#talonrat

Hana moves quietly, pistol raised, as she steps barefoot down the corridor. Her instincts had only mysteries and disasters in store but she’d take them in stride, trusting her head.

A shadow danced across the light of the window, startling Hana just enough for her to relax the hold on her gun and to gasp, regrettably tensing up. She’s in her pajamas. Why she couldn’t call for a superior, for someone that knew what they were doing - because frankly, if Hana finds an intruder (or worse, a runaway) she’s not sure running on energy drinks for two days will have helped her.

Steeling herself, she takes a breath and holds it; walking closer, and she spots another shadow, She steps further towards it, raising her gun and squinting in the darkness.

The figure - obviously malnourished, a prisoner - is creeping away from her when she sees him, so she relies on her instincts.

“Hey - stop,” she says, not too loud to wake but enough to convey her practised confidence. And the figure stills, surprising even Hana. He begins to turn, leaning her way, allowing her to notice the subtle glint of metal in his hand - a knife.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed as the dragons approached, and at one’s menacing hiss, he shrank away from them with a scowl.

“Oh, I dunno, mate.” he muttered, gaze still fixed on the creatures. He didn’t offer the agent so much as a glance. “Some o’ya want info, some want ta talk, and some o'you just come ‘ere ta fuck me up.” Jamison shrugs his shoulders at that, knowing it’s all becoming routine now. His words are cold and calm. “I never know what until someone breaks m’wrist, ya know?”

He looks up, finally, and his amber eyes blaze with defiance.

“So what’ll it be, princess?”

Merely smirking at the male below him, Hanzo continued to pace letting the remark glaze over him. Upon waving his hand in a dismissive manner, both of the reptiles slunk backwards, back towards the heavily locked door. Both remained silent and simply stood staring at Jamie as Hanzo brought himself round to Jamies front.

“I’ll be breaking more than a few bones Mr.Fawkes if you don’t comply with what I need...”

Pulling out a small bit of creased paper, Hanzo unfolded it and neatened it out before continuing to speak to the australian.

“Now, all I need off you a simple answer.”

With one swift movement, the male twisted the A4 sized paper to show Jamie. It was a black and white photograph of Mako, with red scribbles of japanese placed down the sides and a few arrows with possible destination names messily written down.

Hana's scuffed trainers didn't squeak on the polished floors anymore.

They used to, when she first joined. But she'd learned, by now, not to make noise.

Never had she thought that she'd miss the sound. But when there wasn't anything else to distract her racing thoughts, she found her heart racing at the fact that it was too quiet. But she had to do this - there were two agents walking behind her, silent, and there would be more in the prisoner's room. Someone decided she wasn't pulling her weight.

That someone was probably correct, and Hana knew it. She didn't have to be loyal, though, only pretend to be. It'd worked for her so far, anyways.

Hana took a deep breath before she opened the door, trying to fall back into the detached, emotionless shell TALON thought she was. Her eyes fell to the prisoner, and any attempt to keep up that persona was crushed with the realisation.

Jamison hissed the words he spoke in reply, amber eyes burning brightly with anger. “Bein’ part bot doesn’t make ya any less of a cock.”

He shifted uncomfortably when the other laughed at him, Genji’s mocking purr of malice sending a shiver of fear up his spine. Scowling, the Junker spat his retort.

Seeing how co-operative the monk usually was, they decided that it would be better to try and break his spirit by escorting him over to the ‘operation’ room, as if to show him just how tight and large this place really was.

 Or perhaps it was that this time, they weren’t heading to the usual room he was in - rather, he was to meet a prisoner. Zenyatta showed some promise about being an aid to those who are over the edge of the blade that Talon was trying to keep them on - hence the continuous stress of the ill switch they had over it. And the shock collar on the other prisoner. He would have to tread very carefully today.

So once he was through the double doors and into the new home of the familiar face, he dropped down to the sitting Junker’s level. Push him back from suicidal tendencies - that was his mission. But how far could he really push it? Although being blantant about it could end with him being pushed back into phase 1, which is not optimal. He already knows that his greeting will get him a shock, bu the pain was probably worth it to give him a little comfort. 

Jamison hadn't noticed what was wrong. He never did.

He had bounded back into the house they claimed as a base, and had quickly returned to his favourite spot, chattering all the while. There, at the foot of the bed, he had view of the whole room, and he could reach all his tools scattered about the floor.

Through his constant noise, he had not noticed the growl that had formed in the other's breaths.

"That didn't go as badly as I thought it would, y'know, mate! Thought fer sure they were gonna hear us, 'specially when you decided ta go ahead an' spring that trap. Was a fuckin' miracle we got out-"

"Would you shut up!?"

The sudden fury in Mako's voice made Jamison yelp in surprise, eyes blown wide with fear. His mouth snapped closed, bottom lip held between sharp teeth, and he shrunk in his seat as the other growled.

"You would have died to that trap if it weren't for me. I risk my ass time and time again for you, an' you don't pull your fuckin' weight. No help, no reward, not even a fuckin' thank you. Ya do nothin' but bitch even when I've saved yer sorry ass." His voice lowered, then, threatening and vicious. "Startin' ta think it ain't worth it anymore. Startin' ta think it's better ta leave."

Tears were growing in Jamie's amber eyes, then, and he knelt, reaching up with one metallic hand in desperation. "M-Mako, no, I didn't mean it like that-"

Roadhog's huge hand shot out to grip his wrist, the metal creaking in protest, and he felt the delicate joints begin to buckle.

"Then you need to learn when to shut up."

Jamison wailed as he watched, eyes fixed on his wrist, breaths shallow with panic. He shook his head quickly, desperately, begs falling from his lips.

"W-wait, no, Mako, I-I'll do anythin', p-please, please don't, n-no- NO-!"

CRUNCH.

His sobs turned to screams as his wrist collapsed beneath the pressure, scraps of metal falling useless to the ground. Beads of scarlet followed them. Jamie writhed, desperate to get away, as the Hog changed his grip and tore the hand from its ruined socket.

"Please, stop- Mako, stop it, please-!"

His begs fell unanswered as the other took grip on the forearm plate, ripping it easily from welding and wire. The mask remained impassive as he moved, pulling and tearing at Jamison's precious work, until it was a pile of mangled metal at his feet.

"Punishment." was the only word that escaped the mask, finally, staring down at the blonde as he sobbed. Roadhog turned away, starting for the door, and-

"Please. Please, Mako. D-Don't go."

Jamison's beg was pitiful, his crying open and ugly and agonising. When no response came, he gave a shaking breath outwards, repeating his words. "Don't leave... please don't leave me..." He trailed off as his voice broke into sobs again, the occasional hiccup making his body jolt violently.

"Pathetic."

The sound Jamison made was sick with shame, arm curling across his stomach, his gaze dropping to the floor. He was shivering. "Mako, please-"

Roadhog cut in, then, growl dark and low and cruel. "You're worthless. Useless. Twitchy, careless little fuck."

Jamie cringed as the words crashed onto him, no longer able to cover his ears. Mako knew they would tear him apart, even more than any physical pain could. He knew.

"I should have left you in the dust when I was first sent for you, you little shit. Your blood should have stained the ground I walked on."

A great hand slid into his hair, gripping hard, making him cry out. His head was tipped back roughly, as if to inspect the tears upon his cheeks, and there was terror in his eyes.

"The famed enforcer Roadhog, babysitting this defective, ungrateful bastard. Ha!"

He was thrown aside.

Jamison gave a gasp of pain when he landed, sharp metal cutting into his skin. Ribbons of blood began to trail from the wounds.

"You're not worth fifty-fifty, kid. I'm only sorry I didn't realise sooner."

With one weak arm he pushed himself upright, muscles shuddering with the effort, and looked up at the Hog once more. The man had already turned away, standing at the door, and had his scrap gun hanging loosely in his palm.

"Mako... please..."

"Good fucking riddance, Fawkes."

Gone.

He's jokin'. He doesn't mean it. This is just punishment for your fuck up, Jamison, you deserve it. He'll be back with more later.

Tears ran freely down his cheeks again, as the enormity of what happened crashed down around him.

He's abandoned you.

With a howl of agony, his sobs began anew, wracking his body with shivers and resounding throughout the house. He wished the man would come back and tear apart the rest of him, lay claim to him, make him silent for once in his life because God it would hurt so much less.

With a fumbling hand he detached the last of his arm, throwing the useless metal to the ground, and his leg quickly followed it.

Pathetic. Pathetic, careless, defective, useless, stupid.

With tears blurring his eyes he clambered up onto the bed, pulling a pillow close to his chest. He curled up tight around it, like a child, and let his tears soak into the fabric.

Worthless, ungrateful little bastard.

The sheets still smelled of Mako, of sweat and diesel and stolen aftershave, but this time it did nothing to comfort him.

Exhaustion claimed his body in the end.

When Jamie awoke, he did not open his eyes. He felt a stiffness on his cheeks where old tears had dried unseen to, and now could not wipe them away. His body was curled in on itself, foetal and warm.

His breathing had evened out in sleep, back to the comforting rhythm he was used to - two whole breaths for just one of Mako's-

Mako.

His eyes snapped open, then, feeling tears run down his cheeks again.

Mako's here.

Everything blossomed with intensity as he cried, silently, trying not to wake the man curled so warmly around him. There was breath on his neck, unfiltered by the mask, and hair he knew was silver tickled his shoulder.

There was a wrist, resting on the sharp curve of his waist, relaxed and gentle and familiar. A hand was curled around the comforting little convex of his stomach. It's a start, Mako had murmured, when Jamie had once prodded at the fat. Get you fed properly. Healthy.

"Ready for eatin'!" had earned him a shove, and a ruffle of his hair.

Without warning, the man shifted behind him, and Jamie felt a flash of panic, breath hitching in his throat.

Shit, shit, shit, he's gonna leave again-

He was merely cuddled closer, and he sighed, relief washing over him. Obediently, he pressed his back to the other's great belly, and received a rumble of contentment in return.

Mako had taken to holding him like this.

He had explained, once, that he found it comforting. To feel him breathe beneath his fingers, to hear the faint drum of his heart. To know he was alive, and safe, and happy.

Blissful.

Jamison couldn't argue. The solid strength pressed to his back kept him grounded, something to focus on. The hand calmed the jitters that wracked his body.

The long and wheezing breaths helped him sleep.

The thought reminded him of the tiredness that clawed at his eyelids. He was slipping back into dreams, again, lulled by warmth and sound and affection.

A soft murmur was breathed against his neck.

"I'm sorry."

With that, he smiled, tears threatening to spill from his eyes once more.

He's here.

"Please, don't be sorry. Was my fault. I deserved it."

At his words, he was turned over, gently, so his amber eyes met Mako's brown. The hand shifted to his back, stroking softly against his skin.

"No, Jamie." came Mako's reply, his voice hurt and insistent and regretful. "I had no right to do that to you. I hurt you. I was so angry, so frustrated... I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm so sorry for what I did to you."

Jamie could only nod, lip trembling with emotion. He was pulled closer, again, head tucked beneath the Roadhog's chin, and he heard the man's words as a rumble in his chest.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't expect you to."

He closed his eyes, feeling sleep catch up to him again, and he whispered softly his reply.

"I do."

When Jamie awoke, he did not open his eyes. He felt a stiffness on his cheeks where blood had dried unseen to, and now could not wipe it away. His body was curled in on itself, agonised and cold.

His breathing had been even in unconsciousness, back to the comforting rhythm he was used to - two whole breaths for just one of Mako's-

Mako.

His eyes snapped open, then, feeling tears run down his cheeks again.

Jamison’s gaze did not meet the girl as she spoke, instead fixing itself onto the floor of his cell. He was sat, leant against the back wall, arms folded as best they could across his chest. One scarred forearm rose and fell as he breathed.