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It had been a constant, at first. Growing up with two roughhousing siblings, a father who picked him up from school every day with a sweeping hug, JV soccer, a girlfriend who loved to walk through campus with her arm around his shoulder, the cramped quarters and forced camaraderie of the barracks, Jack in his bed petting his hair as he vomited off the side, Jack in his bed underneath him and trying to keep quiet like it wasn’t the end of the world, holding Ana as she slept in a way that was utterly chaste but just as precious to him.
But he remembered when it started to fade. He remembered Jack wrapping his arms around him, his tears on his neck, and whispering, “I will always love you.” Gabriel choked on those same words, and at the time, he had felt guilty about it. But now he knew he had been merciful, not wanting to lay a curse Jack, even as Jack hung the albatross around his neck. Venice, and with it Ana withdrawing her trust alongside her hand. Then the genetic disorder setting in in earnest, and all there was was Moira’s fingers sending bile up his throat. He broke through twice– at Ana’s funeral, hugging Fareeha; the day after, in the middle of the Swiss campus, Jack punching him in the face because Gabriel no longer felt like mercifully lying.
He remembered the absence. The absence of Ana’s body at her funeral. Jesse’s hand outstretched over his desk in a one sided shake, Gabriel looking at it and going back to filing his resignation. Lying in his bed at night alone every time and trying to keep from falling apart, literally. The explosion and reaching out for Jack, then his hands and his arms going and not touching anything, anymore.
-
It took him a while to realize why Sombra set him on edge.
There were plenty of possible explanations, of course. Sombra got to know a person by dangling whatever secrets of theirs she had dug up just out of reach. She had her own agenda and pursued it above all. She always assumed she was the smartest in the room, which made her both easy to fool and absolutely infuriating. There were plenty of reasons why he should not like Sombra.
But it wasn’t that he didn’t like Sombra, was the thing. It was that she made him nervous. All the irritating things she did were simply that, irritating, nothing that truly threatened his position. And so he could not explain why Sombra walking into a room spread something like fear through his gut.
After they had all been with Talon for a few months, Widowmaker illuminated it for him. “Sombra’s quite touchy, isn’t she?” she said.
Gabriel turned to her, frowning. They were in Moira’s waiting room, sitting in modular, minimalist chairs side by side. He appreciated any distraction from the reality of their situation, but. “I don’t think so? If anything, I’d say she’s insensitive.”
“No, no! It’s, ah.” Widow made little grabby motions with her hands. “Like, she touches people a lot? Pokey? Is that the word?”
“Oh. No. Touchy-feely, you’re thinking of.”
“What a juvenile phrase,” Widow said, more to herself than him, but he scoffed in agreement. “In any case. Don’t you think so?”
Gabriel remembered how Sombra would jokingly pat his head, boop his nose, prod his shoulder when she wanted his attention, reach over him in the cramped quarters of a drop ship, jostle him when she made some bad joke, slap him on the back when he did something well. Gabriel remembered the nervousness he had felt every time.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.”
If Widow noticed anything off about him, she did not indicate it. Her eyes were fixed on the door Moira was due to come out of. “Why do you think she does it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s her angle? Do you think she’s trying to intimidate us? Trying to irritate us? Do you think she’s planting bugs?”
Gabriel shook his head. “I definitely don’t think it’s the last one,” he said. “And maybe it could be the others, but I don’t know, Widow. If I had to guess, I’d just say that’s who she is.”
“Oh. Okay.” She sounded disappointed, but before Gabriel could say anything else, Moira stepped out and called them in. When they left, neither of them spoke, because they never did. Widow went back to her room to drink. Alcohol didn’t affect Gabriel anymore, no substance did, so he lay in bed alone and tried not to fall apart.
A couple weeks later, he was walking past Widow’s early in the morning, and ran into Sombra as she was slipping out. He stared at her, at a loss, but she just broke into a giant smile.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it, Gabe?” she said. She clapped his shoulder as she breezed past him. Widow did not complain about Sombra’s tactileness after that.
He didn’t either. Further observation confirmed that his hunch had been right, this was just who Sombra was. She got in close proximity with everyone (almost to the point of bodily harm, when she tried to lean up against an Assassin’s long, bladed arm). It wasn’t a matter of disrespect– she quickly picked up if someone seemed uncomfortable, and made space. She didn’t do it with the people she truly seemed to dislike, giving Moira in particular a wide berth. Sombra, despite everything, saw him as a friend, he realized. And this was how she acted around her friends.
He had been the same way, at one point, but when he tried to remember how the memory blew away like smoke.
His mask must have kept Sombra from picking up on his anxiety. But one day, she asked him to come to her quarters to review surveillance footage, so she wouldn’t have to lug her set up all around the base. He felt silly wearing his combat gear to someone’s living room, so he knocked on her door feeling unreasonable bare in jeans and a jacket, no mask or cowl or gloves.
“Aw, normie Gabe!” Sombra said in greeting. He scowled and pushed past her. “Come on in, I guess.”
Gabriel looked around her quarters. They were the standard ones issued to Talon mid level personnel– a joint kitchen/living room common area, with attached bathroom and bedroom, all the world like the dorm he had left when the war broke out. He had expected Sombra to have a similarly collegiate level of decor but her place was surprisingly clean, even spartan. He wondered what her home in Dorado looked like.
“I’ve been working near the couch,” Sombra said, interrupting his thoughts. “But there’s a lot of shit on the floor so try not to step on anything.” Gabriel shadow stepped to the couch and she rolled her eyes. “Show off.”
“How far have you gotten?” he asked as she sat down next to him.
“I’ve reviewed a decent chunk, but there’s still a good amount left.” She projected three monitors, that floated in front of them. “I think it’ll go faster with you here, though, since you actually knew these people. Speaking of–” She reached across Gabriel to grab one of her many laptops. Gabriel flinched.
She stopped and withdrew and she looked more serious than he had ever seen her. “What?”
“It’s nothing,” he mumbled. He grabbed the laptop off the cushion next to him and thrust it at her. “Get started.”
“No, Gabe, hang on.” He closed his eyes but she continued. “I know I can be kind of a… touchy person, I guess. Does that bother you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you–”
“It’s fine, Sombra!” His eyes snapped open and he saw her study him, then nod.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stop. Don’t worry.” She moved a foot away from him and Gabriel did not understand this made him just as anxious as her contact had. He couldn’t go to Widow to talk about this, not now that the two of them were together, so he puzzled it out on his own as Sombra flipped through security videos and stills.
“People don’t touch me anymore,” he said, when he had come to some kind of conclusion. Sombra snapped her head away from her screens, frowning again.
“What?”
“People just… don’t really touch me anymore,” he repeated. “I can’t go around uncovered most of the time. I can’t have the kind of physical relationships I used to. People generally aren’t super comfortable with my appearance even when I do show skin. And so…” He waved a hand and let it drop to his thigh. “People don’t touch me anymore. Just you. So I think I’m just out of practice.”
“Oh,” Sombra said softly. “Right.” She fiddled with the trackpad of the laptop. “If it helps, I saw shit during La Medianoche that makes your vape zombie schtick look like a field of daisies.”
He laughed. “Thank you, Sombra. How kind.”
“Shut up.” Sombra said. She was smiling now. “And take off your jacket.”
Gabriel froze and then spun out. He flicked his eyes down to the pink-striped flag sticker on one of the laptops on the floor before looking at her a little desperately. “What are you– I thought you were–”
“Jesus, Gabe! Not like that!” He could feel bits of his skin happily evaporating as he relaxed. Sombra ran a hand over her face. “Just do it. Christ.”
He hesitated, then shrugged off the jacket. Sombra waited until he had settled back down, then she moved herself up next to him. She rest her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his. Then she projected her monitors and continued like nothing had happened.
Gabriel could feel the warmth of her skin. He hadn’t been warm in so long, hadn’t been whole in so long, and Sombra was pressed up against him, warm and despite her augmentations, more human than he could hope to be. He remembered the fleeting warmth of the bodies he drained and he felt like vomiting, but he wasn’t capable of that any more. Sombra thought he had shrunk from touch because of some fear of her, some fear for himself, but that wasn’t it. The only people he touched anymore were dead things, things he had killed, things he killed for himself. He could feel bits of his body floating away, dissipating into the air Sombra breathed. He did not want this, not like this, maybe for himself but never for her–
“Gabe.” He found himself back on the couch again, Sombra’s head on his shoulder and one of his legs partially vaporized. “Breathe.”
He choked out a little laugh. “I can’t.”
“Well, find some other way to chill, then.” She readjusted to face him, digging her pointy chin into his shoulder. “I’ll move if you really hate it, but I’m cool with it, okay? Just try to relax.”
He closed his eyes and concentrated on relaxing the tensed muscles in his body. His leg drifted back together. “Okay,” he said.
Sombra nodded and resumed tapping at her monitors. He sat there with her and as willed away his tension over and over again, until his panic subsided and her warmth approached normal. Her weight on his side helped, he realized. Like an anchor to keep him from floating away.
“I can’t believe you thought I was coming on to you,” Sombra said, after some time.
“I wouldn’t have taken you up on it,” he muttered.
“Still. I thought my lesbian rep was solid. I need to take out a fuckin’ ad or something.”
Gabriel cracked a smile. “That might ruin your cover.”
“Worth it.”
There was a knock on the door. Gabriel jolted, but Sombra did not move, and yelled, “Come in!” He looked down at her, wide eyed, but she shook her head. “It’s fine.”
Widow opened the door and raised an eyebrow when she saw them. “I thought you said you were working?” she said in a cool voice.
“I am.” Sombra gestured to her monitors. “Look at all this work.”
“Yes. Well.” Widow shifted on her feet. “Do you not need me to come up with some story to make Reyes leave anymore?”
“Sombra,” Gabriel groaned. Sombra shrugged unapologetically.
“Nah, it’s fine.” She patted the couch next to her. “Come join us.”
Widow frowned at the seat like it contained one of her venom mines. “You don’t need my help with surveillance.”
“Widow. Come on. Cuddle puddle.”
“What?”
“Cud. Dle. Pud. Dle.” Sombra chanted. She looked up to Gabriel hopefully.
“She’s not going to stop until you come here,” he told Widow.
Widow heaved a sigh that must have sounded insincere even to her, because she walked to the couch and lay down, legs tucked up and head on Sombra’s lap, with no more comment.
Gabriel remembered Ana pulling her bedroll up next to his and Jack’s one night and Jack falling asleep before either of them, as usual. Gabriel asked her, more out of his own insecurity than anything he saw in her, if she felt weird, sleeping next to them when she was aroace and they, on the nights she wasn’t there, were decidedly not. She had rolled her eyes and told him no, she trusted them, and she loved them.
Sombra tilted her head down to Widow. All Gabriel could see of Sombra’s smile was the crinkle of her eyes, and he could still tell it was the most genuine thing Sombra had ever worn. She ran her fingers through Widow’s hair. Widow closed her eyes, the clearness of her face suddenly seeming peaceful rather than empty. He did not have what they had, and the three of them shared only the barest whisper of trust.
But against all odds, he liked them. He liked the woman who had killed one of his dearest agents and the woman who made it her business to know the worst things about him. He liked the woman who sat with him in Moira’s waiting room and the woman who understood doing whatever it took to survive. He liked the women who did not flinch from him not matter what he did, what his body did. He could be wrong. He had been disastrously wrong before. But he did not think the two of them would be here if they did not like him too.
He almost laughed. He hadn’t considered even the possibility of making friends, not since Ana’s funeral, and somehow he had wound up with two completely on accident.
After about a half hour, Sombra spoke. “I made a mistake,” she said. “You’re both frigid. Can someone switch with me so I’m not in the middle?”
Gabriel and Widow simultaneously shushed her.