#being around a pair of omnics and interacting heavily with other omnics for the first time is making them develop standards

[bluesunsdusk]

--// Imagining Najma saying "I don't date humans anymore." gives me real "I'm done with men 💅" energy. ))

[jiveammunition]

Title: Look What Love Gave Us Rating: Teen Pairing: Reaper76 Content Warning: Hanahaki, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary:

It is rare for graduates of the Soldier Enhancement Program to contract illness, what with how their enhanced immune systems are more or less designed to search, attack, and destroy any unknown, dangerous, or foreign pathogens, but it does not mean that it is outside the realm of impossibility for it to happen.

Which is why, when Jack wakes up one morning with a twinge in his chest and a tickle in his throat that just will not quit, he is not at all surprised to see the small fleck of a purple petal stare up at him from a landing pad of black leather when he coughs into his hand. He has seen this symptom before — in himself no less — though of course, he had been much younger and much more impressionable the first time he coughed out a flower petal, unable to believe such a thing could even happen, despite the proof that came out of his very mouth.

My @reaper76bigbang Reverse Bang Fic for @diefuss!! Please check out their artwork here!

It is rare for graduates of the Soldier Enhancement Program to contract illness, what with how their enhanced immune systems are more or less designed to search, attack, and destroy any unknown, dangerous, or foreign pathogens, but it does not mean that it is outside the realm of impossibility for it to happen.

Which is why, when Jack wakes up one morning with a twinge in his chest and a tickle in his throat that just will not quit, he is not at all surprised to see the small fleck of a purple petal stare up at him from a landing pad of black leather when he coughs into his hand. He has seen this symptom before — in himself no less — though of course, he had been much younger and much more impressionable the first time he coughed out a flower petal, unable to believe such a thing could even happen, despite the proof that came out of his very mouth.

Hanahaki , or so the doctors called it, is a strange disease to be sure, in that not only is it born of something that is not pathogenic at all, but it is one where where the victim is doomed to cough up flower petals the longer they suffer from the original cause. That is, to say, one-sided love. The easiest way to cure it is, of course, to have the victim’s love returned to them by the object of their affections.

Another way, one that is not nearly so pleasant, is to have the flowers surgically removed. But of course, this method though much more straightforward and less complicated in regards to solving the issue, is not without side effects.

For you see, love is what causes the flowers to grow or die naturally; it is the source from which the disease stems and takes root. And there is no uprooting a plant entirely without causing damage to the soil from which it grows. With the surgical removal of the hanahaki flowers, so too is are the feelings of love removed. That is to say, the victim will never again love the person for whom they originally held the one-sided affections for. In many cases, it has even been reported that the victim has lost the ability to love entirely.

As ashamed as Jack is to admit it — “A Morrison never quits,” is the family motto his mother had raised he and his brothers on — he had considered having the surgery in his youth when he first contracted the disease, even after being told the consequences. Truth be told, back then he never expected his love would be returned, given who the object of his affection was, and the idea of never loving them romantically ever again — or feeling romantic love for anyone at all afterward — was not something that weighed all that heavily in his mind.

Of course, now is a different story. Were it not for the fact that the circumstances of his life now are so drastically different from back then, he would likely take the surgical cure into consideration once more.

Twenty years have passed since his love was returned, and Jack is now happily married to the person who he had harbored affections for so many years ago, none other than Gabriel Reyes, a man who he loved so dearly that he would rather die still loving him, choking on flowers and roots and all, than to ever give up that feeling for anything. Even now, in the midst of all the chaos that comes with their roles as the Overwatch and Blackwatch Commanders during the Omnic Crisis, and all the conflict and animosity between them whenever their roles and duties clash with one another, Jack can list a million and one things — including his own life — that he would rather sacrifice than his love for Gabriel.

Still, the reemergence of the petals are a cause for concern, and Jack frowns at the purple fleck in his palm. Hanahaki is only ever present in cases of a one-sided love, and given that he and Gabriel are both happily married there should be no reason that he should be coughing up petals. Jack harbors no romantic feelings for anyone else, and as far as he is aware, Gabriel is the same way.

Granted, the both of them are in rocky terms with one another, in a fight over something that Jach honestly can no longer even recall what had even sparked it to begin with, but that did not mean they did not still love each other. No relationship is without its conflicts, and what with their roles in the organization essentially being a rather crude system of checks and balances, it is only natural that the stress of recent events around the globe and managing Overwatch’s involvement thereof would have only increased tensions between the two of them.

It is not as if they have started hating each other, or that they have fallen out of love. The love is still there for sure, Jack knows it from the way Gabriel still interacts with him during their downtime, however rare those occasions may be.

Then again, of course, those occasions have become fewer and further in between as of late, what with Jack’s time devoted to dealing with cleaning up the public relations nightmare that resulted from Overwatch’s unauthorized deployment to London during the omnic uprising. Gabriel himself has his own messes to deal with, and as much as Jack would like to know as a concerned spouse what is occupying so much of Gabriel’s time as of late, his status as the Strike Commander all but dictates on many occasions that it is better that he not know at all.

“If the U.N. finds out that you not only knew about some of these Blackwatch operations, but even went so far as to authorize them, Jackie, you can bet your pretty little ass is going to get removed from the chair of the Strike Commander. For the sake of keeping Overwatch what it is and making sure we’re able to do the most we can, it’s better this way,” Gabriel had told him.

Jack had no reason to doubt him then — to believe Gabriel was doing anything that was not considered to be absolutely necessary — just like how he has no reason to doubt Gabriel now, both in his role as the Blackwatch Commander and in his role as a husband.

But even Jack knows that simply believing in something does not necessarily make it true. He believes that Gabriel still loves him, and Gabriel has yet to disprove that, but he misses hearing those three simple words coming from Gabriel’s mouth. He misses the sweet nothings the both of them used to whisper to each other under their breaths when only the other was close enough to hear them. He misses the communication most of all.

The love is there, but without affirmation of it every now and again, sprinkled in occasionally between the unpleasant interactions they are bound by duty to have so often, sometimes it is hard to feel it and know it at the same time.

Jack takes another glance at the purple petal before he throws it into the trash, feeling slightly childish for thinking this way. They are both adults with very busy lives, they have no time to indulge themselves in sweet romantic nothings, not with global peace at stake.

Ultimately, Jack chalks the single petal as a fluke and pays it no mind. He writes it off as a spontaneous onset of something psychosomatic caused by the rough patch the two of them are having. It is not a big deal; he will soon get over it and the petals will surely go away on their own.

The tickle in his throat comes back again as he is in the middle of of a meeting with some politicians visiting the Headquarters from the Argentinian Embassy in Bern. He excuses himself from the room briefly when he spots three petals in his after he covers his mouth to cough, and flushes them down the toilet to dispose of them. After washing his face and rinsing his mouth to make sure no stray purple petals are stuck to his teeth, he returns to the meeting and conducts himself as if nothing had ever happened. Jack continues to convince himself that the flowers will go away on their own.

The tension between himself and Gabriel never gets any better despite Jack’s best efforts to convince himself otherwise, and eventually the animosity that has grown between them over the past several weeks becomes far too much for Ana to tolerate. What begins as a casual reminder about how certain Overwatch assets need prior authorization from the Strike Commander before they can be used somehow ends up a heated discussion about overstepping authority when one is no longer left with a choice. Jack is about to reply to Gabriel when Ana steps into the room to intervene.

“Gabriel,” Ana interrupts, “Angela needs you in the medbay. It’s about Jesse’s arm.” Her tone leaves no doubt as to the urgency of the matter, and before Gabriel makes a move to leave the room, he locks gazes with Jack, letting him know under no uncertain terms that their discussion about the subject is not yet done. He receives a nod from Jack in acknowledgment along with a quiet, “Later, then,” in reply, and opens his mouth to speak when Jack looks away.

Ana levels him with a gaze of her own and Gabriel’s mouth promptly snaps shut, pursing in a clear indication of irritation before he turns to head off to the med bay.

“So can I ask what this is all about?” Ana breaks the lingering silence that has settled over the room after Gabriel’s departure. “What is going on with you two? Every time I see you two talking lately, it ends up like this. What is  this , Jack?”

‘It’s nothing,” Jack answers, waiting a beat or two before responding, wary that a reply coming out far too quickly would have less of a chance to be believed. “We’re just going through some stuff right now. Strike-Commander-and-Blackwatch-Commander-related stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Ana frowns at that, no doubt frustrated with the fact that she knows that Jack is not telling her the entire truth, and unable to call him out on it because he is also technically not lying. “Is that really all it is? Jack, I am your second-in-command, but I am also your friend, as am I Gabriel’s friend. If there is something that is bothering the both of you, I ask that you let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“I mean it, Ana, there’s noth-” he almost manages to convince Ana — or so he believes — that there really is nothing going on between the two of them that cannot be handled privately, before the tickle in his throat and chest forces him to cut himself off.

He covers his mouth to catch the petals before they leave his mouth, but even with the speed and reflexes granted to him by the SEP, Jack is no match for Ana’s enhanced cybernetic eye. She rushes over to his side immediately at the first glimpse of the color purple, sympathy and concern written all over her face in a way that makes Jack almost want to scold her for.

“Oh, Jack, why do you always do this? Why do you always take things up all by yourself?” she chides, rubbing at Jack's back in an effort to help calm down his convulsions.

“It’s noth-nothing,” Jack somehow manages to say through his coughs, doing his best to sound as insistent and convincing as he can.

But of course, Ana will have none of it. She, too has seen hanahaki first-hand, and knows all the treatments for it. Whether or not she can understand exactly why it is happening to Jack now is beyond Jack’s guess, but he trusts Ana not to make any wild or incorrect assumptions about himself and Gabriel - especially given how long the three of them have known each other.

“ This   is not nothing, Jack!   This is serious and you two need to have a discussion about what is causing this right now. Now, before you get any worse!” she insists, tugging at Jack by the arm and pushing him forward in an effort to make him move.

“Ana, I said I’m fine! This is nothing. I’m okay. Gabe and I are going to talk later. He’s busy,” Jack replies, shaking his head, and of course, refusing to budge despite Ana’s best efforts.

“ This  is not fine! You are coughing up flowers! Look how many there are!” she nearly shouts, tugging his hand away from his mouth to reveal the palmful of purple petals to emphasize her point. “You need to go to the medbay. Go speak with Gabriel, please.”

“No, Ana, not right now. This is only a few petals and it isn’t that bad. Gabe has a mission coming up and this is the last thing he needs right now, especially with what’s already going on with Jesse.”

“Jack-”

“I said we’ll talk when he gets back. Isn’t that good enough? I’m not going to die before the mission is over, I promise!”

“No, Jack, you need to talk to him  now ,” Ana says, her tone cold, firm, and harsh in the way Jack has only ever heard on the battlefield commanding the troops from a sniper perch.

“Ana, Gabe has enough to deal with right now - especially with the recon mission in Barcelona coming up. I am not going to burden or piss him off any more than I already have. Right now, the mission is all that matters, and he needs to stay focused on it. And it's my job to make sure he can do that to the best of his ability and without any interference,” Jack replies, not daring to look at her directly. He can just tell what kind of expression is on her face right now, and there is no way he would be able to stomach her anger and pity.

Another cough tries to erupt from Jack's chest, and thankfully, he is able to keep it down. He disguises it as a quick clearing of his throat, raising his fist to his mouth in show just before he turns his head to spit the petal out between his slightly uncurled fingers.

“Jack,” Ana begins again, her voice just as unwavering as before. “You-”

“ Enough , Ana,” Jack snaps, cutting her off before she can say anymore. He throws the fistful of petals away into the trashcan, and finally meets her gaze with his own. “It's going to wait until next week, and that's final. I'm not discussing this any further. Go get Fareeha from the medbay; I'm sure she's snuck in to check on Jesse again.”

The moment of silence that follows is almost agonizing, and Jack half-expects Ana to slap him for being so stubborn. There is only so much bullshit anyone can take; and after putting up with his and Gabriel's antics for so long, Jack can only consider it a miracle that Ana has stuck around for so long already. Jack is in the middle of turning back around when hears the creaking of leather — as a hand is no doubt balled into a tight fist — and he instinctively braces himself, body tensing and his jaw tightening in anticipation.

What he gets from Ana is not at all what he expects. It is not a raised hand, though it undoubtedly still hurts just as bad, if not worse. Ana instead meets him with eyes full of angry tears, spitting out angry words at him in Arabic  — almost too fast for Jack to follow — as she turns on her heel, and storms away, cursing all the while. Jack does manage to catch a few key phrases before she disappears from his sight completely, and he knows from his studies and from how often Ana has used them phrase in the past that none of them are particularly pleasant.

Jack does not blame her for her anger. If anything, cursing him to hell and calling him a son of a donkey is infinitely nicer than any of the other words or phrases he feels he deserves.

His gaze turns back to the flower petals in the trash, and he says a quiet prayer that everything will turn out fine: that Jesse will recover with no complications, that the Barcelona mission will go without a hitch, that he and Gabriel will sort things out afterwards, that the flowers will go away, and Ana will no longer have to fuss or worry about the both of them.

Of course, life always seems to find a way to make sure that things never work like how you want them to. Jack should have known better than to have hoped otherwise.

The damage to Jesse’s arm is determined to be far too extensive to be able to heal even with Angela Ziegler’s biotic healing technology, and though he is outfitted with a cybernetic replacement, Gabriel's orders — Jesse was all too ready to ignore the doctor's own — have him stay behind in the medbay.

Gabriel does a good job of putting up a strong front of acting like Jesse's incident is more an inconvenience than an actual subject of concern, but after being with him for so many years, Jack would have to be blind to not see the worry that creases Gabriel's brow, the guilt that sets in his shoulders, and the frustration that tugs down at the corners of his lips. Jack watches from afar as Gabriel and the rest of the small Blackwatch Strike Team boards the transport ship, feeling slightly anxious even though he has already seen Gabriel's plans and has approved the changes. Wary of losing another one of their agents, Blackwatch operates more cautiously in Barcelona and the mission gets extended another few days.

A few days turns into another two weeks when it is discovered that the bombings and sudden resurgence of Omnic forces are connected to a God Program, and Gabriel and Jack both come to the consensus that it needs to be eliminated as quickly as possible.

With Overwatch already spread so thin, Jack goes with Ana's squad when an uprising in Łódź involving a hostage situation requires their attention immediately. They recover the hostages, but Jack spends the next several days barely able to hold himself together as he mourns the loss of not only his second-in-command, but one of his best friends.

Despite his grief, he does his best to maintain his composure in public, remaining strong and stoic as he holds a press conference about Overwatch’s efforts and how optimistic the outlook is that the Crisis will end in the near future. No one could ever know that in private, Jack Morrison is falling apart at the seams, struggling with almost every breath to choke back the sobs that threaten to erupt when he thinks about the loss of Ana, or the worrisome amounts of flower petals that are no doubt blooming at an alarming rate in his lungs.

When Gabriel finally returns, Jack can only welcome him back as the Strike Commander, the title that has him bound to fulfilling his duties before personal matters can even be thought about, much less addressed. Hell, after Gabriel gives his report about what took place in Barcelona, Jack barely has time to recount the rescue in Łódź and break the news about Ana before the UN calls him away for another meeting and press conference concerning Overwatch. Jack attempts to console Gabriel as best he can in what little time he has, but when he gets brushed off, he can do nothing more than swallow down the petals that tickle at his throat and ignore the pain in his chest as he make way for the tarmac.

As the jet lifts off the runway, Jack tries to ignore the haunting voice inside his head — it speaks in Ana’s voice and not his own, which he chalks up to guilt — calling him heartless for abandoning his spouse in a time of emotional need, but to no avail. All he can think about as he reviews his notes for the meeting is how desperately he wants the plane to turn right around so he can go back to their room, embrace his husband, and empty their chests of all the pent up feelings and frustrations that they had been holding back for so long. The separation between them feels even further emotionally than it does physically, and it pains Jack even more than the physical presence inside his lungs.

More reports come in from Watchpoints and agents all over the globe, and by the time Jack returns to Headquarters, the flower petals are the last thing that are on Jack's mind. Despite the almost exponential growth in frequency in which he is coughing them up, there are far more pertinent matters that need to be resolved. More and more things happen across the board, one after another. There are far too many things to deal with that come up, and nearly each and every one of them have priority over Jack's tiny little problem. Jack has every intention of keeping his promise to Ana — who he constantly has to remind himself is no longer here and not to dwell in that fact — but the window of opportunity to sit and talk with Gabriel not as Overwatch and Blackwatch Commanders, but as husband and husband, shrinks by the day.

If it is not one thing, it is something else; and before long, a chain of events is set off that slams the window shut.

A few weeks after Jack’s return to Zurich, Jesse McCree disappears from the Overwatch Headquarters, leaving behind little more than a farewell note thanking Gabriel Reyes and the rest of the original Strike Team for their support all these years. Shortly after, Genji Shimada announces his need for a leave of absence for personal reasons. At the loss of two of his best agents, Gabriel withdraws even further into himself, burying himself in his own work and avoiding Jack as much as possible.

They still sleep in the same bed when they can, that much Jack is thankful for, and there is solace to be found and slight relief from the pain in his chest when the warmth of Gabriel’s body can be felt laying beside him beneath the sheets.

That is, until the U.N. forces Reinhardt to retire, and Jack’s condition worsens. As thankful as he is that Torbjorn is still around to keep Gabriel and himself from being the only ones left of the original Strike Team — and what would otherwise be a painful reminder of what happened to all the other participants of the SEP by the time they graduated — he is not nearly as skilled as Reinhardt when it comes to emotional counseling, and after being told to just “stop complaining and go talk to Gabriel” for the fifth time — though this time accompanied with a slamming of a door — Jack resigns himself to his fate, feeling lonelier than he can ever recall being in his life.

The pain and heaviness in his chest grows even further, and eventually his ability to stifle his coughs ceases to even exist. He wakes up in the middle of the night, coughing up those same purple petals as usual. He slaps a hand to his mouth and bolts out of bed to the bathroom, hoping to whatever power is there that Gabriel is still sound asleep. The annoyed groan he hears alongside the rustling of sheets and the mutter of, “For god’s sake…” before the door closes behind him tells him all he needs to know, and Jack tries to stay as quiet as possible as he coughs up another shower of petals into the toilet bowl.

The flowers chafe and tickle and hurt all at once as they come up, and Jack nearly retches a few times as his body struggles to clear the petals out as best it can. He is left panting and gasping for breath after minutes of coughing and choking, tears running down his face and blurring with the sweat on his skin. When it seems the fit has finally passed and Jack collapses to lay down on the floor, he hears a knock on the door.

“Jackie? You okay?” Gabriel asks from the other side. Jack can only hope that it is concern that he hears in Gabriel’s voice and not irritation, and feels his chest aching again at the fact that it has been so long since the two of them connected with one another that he can no longer tell without looking at Gabriel’s face.

“I’m… I’m fine,” Jack rasps back. He panics at the realization that he had forgotten to lock the door behind him, and rushes to flush the second he hears the doorknob even begin to turn. “It’s nothing.”

There is a pause before he gets a response, pregnant enough to make Jack wince inwardly, and reconsider lying to Gabriel. Just as he begins to muster up the courage to tell Gabriel no, that he is not okay at all, he can hear Gabriel taking a step back from the door.

“You sure?” comes the response.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just go back to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Jack can already feel the flowers starting to grow back when the soft padding of bare feet can be heard moving away from the door, and he fights back the tears that threaten to form. He can hear Ana cursing at him from inside his head, outraged that the two of them still have not talked with one another despite so much time having passed since her funeral. If only she were here, Jack thinks miserably.

That night is the last night they sleep in the same room together for more than a few hours at a time, as the middle-of-the-night coughing fits become almost routine. Unwilling to deprive Gabriel of valuable sleep - or heaven forbid, risking him figuring out what is wrong - Jack begins spending his nights on the couch in his office, more often than not lying awake in misery instead of asleep like he wishes he were.

Jack has already started to cough up blood along with parts of entire flowers — whole chunks of petals and bloom coming up all at once —  by the time the whispers about Talon infiltrating Overwatch are heard along the grapevine. The rumors are unfounded, from what Jack can tell — Overwatch has been more than thorough when it comes to background checks on all of its agents and staff — but Gabriel is unconvinced. He insists on looking into it, even going so far as to blame the failed mission that cost McCree his arm on sabotage, and implying other random occurrences such as database errors to be the work of a Talon agent.

In the past, Jack would be following Gabriel's intuition without any hesitation and giving him all the resources he needs to flush the supposed mole out. However, the U.N. has had him by the throat since London and Barcelona, threatening to strip Jack of his authority if not disbanding Overwatch entirely if the Crisis is not ended before their set deadline. Jack knows that the demands are ludicrous and next to impossible, but he dares not risk it. Overwatch’s numbers have been dwindling steadily, and there is no way they would have enough time nor resources to spare on this mole hunt.

“Then for fuck’s sake, I'll do it on my own!” Gabriel shouts, livid when Jack denies his request for the third time. “It's Talon, Jack! You know, the terrorist organization that's been responsible causing more or less everything wrong in the world except for maybe the Omnics since before everything even started! You're just going to let them fuck us up like this? After everything we've done?”

“I know, Gabe, but I can't give you permission to just-”

“To just what, Jack?”

“To just abandon your duty as Blackwatch Commander to go do as you please!”

“ Do as I please  ?” Gabriel seethes in enraged disbelief. “Are you fucking joking right now, Jack!? I'm not doing this because I   want   to! I'm doing this because I   need to! If Talon gets what it wants because they were able infiltrate and sabotage Overwatch, guess what? There isn't going to be a fucking Overwatch anymore in near future!”

“You think I don't know that?! You think I don't get that's what's going to happen?! I'm not an idiot, Gabe! I know damn well that Talon will fuck Overwatch over if we leave them be! That's why I'm trying to end this fucking crisis as fast as I can!” Jack slams his hand against the table, too exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally to stay calm like he should, screaming himself hoarse. “The sooner we put a stop to the omnics, the sooner we can-!”

The sudden flaring of pain in his chest interrupts him before he can finish the thought. His lungs convulse and constrict in his chest, forcing him to cough so violently that he doubles over onto his knees, one arm desperately clasped over his own mouth to catch all of the blood and petals while the other reaches out to hold onto his desk in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

To his slight shock and humiliation, a hand wraps around his arm while another steadies his back, and Jack can feel his eyes welling up with tears at the realization that Gabriel is holding him throughout the attack.

“Jack, what's happening!? What's wrong!?”

He’s sobbing now, struggling to breathe as the blood and petals clog at his windpipe, and Gabriel is growing more and more agitated and frantic the longer the coughing fit goes on. He rubs at Jack’s back, thumping him occasionally to try and loosen what sounds like extreme congestion in the lungs, but after minutes of Jack’s condition persisting — if not worsening — he begins tugging at Jack’s hand, trying to pull it away from his mouth so that whatever it is caught in his system can get forced out. Jack resists as much as he can, but left weak and tired from so many sleepless nights, Gabriel wins out in the end. At long last, with a forceful yank that nearly pulls Jack’s entire body forward, Gabriel rips Jack’s hand away from his mouth. Sure enough, without anything to help hold it all in, the bits of gore and flowers caught in Jack’s mouth and throat are puked onto the carpet, staining the grey fabric with a grotesque amount of red and purple.

“Oh my god, Jack… Was this-?! Why did you-?!” Gabriel splutters as his eyes widen in horror and disbelief at the mess on the floor. Jack can’t bear to even meet his eyes, unable to face whatever else that might be found there - anger, disappointment, betrayal, or god forbid,  relief  - lest he end up falling apart entirely. He merely shakes his head, burying his face in his hands as sobs wrack his body.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” Gabriel demands, desperation and anger clear as a bell in his voice. He sounds close to tears himself, and Jack can only be grateful that he can’t see his expression when Gabriel gathers him into his arms. He buries his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, crying all the while despite Gabriel’s hand rubbing circles on his back and rocking both of their bodies in an effort to calm the both of them down.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Jack sobs against the rough fabric of Gabriel’s hoodie, realizing what a mess he is making of Gabriel’s uniform and feeling even worse for it. It’s a stupid thing to think about, in retrospect, what with the comparative weight of everything else that went wrong stacking against such a small thing like a piece of lint against an avalanche, but Jack is already overwhelmed enough as it is, and everything else is just too much to process.

Distantly, he can hear Gabriel shushing him, understanding and patient in a way that Jack finds almost too much to bear. He doesn’t deserve Gabriel’s love and kindness, not after so many weeks- months- even  years , perhaps, of disappointment and unhappiness. Each repetition of “It’s okay. You’re okay,” twists in his chest like a knife, and Jack cries even harder, tears adding to the already existing mess blood and petals staining Gabriel’s clothes.

Later, when Jack looks back on that day, he can only be thankful that the both of them were so caught up in each other in that moment that neither of them died with thoughts of anything else occupying their mind. At least, he hopes that is how it was for Gabriel in his last moments.

Jack wishes he could say something about how the both of them died in the explosion like the heroes on pedestals people always seem to want soldiers like he and Gabriel to turn out to be. That he and Gabriel had flushed out the Talon mole in their midst, and captured them without alerting anyone else. That they managed to interrogate the mole into giving them the exact locations of where they had planted the bombs. That they were attempting to disarm the bomb before the detonation occurred as the mole had left them no time time for evacuation.

Jack wishes he could say that he and Gabriel did all those those things, but he can’t. Not without lying through his goddamn teeth about a man that meant the world to him and deserved much better than he could offer, and hating himself even more than he already does.

The only things Jack really remembers about his last moments in Zurich is how overwhelmed with emotion he was at very end: how guilty he felt for making Gabriel worry about him when there were so many more important things he had to deal with; how much he regret not speaking up sooner when Gabriel gathered him into his arms and wept with him; how loved and grateful he was to have had Gabriel Reyes as his partner and husband; and sadly, despite the unfathomable and indescribable amount of pain that came with the flames consuming him - burning through his lungs and airways - how utterly  relieved  he was to be finally rid of those godforsaken purple carnations that made him doubt Gabriel’s love for him for so long.

[reapers-carino]

Hidden in Plain Sight

Ch.1

Serena woke to the quiet beeping of her alarm, the insistent noise growing in volume until she turned the device off with a slap. She stared at the ceiling blankly, eyes bleary and unfocused as she tried to chase the sleep from her mind. Forcing herself onto her side a grunt tumbled from her lips, her hand listlessly pushing the silk scarf from her hair. She hated dreaming. She had a vivid imagination, memories of years long since past recalled easily in her unconscious hours. Usually dreams of the Crisis plagued her; bodies blown apart by Bastion units, limbs crushed by Omnic fists, civilians and soldier alike falling victim to the violent hand of those cybernetic monstrosities. Serena thought it funny, in a bemusing kind of way, that now they asked for rights and held peace summits and spoke of a unified world like it wasn’t them that had torn it apart. But those weren’t the dreams that plagued her the most.

At least with dreams like those, she had closure. The war was over. The Omnics, even if she didn’t trust them, had regained their own sentience and she hadn’t heard any stories of farmer’s markets being assaulted by them for being a center of human interaction. It was slowly lulling the world into a dubious sense of security. But no, those were not the dreams she hated the most. The dreams that tortured her the most were the ones of that day. When she dreamt of her last few moments with her mate, of the trap that he had sprung on her. Of regaining consciousness in an unfamiliar home to news that the Swiss headquarters had been blown up. The list of the dead grew ever longer behind her closed lids until two names joined it and her heart broke all over again. Gabriel Reyes was branded a traitor and Jack Morrison, fearless commander, felled in the line of duty. During waking hours, she was able to distract herself but while asleep she was painfully reminded that she had lost her mate.

Losing a mate was much like losing a limb, it had often been described, but much much deeper. Mating marks brought pairs together physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually; tying two people together so tightly that they were bonded forever. Losing a part of that bond could ruin people and it was only compounded with Serena. Gabriel’s body had never been recovered, just leaving the woman with more unanswered questions and absolutely no closure. Jack’s body hadn’t been found either. Just like Ana. Just like Amelie. 

Serena pushed herself up, groaning softly as her joints complained yet again, nose scrunching up in mild annoyance. She wasn’t young anymore, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit to being old. She was a ‘spry’ 48 years young and while she did get the occasional ache, they didn’t stop her from doing all the things she had when she was young. Stretching her arms high into the air, a relieved grunt tumbled from her lips at the sound of her back cracking. Dropping her arms, she scratched at her face before forcing her feet onto the floor. Time to start her routine.

She moved on autopilot, running through her morning calisthenics first and foremost. Stretching, 30 minutes of yoga, a two mile run on the treadmill and then a quick shower to wash the sweat from her body. By the time she stepped out of the shower, the high tech shuttered glass windows had cracked open, the subtle warmth of the January morning beginning to bleed into the house. The house Gabriel had set aside for her was located in the southern tip of Florida, tucked into some unsuspecting little city that was less than an hour away from the beach. The small yellow bungalow had almost everything either one of them had idly talked about when speaking about their future, the man providing you with the near perfect home. One story, three bedrooms, a wraparound porch, and yard filled with brightly colored flowers and shrubbery and three palm trees. Technology had been integrated into the home; appliances, security and upkeep all handled through the same system that could be run through various holopad around the home. It was lovely and nice and should have been enough for her, but her heart constantly ached and yearned for a mate she knew wouldn’t show up.

Wandering into the kitchen, Serena sighed as the smell of Mexican dark roast swirled around her, the aromatic, spicy aroma making her mouth water. Pouring a cup, a melancholic smile pulled at her lips as Gabriel’s voice tickled at the back of her mind. ‘Cariño you’re ruining the flavor. Six sugars is too damn much, it’s better black.’ Then they’d bicker back and forth until one would silence the other with coffee-flavored kisses. Sighing wistfully, she forced the ache for more down before moving to make breakfast. Vegetables from your garden, an avocado from the farmer market, all tossed together with eggs. Like most of her movements that morning she moved into auto-pilot, settling down at the small island in the center of her kitchen and pulling up a holopad that ran through a private VPN. Bringing a forkful of her breakfast to her mouth, she swiped across the screen, several news stories scrolling across the translucent monitor.

‘Former Overwatch CFO, Greta Zaytseva, Found Dead in Ankara Home’

‘Reported Sightings of ‘Reaper’ Figure Increase’

‘Private Plane Crashes, Killing Six’

‘Commemoration Ceremony for the Second Anniversary of the Overwatch: Geneva Campus Bombing Takes Place Despite Protests and Threats of Violence’

Serena hummed low in her throat, eyes scanning over the holopad, highlighting the occasional name and swiping them to join others in a spreadsheet she had prepared to the side. The list held the names of Overwatch agents of affiliates who had been murdered or gone missing, all thought to be the work of terrorists. Radicals whose goals were to snuff out who and what remained of the once infallible Overwatch, to drive another nail through the coffin of the deceitful organization. As far as Serena could tell, they were wrong. All of that had been killed corresponded to the list Gabriel had been populating before his death. The names of outright traitors; those who accepted bribes from drug cartels, worked with anti- or pro-Omnic terrorist groups, sold their allegiance to the highest bidder or any other number of illegal or reprehensible actions.

Grief had prevented her from seeing the connections at first. She had been knocked out in Europe and woke in North America; overwrought, anxious and frantic. Gabriel had assigned Jesse to move her, the younger Alpha, who was more like a son to her, crooning and humming to calm the frenzied omega down. The home smelt of Gabe, god did it smell of him, but when Serena went searching for him she wasn’t able to find him. Just their blankets and his clothing and things he had scented so heavily she sat intoxicated in a room he had made to turn into a nest. She’d spent weeks like that, Jesse barely getting her to eat and drink, her body going through the painful grieving process. It was a month before she’d eat of her own volition, four before Jesse finally felt safe leaving her on her own, the omega sending the young man away with the promise to stay in contact.

It was nine months after the explosions when bodies began to drop, all with some connection to Overwatch. While Serena had gone radio silent after the explosion, only letting those closest to her know that she was still alive, she sent a rudimentary check out to every clean agent she still had records of. They all responded with varying messages of concern and worry for her well-being but they all said that they were safe, that no direct threats had been leveled at them. Lena, Angela, Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Fareeha, Winston, even Jesse. All high-profile former agents, most who still remained in the public eye and none who had faced any direct peril to their life.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of suspicion when she learned this information and it was only confirmed when a name finally crossed the headlines fourteen months post explosion. An unassuming one, just a secretary that had been a liaison between Overwatch and the United Nations, Ju Yang. He had been found dead inside of his flat; shot several times at close range with shotguns, the body damn near exsanguinated. It was brutal and violent and grabbed headlines briefly for a week with speculation before fading into the background. The man had been selling information about Overwatch agents to Volskaya Industries, leading to several deaths and ambushed peace talks. He was the reason Suzanne’s son didn’t have a mother anymore and she knew that she wouldn’t forget that name. But he was a relative nobody to the rest of the world and that is what got her mind moving. What pushed her into motion to investigate the murders happening around the world.

Someone was murdering people from Gabriel’s list, names that only she and a dead man had access to. She had initially taken it to be coincidental but as list of the dead grew longer and the list of those she knew were still alive were never touched, it became obvious that someone had stolen Gabriel’s list. Serena absentmindedly twisted the shined obsidian band on her finger, one of a matching pair that only she and Gabriel owned. It was their key of knowledge, an unimpressive piece of jewelry with a near archaic piece of technology built into it, an NFC chip that was coded to be readable only by a singular device owned by you or Gabriel. The same device that looked to be innocently filled with pictures of the two of them. But when the ring and tablet were used together, they would reveal a files that contained terabytes of incriminating information against the United Nation, world governments, business leaders, Overwatch agents, Blackwatch agents, criminals and the like. Evidence to prove their wrongdoings, evidence that could bring powerful people to their knees. All things Gabriel had intended to do with Jack until the explosion…

Dropping her fork on her plate, Serena stretched her neck from side to side, sighing low in her throat. She didn’t care that these people were dying nor that there was a psychopathic serial killer draining people of their life. She cared that whoever was following this list had stolen it from the body of her mate, had desecrated his remains and disrespected his death. She intended to find out who.