Chapter Text
The engine of the motorcycle purred as Soldier: 76—now simply Jack Morrison—coasted into the quiet city square, the sun dipping below the horizon. He hadn't planned to stop here, but something about the cobblestone streets, illuminated by warm, golden streetlights, felt inviting, and he was planning to take a brief rest here before driving off into the sunset again. Jack parked his bike near a café and stretched, his leather jacket creaking softly.
As he glanced around, his gaze caught on a colourful poster plastered against a lamppost. It depicted a tall silver-haired man dressed in a dark suit with an aura of elegance emanating from him, his glasses sharpening his appearance, as well as his hands poised mid-conduct, surrounded by celestial imagery. The name below read: Dr. Siebren de Kuiper — A Symphony of the Cosmos.
"Well, I’ll be damned," Jack muttered, recognizing the face. Siebren—Sigma, as he had been called—looked different now. There was no trace of the haunted Talon weapon he had once been. The eyes on the poster radiated serenity, a stark contrast to the fractured soul Jack remembered. He didn't have much conversation with the Doctor when they had last met, especially ever since he had rescued him from Talon's clutches and entrusted him to Sombra's care.
He wondered how he was doing now.
And before he knew it, curiosity won over. He tore off the bottom tab of the flyer for the evening's performance and hopped on his bike, its engines revving in anticipation as he headed toward the venue, a grand concert hall that stood out against the quaint cityscape.
When he finally arrived, he sat there for a moment, one hand still on the handlebar, staring up at the ornate building before him. People in elegant attire filed in through the grand entrance, the soft glow of the marquee casting shadows on the pavement.
His red bandana, leather jacket, and scuffed boots felt out of place here. This wasn’t his usual crowd, but something about the name on the poster had brought him here: Dr. Siebren de Kuiper. The face he’d seen on the flyer had stirred memories, though none of them aligned with the serene expression Siebren now wore.
Jack sighed and swung his leg off the bike, running a hand through his blonde hair. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered, but his feet were already carrying him toward the box office.
The woman behind the counter looked up with a practiced smile. “Good evening. How can I help you?”
“One ticket,” Jack said, fishing his wallet from his pocket.
“Which section?”
Jack blinked, glancing at the seating chart displayed on a screen nearby. He had no idea where to sit; he wasn’t here to enjoy the acoustics or get a perfect view. “Uh… cheapest you’ve got.”
Her smile faltered slightly, but she tapped a few keys. “There’s a seat in the upper balcony, third row. That work?”
“Fine,” he said, handing over the cash.
She passed him the ticket and gave him a polite nod. “Enjoy the performance.”
Jack took the ticket, feeling a little ridiculous as he walked toward the entrance. He was surrounded by well-dressed patrons—men in suits and posh leather shoes, women in evening gowns and high heels. A few curious glances were cast his way, but Jack ignored them, focusing instead on meeting the man.
Inside, the concert hall was even more opulent than he’d expected. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the seats were upholstered in deep crimson.
Fancy.
Jack climbed the stairs to the upper balcony, taking his place near the back. He settled into his seat, glancing at the crowd below. The hall buzzed with quiet anticipation, the kind of energy that reminded Jack of the moments before a mission briefing.
When the lights dimmed, the murmurs quieted, and Siebren de Kuiper stepped onto the stage.
Jack’s breath caught.
The man before him looked worlds away from the fragmented physicist he’d once known. Siebren stood tall and composed, his movements fluid as he approached the conductor’s podium. Dressed in a sleek, dark suit, he exuded an air of authority and grace that captivated the audience before he’d even lifted his baton. His concert picture alone wouldn't have done him justice at all.
He was... gorgeous .
As the music began, Jack found himself drawn in. He wasn't a classical music guy, but he knows enough to recognise a song that's well and beautifully composed. Siebren’s hands moved with a precision that seemed almost otherworldly, his powers subtly enhancing the performance. Tiny, glowing orbs of light hovered above the orchestra, shifting and swirling in time with the music. The symphony was vast and intricate, almost like they're tiny stars floating across galaxies.
Jack forgot where he was. For a man who had spent his life amid chaos, this was something entirely new—peaceful, yet exhilarating .
When the final note faded and the audience erupted into applause, Jack hesitated before clapping, still caught in the spell of the performance. Siebren gave a small bow, his expression calm but not without humble pride.
As the house lights came up, Jack sat for a moment longer, letting the crowd thin out before he made his way to the exit. He had planned to leave without a word, his curiosity well satisfied– but a strange pull kept him lingering in the lobby, unsure of his next move.
That’s when Siebren spotted him.
Their eyes met across the room, and Jack felt a flicker of recognition in Siebren’s gaze. He watched as the Maestro finished speaking to a group of admirers before making his way over.
After the concert, Jack lingered near the exit, unsure why he hadn’t left yet. As the crowd thinned, Siebren appeared in the lobby, greeting admirers with a kind smile. Jack hesitated before stepping forward, his boots echoing on the marble floor.
"Sigma- no...Siebren," he huffs, quickly correcting himself.
The Maestro turned, his smile faltering into surprised recognition. "Jack... Morrison? Or do you prefer Soldier 76?"
"Just Jack," he replied. "Saw your poster. Thought I'd see what you’ve been up to."
Siebren chuckled, a soft sound like the fading notes of his symphony. "And what did you think?"
Jack shrugged, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “It was… something else. Never heard anything like it.”
The smile widened, a quiet gratitude behind it. “Why thank you! That means a great deal, coming from you.”
Jack shifted his weight, suddenly feeling out of place again. “Well, I should probably get going—”
“Stay,” Siebren interrupted gently. “There’s a café around the corner. Join me for a coffee?”
Jack blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. But something in his voice, in the calm certainty of his request, made it impossible to refuse.
When was the last time he had been invited by someone?
Regardless, he figured that a small coffee break shouldn’t take long anyway.
“Sure,” Jack said, his gruff tone softening. “Why not?”
The café Siebren had mentioned was tucked away on a quiet side street, its warm glow spilling onto the cobblestones. It wasn’t the kind of place Jack would have picked on his own-- he preferred bars, but as soon as they stepped inside, he understood why Siebren had suggested it. The air was filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the gentle clinking of cups, and the faint aroma of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries.
Siebren chose a corner table by the window, away from the other patrons. Jack followed, shrugging out of his leather jacket and draping it over the back of his chair, and then taking off his sunglasses. He felt oddly self-conscious under Siebren’s calm gaze, his mellow eyes staring into his, but there was no judgment in the man’s expression—only curiosity.
“I must admit,” Siebren began, folding his hands neatly on the table, “I never imagined seeing a person like you at one of my concerts.”
Jack leaned back, resting his elbows on the armrests of the sturdy wooden chair. “Didn’t plan it. Just saw your poster while I was passing through.” He paused, tapping his fingers on the table. “Guess I was curious.”
Siebren tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “And was your curiosity satisfied?”
Jack smirked. “I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t.”
The response earned a light chuckle from Siebren, who gestured to the server approaching their table. After a quick exchange, Siebren ordered a dark roast coffee, while Jack settled for a plain black brew. As the server walked away, Siebren leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“It’s… good to see you again, Jack,” he said after a moment. “I wondered what became of you after everything. You seemed determined to disappear.”
Jack let out a low sigh, his gaze dropping to the tabletop. “Didn’t think anyone was looking for me. Figured I’d done my part and earned the right to fade away.”
“You were always more than just your part,” Siebren said quietly.
The words caught Jack off guard. He looked up, meeting Siebren’s steady gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet hum of the café filling the silence.
The server returned with their coffees, breaking the tension. Jack wrapped his hands around the warm mug, grateful for the distraction. “What about you?” he asked, steering the conversation away from himself. “Last time I saw you, you weren’t exactly… yourself.”
Siebren nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. “It took time. After Talon fell, I was… lost, in many ways. But I had help. People who believed I could be more than what I’d become.”
“Zenyatta?” Jack guessed, recalling the omnic monk’s knack for guiding lost souls.
Siebren smiled. “He was instrumental, yes. He helped me reconnect with my mind, my powers—my humanity. And music… music became my salvation. It gave me purpose again.”
Jack nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’ve come a long way.”
“So have you,” Siebren said, his tone gentle but firm. “Even if you don’t see it.”
Jack didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied Siebren, noting the quiet confidence in his posture, the way his fingers occasionally twitched as though conducting an invisible orchestra. It was a far cry from the shattered man Jack had once faced in battle.
“Must be nice,” Jack said eventually, “having something to call your own. A reason to keep moving forward.”
“And you?” Siebren asked. “What keeps you moving?”
Jack hesitated, his fingers tightening around the mug. “The road, I guess. No plan, no destination. Just… freedom.”
Siebren nodded, as though he understood. “There’s a certain beauty in that.”
Jack chuckled softly. “You find beauty in everything, don’t you?”
“Perhaps,” Siebren admitted, a faint smile gracing his lips. “But I find them most in people. In their stories, their journeys. Like yours.”
Jack felt his face grow warm under Siebren’s earnest gaze. He wasn’t used to being seen so clearly, so genuinely. It was… unsettling, but not unwelcome.
The hours seemed to melt away as Jack and Siebren spoke. This was supposed to be at most an hour-long coffee hangout, and yet it was taking longer than Jack had expected.
He was surprised by how easily the conversation flowed, and how Siebren's presence encouraged him to share more than he normally would. He was never a great talker, but this man was somehow squeezing out more information from him than he would’ve planned to share with others.
Jack started cautiously, speaking about the places he’d been. “I’ve been all over,” he said, his voice gruff but steady. “The Rockies in winter, the plains in spring. There’s something different about seeing the world from a bike—everything feels closer, like you’re part of it instead of just passing through.”
Siebren leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table. “You’ve always been a man of action, Jack. The road… does it give you peace?”
Jack hesitated, the question catching him off guard. “I don’t know if I’d call it peace. It’s… quiet. No missions to run, no one to answer to. Just the sound of the engine and the wind. Sometimes that’s enough.”
Siebren nodded thoughtfully. “And the people you meet along the way? Do they become part of your journey, or do you let them remain fleeting?”
Jack chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “Most of them are fleeting. People come and go. It’s easier that way.”
“But not always, I think,” Siebren said, his gaze steady.
Jack shifted in his seat, realizing how easily Siebren could see through him. He changed the subject, recounting a story about a small town he’d stopped in a few weeks back. “There was this old guy running a diner off the highway. Food wasn’t great, but the coffee was decent. He told me about the time he got stuck in a snowstorm for three days and had to dig himself out with a frying pan.”
Siebren laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “People carry such remarkable stories with them. Even the mundane becomes extraordinary in the right light.”
Jack smirked. “You could probably write a song about a frying pan if you wanted to.”
“Perhaps,” Siebren mused, his eyes twinkling. “But it would need a strong theme. Perseverance, perhaps. Or resourcefulness.”
“There’s a certain symmetry to it,” Siebren continued. “Every piece of music is like a journey. It begins with a question, builds through tension, and resolves with understanding.”
Jack tilted his head, the topic getting a bit too philosophical for his tastes. Still, he does his best to entertain the man, his expression skeptical but intrigued. “And what happens when the resolution isn’t neat? When the understanding never comes?”
Siebren paused in contemplation, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his mug. “Then the journey continues. Even an unfinished symphony has beauty in its incompleteness.”
Jack mulled that over, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I guess you’d know about unfinished stories.”
Siebren didn’t flinch, meeting Jack’s gaze evenly. “We both do, don’t we?”
For a moment, neither of them spoke again. Jack broke the silence with another story, this one about a group of travelers he’d met at a campsite. “They were a weird bunch—hikers, mostly. One of them tried to make s’mores with jerky instead of marshmallows. Said it was a ‘savory twist.’” He shook his head, laughing. “Worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Siebren smiled, his laugh soft but genuine. “Creativity knows no bounds, it seems.”
As the hours passed, Jack found himself relaxing more, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to something softer. He spoke of the rare moments of quiet he’d come to cherish—the early mornings on the road when the sky was painted with the colours of dawn, or the nights when he camped under the stars. They were such surface level topics to talk about, but he could sense how every single word he’d spoken were deeply regarded under Siebren.
Siebren listened intently, his questions thoughtful and probing. “Do you ever feel lonely?” he asked at one point, his tone gentle but direct.
Jack hesitated, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I’ve gotten used to it. Better than the alternative, I guess.”
“And what is the alternative?”
“Getting too close,” Jack said, his voice quieter now. “Letting people in. Makes things messy.”
Siebren studied him for a long moment, then said softly, “Messiness is where life happens, Jack. It’s where the symphonies are written.”
Jack didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he finished his coffee and looked out the window, the faint sound of a street musician’s violin drifting in from the plaza.
By the time they left the café, the streets were quiet, the city bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Jack walked alongside Siebren, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones.
“Thank you,” Siebren said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For tonight. For coming to the concert. For… staying.”
Jack glanced at him, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “Wasn’t so bad. I might even come to another one.”
Siebren’s smile widened, and for the first time, Jack felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee or the city’s glow.
As they reached the edge of the plaza, Siebren paused, turning to face Jack. “If you do, let me know. I’ll save you a front seat.”
Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll think about it.”
But as he walked back to his bike, the image of Siebren’s smile stayed with him, and for the first time in a long time, Jack found himself looking forward to tomorrow.
