#ite fic

“Gabe?!” Jack’s in shock. He had prayed that his friend had gotten out of the explosion alive, but he hadn’t expected anything like this! He’s unscathed! Not a visible mark on him! He’s-! Jack’s joy and relief at the sight of him vanishes the second a very important detail jumps out at him. Gabe doesn’t have any scars. None at all. What the hell? Something is very wrong here. Jack’s suspicions only grow when two people clad in black body armor and mirrored visors come to stand next to his ‘friend’. Jack’s expression immediately hardens as he tries to force all emotion off his face. “I’d be happy to see an old friend if one was actually here.”

“What’s the matter Jack?” ‘Gabe’ asks tauntingly. “Am I not worthy of the title of friend anymore?” Jack doesn’t immediately respond, instead taking a few seconds to weigh his options. There may be merit in just rushing them but... Jack eyes the two in body armor warily. They’re definitely armed with something. If it were only one I could overpower them easily. Two though... He’s broken from his musings when the impostor walks forward, holding something that Jack hadn’t noticed before. He hesitates for a second before instinct, years of training and not a little bit of rage take over, leading Jack’s fist to slam into something that definitely isn’t a jaw. He growls slightly, the pain in his hand indicating at least a decent bruise, as the impostor reels. Jack moves again, striking the relative same place, this time with a loud crack. Before he can go for a third strike, the two armored agents grab him, just barely managing to force Jack to his knees and pinning his arms behind his back in some kind of handcuffs. There’s no sort of chain, Jack can tell that much, but the amount of resistance the things have on them is incredible. His attention is turned from the cuffs to the person who called themselves Gabe when a sound similar to static screeches through the room. Their appearance is flickering rapidly, swapping between the stolen identity and a black clad outfit similar to that of the others. After a few seconds, the static stops and the projected disguise of Gabe disappears completely, fully revealing the imposter’s nearly identical outfit. Nearly identical, save for the familiar blood red insignia.

“Talon.” Jack’s voice holds such contempt that it’s almost palpable, “So it’s been you bastards all along. The black void. This room. Seeing everyone I love die. All a shit show put on by you.” The agent standing before Jack doesn’t respond, instead opting to rub a hand along the side of their helmet, inspecting the large crack curtsey of Jack’s fist. “And I bet all of that at the HQ was you as well! The bomb! Gabe’s hate! What the hell did you do to him?!” The mirrored face looks down at Jack and he can practically feel how calculating the gaze is, dissecting his words and expressions alike. There’s a tense silence, Jack practically radiating animosity and the agent revealing nothing other than cold indifference. Eventually they apparently come to a decision. They administer several swift and extremely hard kicks to Jack’s rib cage, leaving him wheezing.

“We are responsible for the first two things you listed. Other than that, no. We are not responsible for whatever you claim to have seen. And we are, most definitely, not responsible for the hate of your precious Gabriel. That’s all his work.” Jack glares up, disbelief clear on his face.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe.” They kick him again, this time in the side of the head. Jack sees stars and the rapidly setting in dizziness makes the next sentence a more or less garbled mess. “You’re ours now, And we’re never letting go.”

----

The surgical table is cold as ice. Even if they hadn’t gotten rid of Jack’s jump suit, he knows he’d still be shivering. His wrists and ankles ache from when he decided to test the bonds pinning him down and his head hurts like hell. Damn it! What the hell are they planning? Jack doesn’t have to wait long, as the door quietly hisses open and the ringing click of high heeled shoes echo throughout the room.

“Ah Mr. Morrison. I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” The person’s voice is light and cheerful, almost friendly. Jack growls in response.

“Who the hell are you lady?!” There’s a slight pause and quiet laugh before she responds.

“Doctor Elaine Nelson. And I must say, finally having you here is quite the treat. You see,” she begins walking around the room, gathering things if her footstep pattern is any indication, “I’ve been dying to get a look at you for years now. Well, you or Gabriel Reyes. Either or.” She’s come to a stop next to the table now, and Jack can finally get a look at her. Average build, light brunette hair, a soft and kind looking face. She’d almost look normal if it wasn’t for her eyes. They’re dark, almost black, and are completely devoid of anything. “You see Mr. Morrison, may I call you Jack?”

“Like hell you can!” Elaine doesn’t react, not pausing in her task of placing things on a table right outside Jack’s line of sight.

“You see Jack, I’ve been interested in both you and Mr. Reyes ever since seeing what the both of you did during the Omnic crisis.” Her voice fades slightly as she walks away again. “Such feats! Superhuman displays of strength, endurance, resilience, reaction time and even reasoning! I had to know the reason behind it. And once the documents reveling the SEP’s existence were leaked, well,” she chuckles lightly, “then I really had to know what made you two so good. I thought to myself, ‘If the US military can do it, even with all of the moral and legal restrictions on them, then what can I do, with none of those barriers?’ By then I was already neck deep in both my further education and research you see, and all the possibilities were intoxicating to think about.” She’s back at the table now, placing more items on top of it. “I decided then and there that I wanted, no, needed, to study at least one of you. However, I knew that in my current position I would never be able to get close. A student out of medical school, already starting to get a reputation for ‘questionable’ practices and associated with known human and ethical rights violators, well, I’d have no chance actually getting into your precious little Overwatch. So when a mentor of mine referred me to Talon for a possible job, I was intrigued to say the least. Talon, the massive and shadowy organization that was a constant thorn in Overwatch’s side. When they told me about the plans to kidnap various agents, I was sold. Begged to be hired that day. And well, I’ve never been happier. So much good work to be done. So many test subjects. And so many procedures performed without the bat of an eye.” Elaine moves to the side of the table, looking down at Jack with her smile and dead eyes. “I must say, I think what I did with our dear Widowmaker is my best work yet. Amélie came to me as such a sweet and innocent girl.” She looks almost wistful, lost in memory, “So naïve. She was so sure her sweetheart would come save her. Oh you should have seen her when we finally broke her. Beautiful. Shattered parts, all for me to rearrange and put back together at my discretion. It was a delicate but exhilarating task. Holding the key to someone’s mind in your hand. The pieces of their psyche.” Elaine’s eyes refocus, having snapped out of her reprieve. “I was rambling, wasn’t I? I do apologize. I tend to enjoy speaking of the past too much. But now,” She walks off again, and a sense of dread crawls up Jack’s spine. There had been something in her eyes just then, right before she turned away, and he didn’t like the look of it. “It is time to focus on the present!” Jack can hear running water for a brief second. “More specifically on you Jack.” The water cuts off, and after a second there’s the loud snap of latex gloves being pulled on, and then once again the echoing of sharp footsteps. “I’m going to start now, nothing painful just drawing some blood.” Jack can feel her hands tying a rubber cord around his arm, and it makes him shudder. I don’t want this lady anywhere near me. “Come now,” she says, noticing Jack’s reaction, “this can’t be worse than what they did in the army. Just drawing a little blood never hurt anyone.” She rubs cold antiseptic on his arm, and then there’s a sharp, brief sting as she sticks the needle in Jack’s arm. “There. That wasn’t so bad was it? Now be good and don’t move. We wouldn’t want you accidentally bleeding out on me, now would we?” Jack is tempted to bite out a retort, but instead stays silent, hoping to use what little time he has to figure out what she’s planning next.

----

It takes a few minutes for the doctor to get all of the samples she needs, and the time passes achingly slowly. Jack’s tense, trepidation swirling in his chest. What’s going to happen next? This can’t be it. Elaine’s tuneless humming isn’t helping.

“I think that’s enough for now.” Jack can feel the doctor’s hands on his arm again, pressing gauze to where the needle entered his arm and then applying a bit of medical tape over it once the needle is gone. “See? That wasn’t so bad was it?” She walks away, there’s the sound of a small door opening, and then her footsteps return. “Now, how are you feeling?” Jack is more or less fine, besides the tension in his gut, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an answer.

“Go to hell.” He snaps. Elaine just sighs.

“I had hoped you’d be more receptive to me after my gesture of painless good faith. It seems it didn’t work. That’s too bad.” She shrugs lightly, the disappointment in her voice quite clearly fake. “If you won’t cooperate with me, I’ll just have to use more intense methods instead.” She moves around the table now, something distinctly predatory in her movement. Her gaze is calculating. “I wonder where to start,” she muses aloud, “the abdomen is always a good choice. Many options there.” Her fingers trail lightly over Jack’s stomach, making him shiver in disgust. “Though, the legs always work as well. Looking into the strain on them is quite informative. And they make a perfect place to cause long term suffering, having to move so much.” Her fingers trace lines down Jack’s thighs, circling his knee and going down the shin. “Though... the arms work quite well too. And I’m very interested in the structure of those strong arms of yours.” Her hand traces Jack’s bicep, pressing lightly into the crease of his elbow and moving down to hand. “Looking at the hands is always fascinating after all. But I can’t forget one of the most interesting places.” She comes to a stop behind Jack, hands lightly hovering over his cheeks. “The face. So prized, so treasured. Such a wonderful place to do damage. Even the most delicate of movements leave such a large impact.” She traces along Jack’s jawline, and up to his lips, the sensation being downright torturous to Jack. He sharply shakes his head, smacking one of her hand sin the process.

“Get your damn hands off me!” He snaps, rage and disgust finally overflowing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Elaine looks down reproachfully, seemingly angered by his outburst.

“Planning to be a problem are we? Well, that’s fine.” She stalks to the side table covered in instruments, heels clicking ominously, and snatches up two syringes. Jack doesn’t know what’s in them, but is incredibly uneasy at the sight. One is full of clear liquid, the other a strange red-orange tint. “I know just how to deal with that.” She takes the red-orange syringe, removes the plastic guard and carefully inserts it into one of the veins on Jack’s fore arm, forcing all of its contents into his blood stream. Quickly, she takes the other syringe, emptying that one as well before returning to the table. She deliberates for a second, before also empting the contents of another clear syringe into Jack. “The unfortunate thing,” she says, moving back to the table and looking over its contents, “is that I have to wait a bit for those to take effect. And, my dosage on two is a complete guess. An educated guess, but a guess none the less. Your body metabolizes drugs faster than the average person, so naturally I need to give a higher dose. I don’t specifically know what that is though, so I may have under shot slightly. A pity.” Jack doesn’t respond, he’s too distracted by the strange and incredibly unpleasant feeling creeping its way up his arm. A strange combination of tingling and burning, with an unnatural and familiar weight following shorty after. What the hell is this? As he starts to worry, the feeling spreads faster, coinciding with his elevated heart rate. Jack tries to make his hand move, or fingers twitch, but neither happens.

“What the hell have you done?!” He turns an accusatory gaze to Elaine, who is still passively sorting through the objects in front of her.

“Finally beginning to work is it? Good.” She raises a hand, examining the gleaming scalpel held in it. “Since I’m in a generous mood right now I’ll explain. The weight you feel is a modified neurotoxin of my own design. Completely immobilizes all muscle movement except that of the heart, stomach and diaphragm. Meaning anyone injected can’t move and inch, but will continue to live and breathe. They’re also aware of all stimuli, meaning they can see, hear, feel and smell everything, and theoretically taste as well. I say theoretically, since I’ve never tried to feed anyone paralyzed like this. Probably should at some point. Anyway,” she places the scalpel down, finished with her examination if it. The weight has fallen on Jack’s chest now, and is making its way down to his legs, other arm and up his neck. “One of the others, one you’re probably not feeling yet, is a modified beta blocker. That’ll keep your heart rate below normal and make sure you don’t bleed out quickly. That’d ruin the fun after all. The final one, I must say, is my favorite concoction of all.” Elaine comes to stand by Jack’s side again, and she looks down at him, expression like that of a cat playing with its prey. “It’s completely of my own creation. No base to modify. Just trial, error and many educated guesses until I got it right.” The weight and slight burning has almost completely encased Jack now, and he can swear his pulse is slowing. “This particular little beauty is what made breaking Miss Améile so easy. I could explain to you what it is, what it does, but I think a demonstration would be better.” With deliberate slowness, Elaine moves a hand to gently press on Jack’s arm, her eyes never leaving his face. At the soft pressure, the slight burning morphs almost instantly into a stabbing pain, causing Jack to hiss though his locked jaw. Holy shit! How is that so damn painful?! Elaine just laughs quietly, drinking in the obvious pain and shock in Jack’s eyes. “You see, this sweet little potion of mine is more or less the opposite of an anesthetic. It over stimulates the nerves, making even the slightest touch turn into agony.” She turns away for a second, retrieving the scalpel from the table. “Now, be a good boy and suffer for me,” she practically purrs. For the first time since waking up in the white room, Jack is truly afraid. The doctor’s previously empty eyes are bright with the intent to hurt, to torture, to draw out every ounce of pain she can and a vicious smile splits her previously passive face. “Let’s see if you can scream with your mouth shut, shall we?”

----

Ribbons of agony crisscross Jack’s body. Arms, legs, chest and stomach, face, everywhere. Deep gashes and light cuts alike burning like the sun has been pressed to them. He’s been making a strangled and inhuman sound for the past eternity, silently begging for the pain to stop. He may have blacked out, but it was no relief. He’d be instantly torn back from the sweet void by more slashes of hell on his body. Made all the worse by the doctor. She went about it methodically, causing pain in one place, waiting until Jack was just able to rationalize it before moving on. Calling her methods cruel would be an understatement. And the laughter. Every cut, every new strangled screech from Jack brought a new peal of cold, mirthful laughter.

----

He’s shaking. Weak and shaking and so tired. The pain has faded down, becoming only a widespread and dull aching. The table isn’t cold anymore. It’s hot. Hot and sticky with Jack’s blood. He’s only partly aware of it, the swimming in his addled and fried brain making everything seem surreal.

“Mmm. Guess I may have over done it a bit.” Elaine leans over Jack, looking into his eyes, expression vaguely interested, but mostly clinical. “Should have waited on the blood taking I think. Would have made the fun last longer. Oh well.” She shrugs slightly “Still. This was interesting to say the least.” The door hisses open, the sound of two sets of boots coming quickly after. “Ah good. I’m done for now. Take him and do what you will. If he starts bleeding again use the field. If it gets bad call me. Other than I want to be left alone. Is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” Both guards chorus. There’s a quiet click, and the cuffs securing Jack to the table release with a hiss. He barely even registers the freedom before the two guards grab him; painfully hauling Jack to his feet, causing several of the deeper cuts on his body to begin bleeding again as the slight scabs and clotted blood is disturbed. They silently haul him down a maze of twisting corridors finally stopping before a room marked ‘Hygiene cell’. One of the guards opens the door and they drag the still limp and reeling Jack in with them. The only things in the room are a large glass cubicle with a shower head and another with some sort of strange device attached to it.

“C’mon.” one of the guards grunts, as he and his partner unceremoniously shove Jack into the shower. He falls to the floor, still too weak to support his own weight. After a few seconds he’s accosted by scalding hot spray, the water coming out as more pressurized steam than liquid. Jack lets out a series of half broken screams, twitching weakly as the water pelts him like a hail of acid. The water flows for what feels like an eternity, while in reality only having been on for less than five minutes. When it finally stops, Jack’s tense body relaxes and he lets out a weak moan of pain. His skin is an angry red, every inch scalded or inflamed cuts. He doesn’t react beyond another whimper when the guards grab him again, this time hauling him into the other cubicle. Once the door is shut, there’s a whoosh and baking hot air is blown in. The tears freely flowing from Jack’s eyes barely have time to drip down his face before they’re violently evaporated. It feels like someone had doused him in alcohol and set him on fire, but Jack can’t manage more than a constant weak whimper. It hurts too much and he’s too tired and weak. When the personal pit of hell finally cuts off, the guards once again grab the barely coherent Jack, dragging his limp form down another few sets of halls before finally arriving back at the white room.

They roughly toss Jack in and shut the door. He doesn’t move, despite how uncomfortable laying slightly twisted, face flat on the floor. Instead he savors the silence, the isolation and how soothing the slightly cool floor feels to his abused nerves. I can see why she broke... Jack lets out a deep sigh and winces slightly, the heat from his breath stinging. I’m not dead but I’m already in hell. If this is day one of their shit, then what’s day two? He lets out a groan as both mind and body recoil from the thought. Don’t want to think about it. So he doesn’t, instead just lying there, breathing slowing and mind fading as a fitful sleep drags him down into a deceiving reprieve.

----

He wakes up even more tired than before, face still pressed to the glimmering white floor. Sleep had been blessedly peaceful for a little bit, but it didn’t last. Vivid nightmares arose, a twisted mess of pain and suffering all backed by the doctor’s cold laugh and merciless gaze. He just wants to give up. Already. I don’t know if anyone’s alive. I’m pretty sure nobody knows I am. There’s not going to be any rescue to speak of. So why not just give up? They’re going to do whatever they want anyway. Zone out to the point where reality doesn’t register anymore. It’d be better than this.

This is unlike you estimado. Since when do you give up? Jack groans into the floor. Oh good. Now he’s hearing things in an attempt to cope. Though he has to admit, there’s something comforting about it. A reminder of the good days. That’s right. You’re my sun, able to shine through even the darkest times. This isn’t anywhere near the darkest you’ve faced. You can pull through. Jack just groans into the floor again. Stupid encouraging mind. I don’t need you doing this. Despite his mental moaning, he slowly pulls himself into a sitting position, hissing with each disturbed gash. The air makes them burn. He sits for a while, trying to shake off the exhaustion. This is bullshit. Jack slowly runs a hand over his face, and immediately regrets the decision. His lip is swollen, a large slash cutting across it. There’s also a large gash slicing the upper half of his face, starting above one eye and ending below the other. There’s a peppering of other slashes, but none as severe as those two. His hand drops limply and Jack falls back, flopping on the floor. Lord is he tired. He closes his eyes, resigned to the weariness. So damn tired. He sinks off again, falling into a red-tinged reprieve.

----

There’s more nightmares and more pain. The pain is different this time though. Jack’s eyes snap open as he gasps for breath, hand weakly clutching at his ribs. What the hell..? Dreams don’t hurt.

“About time you woke up.” A muffled voice snarls. There’s a slight scuffing sound, and he receives what can now be identified as a harsh kick to his ribs. “Just because the Doc doesn’t want you, it doesn’t mean you have the day off.” Jack’s wheezing now, his ribs are definitely bruised. “And I’m happy she doesn’t want you. Means I can pay you back for those punches.” There’s another kick to his ribs before a heavy boot presses down on his sternum. The Talon agent leans down, helmet covered face coming into focus. “I hope you can still feel this Morrison. You’ve been a pain in our side for too long. And it’s finally time to get even.” The venom in the Agent’s voice is intense. The pressure on his chest lifts, and hands roughly grab Jack’s arms. He’s dragged to his feet, held limply between two other agents. “Time for your punishment.” The Talon agent strikes; punches, kicks, elbow jabs, gut punches and organ chops, sometimes smashing joints with the midnight black baton held on belt loop.

Jack takes it all, whimpering, moaning, sometimes screaming other times only making a broken gurgle. He struggles only slightly as his already damaged body takes more abuse. His tired mind seems to work a few seconds behind the world, he can see incoming blow after blow, but only registers the previous one as the current one lands. It takes several minutes for him to realize his lip has split again, the bright red pool of blood being the only real indication of the reopened wound. He doesn’t notice when the blows stop, they seem to still be coming with sharp and spread jabs of pain alike wracking his body.

On a silent signal, the agents holding on to Jack’s arms let go, leaving him to fall flat on his face. He manages a weak groan at the sound of boots fade away. He falls into the exhaustion once again, not even bothering to move out of the growing pool of blood from his now broken nose.

----

Jack awakes to his face pressed into a tacky pool of blood. What the hell...? Groaning, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. What made me wake up? He looks around the room. It’s empty. Hmm. Strange. It takes a minute for him to realize several things. The first being that he’s not tired. Very strange. The second, which slowly dawns, is the strange pleasantly cool waves washing over him. The feeling is both alien and familiar. What is it? Jack goes to stand, and that’s when the third and final realization of the time strikes him. He’s not in pain. A bit sore maybe, but nothing like before. Warily, but curiously he looks over his arms. The angry red slashes and vibrant black and purple bruises have faded partly. How did? It’s then that he recognizes the strange feeling. Biotic healing technology. Of course. The only thing that kept him from recognizing it before was the temperature. The feeling Angela’s staff and the biotic canisters had given off was warm. This was oddly cold. Must be because Talon made it. He stands, slowly stretching and wincing as joints pop and still sore muscles protest.

While he’s still working out a few knots, the enveloping cool of the healing tech disappears making Jack instantly more tired and causing a flare of pain in partly healed wounds. Damn. This is definitely different than Angela’s tech. It never let you feeling like this. Jack’s gaze turns to the walls as there’s a slight hissing sound. He searches for the opening door, but nothing sticks out. It’s not until Jack turns that he sees the door. It was behind him the whole time, and now standing between him and the rapidly closing escape are again three Talon agents. Again, two in plain black garb, the third in the same outfit but with the crimson insignia emblazoned across it.

Jack doesn’t hesitate, leaping forward with the intent to make them move. I’m not going down without a fight ever again. The two agents move as rapidly, flanking him and applying harsh punishment to his knees. Jack falls forward with an angry grunt, still determined to fight. The third agent with his mirrored helmet glittering menacingly, holds out something.

“I don’t think so.” He depresses the top of the canister, and instantly Jack’s sinuses and eyes burst into flames. He cries out, the pepper spray aggravating some of the deeper and less healed wounds while making Jack’s nose and throat burn like hell. He hunches over, rubbing uselessly at blurred eyes. He knows that this’ll probably make things worse, but he doesn’t gave a damn. It hurts like hell. The agent with the pepper spray laughs, finding amusement in Jack’s agony. With a flick of a hand, he signals the other agents to attack. They again assault Jack with a myriad of blows, all painful and all causing noises of misery that are lost in his sniffs and ragged breathing.

They stop after a while, and he is left to wallow in pain and misery. It’s awful. His eyes still sting like mad, and he can practically feel the bruises blooming. My sunshine isn’t giving up though. Right? Jack lets out an aggravated huff. No damn way. These shits won’t break me. He eventually falls into a fitful sleep, eyes still burning, but heart burning even more.

----

They come and beat him several more times.

The biotic field is only used once more, and that’s only when Jack’s ribs break. By the fourth time they come back, he’s weak and shaking from hunger. In all the time, he hasn’t been fed anything. Jack still tries to fight back though, earning him an even more vicious beating each time around. The fifth beating, he’s barely conscious, too weak from lack of food. The next time he wakes up after that, there’s a small and simple plate of food. Jack scarfs it down, not giving a damn if there’s any sort of drug or poison in it. He’s just happy to have the stabbing pain in his gut lessened some. He falls asleep afterward. Still sore, tired and partly hungry, but damn if this isn’t the best he’d felt in a while.

----

When he wakes up, he’s back on the table. It’s cold and clean again, just like the Doctor’s expression.

“It’s good to see you again Jack.” Her voice is clinical and detached, no hint of anything in it. ”I’m sure you know what’s coming next.” As she raises a red syringe, fear grips Jack’s gut. Not again! It’s the same three drugs. As the weight and muted fire spread through his body, Elaine walks about the room heels clicking ominously. When she finally returns, it’s with a mask over her face, long surgical gloves on her hands, a hair cap and mint green scrubs. The glasses covering her eyes make them completely unreadable. “I’m going to be doing something a little different today.” She doesn’t elaborate further, opting instead to wipe down Jack’s abdomen with a dark liquid. The cotton gently rubbing his skin burns like acid. “Normally,” she says once finished, “there’d be no reason someone to be awake during this. It’s not brain surgery after all but,” she turns, grabbing a scalpel off the out of view table, “the idea is to make you suffer as much as possible. So that means even making a little investigative surgery like this as much agony as possible. And, well, who am I to object?” The blade presses into Jack’s skin, and through his frozen jaw he screams. The sensation being fresh hell. Over his harsh pants and the screaming inside his head, Jack can hear Elaine humming to herself as she slowly drags the blade downward, making a massive incision.

When she creates two more, horizontally this time, Jack goes light headed. Everything starts to blur, becoming an unintelligible mass of pain and light and sound. When her gloved hand pulls the newly cut flap of skin and muscle back, he lets out an inhuman screech, the sound keeping up until already overtaxed vocal chords give out. Elaine pauses in her humming.

“Voice already given out? Pity. Oh well.” She resumes humming, fingers investigating the inner workings of Jack’s body. He’s only minutely aware, dipping in and out of consciousness every second or two. Instinct screams at him, muscles want to instinctively tense, his back wants to arch, but nothing moves. The screeching starts up again, echoing in Jack’s head as the quietly hummed notes of Ode to Joy fill the otherwise silent room.

----

He doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. There’s hot and cold. Pain and relief. Is he awake? Dreaming? Who the hell knows. Jack is vaguely aware of voices, and then a bit of motion, but that’s it. He can vaguely feel himself be tossed, but only just. He’s only snapped back to reality by the steam that accosts him a few seconds later. He lets out a broken scream, sharpened mind only able to deal with the situation slightly. He thinks he passes out, because only and instant later, Jack is baked dry by scorching air. Numbly he’s dragged out of that too, and then dropped for a final time. He lays, only registering the floor. It’s good. The floor won’t hurt him. It’s smooth and cold. He drowns in exhaustion until it claims him, dragging him to a blessedly empty void.

----

Jack awakes hungry, tired, in pain, and feeling violated. He forces himself to sit up. Where he was sure there’d be large scars, there’s only scalded skin. Jack falls back, panting heavily despite not suffering as much as on previous occasions. That was so... He shudders, memories of everything that happened helpfully flooding to the front of his mind ...fucked up. In all his years, he’s never felt something so wrong. Even with the intensely through physicals of the SEP. It’d never been this bad. You’re not going to give up, are you? The soft voice of his most definitely dead lover has Jack seething.

“Would you shut the hell up?!” he shouts into the empty room, voice harsh and cracking. “Would you just stop!? I don’t need this shit!” He grinds his teeth, rage permeating every fiber of his being. He doesn’t know why he’s mad, but he is. He wants to fight. To beat the ever-loving hell out of someone. The anger proves useless when the Talon agents come back though, it doesn’t even let Jack get a hit in as the restrain him.

“I’ve got something special for you today.” The agent with is blood red insignia sneers. He produces a syringe filled with red liquid. “You see,” he says, uncapping the needle, “the Doctor says you need to be dealt more pain if we’re to break you down.” The needle is jabbed in Jack’s arm, and his adrenaline fueled heart rate makes the ungodly drug spread like wildfire.

Each strike is like a miniature explosion, sending pain rippling through is shattered nerves. Jack screams and screeches, the pain sharp and agonizing. He fades in and out of clarity, the world once again becoming a swirl of agony.

----

Time passes without meaning. It’s all pain. Beatings. Pain. The Doctor. Pain. Meals. Pain. Sleeping. Pain. Breathing. Pain. Existing. Pain. He’s held in the grip of relentless arms. He’s chained by slick metal cuffs. Punches crack his soul. Kicks shatter his memories. Needles pierce his sanity. Blades cut his nightmares. It’s all suffering.

The voice has even gone now. The one that would try to make him keep on.

It disappeared after he screamed at it.

----

He can’t yell anymore. He can’t taunt. Goad. Bait. Shredded vocal cords only manage inhuman screeches and whimpers.

----

He can’t hear anymore. His head echoes with screams. Moans. Whimpers. Laughter. Whispers. Yells.

----

He doesn’t know who he was anymore. He is. That’s it. Exists. Never lived. Doesn’t live. Doesn’t exist.

----

The room is dark now. The white place is gone now. Replaced by a dim and scummy cell. Not that he cares. He stares unseeingly at the wall, mind too addled to accept reality.

He doesn’t flinch when the door opens. Doesn’t look up when the three sets of boots approach him. Doesn’t notice when one of them kneels down in front of him.

“Look at you. The great Commander Morrison.” The Talon agent spits the title like it’s acid. “What a sorry state you’re in. But don’t worry it won’t last too much longer.” He shakes a hand, the gently glowing collar jangling. “We just need to give you this little baby, and you’ll be ready.” He fastens the tight metal band around Jack’s neck. “Now then,” there’s amusement in the agent’s voice, “let’s see if this little darling works.” He depresses a little button. There’s a second of buzzing before Jack’s body seizes up, eyes flying wide open and everything snapping into perspective. His eyes fall on the glowing red insignia and mirrored helmet. The black outfit and body armor.

They’re the ones that hurt you. It’s true. The black and red mirrors hurt him. They’re hurting you right now. That’s also true. He feels like he’s being burned alive. You can’t let then hurt you anymore. They’re the ones that deserve pain.  Is that true...? Can he hurt them? Is that okay...? They’re the reason for all this pain. You have to hurt them before they hurt you more. A new burning starts in his body. It’s not related to the electricity. You’re able to do it. You’re strong enough. The electricity dies and his falls limp. Boots echo in the room as burning crimson and void black walk over to him. A blank mirror stares down. Look at them. He looks. The figure burns his eyes, searing his mind. Do you know what that is? He takes in the shape, the color, the sound and movement. One that causes pain. And what do you do? Hurt them in return. Hurt them. A black boot slams into his side, nerves screaming in protest. Hurt them. Like they hurt me. Hurt them. Like they hurt you.

HURT THEM.

He flies to his feet, faster than should be humanly possible, a feral snarl ripping its way out of his chest. Hands close around a weak throat, and the thing that hurts makes a strangled sound.

KILL THEM.

His grip tightens, relishing in the power he feels over the ones who hurt.

DIE.

The command tears out as another feral snarl, accompanied by loud cracking.

Everything’s too much. The screaming. The pain. The light. The grief. He can’t process it all. Too much. It’s all become a mass of confusion. Nothing is real. Everything is. They’re all screaming. They’re silent. He’s surrounded. He’s alone. He’s alive. He’s dead. He feels everything. He feels nothing. There’s pain. There’s relief. It’s a beautiful dream. It’s an awful nightmare.

----

The screaming has died down. The blur has faded. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Everything’s white. White... white...? white? white!? white! Jack jerks up harshly, his aching body protesting. There’s white! Shakily he brings up a resistant hand and waves it around, taking in the moving appendage with something akin to awe. Holy shit I can see! It takes a second for his disoriented mind to come upon a second realization. I can move too! I-thi-what? He stays in that kneeling position a while longer, happily looking down at his waving hands. This is-! I can’t-! Jack’s so blissed out that he doesn’t notice the very quiet hissing sound from one of the small room’s corners. And he isn’t even remotely prepared when the words slam into him like a freight train.

You didn’t protect them.

All his happiness and relief vanishes into thin air. Wha- He doesn’t have time to finish the thought before the words echo through the room again.

You didn’t protect them.

 Jack starts to unconsciously shake, the voice is familiar and the phrase dredges up pain that he doesn’t remember the cause for.

You didn’t protect me.

Jack lets out a broken cry of pain as all the horrors he’d managed repress flood forward again, new ones mixed in this time. Everyone he cares about, dying before his eyes over and over again. And worst of all is Gabe. Oh lord Gabe! He’s on the ground, broken and bleeding, eyes silently begging for Jack’s help. But he can’t do anything! Nothing... Jack has to watch, frozen in place as the first person to ever truly understand him bleeds out. The fierce light slowly fading from his dark eyes. Damn it! WHY?! Why does this have to happen?! Why do I keep seeing this?! Hot tears are running down his face, strangled cries coming from already ruined vocal chords. Stop... please... Each death makes that small crack a little worse. Each set of bright eyes gone glassy ruining him just the slightest bit more.

----

They’re gone for now. No they’re not gone, just stopped. No new horrors have decided to appear. Thank... Jack can’t stop shaking. God... He can’t think straight. It’s all a mess. Too many images flashing before his eyes like a gruesome slideshow. Reality doesn’t want to come back. Every inch of white is spattered by crimson. He closes his eyes and slowly curls up, head hidden behind his knees.

It doesn’t help.

The darkness is also a canvas for the pain. It doesn’t want to leave. I-I just want to go home... Jack’s chest tightens painfully and probably his worst realization yet occurs There isn’t any home anymore. I’m alone...

----

It’s finally stopped. No more. Jack’s panting, the force of his suffering leaving him exhausted. I don’t... I don’t know if I can take this... His breath hitches and tears threaten to start again. Can’t think about-! Distraction! Need one! He forces himself to open his eyes and look up, the harsh glare of unseen lights making the room blinding. Somewhere new. Need to focus on that. I’m somewhere new. Jack forces himself to stand, gritting his teeth as every part of him protests. He stands unsteadily and attempts to comprehend his surroundings through squinted eyes. The room is entirely white, with no defining features. It’s almost impossible to tell where the wall starts and the floor ends.

Jack slowly walks forward, hand held out in front of him like a child lost in the dark. It takes only a few steps before he brushes the wall. Moving sideways now, Jack hold out his other arm, testing to find exactly where the walls meet. Again, it takes only a few paces for him to reach the other wall. He stops there for a few seconds, hands on their respective walls. Almost unconsciously he turns, then backs up until he’s wedged himself in the corner. Slowly Jack sinks to the floor, dully noting the dark jumpsuit he’s dressed in. Once he’s sitting, Jack forces himself back, squishing into the corner as tightly as possible. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls up in that corner, waiting for whatever will happen to happen.

----

Jack doesn’t know how long it’s been. A while probably if his gnawing hunger is any indication. He slowly opens his eyes, blinking as the harsh intensity of the stark white surrounding him. Still here. He lets out a slow breath, an unrecognizable feeling settling in his chest. It’s not pleasant. He slowly uncurls, a combination of wary and almost apathetic.

Once out of the corner, Jack slowly draws himself up into a standing position the action making his stiff limbs protest. He looks about the room again, and unsurprisingly, nothing stands out. He considers going back into the corner, or perhaps choosing a different one, when something catches his eye. There’s a slight anomaly in the center of the room. A section a few shades darker than the rest. What in the-? Jack slowly walks over, an instant wariness taking him. Is this some kind of trap? He stops and kneels down next to the strange patch, and examines it. The first thing he realizes, it that whatever this thing is, it’s not flat. Perspective was playing tricks on him before, as the object in front of him is definitely three dimensional. What? Jack pokes the thing, curiosity having won out over his hesitance. To his surprise it shifts slightly. What is this thing? Carefully, Jack curls his fingers around the bit that moved, his brows drawing together when he can feel space inside the thing. It’s hollow? He pulls the thing upward, a mix of relief and further confusion flooding him as the top he pulls off reveals the tray of food hidden by underneath. What the hell? It’s a normal tray from what Jack can tell, several small plates sat next to each other, each holding a separate element of the meal. Why would someone hide this like that? And how did it even get here in the first place? Did I miss it before? Jack sits and muses for a few moments, before a loud growl pulls him back to the present. Well. It doesn’t seem unsafe? It was more of a question than an assessment. Jack eyes the food a little longer, his insistent hunger eventually winning out over trepidation. He begins to eat, thinking nothing of the ever so slightly off flavor, just happy to have something to sate his hunger.

Once finished, Jack places the top back on the tray, slightly askew to keep the previous and disconcerting illusion from happening again. He moves back to the corner (or maybe it was a different one? he couldn’t tell) and squishes back into the comfortingly cramped space. I’ll wait. I’ll wait until whoever placed this here comes back. Then I’ll get answers. Jack yawns after a few minutes, eyes growing heavy. Can’t sleep now. Need to wait. His eyes seem to close without his permission, and Jack falls into a dreamless sleep. When he wakes up, the tray is gone.

----

This happens several more times before the horrors return.

----

The nightmares are back again. Jack doesn’t know how long it’s been since the last time, but all the time in the universe wouldn’t have been enough. Every time one of his friends fall again, his heart aches. Their cheerful faces turned ashen and dead. It chips away at him, little by little.

----

It’s not as bad as before somehow. Maybe Jack is so broken that he doesn’t care anymore. Maybe it’s the nagging feeling that won’t go away. Something isn’t right here. That much is certain.

----

It becomes a cycle. Several meals, indistinguishable amount of time passing between each one, the tray always vanishing without a trace. The nightmares and visions coming again after some more time. They feel faker and faker each time. The horrific scenes that had made Jack scream in misery barely make him tear up anymore. They’re not real. That what he believes. They’re simply not real, and someone is screwing with him.

----

After the fourth or fifth time Jack barely reacts to the falsified deaths of his friends, things change.

Jack is lightly dozing when he hears a soft click. His head snaps up automatically, and he tenses, ready to deal with whoever or whatever comes through the door he just knows is in the room somewhere.

Noiselessly, a panel swings inward. Jack repositions himself slightly, ready to leap. As heavy footsteps enter, He freezes in place, all thought lost from his head.

He’s not in pain anymore. That’s good. I’ve got to remember to thank Angela properly. Maybe make her a cake? Buy some flowers? A new coat? A pistol? Hell if I know. I’ll be sure to think of something. Wouldn’t be the first time that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Jack lets out a soft breath, the sound oddly muffled. Okay? A pillow I guess?  While puzzling over the curious distortion to the sound, it takes a second for him to notice the lack of light behind his closed eyelids. Uhhhhh huh? Jack opens his eyes only to be greeted by all-consuming darkens. Oh. Uhhh this is fine. Panic begins to rise up in his chest. Completely fine. The panic starts to get worse. Maybe it’s just bandages? And the lights are off? And... and... His attempts at denial ring hollow. Am.. am I? But I saw Angela! And the HQ... The memories of everything that happened between him and Gabe rush to the forefront of his mind, causing Jack to grimace internally. Now’s not the time for that. I can work it out later. Hopefully. For now though, He forces his arm to move, intent on finding out just what happened with his face. Except nothing happens. W-what? I can’t move!? I- what? It’s then that a strange and honestly frightening sensation registers. He’s completely weightless.

Wh-what? Is-is this even possible? Jack struggles against the alien feeling, trying to hold onto some part of his grasp on the situation that he feels rapidly slipping away. Why. can’t. I. move? The panic grows worse now. He’s got no idea where the hell he is, what’s going on and if Gabe is alive or not. I can’t- His thoughts stop cold. Oh lord. What if I’m dead? The fear of the idea grips Jack for only a moment before the sound of his pounding pulse in his ears debunks it. Okay. I’m not dead. That’s good. So what do I do now? How unsure and shaken he is does nothing to calm Jack’s rapid heartbeat or slow the ragged breaths tearing at his already dry throat. Okay. First. Calm the hell down. I need to calm the hell down. He focuses on the air rushing in and out of his lungs, willing the erratic pattern to slow. Come on. Deep breaths. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, you’ve got this. You’ve done more nerve-wracking things before. Jack’s breathing begins to slow the slightest bit. Yeah. In and out. He shuts his eyes from the darkness, clearing his mind and focusing entirely on breathing evenly.

----

After an indistinguishable amount of time his breathing finally reaches something akin to normal, if still slightly fast and a bit shuddering. Okay. Better? Jack takes a deep breath, holding it for a bit before letting it out. Better. Time to prioritize. First thing? Take stock of the situation. He tentatively lets his eyes drift open, only to be greeted once again by the void. Okay. That hasn’t changed. So what about-? Jack closes his eyes again, keeping them open would be useless anyway, and turns all of his attention on trying to move. He wills his toes to curl or fingers to twitch, anything. Nothing happens. Okay. I can still feel everything, so some kind of drug maybe? He vaguely remembers Angela speaking of a medication that could do something along these lines. Or maybe not. He hadn’t really been paying attention honestly. Well, it would explain the weird pressing sensation. It’s not any kind of physical restraint, I know that. Wouldn’t be weightless otherwise. That’s another thing he has to take into consideration. Now, what could make be weightless like this? Surely not space. That’d be stupid. Some sort of new tech maybe? He considers this for a bit. I don’t know. Maybe. Whatever. On to something else. Talking. Can I talk? Jack tries to make his vocal chords work, to make his mouth form the shape of words, but it refuses. All he manages is a strange gurgle. Nope! Great. Fantastic. He’s not sure why, but this revelation worries him more than it probably should. Okay. All I’ve got in here, wherever here is, is the sound of my own breathing and heartbeat. But what about outside of this place? Jack strains to hear anything, anything at all that could be a connection to the real world. The world outside the apparent void. Nothing. O-oh. Okay. Just going to wait then. See if anything happens or changes.

----

Jack doesn’t know how long it’s been. Time seems to have lost all meaning here. He can’t even use his heart beat or breathing rhythm to keep time, what with it constantly fluctuating. The only option is to continue waiting.

----

He may have fallen asleep at one some point, but he can’t be sure. It was a dreamless sleep at any rate. Just how long has it been? Surely something would have happened by now? Jack opens his currently closed eyes, vainly hoping for something, anything to be visible. Nothing. He wearily closes his eyes again. Guess I have to continue waiting.

----

After another indefinite period of time and possible bout of sleep, Jack recognizes something strange. I’m not hungry. That’s weird. With how long it’s been I should surely be hungry. Or thirsty. Or hell, even need to use the bathroom! But no. Nothing. He frowns internally. Something is definitely screwy here.

----

More time passes, and Jack eventually comes to a strange realization. You know what? This is actually kind of peaceful. Despite the weirdness, this isn’t so bad. Could be worse. I’ve got a lot of time to think. And there’s nothing distracting me. The fact that I’ve got no clue where I am and what’s exactly going on isn’t optimal, but it definitely could be a lot worse. I don’t know what’s happened, but at least I’m not stressed anymore.

----

He’s gotten sick of this. The darkness. The lack of sound beyond his own breathing and the weird distorted quality to the sound. The inability to move. The stupid weightless feeling. Not knowing the time. Not knowing if he has slept or not. Jack’s sick of all this crap. The feeling of tranquility has long since passed. Please. I just want this to end. Hot tears pool, then drip down his face.

----

His thoughts have been getting worse and worse. There’s a constant unbearable emotional pressure in Jack’s chest. My fault... Failure...

----

“Jack!” It’s a feminine voice. He vaguely recognizes it. “Please Jack! We need you! I need you...” Wait... Angela! Jack’s eyes snap open and he immediately grimaces and attempts to shade them as the bright sun sears them. He’s laying down, hot concrete scorching his back through his shirt. Angela! He scrambles to his feet, hands burning as he uses them for leverage.

“Angela!” he hoarsely shouts once standing “Where are you!?”

“Jack...” His head snaps toward the source of the surprisingly weak voice. There! Angela stands few feet away, heavily leaning on her staff, her Valkyrie armor stained and broken.

“Angela!” Jack runs as fast and hard as he can, but can’t seem to get any closer to his friend as she slowly sinks toward the ground. “I’m coming! Hang on!” Only once she has almost completely collapsed is Jack able to close the distance between the two of them. He just manages to grab her, gently swinging the woman up into his arms. “Angela... what happened?” He takes in her state in a shocked haze. Her armor is more or less scrap at this point, shredded in multiple places and riddled with bullet holes. Almost every bit of it is splattered in blood, and there are a few terrifyingly large rivulets of the stuff running down her face.

“You, Jack.” Her voice is weak and eyes unfocused. “You didn’t do it. You didn’t protect them.” Her eyes drift closed “You didn’t protect...” Angela’s voice drifts off as her last breath exits her body. You didn’t protect me. The words are like punch to the stomach.

“Oh Angela... I’m so sorry... I-I was never cut out to be a leader! DAMN IT!” he howls, pulling his friend close, “WHY’D THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN!?” Jack’s eyes fill with tears as he tries to rationalize what just happened to his good friend.

----

The air is shattered by the sound of sniper fire, making Jack jerk into a sitting position. Who’s shooting?! He desperately scans the nearby skyline as more loud cracks rend the air. His gaze finally comes to a stop on a familiar figure hunkered down behind one of the crates up on the rooftops. Ana! Jack tries to force himself to his feet, but he’s moving unreasonably slowly. Come on! I need to get up! All he can do is watch in tense horror as Ana inches out from behind her cover and brings her rifle up, lining up a shot on some unseen enemy. Jack can see her pull the trigger, and the world shatters again as the unseen target is taken down. He breathes a sigh of relief. At least she seems to be okay. After a few seconds of the tense silence, Ana stands, doing a rapid survey of the surrounding area before deeming it all clear. She then turns, rifle held casually, and heads toward the side of the building where Jack assumes she’ll repel down from.

It only takes a split second, but Jack can clearly see it happen. A flash of something in the sky. The slight expression change on Ana’s face as the bullet pierces her skull. Her hands almost instantly going slack on her rifle. Then comes the sound of the shot. In reality, quiet as a whisper, but deafening as an explosion to Jack.

“ANA!” he screams, desperation and fear quickly filling him. Jack tries to make himself move, but he’s moving in slow motion. His eyes tearing eyes are glued to his friend and teammate as she slowly falls to the side, the force of impact taking her over the edge of the building. He watches as her precious rifle falls through the air, having slipped out of lifeless fingers. Jack can only miserably scream Ana’s name as her body plummets to the ground.

You didn’t protect them... Angela’s words echo through Jack’s head as he fruitlessly fights against whatever is keeping him in place. All he can manage to do is reach out as she hits the ground.

----

Everything is a blur of white. Jack’s head is spinning. The hell-? He blinks as the scene before him slowly comes into focus. The street has been obliterated, chunks of steaming asphalt litter the area and buildings are crumbling all around him. It’s nothing compared to what he sees before him.

Jack slides back slightly, a vague feeling of sickness and fear filling him as his eyes focus on the giant of a man hunched before him. Reinhardt’s armor is mostly intact, some plates are missing, but it’s only minimal damage all things considered. The man inside it is a different story. Blood freely runs down his exposed face, helmet having been flung off by the force of the explosion. When Reinhardt tries to offer Jack one of his trademark smiles, he coughs and blood spatters down his armor and onto the ground.

“Why? Why’d you do it?” Jack’s voice shakes, the spectrum of emotions he’s feeling not quite translating into sound, “Yo-you didn’t have to protect me...” He looks up into Reinhardt’s glassy yet still warm eyes, hoping for something, anything to tell him the older man would be okay. Reinhardt laughs weakly, more blood coming with it.

“I’m.. getting too.. old for t-this... Time for... a... new... generation...” He smiles slightly, the blood on his teeth making it more ghastly than reassuring. “Protect... them... Jack. Bring... tomorrow... hope...” The light in Reinhardt’s eyes fades and the smile drops off his face as pitches forward, falling lifelessly to the ground.

“Reinhardt!” Jack jerks forward as his friend hit the ground, “y-you should have just left me!” tears well up in Jack’s eyes as Angela’s words come to him again You didn’t protect them. “I can’t protect anyone! You’re the protector!”

----

Jack is already nauseated as his gaze settles upon the force gathered before him. Good lord. His hands go slack on the pulse rife as helplessness fills him. There’s no way we can win... He stares at the army of Omnics gathered in front of him, there has to be thousands. The only sane thing is to pull back.

“Gabe!” Jack yells, turning back toward where he’d last seen the team, “We really-“ He cuts off when all he sees is an empty space. Wha-? Where are they? He turns franticly, trying to find where the team had vanished to.

It takes a bit, but he finally makes out the small running form of their resident engineer.

“Torbjörn!” Jack yells, desperate to catch the man’s attention “We need to retreat and regroup with everyone!”

“No time for strategy! Just run! I’ve left these pieces of scrap quite the surprise and ya really don’t want to be in the blast radius!” Blast-? A bomb! Jack starts to run as well, rifle tucked close to his body.

“You’re a genius!” he yells once his path has taken him a bit closer to Torbjörn.

“You think I don’t know that? I’m not called a talented engineer for nothing you know!” Jack laughs slightly, his teammate’s flippant attitude easing him slightly.

“Careful! An ego like that could get you in a good deal of trouble.” Torbjörn lets out a breathless half chuckle at that.

“Tell that to the armor wearing buffoon!” Jack simply rolls his eyes slightly, ever since they’d met Torbjörn would jest at Reinhardt in some way or another, be it to the face or to someone else. Jack goes to reply, but cuts off once he notices how far behind him Torbjörn had fallen during their little conversation. He slows slightly, quickly turning and readying his rifle when the engineer cries out.

“Let go of me you bucket of bolts!” Torbjörn struggles, his metal arm caught in the grip of one of the humanoid Omnics.

“Hang on!” Jack lines up his shot and quickly releases a volley of shots into the Omnic. It doesn’t prove to be very effective, with the robot barely flinching.

“There’s not time for that now! Just get out of here! You’ve got ten seconds max!”

“But-!” Jack lowers his rifle uncertainly as the Torbjörn desperately gestures at him, waving him away.

“Go ya fool! It’s fine!” Jack backpedals, eventually turning to run forward as his nausea from earlier returns full force. You didn’t protect them! Angela’s words once again echo in Jack’s mind as the world shatters and his back is seared by intense heat.

----

He can’t breathe, harsh pressure is crushing his chest. Jack opens already tear filled eyes and is greeted by an all too familiar and painful sight. Gabe’s face, burning with rage and hate.

“So. It looks like you don’t fail at one thing. You’re always great at letting everyone down.” Wha-? Jack tries to form words, but the knee currently crushing the air out if his lungs won’t let him. The question must have been clear in his eyes, because the look Gabe gives him is absolutely withering. “You failed them all. Even when they didn’t have to listen to you or to look up to you. You let them die Jack. You didn’t protect them!” In a flash there are hands around Jack’s neck, and the pressure on his chest gets worse. “All of them Jack. Every single person you care about and are responsible.” An awful screeching sound starts up in Jack’s ears as horrible memories that aren’t his own flash before his eyes.

The plane exploding, the fear and panic as everything disappears into nothingness. Being able to see the world but not interact with it. Seeing people but being unable to talk to them. Lost in unknown places, time losing all meaning there. Cowering in fear as rage filled roars echo through unsettlingly empty halls. Seeing someone he trusts unconditionally laying broken on the ground. Desperately searching for scrap, working feverishly toward the salvation outside. Weakly fighting back as his own family member works to strike him down, nerves screaming with each half-hearted slash of the blade. Unearthly power ripping through him. His life fading away. Fighting with others, doing things that make him sick. Panic and fear, being chased and caught. The bitterness of realizing there are no real second chances. Being resigned to death as he bleeds out, not caring about the missing arm.

Jack twitches feebly, tears streaming down his face. The screaming in his ears gets louder as the images flash faster and the hands tighten on his neck.

“All of this, this suffering? It’s your fault. You should have done more. You should have known!” Gabe’s voice is sharp and loud, almost louder than the screaming. “You were supposed to protect them! Protect me! And now look at what’s happened!” The tears and the darkness slowly creeping into Jack’s vision should have made the sight before him an unintelligible mess, but he could see it all clearly. The room is burning. Rubble falling from the sky. Gabe’s face is mangled, body torn up and joints contorted at ghastly angles, blood soaking everything. Something small inside Jack cracks at the sight, the words, the pain and hate and fear.

I’m... a... failure... 

The whole thanking her dad part is part of the of a headcannon of mine. Her parentes died in a war if I rember rightly, so I ended up thinking ‘What if her medical teacher/mentor became sort of like a father to her?’ So I took the idea and ran with it. He passed a while ago, but sometimes in times of extreme stress, Angela will hear him encouraging her and it helps her focus. I also headcannon that no matter how calm she appears to be, Angela does get very panicked, only doesn’t show it when taking care of someone leaving her emotionally exhausted later. 

Doctor Angela Ziegler is just finishing her shift at the Triemli Hospital (known as Stadtspital Triemli in her native tongue) when a tremor runs through the building, a deep rumbling boom accompanying it. A sound she knows all too well. Angela practically sprints to the window, desperately searching for the epicenter of the explosion that just occurred. Her eyes search the skyline until they settle on a plume of smoke to the north-east of the hospital. Her already great need to help those in danger only doubles when she realizes which building has just been turned into a smoking pile of rubble.

"Scheiße!” she loudly curses. That’s the HQ building! Mostly everyone is out in the city or away but... Angela shuts her eyes, letting out a breath before opening them again. I have to go. She turns from the window and marches out of the office toward where she left her gear, determination burning in her eyes.

-----

Donning her Valkyrie armor took only a few minutes, it was made for quick response after all. But it still could be too long! Angela’s hands tighten on her Caduceus staff as the packed streets blur below her and the shriek of sirens fill her ears. I must go faster! The golden wings on her back glow brighter as the suit complies with her wishes, making her shoot across the sky like a falling star. As she approaches what is left of Overwatch’s headquarters; Angela slows, gently floating toward the ground and assembled emergency workers as she surveys what’s left. It isn’t much. The entrance hall has collapsed in on itself, leaving a fractured skeleton of blackened steel, which thick and heavy smoke billows through. The eastern and northern wings are all but gone. Shattered concrete rubble and splintered glass litters the ground, interspersed with ammunition from the wrecked armory and various odds and ends from both the offices and living quarters.

“Lieber Gott...” Angela whispers to herself. I haven’t seen destruction like this since the Omnic crisis was at its height. As soon as she lands Angela makes a beeline for the fire chief who is shouting orders to both the people nearby and into his radio.

“Situation report.” It’s a statement, not a request. The fire chief turns, looking slightly annoyed before he recognizes who’s speaking.

“Yeas ma’am. Preliminary reports say the building was mostly empty, with the suspension in effect and all. The east wing and north wing are completely obliterated as you can probably see. The west wing is mostly intact from what we can tell. There are a few blown out windows and some obvious cracks, but that’s all we know currently. Only the hall appears to be on fire. Likely some sort of fire bomb. We haven’t found any-” The chief’s report is interrupted by a frantic and high pitched cry;

“ANGELA! ANGELA THERE’S SOMETHING-” the cry is cut off as a police officer and fire fighter grab on to the arms of the young woman who had been running up, “Hey! Let me go!” she struggles for a second before turning back toward where Angela and the chief are standing, “They’re in there! They didn’t leave-!”

“That’s enough out of you!” the chief cuts in “Don’t you know this is a restricted area?” he gestures toward the two men still holding onto the woman “Take her somewhere safe.” Before they can get one step away Angela speaks.

“Stop. Don’t take her away.” The chief starts to protest, but Angela silences him with a stern look, “That woman is no random passerby. Her name is Janette, and she both the receptionist at the front desk here, and a personal friend of mine. Now release her.” The two men hesitate a second before releasing Janette. Once free she runs to Angela, panic and desperation written all over her face.

“You have to hurry! There’re in there I know it!” she grabs Angela’s arms as tears fill her eyes. Her grip is painfully tight.

“Jan, please,” Angela says in the most soothing voice she can muster, “You have to calm down. I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who’s in there?” Jan releases her grip an Angela, opting instead to tightly hug herself as tears run down her face.

“T-the commanders Angela! Reyes and Morrison! They were in that explosion I know it! I saw both of them! As Mr. Morrison was talking to me, Reyes entered the hall looking livid about something! I was told to take the rest of the day off, and didn’t want to get in between whatever was about to happen, so I left, but I kept an eye on the doors even while out! I never saw them leave!” Jan dissolves into slightly hysterical sobs as dread ices its way down Angela’s spine. The-they’re in there? She turns to stare at the still smoking building. They were caught in that? There’s no way... she shakes herself slightly No. I have to have hope. There’s a chance they weren’t in there. That’s a lie and she knows it. They were in there. Without realizing it, Angela had started walking toward the wreckage and only became aware of that fact when the fire chief grabbed her arm.

“You’re not planning on going in there are you?! It’s still burning! And we don’t know how stable what’s left is! It could come down on your head!” Angela pulls her arm out of his grasp, and stands defiantly.

“I am not just Dr. Angela Ziegler. I am Mercy, and it is my job, no, my duty and my privilege to help those in need. If there is even the slightest possibility that someone is alive in there and in need of my help, I will go.” With that Angela turns, the wings of her Valkyrie armor shining brightly before she takes off, creating a great gust of wind as she does so. I must do this.

-----

The smoke is thick and suffocating as Mercy descends into the charred room that used to be a bright and welcoming entrance hall. She does her best to ignore the rush of sadness that seeing the place in shambles causes. The base is a wrecked as the organization is... Tears prickle at the corners of Angela’s eyes. She’d never completely approved of how Overwatch solved things, but it had been a chance to meet so many amazing people. She met some of her best friends here. And now it’s all in tatters. Mercy squeezes her eyes shut and forces her emotions down. There’s no time for that now. I have to focus. She gently lands on top of a slab of concrete and turns to look at the gauntlet on her free arm. “Scan for signs of life.” The suit instantly obliges, a small holographic screen appearing on her arm as the sensors in her suit search for any sign of vitals or, heaven forbid, the recently deceased in the wreckage. For a few tense seconds she receives no feedback. Come on! Please! She’s about to give into desperation when her suit gives positive feedback in the form of a soft chime. Instant relief floods her. “Assist.” The suit obliges, automatically flying her to the person it located.

When she lands, Mercy desperately looks around for a second, trying to pinpoint their exact location with her eyes. After a few seconds of no luck she turns to the gauntlet display, desperately looking at it for aid. There! The infrared scan shows a human shaped heat signature and the heart monitor shows a weak and sluggish, but still there pulse. “Don’t worry, I’m coming!” she calls, dashing over while taking care to not trip. What she sees when she arrives is worse than she could have imagined. It’s Gabriel Reyes, the Blackwatch commander, that’s certain, but... “Nein! Es kann nicht sein!” Mercy cries, taking in the extensive damage done to his body. Gabriel is wedged under a slab of concrete, rib cage horrifyingly deformed, one if not both shoulders are dislocated and neck his twisted at an unnatural angle. And that’s only the start of it... She bends down to get a better look at the damage while at the same time engaging the healing stream from her Caduceus staff. His face is only moderately damaged, some scratches and bruises here and there, but surprisingly well uninjured. There’s a deep gash on his temple, and when she carefully checks, Gabriel’s eyes are glassy and his pupils are unevenly dilated. No surprise there. Whatever made that gash would have caused significant trauma. Tears threated to well up in her eyes again, but Mercy determinedly blinks them away. You’re a doctor right now. This is a clinical examination. Stay professional. She moves on, checking Gabriel’s neck, but not daring to touch it. Definitely broken. The only hope is that the damage to his spine isn’t too severe. She moves on, eyes looking over his shattered rib cage, searching for anything that would indicate a compound fracture. Damaged organs is a given in this case. Not finding anything obvious she moves on to examine his arms. Not as bad as they could be. Several breaks but- She stops and stares at his wrist. Right where it should connect to his hand. Shitting hell. His hand is gone! The wound is clean, well, as clean as it can be. Shrapnel? Or maybe the concussive blast form the explosion? Shocked by the damage already evident, it takes a second for the frantic beeping of her armor to register. Panicked, Mercy checks the display on her arm. Gabriel’s blood pressure has gone down dramatically and heartbeat is horrifyingly slow. What do I do!? Oh lord what do I do?! She starts to panic I-I-I-I don’t know what to do! Panic starts to overwhelm Mercy when a quiet voice speaks to her Calm down Angela. You’ve done this before. She blinks, her rapidly accelerated breathing slowing slightly as her mentor’s voice comes back to her. There you go. Nothing to panic over. You’ve treated much less stable patients before. You saved the Shimada boy, didn’t you? He wasn’t nearly as strong as your friend is. You can do this. Mercy takes a few shuttering breaths before setting to work, her hands working on autopilot, grateful tears running from her eyes. Danke Papa.

-----

Her job is far from over, but most of Gabriel’s obviously bleeding wounds have been patched up and his vitals have stabilized somewhat, but are still worryingly low. Okay. Now to free him. She reaches down and tests the weight of the slab. Too heavy to lift normally, but...  “Engage enhancement” the suit complies, and a combination of energy and strengthening nano-bots wash over Mercy, making her feel incredibly lively. “Haaah!” she grunts, heaving the slab off of the bottom half of Gabriel’s body. Even with the strength enhancement, it’s really heavy. With a mighty crash the slab falls to the other side, leaving Gabriel free from the debris. She barely even has time to feel anything over that achievement before every alarm her suit had begins going off. W-what!?

“Heads up!” she shouts and instantly a translucent display appears before her eyes, “What happened!?” an accelerated readout of the last thirty seconds loops, and Mercy sucks in a sharp breath as in a matter of seconds Gabriel’s blood pressure plummets. He must have a severed artery! The debris must have been applying pressure and keeping him from bleeding out! In the few seconds that it took for her to figure that out, his blood pressure fell even further and heart rate fell to barely perceptible levels. Oh hell! Mercy thinks for half a second about what to do before grabbing Gabriel in her arms, careful to not jostle him too much, and taking off toward the mostly intact west wing. If I can get him to my lab, there might be a chance! She whips through the dust filled and slightly smoky halls, keeping a close eye on the vital monitor and praying that she’ll make it in time. It takes only a few seconds more for her to shoot down the familiar halls and land in front of her lab. Only the doors don’t open. No power! Fine then! We’ll do this the hard way! Mercy lines herself up in front of the door and winds up, unleashing a vicious kick on it. Her shoe leaves a sizeable dent, the combination of the still activated enhancement mode on her armor and adrenaline making her desperate strikes more effective than they should have been. “Come on!” She slams her foot into the door a few more times, eventually succeeding in breaking it down.

She rushes in, ignoring the throbbing in her foot and the shattered glass cracking under feet. She quickly but gently places Gabriel down on her exam table before rushing over to her experimental medicine cabinet. She fumbles with the lock for a second before the heart rate monitor flat lines and all rational thought leaves Mercy’s mind. She slams her fist through the glass cabinet, grabbing several of the small bottles within. Items in hand she turns and runs toward her exam table, all but slamming down the bottles down before hastily digging through her supply cabinet for several syringes.

“You’re not going to die on my Reyes! You hear me!? I won’t let you!” Angela’s hands are shaking so hard from the adrenaline and exhaustion that she can barely hold the syringe. It’s okay she lies to herself He’s only been down a few seconds. You can do this. She clumsily fills the first syringe with a strange looking, slightly red tinted solution. First apply the nano-bots to begin work on repairing his wounds and stop blood loss. She fumbles and misses his vein a few times in her haste before finally getting it. Okay. Now the stimulant. She grabs a second bottle and syringe, nearly dropping them before she can work the needle into the top of the bottle. Her aim is a bit better this time, and she hits a vein without much trouble. The monitor shows no change. Instinct then leads Angela to grab the bottle of morphine she had kept in the cabinet as well, but as she tries to get the syringe in it, the bottle slips out of her grip and shatters on the floor.

“Scheiße!” she swears. It takes a second for the realization that that was probably a good thing to hit her. If he wakes up, he’ll be in pain, but I’ll at least know he’s alive. She reaches for the fourth and final bottle, without really thinking as she mentally corrects herself. When he wakes up. Not if. She finishes administering the final drug, one that’s completely of her own concoction. It’s a mix between several cellular growth promoters and nano-bots meant to clear out dead cells. Now I have to wait. She can’t risk chest compressions with how ruined Gabriel’s ribs are. “You’re not going to die on me,” she whispers, tears running down her cheeks “You can’t... please...”

-----

Reyes is dead. Angela doesn’t know how long it’s been. Definitely long enough that if something was going to happen, it should have. She collapses into her desk chair, exhaustion catching up to her. She buries her face in her hands, and it really hits her. Gabriel Reyes is dead. I couldn’t save him. Angela’s shoulders shake as she starts to sob uncontrollably. Everything has gone to hell! Overwatch, my family, is going to be disbanded, is going to be destroyed! And now I’ve lost two of my best friends Reyes and Morr- Her head snaps up. Oh lord Jack! I got so caught up with Gabriel I forgot to look for him! I have to go! She forces herself to get up, drawing upon what little energy and will she has left. I have to. Need to... go. As Mercy slowly limps out of her now disaster zone of a lab, she catches the scent of... something. A smell almost familiar, but disturbingly wrong. Like gun powder and blood, but with something wholly unidentifiable. She turns back for the briefest seconds, naïve hope making her chest ache, before forcing herself to keep moving, eyes glued forward. In doing so she misses the faintest wisps of red black mist emanating from the body of her deceased friend.

-----

By the time Mercy manages to make herself come back to the destroyed entrance hall, the place is swarming with firefighters and medical personnel. The fires she hadn’t even acknowledged earlier are almost completely put out.

“Doctor Ziegler!” several voices cry.

“Oh! Angela!” she turns toward the voices numbly as the fire chief, a few rescue workers she recognizes from the hospital and Jan, now outfitted in safety gear of her own How exactly did she manage to get that? come running up.

“Did you find them Angela?! Are they-?” Jan’s voice cuts off when she recognizes the look on Mercy’s face. “n-n-no... n-n it... it can’t be...”

“G-” she chokes on his name, “Reyes is dead.” Mercy’s voice sounds as cold and numb as she feels “After finding him I did all I could. It wasn’t enough. I don’t know about Morrison. The initial area scan only gave me one confirmation.” Jan’s hands fly to her face as her eyes fill with tears.

“Does-does that mean...?” Mercy nods her head slightly, doing everything she can to not dissolve into tears as well.

“I would think so. But,” she forces herself to stand straighter, having hunched slightly from the burden of everything “I can’t give up! I have to-” she takes a step, only to almost fall over a piece of rubble. Luckily the fire chief, who’d been standing passively nearby reacts fast enough to catch her.

“I don’t think so Mercy. You’re exhausted.” He holds up a hand before she can protest “And I know it’s your privilege and duty to take care of people. But you’ve done enough. It’s our duty too you know.” He gestures to the small group around them and all of the others still sifting through the rubble. “We’re all here to help. And that’s what we intend to do. Now,” he turns back to Mercy “you and your friend should go get some rest, and you should get yourself checked out. That hand of yours doesn’t look so good.” Mercy glances down at the hand she had smashed through the glass cabinet. It’s cut up pretty badly, her glove not having done much to protect it. I... I didn’t even realize... she nods mutely before turning to leave. “Errr, one more thing.” She turns back. “Where exactly...? Uhh, where would...?” she knows what he’s asking about.

“My lab. West wing. Take the first left. The next right. Two more lefts. It should be on your right three doors down. It shouldn’t be hard to miss. The door is kicked in.”

“Right.” The chief nods before gesturing toward one of the rescue personnel “You, go and keep an eye on the area. We’ll be there to.. you know, in a bit. Got it?” the worker nods before heading off. “Alright then. We need to get back to work. Foster!” one of the younger looking workers steps forward. “You escort Dr. Ziegler and her friend out of here and to one of the paramedics. And return the Doctor’s staff to her while you’re at it.” The young lady nods.

“Yes sir. This way,” she gestures and begins to carefully pick her way through the rubble, Jan and Angela following numbly behind.

-----

By the time Angela has had all of her injuries patched up (her foot is definitely sprained, if not fractured, she has a good deal of burns from the fire she neglected to avoid in her haste, and there was a good deal of glass shards embedded in her hand) the sun is threatening to start setting. It’s been six hours... Feels like so much longer than that... Just how long was I standing there staring at Gabriel’s lifeless and- she bites her lip, hard, in an attempt to both stop her train of thought and try to keep from crying. Luckily, the perfect distraction arrives a few seconds later.

“ANGELA!” comes the boisterous voice of Reinhardt Wilhelm “Angela! Are you okay?” she looks up as the giant of a man wades his way through the still assembled crowd of bystanders and emergency personnel alike and ambles toward her.

“Reinhardt!” Angela’s eyes light up slightly and a bit of fuzzy warmth bubbles up inside her at the sight of her jovial old friend, “I’m okay I guess... But weren’t you home visiting Brigitte and her family? What are you doing here? And how’d you get here so fast?”

“I was visiting, yes, but decided to cut it short when I heard about what happened. As for getting here, I called in a few favors and now owe a few old friends a round of drinks.” He winks at her and Angela can’t help but laugh slightly. He’s always had quite the way with people. “Now. What exactly happened here, and what happened to you?” he gestures to the bandage covering Angela’s hand. The warmth that Angela had felt rapidly disappears, replaced again with the dull ache she had been feeling earlier.

“This,” she gestures with her bandaged hand “was desperation and carelessness making me stupid. As for what happened,” she lets out a deep sigh, “we don’t know all the details yet, but what we do know is that there were several explosives planted in the building. Demolishing the north and east wings and setting the entrance ablaze. The west either didn’t have a bomb, or it didn’t go off, since it’s mostly intact.” Reinhardt lets out a low whistle.

“That’s a good deal of destruction. Casualties?” Angela’s heart squeezes painfully.

“Because of the suspension and impending shutdown, the building was mostly abandoned, but,” she turns her head toward the ground, not willing to look her friend and teammate in the eyes, “We have two people confirmed to be in the building. One dead. One still MIA.” Her voice is so cold it makes her shiver.

“Angela,” Reinhardt’s voice is incredibly soft by his standards, “who are they?” The concern in his voice makes something snap inside Angela, and her heart feels like it’s cracking in two. She throws herself into the arms of her shocked friend, desperately hugging him like a drowning man holding a life preserver.

“I watched him die Reinhardt! Right in front of me! I couldn’t save him!” Angela’s words are muffled and garbed as she sobs and clings to Reinhardt, “I’m supposed to be a doctor damn it! A bringer of comfort and healing! A symbol of mercy! A savior! But I couldn’t save him! I failed! I failed him...” she starts to hiccup, choking slightly on her desperate breaths and miserable tears “I failed them both...”

“Angela...,” Reinhardt’s voice is soft and tender, like that of a father trying to calm a crying child. He gently wraps his arms around the bawling woman returning her embrace, “That’s it. Let it out. This pain will do you no good bottled up inside.” After a few minutes he begins rubbing gentle circles on Angela’s back in an attempt to offer her more comfort. It seems to work, with Angela’s desperate crying eventually easing until her breaths only shudder slightly.

“I watched Gabriel die, Reinhardt. And because I spent so much time working on him, I couldn’t get to Jack. He died alone and buried under his destroyed dreams. I know it.” Her voice is so soft that Reinhardt can just barely hear her.

“Ah.” Reinhardt is silent for a moment, “It’s not your fault Angela. You are an amazing doctor, but no one in infallible. You can’t save everyone.” Angela’s grip on Reinhardt tightens slightly. Determination burning in her hollow feeling heart. I can’t accept that. I’ll find a way. I won’t lose anyone ever again. Just as the two of them start to separate, a pair of footsteps approaches. It’s the fire chief again, and the look on his face is concerning.

“We’ve sifted through a good deal of the wreckage and haven’t found anything. We’ll keep looking, but,” he lets out a tense breath, “we may have to come to terms that Jack Morrison was obliterated in the blast.”

“no...” Angela’s hand flies up to cover her mouth. Is that why my suit couldn’t find anything? Because there was nothing to find? A fresh flood of tears threaten to spill from her eyes and Reinhardt gives her shoulder a concerned and reassuring squeeze.

“That’s not all. The person we sent to keep an eye on Reyes’ body? They’re dead. And so are the two others we sent to check on them. Not only that, but his body’s gone. There’s nothing on the table except a large stain of some strange substance.” Angela’s eyes grow wide with horror. Did? Did I-? Before she can say anything Reinhardt speaks.

“It must have been whoever bombed the base!” he thunders “They were not satisfied with destroying out home and family, no. They wanted some sick trophy as well!” Anger and pain are clearly etched on his face, and Angela can tell he’s acting this way to hide his grief, “I will find these monsters and bring them to justice!” Angela slips away as Reinhardt continues ranting to the hapless fire chief. She makes it away from any prying eyes before her thoughts make her visibly gag, as what Jan said and her fears echo in her head. What if-? What if-?! What if there wasn’t anyone else? The thought trickles like acid through her mind. What if this was an inside job? And- and-! What if Gabriel isn’t really dead? What if I somehow brought him back?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack knew things were going downhill for a long time. He probably couldn’t have put words to it, but it was there. The gut feeling that things were going straight to hell.

He’d had it ever since he’d been promoted to Strike Commander. Gabe had been understandably upset, he’d been the one to lead them during the Omnic crisis and arguably, was responsible for Overwatch even existing. He’d been passed over due to no lack of skill, no, it was nothing as understandable as that. Jack had been chosen over his good friend and partner purely because of political preference. The members of the UN had all agreed, he was the perfect All-American mascot. Born on a farm and raised out in the country, going on to join the army to protect his country. A man determined to bring out the best in everyone around him and bring a violet world back to peace. A bastion of righteousness and justice. John ‘Jack’ Morrison, Overwatch’s golden boy. What a load of crap. Hell, half of it wasn’t even true. It was all a huge game of politics, and he’d played right along.

He’d only realize this once the protests against Overwatch had started, and surprise, surprise, all of the political leaders had pointed all accusations at Jack. The best scapegoat is one that the public loves after all. It only whips the public into a larger frenzy when someone they love and idolize is turned into some corrupt liar. They feel betrayed. They become violent. They become irrational and it becomes impossible to deal with them. Maybe he would have had a better time of it if he could have asked Gabe for advice, or even vented his frustrations, but no. That was impossible. His promotion had been the beginning of the end. Their relationship fell apart, slowly at first. It started with little things, Gabe wouldn’t respond to any advances or soft and sweet words, instead turning away or simply sitting in stony silence, expression unreadable. Things only got worse as time went on, work picked up and Jack was forced to a thousand and one things at once leaving him with little time to even sleep, much less try to sort out relationship problems. The real end to everything they had happened when Gabe was made the commander of Blackwatch.

He was always gone, always doing the dirty work that Overwatch couldn’t. Infiltrating this organization or interrogating that person, assassinating some dictator or crime lord. Honestly it was the work of Blackwatch that helped keep the world in balance, dealing with the situations that couldn’t be publicized and would have had catastrophic effects otherwise. So much work, so many potentially fatal missions. And all for... what? Having to hide while the icon that so captivated the public received all of the credit? It’s a pretty shit deal.

Honestly though? Even knowing. Even understanding. Even faced with the reality that he’d probably be just as upset and angry. It doesn’t make this any less painful. If anything it makes it worse.

I could have prevented this. The words tear into Jack heart like knives as he stares down the man he still loves. Seeing the anger and hatred twist Gabe’s face is like torture. He looks nothing like the man that had cracked jokes during the hellish training and sassed the drill sergeant. The one who’d told stupid stories and tried to keep in high spirits even while the drugs from the enhancement program sapped his life and caused untold pain. Who had whispered sweet nothings in his ear. The man who had told him, ‘I love you.’ But he still is. The man standing before him, manic bloodlust and hatred in his eyes is still Gabriel Reyes.

“Gabe plea-” Jack flinches as Gabe’s harsh grow cuts him off.

“Don’t you f***ing call me that!” his grip on the small detonator in his hand tightens “You don’t deserve the privilege!” Jack flinches back again but doesn’t stop trying to reason with his former friend.

“Fine. Reyes, please, it doesn’t have to end this way! I know Overwatch is up shit creek and the public is in a frenzy over all of the information that leaked about both Blackwatch and some of our more questionable operations, but things it’s not completely over! At the very least Overwatch can be disbanded and we can all live as civilians. No more near-suicide missions! No more secrets! No more..... no more violence. Please-” Jack’s voice cracks “I don’t care if you curse my name for the rest of eternity. Just please don’t do this...” As his words trail off Jacks gaze drifts to the floor. A tense silence hangs in the air for a few seconds before Gabe’s bitter and mocking laugh splits it.

“As if,” He scoffs, “I’ll at least give you this Jack. You always were a naïve and hopeful dumbass.” Jack lets out a quiet sigh, the resignation and cynicism that he’d been trying so hard to fight back overtaking him.

“I know.”

----------

There’s an ungodly screeching sound in his ears and the air scorches his throat and lungs as he breathes. Wha... wha..t? What..? Jack’s head is swimming and the ringing in his ears and stars dancing on his eyelids aren’t helping. What... happened...? The burning air causes him to cough, snapping him to painful reality. His face burns, arms feel like they’ve been stomped on and an agonizingly heavy weight is settled across his torso. What is..? He tries to move, but to no avail. Gotta.. focus.. He takes a deep breath only to start violently coughing as the smoke and heated air chokes him. Fire...? and smoke... ringing and... bright light... explosion...? A bomb... The bomb! Oh hell-

“Gabe!?” Jacks voice is weak and raspy, barely above a whisper “Gabe! Can you hea-” he cuts off, coughing again, the smoke making his still closed eyes water. “Gabe!” his voice is louder this time, air tearing at his already mangled vocal chords “Gabe! Where are you?!” He breaks down into another fit of coughing. Need.. to.. find him. Jack forces his uncooperative eyes to open, only to be greeted by a massive blur. Smudges of black, grey, orange, red and blue litter his vision. ....shit. Jack tries to force his vison to clear, to make his eyes focus, but it only gets worse. Some of the smudges of blue get blocked out by a black blob. A blob that seems to be moving. What is-? His thoughts are cut off by a quiet, feminine voice.

“Don’t worry Jack. I’ll take care of you.” As the woman bends down, she comes into slightly sharper focus. Her face is soft and expression kind, her head adorned with a golden halo and golden white wings shimmer on her back.

“A-Angela is-is that you?” Jack does his best to reach for her, but his arm only weakly twitches.

“I’m here now Jack. Everything will be okay.” She reaches out toward him, “I’ll give you something for the pain, and then I’ll get you out from under that beam.” Relief from his screaming nerves was tempting, but there was one thing he wanted even more.

“Angela I need... I need you to find him. Find Gabe. Please... I need to know if he’s alive..” He can feel a gentle hand brush against his cheek, and just barely registers the sting as a needle is plunged into his neck.