jet pack blues

The sound of someone coming into the lab took Angela by surprise for a moment, so engrossed her in work that the footsteps sounded overwhelmingly loud. Her vision flicked away from nucleotides to golden hair, instantly recognising the Strike Commander but not entirely sure why he was entering. Part of her was tempted to disregard him and continue with her reading–it was rare to get a moment alone, with no patients or assistants to attend to–but she knew better than to ignore someone, even if he didn’t particularly look like there was an emergency anywhere.

“I’m well also,” he returned, tugging the corners of his lips a bit higher as he tried to subtly lean forwards and figure out what she was looking at. Science had never been a strong suit of his–he wasn’t sure why he was even bothering. “But–I do have something I need to speak with you about, Dr. Ziegler. I don’t think you like my masking my point with smalltalk and formalities, so I’ll get down to it.” He gave her a moment to digest that, his brows furrowing as he looked off. “I think that it’s been discussed before, but we haven’t come to a resolution. As a first responder, if you insist on being one, we can’t–I can’t have you out of the field defenseless,” he reiterated, emphasizing his own feelings towards it so she would take it more seriously and not view it as a policy she didn’t intend to follow. “Ideally, we would be able to keep you safe. But the heat of battle can be unpredictable, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

soldier 76 again

At the end of the day, though, the old adage remains true. Heroes never die. Even if he truly was gone, if that part of her that wanted to believe he wasn’t really was a foolish notion, his legacy would never die. Lena wouldn’t let it. That’s part of why she returned to Overwatch– to carry that legacy and to inspire people in the same way that Commander Morrison did. 

And hey, it was going to be pretty fun too.

What isn’t fun is this Soldier 76 fellow, who’s been decidedly avoiding her ever since his arrival. Lena didn’t want to take it personally and for the most part she didn’t. But deep down there was confusion, a worry that it really was something she did. More likely it was that he had some attitude problem, and that’s what she was going with. 

It’s then that she notices that he’s staring at her. I mean, it’s hard to tell with that facehugger of his but Lena’s pretty darn sure. She licks her lip for the third time to make sure there isn’t any stray chicken salad on her face. Nope. No such luck. And yet there he is, still staring.

There’s only one way to deal with this.

She smiles at him, waving lightly. There’s no hesitation in it, even if he might not be looking at her. If he doesn’t respond immediately, she’s going to waggle her eyebrows at him. It might be bad form to laugh at your own joke, so Lena’s going to settle for a mouth-slightly-agape-I’m-definitely-about-to-start-giggling-at-myself-soon expression.

Still, it’s possible it isn’t him, and Jack tilts his head over his shoulder to the right (no one), and then to the left (no one) before looking back towards her. Now that he’s 100% sure she’s waving at him, he isn’t sure how to proceed.

But he can see the look on her face, and he knows very well from his time with her, however brief it might feel in the grand scheme of things, that Lena is not to type to give up. The stranger across the room not waving back might be incidental to someone else, but Lena won’t shrug her shoulders and go back to her sandwich. If he doesn’t give her something, he’s fairly sure she’ll wave again, or call out, or it’s possible he might just blink and she’ll suddenly be at his side, teeming with questions.

With that in mind, he lifts his hand slowly, and gives a small wave in turn.

There is a chance, however small, that that will be sufficient. That Soldier 76, the anonymous grump patrolling around the watchpoint even acknowledging her in return will feel like a victory. That as much as she does want to talk to him, she’ll respect the fact that he seems like he wants to be left alone. That her chicken salad sandwich is too good to pause from and that’s what she should focus on instead.

Naturally, vegan seemed like the very definition of fussy to Jack, even if he could see the morals behind her choice in cuisine. On the contrary, with so few vegan options, it seemed like the best thing to do was to broaden your horizons--but he supposed having a limited menu didn’t make him prefer munching on vegetables only anymore than it would with her. He took a moment to try and remember what pomfrit were as well, furrowing his brows as he tried to recall without asking. “Most people in America like their french fries salty. And most corporations like to make them salty so we spend more on drinks,” he smiled, pleased that he’d remembered what it meant--or he hoped he had, at least. “You just don’t appreciate our fine American comfort meals.”

Jack smiled faintly as she nudged him, well aware that she would probably like to know as little as possible about what he’d been up to. He didn’t think saying that he hadn’t killed or even seriously injured anyone during his acts of ‘terrorism,’ but he didn’t think that it would make much of a difference to her. Or at least, a big enough difference that she’d want to hear about it. “I care about it, I just don’t understand it so well,” he defended weakly--but he knew she was passionate about her work, and listening to her talk about it wasn’t the worst thing. Trying to carry a conversation about it was another matter. Though she’d designed methods for him to use her nanology, he didn’t claim to understand it. All he knew was that it sped up the healing process enough to make a difference--which didn’t exactly make for an equal conversation.

Keeping eye contact with Jack was difficult when he tried to reassure her, sure that he’d pick up on her hesitation anyway. It was obvious that both of them had taken the whole thing personally, even if they wished to absolve one another of the guilt. Still, Angela appreciated that he had picked up on that, finding that it was more like the old Jack. She’d always admired the way he knew his colleagues, showing warmth as a leader. So when he bought up honesty, Angela couldn’t help but internally wince. She wished she could say the same thing to him, subconsciously tightening her grip on his hand. Later, she promised herself instead, shaking away that thought and focusing on the conversation at hand. It would have been impossible to hide the expression on her face as Jack admitted another reason why he hadn’t told her, eyebrows knitting together as Angela sat in silence for a moment.

“Well,” she began to reply, licking at her lips were they had become dry. “I have to admit that somewhat hurts to hear. Even after all our disagreements and differences in opinion, I’ve never turned my back on you. Although I suspected the rumours about you could have been true, I never thought for a moment that you would be a terrorist; I stopped reading after that,” Angela smiled sadly, finally taking her hands back from Jack. She fidgeted with them for a moment, considering the silence and what was appropriate to say. “I was in Indiana for a short while. It’s hot.” Her fingers moved back to her cheeks at that, reminded of the sun above them. It didn’t seem that she was close to burning, but Angela could definitely feel the heat on them. It wasn’t bad enough to go back inside yet, looking at Jack instead. Even if she wasn’t lying about being upset, she didn’t want that to overshadow her previous message. At the end of the day it was always difficult to prioitise her feelings above others, sighing softly as she placed one of her hands on his forearm again. “I accepted, a long time ago, that we have to make difficult decisions about the lives of others here. I still don’t like it, but I’ve done it too. The fact it was Reyes doesn’t change that."

It was immediately obvious to Jack that his admission had affected her, furrowing his own eyebrows as she pulled her hand away from him. He supposed it wasn’t unexpected; he was sure it hadn’t been nice to hear. To hear that she had gone to Indiana was another punch in the gut, feeling guilty knowing that she had gone to his empty grave when he had been alive and well--or, well enough the whole time. Not dead, at the very least. He let out a slow exhale as he digested the information and considered how to proceed. Six years after the events that had transpired, Jack had to wonder how things would be different if she had known then. If he had come to her after the fight and told her what happened between him and Gabriel, how she would have felt. But the past was the past, and even while they were discussing it and thinking on their regrets, he couldn’t change any of it.

Angela paid close attention to what Jack was telling her, trying to take in the information as it was rather than analysing it at the same time–there would be plenty of room for that later. It was obvious that Jack blamed himself from the way he spoke, clearly having cemented these ideas over the last six years. It didn’t seem appropriate to correct him at any point, so she let him talk instead. It wasn’t until he bought up Gabriel in relation to herself that Angela reacted. She couldn’t help the noise of disbelief she made at Jack’s admission, staring at the man with narrowed eyes and parted lips. For all the things she’d begun to realise and speculate about Gabriel, the idea that he had liked her back had never crossed her mind. If anything, it was the last thing she wanted to think about either; how could Angela feel anything but contempt for a man who had done what he Gabriel had? To think that it would even be used as justification against Jack was another thing entirely, hand moving to cover her mouth at the shock of it. “I didn’t know,” she mumbled in reply, conflicted over what to do with that information. In truth, it didn’t really matter now. Angela certainly didn’t feel the same way about him not and she doubted he would feel the same about her either. It was simply more information to leave in the past, even if it did leave an uncomfortable feeling.

The fact that he made eye contact with her again meant the world to Angela, but she supposed Jack already knew that and it was why he had done it. Although she didn’t often ask for comfort openly, there had been plenty of times in the past where he’d offered it to her anyway. To see Jack in his own pain and grief was almost enough to make her speak–he’s alive and he’s still a killer–but her voice wasn’t loud yet, and this conversation wasn’t about her. Instead she reached out for him, fingers long enough to make up the difference in the size of their hands. “It wasn’t your fault Jack.” Angela’s voice was firm as she spoke, passionate in her belief of that. She couldn’t help but squeeze his hand too, trying to reinforce that. “People don’t just kill other people because they didn’t get a job or because they didn’t–they didn’t get a partner… Especially best friends. It’s like you said, anything would have been a reason if he wanted to do it. That’s an issue with him, not you.” What it sounded like, in her medical opinion, was an issue with his mental health which Angela should have picked up somewhere along the line. Her gut instinct was to wonder if maybe she’d missed how bad things were because she was too flustered with Gabriel, but she knew it wasn’t the time or place to start exploring that route of thinking again. “I don’t think any less of you.”

It was hard to put aside his own grief and guilt to regard Angela, but he’d spent enough time wallowing in it that he supposed they both deserved for him to hear her out. There wasn’t a chance to comfort her immediately, but soon, her hands were in his, her long, thin fingers sliding between his thicker ones, but it was comfortable; somewhat reminiscent of the old days with them as well. Even though the rumor had surprised him at the time, he supposed in retrospect, he understood. He and Angela had spent a lot of time together, but it had always been platonic, and even now, he was grateful to have her for a friend. To think that the pacifist vegan chief of medicine he knew so well, would forgive him--or pardon him from blame, really--was a little hard to believe, but he wasn’t going to argue against her not thinking the worst of him. “Thanks, Ange.” As much as her words meant to hear, he still couldn’t take them completely to heart. As true as it was that once it had escalated to that point he had to kill Gabriel to survive, he didn’t--couldn’t forgive himself for it. 

But Angela didn’t need to hear that.

You’re not gonna like my answer, Ange, didn’t exactly fill her with hope, but she hadn’t been asking because she wanted a nice answer either. She was just as much of an adult as Jack was–even though Angela was idealistic and optimistic with her opinion, she was no stranger to the harsh reality of the world. Although she didn’t like that suffering and death were still major parts of that world, she would have disliked ignorance even more. In some ways his answer surprised her, although she supposed it didn’t in many other ways. At the time, she’d never suspected Gabriel of anything and had been rather fond of the man–even though he had arguments with Jack, the extent to which they would run was unimaginable to her. Now she felt that she knew more about the means Gabriel would go to, fighting to the death with Jack didn’t seem out of character, even if it was still saddening to hear. It was obvious that it was hard for Jack to recall and talk about too, considering it was his best friend who had been lost. Angela reached out to touch his shoulder for a moment, gently running her fingertips in small circle to show solidarity before moving away again. It probably would have been less painful to stop there, but there were still parts she didn’t understand; only Jack knew the answers to the questions they’d all been wondering and Angela hoped that asking them now, when it was less stressful than it could have been in other circumstances, would stop him from having to be asked again later down the line. “What were you fighting about?"

Even though she knew it was logical to be distrustful, the idea that Jack didn’t trust anyone in Overwatch hurt. There was little that would provoke Angela into hurting strangers, let alone her colleagues and friends; the idea that he didn’t trust her was hurtful on a personal level too, considering that they’d been close friends. Moving away from her own feelings, she wasn’t exactly sure what had changed Jack’s mind after six years. Just because Overwatch had reformed didn’t mean that things were any different than they had been before. Angela didn’t feel like they’d done anything that proved their loyalty either, considering they were now operating illegally. She couldn’t help but sigh softly as she was left with her thoughts, idly twirling the end of her hair between her fingers. "What’s changed?” Angela asked, although her voice was more tentative now. “Why would you suddenly trust us again? Assuming.. you do..”

Angela’s question wasn’t terribly easy to answer; bits and pieces of his memory were sharp, sharpest when he was reliving the event in his dreams, but the significant details all felt a little more lost by comparison. All the words they had said were among the blurrier details, but even the parts he could remember felt like things he should possibly keep from her. Still, honesty was always the best policy when it came to Angela, and he didn’t want to start off their rekindled relationship by lying to her to protect her feelings. Sighing, his eyes fell to his hands as he tried to piece together an answer for her.

“I think it was a lot of things all piled up. Things that... if he’d talked about... if I’d noticed... maybe it would’a been different. I remember him saying to me something along the lines of me taking everything away from him. I didn’t ask to be Strike Commander but I didn’t turn it down when it was offered to me, either. I knew that things between Gabriel and me always felt different after that point but I never thought it would escalate so much.”

He hesitated a moment, looking towards Angela for a moment before looking off again. “I think Strike Commander was the biggest thing for him. He was our leader during the Omnic Crisis and after everything that happened, I was given the position. Not to say exactly that I don’t think I deserved it but... I can understand why he wouldn’t like it.” Jack took a deep breath, giving a small shrug before he continued. “I think there was more, though. I think Gabriel probably got to a point of... hating me so much that any small thing was more he could use against me. That uh... well, I don’t know if you even remember it, but that rumor about the two of us--he had a thing for you. I think if he’d heard it, he would have believed it without a second thought and it would have just been more fuel to the fire.”