meant to sting, but it wasn’t worth the fight that Soldier would have to put up to bite back. He was so god damn tired of fighting back against this anger. Sarcasm and wit a band-aid for the trust that was wilted away.

“You didn’t come.” 

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a concern. It was the only thing he could think to say. The only answer he had for why he wandered out into the dark one more damn time, trying to chase down those same shadows that moved from the corner of his eyes. I’m fine

Lies. 

He was tired of lying. So he wouldn’t. Not this time. “What happened on your mission, why did you not contact me again.” Instead, he would ignore it.

Angela had no idea why Jack was here, and on top of that even if she did it wouldn’t stop her from healing him. Granted, she wouldn’t be thrilled to know he was essentially here to rob her colleagues. 

“Now now. You’ve walked into my office injured and in need of medical assistance. While I have no idea why you were skulking around the premises if not to ask me for help, I don’t want to know. I can’t, on a good conscience, let you go without making sure you’re safe.”

She hoped a bit of jesting would get him to soften up a bit around her as she held out a hand as a sign of cooperation while grabbing some of her medical supplies with her free hand.

“Now stop being a baby and let me help you.” 

She wasn’t leaving, which he supposed was both a blessing, and a curse. There was no one who knew what they were doing quiet the same way Angela did. She was a blessing, had earned those wings she wore to battle, time and time again.

Still, he kept his lips sealed tight when she spoke. Not letting her know why he was really there was perhaps the best kindness he could offer her at this point. If he was going to be unable to refuse her aid, he at least didn’t have to drag her farther into the problem.

Instead, he looked away from her, and set down the supplies he was currently using. She hadn’t changed a day since the last time he saw her. Seemed a growing theme around him each day. Those in his life seemed frozen in place.

There is a few moments where it takes Jack a bit to be able to tell what exactly it is waiting on his bedside before he smiles a tiny bit at that, the coordinates being brushed under his thumb as he contemplates what to do. But, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? What was the worst that could happen. 

Not that he didn't trust Ana with his life, but he couldn't trust her to let him make his sacrifices. She worried to much, her and tracer both. So he pulled back, did the only thing he knew how to do and moved forward.

That's why when Gabe didn't show up for their meeting that fear planted in his chest. He could have chose to trust the wrong person, there was always that slim chance. He doubted that was reality though.

They weren't at the end of the line just yet.

So he did the only thing that he could think of, stupid as ever. But loyal, he couldn't walk away from Gabe or reaper, couldn't choose anything that didn't end with them back to back. Be it in a grave or on the battlefield. He had to hope and pray those safehouse that has been rattled off in a list were a hint, and not just a trap.

Pray that what he found wasn't another shotgun to the back, and instead was his partner who just lost track of time.

Yeah, like Gabe would have ever been late.