Chapter Text
White ceilings, harsh white lights, blurry white figures…at least hospitals didn’t smell as weird as they used to, with advances in medicine and machinery. Not that you’re really focusing on these things, because there’s an awful lot of yelling and screaming going on around you. You feel cold, but you can’t seem to form words to ask for a blanket, and it’s getting a little hard to breathe, but you feel like it might be a bit rude to interrupt their excited chatter.
“…bleeding out badly…”
“…was…who saw…wasn’t supposed to be there...!”
You can hear Angela, her soothing voice somewhat tense and systematically giving out orders. Hana is talking way too fast, so fast she sounds like she’s crying and her sentences bubble into Korean, as she always does when her emotions are running high.
“…Hey! …Hear me?...Awake? Are you awake?” Angela is shining a light into your eyes. Jesus, this is worse than a wake-up call. You weakly raise a hand to push her away, and your eyes finally catch something that isn’t white. Huh. There’s blood on your hand.
And that’s what rushes you back into reality, and suddenly everything’s a thousand times louder, and there’s an intense, screaming, burning pain in your left leg. Someone is groaning, and you want to tell them to shut up so you can ask for some painkillers or anything, when you realise you’re the one making the noises. You try to move your leg and agony shoots through your thigh. You try to pull yourself up to see what the hell is wrong with it and you’re gently pressed back down.
But you saw it. You try to breathe, try to calm down and try not to think about it but it isn’t there, half of it is gone. God, how did you end up here? Dust…a bright explosion…
“Wasn’t this a simple escort mission?!” You exclaim to Hana, coughing to clear your lungs of the dust filling up the tunnel. Cars were scattered across the road, and thankfully the bomb – at least that’s what you think happened, you were on your motorcycle a bit behind the car when it exploded– had only blown you back, your reflexes had kicked in and you had at least landed safely on your side. Hana had been in her mech and was safely at your side, and 76 was supposed to meet on the other side. It was a short tunnel, but it was the most important and last leg of the journey. You wonder where he is, but you jump up as you hear footsteps scuffling towards you.
“You two! Get down!” 76 suddenly jumps over the hood of the black car, covered in debris, and you instinctively follow his orders. Hana sets up her shield and scans the area. As much as they liked to poke fun at his seriousness, when 76 gave orders on the battlefield, you listened. Fear an old man in a profession where men die young, etc. Gunfire rang out above their heads, denting the cars beside them. There were screams of the innocent bystanders in their cars, and your heart clenches in panic.
“It was an ambush. Deadlock want what’s in the case, and we can’t let them have it,” he said grimly, reloading his gun and gesturing to the car they hid behind.
“I thought McCree said he’d handle distraction?” You check your communication devices for any messages, but it’s blank. “Or, in his words, ‘I’ll keep em’ occupied, you just worry ‘bout yer own tussle, sweetheart.’” Your faux cowboy impression and finger guns gets a giggle from Hana, who immediately covers her mouth when 76 turns.
“He was most likely compromised.” He is far less amused and you look away innocently as his visor stares lasers into you. More shots ring out and you turn solemn, keeping your head low. You hope McCree is okay.
The black car was bulletproof because it held whatever important thing they were escorting, but the cars beside you were not. The tunnel rumbled, and cracks began to appear in the walls. You all flinch as a part of it comes crashing down, and with it, a smoke grenade over the car. It explodes immediately and you cover your face with your arms, coughing through the haze, reaching for your weapon in case they came. You hear shattering glass and rough Texan accents, the sound of scuffling shoes and yelling. Someone grabs your arm and without a second hesitation you whack your weapon into their hand, using their cry of pain to guide your punch into their face. A second hit against their temple drops them, and you shake your fist, grimacing at the cuts on your knuckles where you had unfortunately met their teeth. You squint, but your senses are completely clouded. When the smoke finally clears, 76 is swearing under his breath, 2 gang members lying at the floor near his feet and his hand gripping the collar of one more man slumped on the floor. You raise an eyebrow.
“They got the package somehow, they must’ve planned this.” He turns in the direction motorcycle screeches are coming from, and catches sight of your bike. The walls crack further, and you all look up, knowing it’s not going to hold.
“Both of you, escort the civilians out, and wait outside safe parameters until you receive my next orders! Do not endanger yourselves if the tunnel begins to collapse!”
“But - !” You start to object, but 76’s head whips around so fast from on your bike you think he probably got whiplash. You know he’s giving you the look from behind his red visor.
“Go, now!” he does nothing short of growl the last word, and you jump into action. You and Hana desperately run around the tunnel, most people are already running for the exit, and you silently thank your lucky stars that it’s a short tunnel. Hana scoots the cars out of the way with ease in her mech, and carries injured civilians quickly out of the tunnel with her boosters. You help people stay calm, running door to door to make sure there’s no one left behind. Maybe they weren’t officially ‘Overwatch’ right now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to do your job. It wasn’t the whole reason, but it certainly helped. You finish up final checks, flinching every time there’s grumble in the concrete, or debris clatters down from the walls.
Hana is out already, and you jog out after her. When you reach the outdoors, you sigh in relief and breathe in the fresh air. The dry, warm air was refreshing in comparison with the air inside the musty tunnel. As you approach the safety barriers, you hear something that makes your blood run cold. A quiet, pained, call for help. You instantly turn around, and it doesn’t take you long to spot her. She’s about your age, pinned against the wall of the tunnel by the car. You run back immediately, your balance knocked askew suddenly as the tunnel makes a giant groan…and begins to collapse inwards. You think of 76’s orders, and you pray to the gods that you die here so you won’t have to deal with his anger when he finds out you’ve disobeyed him.
“Oh, come on! This is not a movie!” You groan as you sprint back and assess the trapped girl. Her brown eyes are terrified, and there’s blood on her forehead. You smile – albeit a panicked one – and reassure her. You hear Hana calling your name in the distance and only just dodge a falling rock. You somehow manage to wedge your weapon into the gap, and heave with all your strength. The metal is weakened by the weight of the rocks, and you somehow manage to shift it enough so that she can move. You drag her out and push her towards safety. She stumbles but she doesn’t look too injured, she’s crying and almost laughing with relief, but her eyes widen when she looks at you. The exhausted smile drops off your face, and you turn back. Your foot gets caught as the foundations of the tunnel collapse, and you swear a string of words so filthy that Angela would probably make you eat soap for a week if she heard.
As you yell at the girl to run, you can see Hana sprinting back with her mech, and you struggle with all your strength to pull yourself free. Sweat drips down your forehead, and you turn back in time to see the car crumple under the weight of the falling rocks, into your leg. You scream, because holy fuck it hurt so bad. The metal crushes into your thigh and your world turns red as dust and debris come crashing down around you.
Your final thought before dark, is not how mad you are that this was how you were going to die, but how 76 was going to be so disappointed in you.
Hana swearing loudly in Korean brings you back to reality and you chuckle – well, you try to, dry hacking comes out instead – she only taught you that one the other day. Thank god she was okay.
“Angela, I’m missing a leg,” You state hoarsely, aware that you were likely in shock right now.
“Shh, we’ll patch you up, don’t you worry.” Angela runs a hand through your hair soothingly.
“Oh my god 76 is going to be so mad please don’t tell him – he’s alive, right?” You continue to cough, and your body aches something fierce with every breath. “You can’t tell him I lost a leg he’s going to kill the rest of me –”
“He’s fine, you’re going to be fine, he’s doing no such thing.” Angela lists off some orders to another doctor, as they roll up to a door. She turns to Hana as you struggle to keep your agonised groans inside your chest. “It’s alright, she’ll be okay, we’ve got her – Lucio, take Hana to Fareeha please, she’ll know what to do. We’ll need you in the operating room, so come back as soon as you can, please.”
“No no, I want to stay – “
“C’mon D.va, we’re just getting in Dr. Ziegler’s way.” There’s a bit more whining, but finally there’s no more chattering and you’re in a room, you can’t tell where, probably the emergency room of one of the Overwatch watchpoints.
“An…gela?” You say through gritted teeth, and through blurry eyes you can see her head turn, even though her hands don’t stop working on the tray beside you.
“Yes? I’ve got you,” she says comfortingly, briefly resting a hand on your arm. She continues giving orders to the medical trainees around her. Though her manner was soft and gentle, Angela always manages to work at the fastest speed possible.
“Don’t give me a peg leg, please?” You smile weakly.
“I’ve never had a patient bleeding out and joking at the same time on my operating table before,” Angela sighs. Your snarky response doesn’t even make it out of your mouth before she puts you under.
Waking up is like trying to pull yourself up out of dense fog from inside a well. It keeps trying to bring you back down, but you drag yourself towards the white light, focusing on the beeping, and finally you blink awake. You hear Hana call for Angela, and before long your room is bright with colour as agents come pouring in.
But no 76. Fair enough, he was probably livid at you right now. It was for the better that he wasn’t here, or he’d most likely be yelling at you and ruining all the nice atmosphere. You try not to feel disappointed.
“Oh my god, took you long enough,” Hana huffs and crosses her arms, but you can see the red in her eyes.
“Yeah, I think Angela used an elephant tranquilizer or something,” You groan, sitting upright. Lucio is by your side in a second, helping you adjust the pillow. “Thanks bud,” You sigh in relief as you lie back.
“I gotcha.” He grins and gives you a thumbs up.
“How long have I been out?”
“3 days!” Hana grumbled, and you give her a look. You keep staring at her and slowly open your arms. She pouts, and in a second is launching herself into your chest, giving you a tight squeeze.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She mumbles into your neck, making sure she says it a final time before pulling back and crossing her arms again, pout still on her face. You don’t have time to chastise her or poke fun before an orange flash is suddenly by your side.
“You’re really awake, I got here as soon as I heard!” Lena has a big smile on her face, her eyes sparkling, and you give her a small salute. She throws her arms around you and when she pulls back, looks you up and down. “How’re you feeling, love?”
“Like I got crushed by a ton of rocks and lost a leg,” You scoff, but give her a smile. “But otherwise, better.”
“Alright, alright, let me check on her first, then you can all say your well wishes.” Angela squeezes her way through the crowd with a smile, and though she’s glowing as usual, there are circles under her eyes. She does the routine health check, and you finally see your leg when she checks the bandages at your thigh. That’s where your leg ends. There’s no knee, no nothing until almost your hip. You inhale sharply, and you can tell the other agents are holding their breaths at your reaction.
“Well, damn,” You whisper, the reality of the situation hitting you for the first time since you were in your right mind.
“There are plenty of mechanical prosthetics that work just as well as real limbs, and we can get you the best,” Angela says gently. You blink a few times and finally let out a big sigh.
“Aw guys, quit with the long faces.” A shit eating grin covers your face and you stifle a giggle. “Now I’m ‘all right’!”
There are a few groans and Angela tilts her head as she translates it in her head. Lucio actually throws his hands up. Reinhardt (or as you jokingly call him: Grandpappy Wilhelm) chimes in uproariously, “You’ll be back on your feet in no time!”
You’re not sure if he’s making a joke or not, but you can’t help the grin on your face after he ruffles your hair. He probably would’ve thrown his head back and laughed, but he might have taken a ceiling light fixture out. You know he’d rather pick you up and give you a big hug, but Angela would probably pop a blood vessel.
“Well, ain’t you just a ray of sunshine.” You see McCree’s head appear above Lena’s, and he tips his hat in greeting. God, he never really went anywhere without it.
“Well, ain’t you a bit late?” You tip a pretend hat on your head as Lena blinks to the other side of the bed. It had been so long that while you no longer jumped every time she did that, you still weren’t used to her little teleports.
“Well, I had a bit of fixin’ of my own to do.” He gestures, and now that Lena had moved, you could now see his arm – the non-mechanical one – sitting in a sling. You raise an eyebrow and whistle.
“How’d you do that?”
“I won’t bore y’all with the details, but let’s just say I ran into a bit of a…’predicament’ with the gang.” McCree looks mildly annoyed, but his smooth smile comes back in an instant. “They thought breakin’ my shootin’ arm meant I’d stay down.”
Your expression must have given away your worry, because McCree suddenly pinches your nose and produces a small desert sunflower out of nowhere to place in your hand when you try swat him away. You try to glare at him, but your amused smile gives you away. His ridiculously fast fingers meant he always had a trick in his pocket. Say what you want about McCree, but if there was something that everyone agreed on, it was that he could charm the pants off anyone on this planet, man, woman, or omnic. He even managed to snag the most serious new recruit you had ever seen. Everyone pretended not to know, but it was no secret – starts with a H, ends with an O and rhymes with ‘yarnzo’.
“Doc says I’ll be back to puttin’ bad guys in the ground in no time.” McCree takes his hat off and puts it on your head. “I reckon you might need this more than me right now. It’s good luck.”
“Great lot of luck it brought you,” You snort, looking at his broken arm.
“You watch your mouth now,” McCree warns and you raise your hands in surrender.
“Alright, alright, thanks for the magic cowboy hat.” You know how much it means to him, and it warmed you inside to know he trusted you with it, or would even offer it to you for a period of time. “I’ll keep it safe.”
You talk cheerfully with the rest of the agents, playing cards with Lucio and Hana when the rest get called in to work and eventually have to return to their duties. McCree stays behind to join the games, but gets chased out by an angry Hana when he keeps winning. He was cheating (how do you think he got those fast fingers?), of course, but you think you’ll let Hana and Lucio stay in the dark for now. It was kinda funny to watch.
They, too, get hustled out by Angela at the end of the day, telling you to rest up. When the wound was fully healed, you could look at prosthetics and begin rehabilitation. You give her a hearty thumbs up, idly wondering if there was such a thing as a leg cannon prosthetic. That’d be cool. Angela turns the lights off before she goes, giving you a fond peck on the cheek goodnight.
Your breathing is loud in the empty room, and you sigh quietly. At least you’re next to the window, so you can look out at the quiet desert land. The watchpoint is bright, but not so much in the hospital ward, so you can see somewhat see the stars. They’re beautiful, and they feel so melancholic that underneath this expanse of sparkling sky you suddenly feel so small and alone. You check under the blankets again, and now without an audience, your face falls as your eyes land on your left leg – or where it used to be. You place your hand where your leg would have rested, on the soft bed sheets.
“I’m all right,” You mutter, turning your body so you sit on the edge of the bed. Your laughter sounds empty, even to yourself. You bite your lip as your chest starts to tremble, but you don’t bother stopping even when your vision gets blurry. You swallow down the lump in your throat, angrily rubbing at your eyes. Standing up is a lot harder than you thought it would be, as you’ve been lying in bed motionless for 3 days, and – oh yeah, you’re missing a leg. Your entire balance is offset, and you collapse almost immediately, your body still weak from other more minor injuries. You don’t hit the ground too hard, but when you try to get up you realise you can’t, you stubbornly rub tears from your eyes as you clutch the bed side table but you just can’t get up, you’re missing an entire fucking limb –
And you just bury your head in your hands, tucking your leg into your chest, stifling your sobs in the quiet ward. You lose track of time, and the tears just keep on coming and your chest is so tight and hot, your face feels like a mess but there’s a void in your heart that keeps on aching. You know it’s not the end of the world. It’s just a leg. But you need this, just this one night alone, where you can let it out. No one else can know that it hurt you this bad.
You give a frustrated if not congested growl, clenching your fists so tightly you felt your bones creak. Your body convulses with each quiet sob, and your emotions are so haywire that you don’t even jump when warm arms pick you up. You almost struggle, but you’re so tired, and the arms are just so big and comforting. You bury your face in the soft clothes when you’re set down on the bed, holding on like you would float out to an endless sea if you let go. The bed creaks, and the big arms wrap themselves around you and it’s the best/worst you’ve felt since you’ve woken up. A hand rubs your back, another rested gently against the back of your head as you’re cradled into a broad chest. You cry yourself out into the jumper, and when you’re done you feel drained, but a little better. Your eyes are sore, and your face is a mess, but they’re pressing a tissue against your face and you feel like a kid but you let them clean you up. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve cried that much. You finally sit back, brushing your messy hair back, suddenly a little bit self-conscious about how you look. The silence is broken by your occasional sniffles, and you finally calm down enough to talk.
“You’re late,” Your voice is hoarse as you lightly backhand his shoulder, managing to sound huffy. “Visiting hours are over, old man. Or are you having trouble tracking the time?”
76 sighs, your insults bouncing off him after years of teasing and sits back on the chair beside the bed, and you snort at the wet mess on his work assigned jumper.
“What if you scared me? I’m missing a leg, I don’t need a heart replacement too.” You sulk, but you’re mostly angry that he caught you in such a vulnerable state. You had the most to prove in front of him, and showing him such a weak side was not something that made you happy. “We can see who needs the replacement first, my heart, or your hip.”
76 rolls his eyes at that one, giving you a look that said ‘are you done?’. He’s not wearing his visor, in fact, it’s the first time in a while that you’ve seen him out of uniform. He’s just wearing the assigned jumper that always looks sort of small around his broad shoulders. He eyes the place where you smacked him, but doesn’t comment on it. He looks tired, and the moonlight through the window turns his white hair into silver.
The scars on his face don’t look like flaws, they accentuate his mature features, and though you’ve seen posters of him in his younger ‘golden boy’ days, you prefer his current looks. Even if you joked about his age constantly, he was completely physically capable of taking down most of the ex-agents one handed. 76 had aged gracefully, and years of battle had only given him a harder edge, though you liked to see the creases soften when he thought no one was watching as he looked over the ex-Overwatch agents.
“You wouldn’t even need to be here, if you had just listened.” His tone tries to be harsh and abrasive, but it was obvious he wasn’t mad right now. You actually dislike the low, almost…sad lilt of his voice, as if things have changed and he had to be careful, now that you were…like this.
“Well, if I’d listened, that girl would also be dead. I’ll take this trade and run with it,” You bite back, wincing at your poor choice of words.
“That’s because you were lucky. You could have died there.” 76 is staring with an intensity that you don’t like to admit is intimidating. “What if neither of you had got out?”
“Wow, leave it to the old man to think of worst case scenarios.” You roll your eyes, but it’s mostly so you can avoid making eye contact. “You need to take a lesson from Grandpappy.”
“Enough!” He raises his voice for the first time and his fist hits the bed side stand, making you jump. “With the jokes. You need to take this more seriously, look at what –”
He gestures at you and his words cuts off and the hand returns to his face, rubbing it with an exasperated groan. For the first time you see pained lines across his features as he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he just stares at the bed sheets. There’s a soft silence as you bite the inside of your cheek.
“You would have done the same thing,” You say softly, looking at your hands folded in front of you.
“Maybe. But you’re not me. You’re still young, you’ve got people who need you and a life ahead of you –”
“And you don’t?” You’re the one raising their voice this time as you turn to him.
“It’s not the same, and you know it.” 76 looks at you sternly, and you close your mouth, the retort dying in your throat when you meet his pale blue eyes. They were such a soft colour, yet it was so easy to get swept up in his pace. You’re reminded intensely of why this was the man who commanded Overwatch for 20 years.
“I couldn’t just…leave her.” You rest a hand on the wound at your leg. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hadn’t tried, no matter what happened to me.”
“I – know,” 76 forces out, and it’s with frustration now that his fist thuds against the dresser. A sigh explodes out of him, and he leans back, shoulders slumped in defeat. “You did the right thing. But I wish you hadn’t.”
“Aww, was that a little mentor recognition? Maybe you’ve got some sweet in you left, old man,” You joke, but the smile on your face is insincere, ice water trickling into your veins as you watch him deflate. You didn’t want to see him like this. He laughs once under his breath, not a hint of humour in his voice. You open your mouth to say something else, something a little sincerer, but seeing 76 like this has your tongue in knots.
“Joke all you want, but this old man can’t handle losing any more people.” He looks up at you, really looks at you. His eyebrows furrow in something that you can only describe as agony, and his head finally drops as he shakes it. “Not you.”
You blink and instinctively open your mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s not like you forget what he’s been through, but he never lets it show. Sometimes it’s easy for it slip your mind, the fact that this man fought a war to protect the innocent, and came out the other side with nothing but blistered memories and countless tombstones. All of a sudden, you feel like crying again, and your chest is clenched so tight that you can’t even breathe and all that self-pity you cried disappears, replaced with an emotion that was impossible to name.
You turn on the bed – hey, at least it was easier now that there was one less leg to think about – and place your hand against his cheek, tilting his face up. You brush your thumb gently along the creases at his eyes, like you could wipe away the worry, the hurt.
“Jack…” You start, but nothing else comes out. He blinks, and to your surprise, doesn’t do his tough guy thing and shrug it off. Instead, he exhales – like he lets everything go, a slow deflating balloon – and closes his eyes, leaning softly against your hand. Hard, tough, 76, who discarded his name in favour of a number and threw away his everything in the name of justice, lays his broken core out open in your hands.
Your heart squeezes so hard in your chest you almost forget to breathe, and you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to your shoulder. You can’t help the stray tear that escapes down your cheek as you rest against his soft, silver hair. You don’t know what to say, you want to say that you’re here, you’re alive. You want to tell him not to worry, you want to tell him that you’ll be more careful from now on, that you’ll be here forever, that you didn’t mean to hurt him. None of it comes out.
“I’m sorry,” You whisper when you finally find your voice, your fingers bunched on his shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry,” Your voice breaks, and you feel his arms gather around your midsection, wrapping around your waist. His big hands hold onto your sides like you would fly away if he didn’t. He doesn’t pull you close, instead he leans into you and breathes in deeply, as if it was his last breath on earth. His words are soft and quiet against your neck, but you can hear it clearly, can hear the catch in his breath, the rawness of his voice.
“You’re not the one who should be sorry.”
Angela yawns before she opens the door, giving herself a pat on the face to wake herself up. She knocks on the door and pushes it open, holding the breakfast tray at her hip.
“Guten morg –” she says cheerfully, before cutting herself off quickly as she sees the scene on the bed in front of her.
Jack lies on the bed beside her, an arm tucked around her shoulders as she curls up at his side. His head rests on hers, and there’s no sign of weariness on his face. It’s a tight fit, but somehow they make it look like the most comfortable thing in the world. They’re both fast asleep, and Angela smiles at how peaceful their faces both look. Jack hadn’t slept more than 3 hours a night since she had come back injured, checking her condition every few hours, with or without Angela. It’s been a long time since Angela had seen Jack so relaxed and it warmed her heart, to see flashes of that gentle man again, the one she had once so gladly followed into battle.
“Maybe 5 more minutes.” She smiles again, and closes the door right on Hana and Lucio’s face. “Aren’t you two up a bit early?”
“She said she wanted to play cards.” Hana places her hands on her hips. Lucio nods along eagerly, trying to – and unsuccessfully – hide a set of speakers behind his back.
“Well, she can play cards later. She needs lots of rest.” Angela ushers them away from the door and they reluctantly obey. A knowing smile tugs at her lips. “There’s sausages and eggs for breakfast.”
The both of them perk up visibly, and Lucio is already running in the direction of the eating hall, “Race you there!”
“Wha – No fair!” Hana yells and sprints after him, leaving a trail of what Angela could only hope were nice, friendly Korean phrases. Angela sighs fondly as she watches, and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“Back to work.”