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Ganymede doesn’t like things that make Bastion sad.
Being a bird, it had taken him some time to come to that conclusion.
Blue-toned, bweeing Bastion is good. That Bastion lets him ride on a single outstretched finger, and sometimes beep booped cheerfully along when Ganymede sang. Blue Bastion was the one he'd discovered wandering the forests in the lands of his birth, and become his companion.
Ganymede has plumage; Bastion is made of cold, hard planes. But blue-toned Bastion sat patiently while Ganymede wove a nest among the strange man-made vines flowing in and out of Bastion’s shoulder. Now a happy den of twigs and flowers nestles there, and Ganymede knows it’s his safe place.
Blue-toned Bastion is sanctuary. He is home.
Red-toned Bastion is dangerous—scary. Even Bastion himself seems terrified of being that way. Bastion is not a predator, but Ganymede remembers things that look like him who were. He had watched, from a distance, as sound and heat ripped through the horizons of the forest. Men and their dangerous creations—soldiers, and things like Bastion, except not like him at all.
Red Bastion and blue Bastion agree on one simple thing: Soldiers are bad.
If Bastion doesn’t like soldiers, then Ganymede hates them.
Ganymede is wary of the people who’ve taken Bastion in.
They have weapons. They’re loud. Sometimes they frighten Bastion, or stare at him like he might do something to frighten them. Despite those factors, Bastion seems to want to be among them, so Ganymede allows it. He stays vigilant, safe in his nest, and keeps watch.
Over time, he learns their names. He can accept Winston. He can allow Torbjörn. Even Reinhardt is tolerated.
But Bastion doesn’t like soldiers. So when a man calling himself Soldier: 76 appears, there is nothing for it: Ganymede must go on the offensive.
“I imagine he’s just trying to protect his territory.” The woman says; she has a white coat, hair tied up behind her head, and a gentle way of speaking. Ganymede permits her to stay by Bastion’s side, even preening a little when she smiles at him. “I never would have guessed something so small and cute would trouble you so much.”
“Try saying that when it’s dive-bombing you.” The Soldier growls, and Ganymede puffs his chest defiantly. Amidst it all, Bastion beeps his consternation.
Ganymede doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want Bastion being sorry.
“My advice,” the woman goes on, “Is to try and earn his trust. Prove to him that you don’t intend to infringe on his home.”
The Soldier makes a snorting sound. “How am I supposed to do that?”
Bastion sits with a sudden thunk, and raises his hands. The first is offered to Ganymede, who immediately hops across. This is a familiar perch, offered to him many times before. This is Bastion’s trust.
Alarmingly, the other hand is extended towards the Soldier, one finger outstretched in offering. Ganymede chirrs indignantly, and the Soldier sighs. “What the hell do I do now?”
“Accept it.” The woman tells him. “Make a new friend.”
Bastion is blue, without any fear. Reluctantly, Ganymede watches the man come closer. He can’t see the man’s eyes—his face is covered with a line of red light—but he’s sure the Soldier is watching him, too. He should be. The Soldier takes Bastion’s finger in his hand and shakes it, the way humans often greet each other palm to palm. Bastion whirrs happily.
Ganymede isn’t convinced. The second this Soldier does anything he shouldn’t, Ganymede will be ready to strike. Until then, for Bastion’s sake, he will stay quiet.
It’s dark, and even a vigilant guard must rest. Bastion’s blue is dim, a comfortable, familiar glow that Ganymede nestles next to in sleep. Except, he hears something.
Ganymede puffs to wakefullness in a moment, hopping from his nest and casting his beady gaze around. There—he spots the intruder and takes wing, darting towards the reddish glow entering the garage that's become Bastion's home.
“Oh hell.” It’s that Soldier’s voice and he raises his hands to fend Ganymede away from his face. He doesn’t swat, though, which is unusual enough that Ganymede hovers in the air, awaiting his next move. Much to his surprise, the Soldier extends a closed fist, turns it upward and opens it, revealing a handful of seeds.
Ganymede’s suspicious. He swoops closer, hovering near while he looks back and forth between the dull red where the Soldier’s eyes are supposed to be and the bounty of food before him. He chirps sharply: a demand for an explanation.
“What?” The Soldier sighs, then licks his finger and depresses it into the pile before popping it in his mouth. Ganymede hears the telltale sound of seeds crunching apart as they’re chewed. His gruff voice continues. “They’re fine. They’re not poisoned.”
His hand is outstretched, like Bastion’s finger. It’s stable, strong and firm, so Ganymede lands on it. He looks over his wing to where Bastion sleeps, then back to the Soldier’s gaze. No sudden enclosure: no cages or fingers or anything intended to remove him from Bastion’s side more permanently. The Soldier is immobile. He dips his beak once. Twice. The seeds are good.
Ganymede settles, just a little, but keeps casting the Soldier looks so he doesn’t get any ideas about Ganymede fully accepting him off the back of a free meal.
The Soldier stays still until Ganymede finishes, at which point he sighs. “I’m not a bad guy, okay? Give me room to breathe.”
Ganymede looks at him, disdainful of that red line across his face. Red is terrible: red is red Bastion, who Bastion himself hates. Determined to make himself clear, he flaps his way off the Soldier’s palm until he’s level with the red gaze and warbles, long and low. He doesn’t trust Soldier yet, but his offering has earned him a chance. He, Ganymede, will allow Soldier: 76 to be near Bastion—but one wrong move, and it’s over.
“It’s just nice to be around someone who knows.” The Soldier breathes the admission as he stands, brushing his palm against his thigh and gazing towards Bastion’s glimmer of blue, silent and settled. Then he shakes his hand, pressing his hand to his forehead. “What am I doing? Talking to a bird...”
The Soldier turns to leave, and Ganymede wings his way back to his nest, comfortable and safe. Blue-toned Bastion is peace, safety, and home. Is that what the Soldier is looking for from him? Ganymede wonders.
He doesn’t understand people.
Ganymede stays behind when they clear out on missions. Early on, Bastion had stayed behind with him, but now he’s well and truly becoming part of this strange little team of people, and he insists on going with them. Ganymede doesn’t like to be parted from Bastion, but he accepts that he could do little in their peacekeeping efforts.
The first time they return, Bastion is blue and beeping, intoning almost incessantly in his excitement. Ganymede swoops down from his tree branch perch to chatter praise, and Bastion lifts a finger to welcome him back. Everyone around him is smiling, except the Soldier, who trails behind them with his shoulders down. Ganymede decides that maybe this is safe.
The second time they return, the mood is more sombre, but Bastion still lifts his finger when Ganymede glides down to offer his welcome. The Soldier walks next to Bastion, leaning on his opposite arm. When Ganymede peers down, he can see the Soldier is favouring one leg, and Bastion’s support is helping him to walk. The sight inspires an indignant chirp, one that Bastion answers with a low, dismissive buzz. Perhaps, Ganymede decides, this is what Bastion wants for his own future.
The third time they return, Bastion isn’t able to reach towards him.
Instead, he’s slung limp over the back of the sagging Soldier, who’s dragging him slowly but surely back towards the garage. Bastion’s blue is extinguished, but there’s no red light in its place, and Ganymede dives with alarm, screaming louder and louder questions as he flits around Bastion’s head.
“He’ll be okay.” The Soldier exhales heavily, and it sounds as much like a promise as anything Ganymede has ever heard. “Torbjörn and Brigitte will get him fixed right up. He’ll be just the same as before.” That sentence is much shakier, and despite himself, Ganymede lands on the Soldier’s shoulder, only because it gives him purchase to examine Bastion up close. To his surprise, the Soldier doesn’t respond, other than continuing to drag Bastion’s lifelessness into the garage.
By the time they arrive, the bright lights are on overheard and Torbjörn is wearing a mask with a clear panel over his eyes, while a tall girl stands next to him outfitted in similar kit. Soldier: 76 gently deposits Bastion on a tarp spread over the concrete floor, and the other two get to work. Ganymede darts back and forth, trying to see, until Torbjörn finally waves his hands and grumbles, “Get this damn bird out of here.”
“Hey.” It’s the Soldier’s voice, nearby, and when Ganymede turns, he sees the man sitting on the floor with an arm outstretched. He offers a single finger for Ganymede to land on, just like Bastion has always done. With a peep of apology, Ganymede accepts the need to wing away just that far, although the moment he settles on Soldier: 76’s finger, he hops around to continue observing.
“I know, me too. I’m worried about him.” The Soldier speaks to him, and Ganymede puffs up without otherwise moving. He should never have let this happen. What even happened?
Ganymede doesn’t understand people, but when the Soldier continues explaining, he has to wonder if this Soldier is starting to understand him. “You’re probably wondering what happened. We got ambushed. Bastion here was our rearguard, giving us covering fire while we advanced. Someone was going to land one on me—would have if Bastion hadn’t spoken up. Our cover was already blown by then, they knew we were there. The rest of them, they were good together, so I turned back to give Bastion some support. That’s when the bomb went off.”
The Soldier exhales a long sigh and squeezes his opposite fist; Ganymede wants to continue ignoring him, but it’s hard when he continues to speak in such a low, defeated tone. “It’s a bit of a miracle he’s as together as he is. He protected us and we didn’t protect him. Not before things got bad, anyway. I stayed with him. Not many working E54 units around these days. I expect they wanted him for terrorist activities. I couldn’t let them do that.”
Now Ganymede has to turn, to inspect the truthfullness of the Soldier’s words. The red light across his eyes is as unreadable as ever, but the expression on the rest of his face looks the way humans often do when they’re sad. Ganymede tilts his head and chirrs, and the Soldier turns away, but answers him.
“He never asked to be a war machine. None of us did. I think he’s one of the only ones who remembers what it’s like, but he’s still here. He loves you, he wants to see new things. He wants to live in a peaceful time. That’s why it’s so important to protect it. And him.”
“We’re all finished here, Jack.” Brigitte calls; Torbjörn’s already stumped out of the room. “He’s booting up.”
Sure enough, by the time Soldier: 76 has eased himself to his feet and crossed the few metres between them and Bastion, there’s the familiar glow of gentle blue on Bastion’s face. Ganymede chirps with excitement, and Bastion returns with a weak chirp of his own.
“Good to see you, buddy.” The Soldier offers his own greeting, crouching down alongside Bastion and laying a hand on him. Ganymede watches the Soldier squeeze as he keeps talking. “You did good today. Sorry we couldn’t do better by you. But you’re all good now. We’ve got you all fixed up.”
Bastion lets out a stream of beeps, and each subsequent one makes the Soldier shake his head lower and lower. “It’s not your fault, you don’t need to apologise. I said you did good, and I mean it. I... I must be crazy. First I’m talking to birds, now I’m talking to a Bastion unit.” Soldier: 76 grumbles, but there’s a smile on his face. “You feeling okay?”
Bastion bwees a bright note of confirmation, reaching up. When Ganymede leaps across the gap from Soldier’s shoulder to Bastion’s finger, Bastion turns his head to indicate Ganymede’s nest instead. Duly invited, Ganymede settles back in his home to watch the exchange.
Bastion’s finger remains extended, until the Soldier leans close enough to touch. When he does, a crackle of electricity comes from Bastion’s finger; if the Soldier is startled, he doesn’t reach for his gun. He doesn’t betray. Instead, the crackle of light travels through his visor and the red light dims before the whole piece clatters to the floor. Beneath it is a grizzled man with a scarred face, and eyes as blue as the summer’s sky.
Bastion beeps happily, and Ganymede understands. Based on his smile, the Soldier does too.
Bastion is blue now, and Solider can be blue, too. Ganymede is finally satisfied that this is a good thing.