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“You can rest assured Reyes is being appropriately punished, Senator…yes…of course sir. You have my word.”
The holovid pops out of sight and Jack disengages the polite, dead-eyed smile he'd been sporting through this latest batch of calls and meetings.
The fall-out from the incident in Venice is still wracking through Overwatch and he's left to deal with the brunt of it. The face of Overwatch. What an honour it was, he thinks with grim sarcasm.
Jack drags a hand over the itching stubble that’s beginning to colour his chin. With a grimace he downs his now cold black coffee. The bitter tang of the cheap brew catches in his throat and he hacks a cough. He can still feel the lingering acrid tickle, like something caught down in this chest, as he sweeps his jacket on. Time to confront the other source of the tension which crinkles his brow and knots his shoulders.
Down in the bowels of headquarters Jack finds Gabriel. He’s running drills with some of his agents, the training lab alive with grunts of exertion as training bots are obliterated in new and exciting ways of violence.
Gabe is scowling down at the scene, face hidden by the shadow of the hood that seems perpetually drawn about him these days. Just one more layer to keep him from Jack. A physical barrier to reflect the disconnect that's been growing between them and sending thorns of hurt spiking through Jack’s chest.
He keeps distance between them as he steps onto the gallery. Respecting the cold aura of anger radiating from his old friend.
“Morrison”
He’s not been Jack for weeks. The old nicknames that used to warm his core now only spat with disdain and irritation. Reyes doesn’t bother to turn, his eyes still trained on the agents running and fighting below.
Jack takes a small steadying breath catching another cough in his throat as he braces for the argument that feels inevitable at this point.
“Blackwatch is suspended Gabriel.”
Gabriel’s jaw clenches, but he pointedly ignores the Strike Commander.
“ROWLEY!! GET YOUR ASS UP” Gabe barks the command. The agent in question below jumping in shock with a worried glance to his commander.
“We have to show them that we understand the consequences here. At least in the public eye.”
“You want to leave us vulnerable, that's your call. I'm not gonna let that happen.”
Gabriel’s voice is a harsh growling whisper. He’s still refusing to meet Jack’s eyes. Jack feels his own frustration bubble to the surface.
“Christ Gabe! You act like we have some endless supply of funds here - you want to keep us safe? You want to protect people? You play their goddamn game!”
That does it. Finally Gabriel spins to face him at last, stepping into crowd Jack’s space. His face is a mask of cold contempt, so far removed from the warm smile that used to light up his face and which had first lit up Jack’s heart.
“Fuck their game!”
It’s spat with venom. The underlying ‘fuck you’ spearing Jack's chest.
Gabriel shoulders past, knocking harshly into him. He stomps out the gallery and with each step further crushes the faint spark of hope smouldering in Jack’s heart.
**
Midnight finds Jack in the gym. Grunting through chest presses and bicep curls. Deadlifts, squats, back rows, pull-ups, boxing drills. Over and over and over. Faster and faster. Pushing himself. Trying deserately to make the physical strain numb the frustration.
But thoughts of Gabriel’s black anger fill his mind, flashing by alongside bitter-coloured memories of brighter days. Sparring sessions that had first lit the fire of passion at his core. Full-bellied laughter and eye-crinkling smiles shared between them that had opened his hope for future days spent in happiness together. Hard won battles in the depths of the crisis, relying so simply and so easily on each other as to make Jack believe they could overcome anything together.
Teases turned hard-edged taunts.
Surprises turned damning secrets.
Embraces turned cold shoulders.
Crrrrssssskkkkkknnnng!!!!
The punching bag is ripped from the ceilling by the sheer force of his fists. Crashing to the floor in a clamour of smacking leather, clanging chains and falling plaster. Jack chokes on the dust, doubling over as his exertion finally hits. He can’t catch his breath. Wracking coughs burning his throat until he's hacking up bloodied phlegm and a single deep-red petal.
Jack stares wide-eyed.
“Shit.”
**
The next few weeks are an exercise in quiet anguish and hiding away for Jack. But there’s only so many ways the Strike Commander of Overwatch can obscure the growing palour of his skin and the purplish bruises circling his eyes.
One morning Angela spots the flecks of blood on his chin and she all but drags him into her office. When her Caduceus staff fails to have any impact on Jack’s state she falls back against her desk in horror.
“Jack…why didn’t you…who?”
Jack gazes up at her grey-blue eyes, a small rueful smile at his mouth.
She nods heavily, eyebrows punched in pity.
“Of course.”
A heavy pause that weights the room with the knowledge of what she’ll say next.
“You’ve got to tell him.” “No.”
They speak at the same time.
Angela steps forward again, taking one of Jack’s hands in hers as she stares into his eyes pleadingly.
“Jack. Jack. You know what this means. You know what will happen. You've got to give yourself a chance.”
He pulls his hand away, standing to turn away as he scoffs bitterly. Another bloodied petal wiped away from his mouth.
“Why bother? You've seen how he is these days. How we are.”
He grimaces at the memory of his latest argument with Gabe the previous night. Right before the Blackwatch Commander had stormed out on a mission that shouldn’t be happening. There had been nothing but contempt on Gabriel’s face.
“If he knew -”
“NO.”
Angela flinches at the venom of his tone and he cows himself immediately, apology written on his features as he whispers.
“No Angela…just. Just give me something for the pain.”
A tear tracks down her cheek but she nods quietly.
**
“I thought you were worth more than this Morrison. It's like you don’t even care anymore!”
Gabriel is raging at Jack again. A whirlwind of anger and hurt in the wake of Ana’s disappearance.
“I don't care? I don't care?”
Jack gives back all the hurt he receives with a pained growl. Desperation and sorrow have stripped Jack of his last capacity for restraint.
“You’re the one who has refused to heed any caution! You’re the reason we’re in this mess!”
But no matter how angry and spiteful their exchanges have become Jack cannot shake the longing in his heart. His love for Gabriel buried too deep, entangled too well through the chambers of his heart as to be inseparable. He’s been choking up whole red tulip flowers for days now. His face is a gaunt white mask. There’s no way Gabriel hasn’t noticed his deterioration. Hasn’t spotted the signs. And yet he’s chosen to maintain his vendetta against Jack’s every move.
Gabriel steps into Jack’s space, shaking his head as his lip curls in disdain.
“You're so blind. You can’t see what’s happening right in front of you can you?”
Jack can’t stop the bitter chuckle spilling from his lips. He sputters as more petals clog his chest which squeezes painfully with the lack of air. He chokes out flakes of blood red flowers and finally, finally he sees a flicker of concern in Gabriel’s eyes. A hint of his friend returning in the light playing off Gabe’s hazel eyes.
“Jack…”
Their whole world is tilted sideways. The building is shaken by some tremendous force as a deafening boom thunders through the base.
Blue and brown eyes stare in equal shock. Realisation hitting both of them too late.
Another blast shatters the office around them, casting them asunder as easily as rag dolls. Jack has no breath to scream as he lands impaled beneath heavy rubble. All is chaos and concrete and dust. Blood is pouring over his face, filling his eyes with red blackness as he wheezes desperately. The pain and fear on Gabriel’s face is the last imprint in his mind as a single perfect flower spills from his final gasp.
**
Agony.
Bright red, electric agony. Jack’s world is alight with the blaze of pain. It feels as though not a part of his body isn’t broken or bleeding or burnt.
But he’s alive. Somehow.
He squints through the blood and grit oozing down his face. His breaths coming gravelled with the choking dust and lingering heat of the destruction all around him. But…there is no lump of thick sweet flowers blocking his chest. Slowly Jack’s eyes focus on the rubble and ruined ground before him.
There.
Incongruous and remarkable against the devastation, is the green growing spear of a single tulip stalk.