Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Watch-Point Gibraltar was buzzing with excitement, between the chattering over hot charcoal, and the sizzling of barbecue, the sun had already emulsified into a blue, red and orange hue. 

The 4th of July, a holiday that while commonly celebrated in the United States, and not on a peninsula classified as a British Overseas Territory, was more used as an excuse to celebrate a recent mission that, while successful, almost resulted in disaster.

——————————————————————

Through weeks of intense data gathering, and sorting out leaks of classified information from Talon, Winston, with the help of Overwatch’s A.I. assistant Athena, had intercepted a message from one of Talon’s secret bases. A distillery located in Havana was found to receive new 

shipments of artillery and weaponry for Talon disguised as simple liquor cargo. 

Havana was already reported to have suspicious goods traveling in and out of its ports, so it was no surprise when signs of Talon’s residence popped up with it.

Two payloads that held together tons of ammunition and armaments had to be stopped. Talon was planning to hold a terrorist attack in Los Angeles, where a political figure and activist against Null Sector named Diesel Montgomery was holding a rally. 

It was essential for the payloads to be stopped before tensions escalated between omnics and humans.

Even if it’d only hold Talon back by just a day, that was enough time to combat Talon's next attack, and protect humanity from Talon’s ever-growing influence. 

The results of the mission ended up fruitful, but many members were left wounded in its process. 

Just the week before, as the payloads were stopped and dismantled by Overwatch’s back line defense, a planned accident by Talon occurred. 

Near the end of the mission, the distillery had caught fire, and the alcohol that was stored within the factory erupted. 

As Overwatch fended against Talon agents; with bullets whizzing past each other, and shields holding off bigger attacks that would’ve been proven fatal to Overwatch’s ability to perform as an Organization, a stray flame had caught onto a spilled trail of alcohol within the distillery walls.

It was only then when the fight grew to dramatic lengths.

Bursting into flames and explosions, members of Talons drowned in the fire, agents from both groups buried under hot and heavy rubble, there were numbers of unexpected casualties. 

The tanks, and front-lines of Overwatch’s strike team were first to witness the horrors of the exploding distillery, before bracing for impact and shielding any members from the heavy ambush that was brought upon both groups. 

Reinhardt, who had up-until that moment been playing Offense with D.Va, both charged themselves back into the back line to shield their teammates from the blast. 

“TAKE COVER!” 

Mei, who had helped take down one of the two payloads, reacted in horror as the distillery crumpled into itself. 

Heat from the explosion sent a fever gust of pressure over the brawling crowd, chills striking down the climatologist's spine, through her heavy and thick-coated uniform it made Mei feel as buckets of sweat dripped down her neck.

Pulling her cryogenic-gun from her holster, and holding the trigger, a thick- and chilly substance quickly materialized. 

To combat against the fiery draft, Mei summoned an ice wall, holding off the force of the flying ruins by little bits.

“Everyone, stay close! Hide behind my ice wall!”

Within seconds, several members of Overwatch ran to take cover behind the glacial structure, and agents like Roadhog pulled in anyone who couldn’t run under the protection in time, 

Even after each group’s attempt of softening the blows of the downpour that faced them, it didn’t stop Overwatch and Talon from being turned over their heads, both sides struggling to pull themselves out of the now wasteland that once was a distillery. 

Caught in the casualty, Overwatch was able to barely scrape themselves out of the wreckage. Dragging one another back to the MV-261 ORCA, as well as fighting off Talon agents who tried to finish the jobs of their fallen comrades, pulling teeth and nail to make sure no members had died during the mission, or had gotten horribly disfigured. 

Standing on-top of the drop ship entrance, Soldier 76 held his rifle close to him. Calling for the rest of the team to board the ship, he scanned the distance ahead of him. 

Keeping count of who was and wasn’t on board yet, the list was ticked off one by one.

Lena, check . She was already in the cockpit. Winston, check . He was last seen with Lucio and D.Va. Check , Check . 

Going down the last, there were only three members who hadn’t made it back yet. 

Junkrat and Roadhog, the pair of them he hadn’t always expected to follow orders to a tee, since they were both the.. radically independent-dependant duo. He wasn’t surprised that they weren’t on board yet, the duo was most likely still picking up scraps from the fight so that they could continue making their janky yet destructive weaponry, or maybe Junkrat was running wild and Roadhog was holding the juvenile by his grenade straps to get him back on ship. 

Either way, those two, while unpredictably frustrating ( Mainly the frustration stemming from Junkrat ), always found a way back, no matter how battered or bruised they ended up, Soldier 76 knew they’d be on their way back with a rugged tapping of a peg leg, and the heavy steps of a powerhouse.

Still. One member was still missing.

Symmetra, an orderly and perfectist of a woman, her being late didn't make any sense to the once Strike Commander of Overwatch. She was always on time, never early or late. No matter the meeting, place or even mission, she followed her orders to a tee, and instructions were never once unclear to her. 

So how could she be one of the three people last to the drop-ship? Had she gotten lost? That couldn’t be true, she memorizes the location of any mission weeks beforehand. Perhaps she didn’t survive the blast? It wouldn’t make sense, as before in comms, Ana had already confirmed Symmetra’s safety once the explosion went off. They were together, when dismantling the payload, and were hiding under Reinhardt, with Bridgette and Cassidy.

Deep in thought, his lookout was interrupted by a fizzling sound of a teleporter being materialized right before him. 

The white polished metal that formed near under his feet opened up like a blooming pond flower, with blue light glowing, brightening in overall intensity, it was currently trying to transfer something over the other side. 

Instinctively holding his Heavy Pulse Rifle at the tech’s entrance, his gun turned down once he saw who emerged from the other side. 

With a hobbling of his feet, and an unbalanced hop towards the disgruntled patriot, Junkrat gave Soldier 76 a toothy- or more so.. toothless grin with how the man was missing some of his teeth. Most likely due to the battlefield.

“Hey, keep ya jaw offa tha ground mate! Yer lookin’ at me like I’m missin’ me limbs or somthin’!” A goofy laugh left his throat, as his usual manic chortle broke the silence.

“That’s because ya’ are missin’ yer limbs, specifically yer right ones.” Gruffing under his breath, Roadhog was as expected holding Junkrat up by one of his grenade straps, making sure the maniac could stand upright. 

Now taking a moment to look the pair up and down, a simple scan could tell they’d both been roughed up. The two looked more messier than the rest of the squad combined. 

Junkrat, who once had two prosthetics that replaced his missing extremities on the right side of his body, was now completely missing. The only parts of his old prosthetic were the straps that held the mechanical parts in place with his body. As for the rest of him, Junkrat’s pants- now turned into shorts that fried just above the knee were covered in gunpowder and dirt, not too different from his usual self. 

His face was in severe condition, the right of his face swollen with black and blue bruises, his right eye was so busted that Junkrat could barely keep it open. His lips were inflamed, cut open with blood dripping out, his smile showed that he must’ve lost a tooth or three. The rest of his injuries Soldier 76 couldn’t properly make out, it was narrowing to say the least since Junkrat was covered in so much dirt and blood, the extent of his condition with just a look was impossible.

As for Roadhog, even though his mask covered his face which hid any noticeable wounds, his body was covered in scratches and blood too. His mask was ripped too, with one of his filters being completely torn off and missing. His mask would’ve fallen off if it wasn’t for three of the four straps holding it onto his face. Roadhog’s knuckles looked raw, and the gloves he once wore around his hands were now missing, only the padding around his wrists still intact. Compared to Junkrat though, his injuries seemed fairly minor, as he only looked a bit roughed up. 

A heavy sigh left Soldier 76’s lips.

“Just as expected. Get on board, before we leave the two of you behind.” 

There was a grit in his tone, he truly felt fed up with the two, as just simply looking at them ( Mainly Junkrat ) was enough for Soldier 76 to fill in the possibilities of their antics with his imagination.

“Nah, yeah! Whateva’ ya say Cap! But.. dont’cha think yer missin’ a fellow member of ta’ team?”

Wiggling his blonde, bloody and bushy eyebrows, Junkrat looked at Soldier 76, his question holding an almost comedic effect, Soldier 76 grumbled to himself.

“We’re missing Sy-“

Before the veteran could finish his sentence, Junkrat placed a finger on the ex-commanders lips.

“HMPH- HEY!-“ 

Trying to swat Junkrat’s nasty and dangerously dirty index finger away from him, Soldier 76 was about to unleash a horde of obscenities, before Junkrat shushed him again.

“SHHSHSHH!! Wait…!”

They both looked at the teleporter. It buzzed a blue light, still up and running.

But no Symmetra was in sight.

“Junkrat! Stop wasting ti-“

“SHHHHHHhhhuuushhh mate! Can’t ya wait a minute?” Eying the fossil in his hands, sheesh, lookie here at someone with no patience!!

“I’m not waiting a minute if someone in our team is in trouble !” Soldier 76 barked back at Junkrat.

Just then, the teleporter started shaking, bits of it crumbling into an empty void, it seemed the Hard-Light structure’s time had run out. 

In a panic, Soldier 76 almost leaped to jump into the teleporter. Symmetra could be in danger! It’d be too much of a gamble to lose a member now, not after this mission, Soldier 76 wouldn’t allow it.

That’s just when a Vishkar architect stepped out of the teleporter from the other side. 

Instead of her pristine steps, and poised posture, Symmetra instead came out jagged- and almost haggard like. Her posture mimicked one of a granny’s and a squint from a far distance could have you mistake her for Ana.

“ See ! Ya just had to wait a minute ya impatient bloke, lookie here, Sym’s doin just fine! Not like ya noticed though, I mean, ya almost forgot ‘bout her!” Junkrat spoke out while patting her on her shoulder. 

Silent and unnerving, the teleporter behind Symmetra had already disintegrated into itself, and there was nothing left of it.

“It’s Symmetra .”

Peeling Junkrat’s hand off of herself, her whole body shuddered before boarding the drop-ship with a speedy pace.

As they all watched her tip-tap her way into the drop-ship, Soldier 76 just let out an annoyed grunt, while Junkrat shrugged his shoulders, looking up at Roadhog’s empty stare.

“Dunno wot’s goin’ on with her.” 

-

“Alright, pry it open on 3.. 2.. 1 !!” Holding his fingers up for the countdown, Lucio cheered out for Reinhardt, and Zarya, as the two were busy helping D.va be ejected from her mech.

Loud grunts, with heaving and pulling, the strong-armed members were using all their strength at the back opening of D.va’s mech Tokki.

“Be careful! Tokki’s sensitive!” 

Pushing the jammed exit with her feet, D.va was stuck in her mech after the distillery had bursted upon itself.

“Don’t fret Hana, I’m sure Torbjorn can help fix up your mech if Reinhardt or Zarya breaks it.” Ana spoke up while tending to Cassidy’s wounds.

“And have him make my sweet mech look like a fossil? No way!! I have a brand y’know!” Making a playful jab at the rather short engineer, a laugh erupted from the rest of the crew.

“Hey! My techniques work and look just fine, thank you very much!” 

Waving an angry yet playful fist at D.va, Torbjorn went back to fixing his broken turret once his fist lowered.

As conversations were rattling back and forth among the group, mainly taking care of each other's injuries and talking big about their fight, nobody seemed to notice Symmmetra sitting dimly in her seat. 

Hosting herself near a corner where she was quiet, she made herself invisible to the rest of her team. 

Arms shaky as she fidgeted with her gold bangles, Symmetra’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Breathing sharp and shattered, her face curled into a sour look. Each exhale felt spiked to her, each inhale was always just short to her.

As she stopped her fidgeting, Symmetra held her prosthetic arm up. 

The damage was irreparable, her customized Vishkar-gifted arm was crushed, and as she tried to rotate her wrist, instead her robotic arm spiraled into itself. 

Sparking out bits of static, her wrist stayed in a coil, before jittering itself out of its socket and returning back to “normal.”

This wasn’t normal though. 

Not her idea of normal .

Her prosthetic had never acted this way before. She didn’t like how it sat on her shoulder, going limp and being useless, how she’d have to knock at her prosthetic so it’d work again, the way her body kept buzzing from the un-controlled energy that was the hard-light of her arm. The fact it was barely containing itself, keeping its structure and form, Symmetra felt herself sympathize with her prosthetic arm. At this point, she had felt she was dragging around a dead limb with her.

Soon, Symmetra’s mind raced through horrible possibilities, short futures of what she’d be like with her broken prosthetic. 

How each morning she’d instinctively turn off her alarm, just to be greeted with the still air replacing her missing arm. 

How doing her work, writing status reports, drawing blueprints, even simple bending of light would all come with nuisances. 

Everyday functions like showering, eating, even cooking for herself would become a hassle.

As much as she’d hate to admit it, she’d grown independent of her prosthetic, so independent that she felt, well, useless without it. 

Burrowing her head into her shoulders, Symmetra thought to herself just how long she’d have to live without a working arm, and how much sensory hell she’ll have to go through during her time waiting.

How. Fun.

——————————————————————

With no clouds in sight, the horizon that painted over Overwatch’s base was a unique and calming sight to see. The sky still shined bright, just with a more drunken haze, as the sky still held light. The sun was only a few hours from folding itself into the night. 

The yellow glaze that the sun had set over Gibraltar laid itself over the members of Overwatch who were all enjoying the evening sun.

Two picnic tables were spread out near each other, adorned in red and blue coverings, with a star trim, conversations overlapped one another as Overwatch agents spoke amongst themselves.

“So, on this day, it is.. appropriate to wear such patriotic attire, even if i’m not American..?” Pointing at her shirt, Juno was sporting a red and white striped shirt that had an eagle printed across her chest. Her body facing towards Cassidy, the New-West cowboy himself was leaning back on a fold-out chair, a cigar dripping out of his mouth. His feet rested atop the picnic table, the tips of his boots facing up towards the sky. 

“Yup.”

“And this is part of the 4th of July holiday spirit?”

“Yuu-p.” Smirking at Juno’s curiosity and interest for the 4th of July, Cassidy was all too familiar with how the rest of the day was supposed to go. 

He’d already explained the gist of each activity with Juno and Echo, correcting their extensive yet, sort of stereotypical research on the Holiday just a few days before. 

He couldn’t blame the two though, after all, there’s no better way to learn than first-hand experience. Lighting sparklers, eating barbecue, watching the fireworks, it was all the fun of the 4th of July. 

As Cassidy stayed lazily leaning back in his chair, Echo bursted out to the picnic area, her arms spilling out random parts of decorations, and patriotic memorabilia. The evolutionary robot wore a red, white, and blue cowboy hat, as well as a similar t-shirt to Juno’s except her print was only of the slogan “4th Of July, Hero’s Never Die.”

“Look at what I’ve found in the Cellar with Dr. Zieglar! We’ve found many decorations for the party!” Echo held onto the ornaments as best as she could, with Mercy picking up right behind her. 

A laugh escaping from Cassidy’s lips, he looked up at Echo, tipping his hat away from his face as he took his cigar out of his mouth.

“Don’tcha think you have a’bit much in your hands, Echo?”

Tipping her head to the side, Echo only looked in confusement. Had she not responded correctly to this holiday’s traditions? Perhaps she wasn’t patriotic enough, or.. Was she too patriotic?

Before Echo could make any further analysis of Cassidy’s playful jab, Mercy laid a hand on Echo’s shoulder.

“Don’t mind Cassidy, he’s just playing around.” Moving her view towards Cassidy, Mercy gave a bit of squint in her eyes, letting the cowboy know just how he’d done most of nothing up to now.

“You know Cassidy, you should be helping Echo put up decorations! You were one of the members that proposed everyone celebrate the 4th of July, it’d be nice if you help out, no?” 

Cassidy leaned back into his chair, moving his hand to push his hat further down his face,

“Come on Angela, y’know I just wanna relax, plus, ain’t nothin’ wrong in wantin’ to lay back for a day!” Speaking up from his cap, he was just playing with Mercy. He’d help around, just at a later time.

“Hmph, well then, Juno, why don’t you help Echo with putting up decorations? It seems the Cowboy has better things to do, like napping!” Mercy walked with Echo towards the picnic table, dropping off the 4th of July knick-nacks atop the wooden surface, before heading back into the kitchen, mumbling a sudden task she’d just remembered in her head. 

“Now.. where did I leave that lighter..?” 

As the team continued to chat with each other, Torbjorn, Ana and Reinhardt exchanging fond memories of the old Overwatch, D.Va and Lucio showing Genji how to play a new game, Tracer, Hanzo, and Baptiste all holding trays of 4th of July appetizers with Roadhog just walking short behind them, the atmosphere stayed cheerful and festive. 

Holding a can of beer in one hand, and the click-clack of tongs in the other, Soldier 76 was flipping hot-dogs, hamburgers, and yes; even to his initial rejection- vegan patties over a grill. 

Much to his chagrin, but due to Winston’s insistence, he was flipping vegan “meats” on a day that represented American liberty and patriotism. Cooking fake meat was one thing, but grilling it alongside red meat? Horrid. There was nothing he could do about it though, since he had to remind himself of the dietary restrictions of certain agents. 

Symmetra strayed away from any beef products due to personal beliefs, Winston couldn’t consume anything meat related, Juno’s diet is still adjusting after her recent departure from space, and Mercy’s humanitarian career led to her adapting a pescatarian lifestyle. 

As Soldier 76 stayed deep in thought, a loud BANG rattled the ground and immediately broke him out of his immersion, he instinctively ran into action.

Everyone else was too busy chatting with each other to notice the loud thump in the ground, though some members did strike Soldier 76 a strange glance as he bolted away from the grill. 

Sprinting to the source of the racket, he was prepared to take on anyone that threatened Overwatch’s Base. 

Near the edge of Watch-Point Gibraltar, smoke was gushing out of one of the stockroom’s. It’d door half open, loud rattling and sparks flying out of the room

Dealing with a recent upsurge of unaccounted Talon Agents during missions was already enough of a hassle, it'd be even worse now if Talon figured out where Overwatch is posted. 

Instead, what laid in front of Soldier 76 was an.. unruly sight to behold. 

On the ground with his legs folded over his head, Junkrat had taken a fall and landed in an awkward position. It seemed he was busying himself by trying to reach a high shelf. Which was strange, since the man stood at a strikingly 6 foot and 6 inches. 

Just as Soldier 76 tried to point out what Junkrat could possibly be doing, Soldier 76 saw sparks coming out of Junkrat’s hands. How could he have sparks flying out of his hands? It didn’t make any sense unless-

[“Now.. where did I leave that lighter..?” ]

Before anyone in that storage room could react, a spark went flying and landed itself directly on a box that sprawled out on the floor, inside filled with.. Fireworks. 

BOOM. 

Now everybody’s attention was pulled away from their conversation, the sound of sparks popping in and out, with shooting sirens that pierced the sky, jumping out of their chairs, everyone outside leapt into action. 

Scurrying over to the noise, and the main cause of the rumble that shook the ground, everyone who was near the picnic area ran into the now, FULL of smoke storage room. With black smog puffing in and out, the air remained still. Stances firm and ready to charge into the room, what emerged out of the ramshackle of the storage room was.. An infuriated Soldier 76, and a dilapidated Junkrat. 

Holding the source of the now ruined storage room, and causing everyone’s heart to jump out of their chest, Junkrat laid limp as Soldier 76’s hand gripped tightly onto the back of his grenade straps. 

Junkrat raised his head, ever so slightly, seeing the disapproving looks above him, and the even more disapproving look of the man holding onto him. Sheepishly giggling to himself, he tried to do a quick shrug of the shoulder, trying to play off what’d just happened.

“Heh.. Oops? Didn’t know ya couldn’t set off fireworks.. Inside..” He knew it was a bad excuse, and it was even worse when he tried to play it off like a joke. He wasn’t dumb, but what else could he say? It wasn’t like anybody would take any other response. 

Clenching his fists, as his knuckles lost all blood circulation, he let out a loud, frustrated groan, before pointing a finger at Junkrat, getting ready to scold and reprimand the insane and outright deranged Junker for his actions. 

His jaw twisted , and his bite was tight , but before Soldier 76 could say anything, he felt a soft yet rough hand be placed on his shoulder.

“Jack, please, the kid’s had enough for one day. Don’t you think so?”

Looking at Ana’s tender and motherly eyes, he wanted to grow more frustrated at how she was defending Junkrat.

“Look at him ! He probably enjoyed blowing up one of our storage rooms! I can say that everyone that lives on this base can agree with that, Hell, be a first-hand witness to that!” 

Ana didn’t give Soldier 76 a response, instead, all she did was shake her head, and that was enough to make Soldier 76 let go of Junkrat, dropping him on his behind. 

Soldier 76 looked down at Junkrat with a gruff in his demeanor, then promptly walking back to his grill with his hands tucked into his khaki shorts, grumbling to himself about how he wouldn’t let Junkrat get away so easily, and that this would be the Junker’s last chance. 

Still sitting on the ground, mostly everyone had dispersed back to their original positions, continuing their conversations on whatever small-talk they were once immersed in. 

Rubbing the back of his head Junkrat groaned in pain as he readjusted his grenade straps. Just as he was realigning his attire, a hand reached out to him. An old, kindred, and who he’d may or may not have been asking to adopt him- spirit, a silver haired old woman gave Junkrat a soft smile when offering to help him up. 

Taking her hand, Junkrat jumpstarted himself up, almost knocking Ana off her balance, he quickly re-adjusted himself to not hurt anyone else today. 

Ever since he’d been in Overwatch, he’s changed. Not once could he imagine himself working for an organization that’d be trying to change the world for the better, not once did he not imagine himself not on the run, from the law, from the world really. 

When he first arrived at Watchpoint Gibraltar, he was bouncing off the walls, causing chaos wherever he ran, and quickly building up a reputation, it didn’t matter much to him. After all, he was too used to it, back in Junkertown, or at the Outback in general, having a reputation was better than being nobody . 

But, something felt different when he gave himself a reputation at Overwatch. Nobody here was like the people at the Outback. Nobody fought for scraps, or was starting brawls just in the street. People were “ civil ” and “ courteous ” with one another. 

Junkrat felt it was all an act, but still, that didn’t stop him from wanting to talk with the people living with him. 

To just have conversation, simple chatter, Junkrat always loved being around people, so it was a bummer whenever he found himself cooped up in his room, all alone, just tinkering away at a scrap piece of metal that he wouldn’t be able to show off to anyone else but Hog and himself. 

He wanted to make friends, he was living with other people. It’d be wrong if he didn’t, or just didn’t allow himself to. 

Junkrat didn’t ever tone himself down though, his attitude was still playful and funny, he just learned what’s right and wrong with certain people. Who’d be more accustomed to him, and who’d just need a little more work and careful decisions-making.

“Jamison , are you okay?” Ana spoke up, her hand, while not empty, was looking at Junkrat with concern. 

“Did you hit your head too hard? I asked you a question.” 

“Huh? Wot? No yeah, nothin’s wrong! Just got a’bit distracted y’see!” Letting out a loud laugh to let the air feel less thick, Junkrat rubbed his behind, still sore from his rather dramatic and rough drop to the ground from before. 

“Anyway, what were ya askin’ me? Prob’ didn’t hear ya too well, since, y’know!” Swirling one of his pointer fingers at just an inch away from  the side of his temple, Junkrat’s motion indicated a looney expression. 

He knew some people thought of him as insane, so there wasn’t a big fuss when it came to poking some fun at it! Especially since anyone from the Outback was expected to come out a bit funky, all the radiation and stuff wires people strange.

“I was asking you if you’d like to just sit out for the rest of the day.” Her hand firm in Junkrat’s hand, even though she was holding his prosthetic metal arm, Junkrat could still feel the warmth in her hand. 

“Wot..?”

Processing what he’d just been asked, Junkrat was left a little astonished.

He knew it was too good to be true! To be let off so easily after such a big ( uncontrolled and unregulated ) explosion!

“Wait- issit because of what happened just now? I promise, I won’t ever do it again Ana! I don’t wanna miss out on ta’ fireworks- I know it’s barely dark out now- but still! Dont bench me all because of an eenie- wintsy- mistake!!”

Chuckling at Junkrat’s dramatic reaction, seeing his hands now cupped together in a begging motion, she found it extremely amusing.

“No Jamison, I just mean sorting yourself out before meeting up with everybody else to see the fireworks. Just, stay in your room, listen to your thoughts for a while. I think you can do that Jamison.”

“I- Really?” 

His eyes batted, with his lashes striking up and down, his dingo-dog eyes sparkled as he graciously accepted Ana’s offer. I guess it was a fair punishment for his accident, at least better than doing everybody’s chores for a whole month.

He’d felt like he was grounded, which sucked because he’s a grown man god dammit ! 

Ana patted Junkrat on his back, smiling at him, before ushering him back inside, shooing him away from the picnic area, insisting that all he needed was some time to think before talking to anybody else.

And to also make sure Soldier 76 was in a good enough mood to not strangle Junkrat on sight if he ever saw him. 

Chapter Text

Junkrat could hear the faint sound of chattering coming from outside, taking Ana’s advice to his heart, he’d decide there wasn’t any harm in just chilling out for a little bit. Just him, himself, and nooooobody else. 

That’s the one thing that stunk about finding a minute for yourself though. You’re alone. With only you and your thoughts, it ain’t so peachy just sitting on a couch trying to meditate and listen to the ocean waves, just to fall flat and frustrated, realizing that it ain’t easy listening to ocean breeze- especially if you aren’t even near the ocean! 

What was Junkrat supposed to do again? Oh yeah. 

Hopping off the couch, Junkrat shook his good foot awake, he must’ve been sitting on that couch for an eternity just trying to meditate, at least by how everyone else explains meditation to him. Watchpoint Gibraltar had daily yoga classes hosted by Symmetra, but he didn’t bother joining them, since he had waaaayyy better things to do.

Like blowing stuff up! Or building stuff that can blow stuff up with. The most fun thing in life, you know? Much better than sitting in silence trying to concentrate on nothing. 

Checking the clock that sat above the big screen in the common area, Junkrat let out a fat frown, accompanied by a downcast groan. 

It’d been barely five whole minutes since he had walked back inside, and his body was aching to just bust down the doors, run out at full speed, and kiss the grass from how much he missed being outside with everybody. Maybe even give the old gramp Soldier76 a fat smooch on the top of his grey head. 

Though, the more he thought about that idea, the less rewarding it actually sounded. He’s already busted down one pair of doors, it wouldn’t be too pretty if he busted even more doors down. Then with running at full speed and kissing the ground, the ground doesn’t taste that  great, at least the last time he checked. He also didn’t want to look like an arse around everybody else. 

Building a reputation as the guy who kisses the ground? No way. 

And kissing Soldier76 on the head? His, greyed, wrinkled, old, and dare he saw, just sliiiightly balding head? Yuck. 

Junkrat decided to just throw his whole idea out altogether, after all, the last thing he needed was a very deafening verbal beating from the ex-captain of Overwatch. 

Tapping his foot on the tiled ground, Junkrat was purely stumped at what he could be doing to make time fly by. 

With a hitch in his voice, and speaking in a low, almost whispered tone, he was thinking to himself on what to do. 

“Calm myself down? Can’t believe Nan would speak that to me, I mean, I take it pretty easy! Sure, I stuff up once, but that don’t mean I’m not a changed man!” Rambling to himself, Junkrat realized that he’s probably proving people’s point if he continues raving on like a Bogan. 

Stopping mid-sentence, Junkrat tucked his hands into his cargo-shorts and huffed. 

“Should probably kick that habit, yeah.” 

Junkrat dragged his feet around the halls of Watchpoint Gibraltar, humming to himself, finding any activity that could occupy him for a minute or two, before completely abandoning it to do something else. 

Things like playing a game of solo chess, which ended in a flipped board. Knitting himself a scarf, which only led to a tangled ball of yarn, and a broken pair of knitting sticks. Hell, Junkrat even tried to cook something up! Let the team know what a good Australian Barbecue is like! Until he checked the fridge and realized that all the ingredients were outside. 

Rats. 

On his last legs, Junkrat was back in his room. Throwing himself on the hammock that hung low next to the bunk he and hog shared, Junkrat tapped on his chin impatiently. As if he was waiting for a sudden gust of excitement and thrill to rush to his body. 

But nothing. 

Laying in the hammock that Roadhog used to lounge in, it felt nice finally being able to swing himself in the tied blanket that held him just a few feet away from the ground. With one foot hanging off the hammock, Junkrat laid his back against the now worn-out fabric. 

It’d be better if Hog was with him though. 

Anybody really would do the trick just fine. 

Rustling around, his skin brushed against the worn out fabric of an overstretched blanket, with holes that his fingers poked out of at just the ends, and the bottom of the hammock being the most loose, all of this didn’t stop Junkrat’s body from curling into itself. 

His once outstretched position, with his peg leg dangling out from the Hammock, was now reclined back into his chest. He could feel a slow rise within his core. His lungs expanding and deflating, his heart pumping the blood that flowed through his body, it all felt familiar. 

Licking the edge of his lips, he could feel how rough and chapped they were. The dead skin that hung onto his lips, and the way he’d instinctively pick at them, leaving his fingertips lined in his blood, drying deep in between his fingernails, but.. 

Instead his hands laid stiff. 

Even when he didn’t pick and tear at his own skin, his hands were still dirty. 

Fuck. When was it so quiet?

Closing his eyes, Junkrat crossed his arms just below his chest, resting his hands onto his abdomen, his arms moved with the rest of his body, just lazily resting atop himself with every ascent and descent of his figure, every time his lungs took in a breath, it left him right after. 

Suddenly, he was back to where it all started. The burst of hot wind and gas that swept the entire outback. 

Where people were whispering and mumbling to one another, gossiping amongst themselves over the secret treasure that laid within the Omnium core. 

No one had dared to enter the facility after it had blown up and nearly eradicated the entire Australian Outback’s population, omnic or human, there wasn’t a difference to a radioactive death bomb that was slowly waiting.. Ticking away until it was time to blow up. Go Boom. 

Scavenging through dirt and rust, Junkrat saw himself. He had his signature peg leg, and his not so signature two human arms. 

Right.. 

This was before he lost his rightie. 

Shoving a rusted metal board in between the wedges of a crack, Junkrat was making enough entryway for him to shimmy into the hole. Shoving his foot deep into the manmade crack, Junkrat bit his lip hard as the hot Outback sun was beating on his back. 

His sweat dripped down his neck, it leaving droplets on his burnt and shredded shorts. 

Back in Junkertown, he remembered the rumors that spread from each bar to lootshop.

[“Yer fuckin’ crazy if you thinkin’ ‘bout enterin’ that death zone. You’ll end up like a damn cactus if you go in’er by yerself.]

Only loons would try investigating the Omnium. After all, the core was covered in uncontrolled radiation, and everybody ended up dead once. People didn’t want to test their luck and try to start a second apocalypse. 

That didn’t apply to Junkrat though; In fact, it was the opposite. Once Junkrat caught wind of some sort of “secret treasure” that laid in the empty facilities of the Omnium, he was already pulling straps over his back, oiling up the rusty joints of his peg leg, and darting out of Junkertown to chase down this priceless, yet dangerous artifact. 

Straining his body, Junkrat was finally able to pop a foot into the hole, wedging himself deeper and deeper into the abandoned facility. Perhaps that was why he was called Junkrat. Because of how he found himself in and out of stuff, traversing through every trap. 

Or maybe it’s just because he was pesky and invasive like rats. How every time you’d thought you had a good stash of food, supplies that could last you weeks! Just to find one empty wrapper after another. Damn, was it annoying every single time. 

[“Fuck.. If i could just-”] Just before Junkrat could curse under his breath once again, he suddenly felt his whole body slip into the hole, his body crushing into the dilapidated rubble that laid at the bottom of the facility. 

[“Oof!”] Landing on his bottom, Junkrat toppled over, climbing himself out of the rubble, scratching the back of head once he pulled his leg out of the broken sediment that was crushing it. 

Right as Junkrat let out a groan of pain, standing up to crack his back, the tiled floors beneath him made him take in his surroundings. 

Walls stained by smoke and dust, with wires sprouting out of each crack from the walls made Junkrat realize where he was. 

He was at the center. 

- 

It was bad. 

Really. Really. Bad. 

Junkrat had ducked underneath a table, his hands were scooped over a precious treasure. 

Just before, he had walked up to a pedestal, one that held something.. Indescribable. It radiated a bright light, and was contained in just a thin layer of glass, or.. some sort of metal… his mind was scrambling just being in the presence of it. 

How it made his hands feel all hot, and every few seconds he’d readjust his straps to wipe the sweat off his bare chest. He was nervous. The Omnium's treasure was right in front of him. Unguarded, with no boobytraps or some sort of defense in sight, he could just snatch it right away. 

And that’s exactly what he did. 

Back to what was in front of him, the ground kept rumbling, and the tiled floors were shaking, rubbing friction against one another, sparks were lighting up all around him. The walls plummeted into one another; in his short-lived cover, half of the table was crushed by an overhead light. Smashing the table in half, the legs of the table snapped immediately, hearing the cracks from the instantaneous crumbling of the table made his muscles tense up. 

Dammit. Damn him! He should’ve been more careful! More precautious, more-.. Whatever people tell him to do! 

Throwing his body out from the covers of the table, his arms still tightly grasping around his loot, before he could scramble off into a new safe spot, something smashing headed right towards him. 

Instinctively using his right forearm to soften the blow to his face, what he felt instead was not a light bit of rubble that just so delicately brushed itself past his skin, but instead, an intense and harrowing pain. 

He felt his bone snap within itself, shards of his bone had now dug deep and found itself a home in his open flesh. 

Screaming out in agony, Junkrat tried to lift his arm up, just to be greeted with the tearing of his muscles. Each ligament shredding apart from each other like string cheese, the force between him and the fallen debris made his neck twist and his body heave. 

His breath was unsteady, his heart pounding, about to jump out from his chest, Junkrat didn’t want to give up, but..

There was no use, the broken pounds of deposit was crushing his thin bones, and even thinner skin. 

Scrambling around, he dropped his treasure and used his left arm to try and lift the heavy rock from out of his forearm. It hurt. As if he felt the whole world in his arms, he kept lifting, prying, even showing his shoulder into the bolder to get the damn stupid rock offa himself. 

Gritting his teeth, and biting his lips until they turned blue, the world was still breaking apart around him, and the uneven ground didn’t make anything easier for him. 

Then.. under all the chaos. Under all the pressure, and heat, the sweat, Junkrat heard something. Perking his head up, and lifting the side of his ear to listen in on where the noise was coming from, the noise was repetitive.. rhythmic and.. it was a tapping noise. 

No–

It was ticking. 

His head automatically started counting for him. His thoughts collecting itself, and as if it was second nature, he heard his own voice count the seconds of the quick ticking. In sync, and as if he was vocalizing with the noise, it gave him a sort of peace of mind. 

[“One.. Two..”] 

Right as his count was about to continue, the noise stopped. 

He knew what was going to happen next.

Closing his eyes, and having his left arm let go of the rubble that held him down, Junkrat scooped the treasure back into his now free left hand, allowing his back to lay flat back on the ground. 

His lips formed into a small whisper, as if he was speaking a secret only he himself was allowed to know. 

[“Boom.”]

Once he spoke, as if the facility was listening to Junkrat’s command, the building blew up. In a deafening smoke and frenzy, Junkrat felt his body launch in the sky, with his left arm tightly grasped around his loot, it was pure bliss. 

It wasn’t until a few moments later, when he felt his body roughly crash onto the ground, and the right side of his body being seared by the boiling hot sand that had sat in the sun's face did he register what had happened. 

His right forearm was free from the shackles and chain that was the rubble, but now what replaced his freedom was the debilitating pain of his shattered forearm. Nothing was connected, and only the blood that was gushing out from his body kept his forearm connected. Dripping down and out onto the sand. Junkrat tried to move his fingers, or just lift up his forearm from his elbow, but he was met with the hell that was pain. 

Paralyzing him, his body was in shock from the agonizing torture that followed each nerve of his body, how every movement felt as is he was plunging himself onto a pile of spikes that only got sharper and sharper every time his body twisted and turned. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, sinking down his cheeks and getting trapped behind his ears, the tears didn’t stop. Eyes puffy from the dew that poured out of his tear ducts, Junkat’s nose was sniffly and hot, his throat dry from wailing in pain, he wanted to man up. 

Contorting himself, his stomach sucked in hard, so much that his ribs flared up, the skin that stuck onto his bones being pulled back as he wriggled around in agony. He felt angry, sad, utterly hopeless. It upset him, he was a Junkrat! The man that threw cherry bombs like candy, the maniac that giggled in the face of danger, the loon that felt ecstasy whenever he heard the clamp of his trap, followed by screams of torment. 

Hell, he was the sicko that blew his leg clean off for all of Christ's sake! 

Nothing changed though. He felt like he was going to die. To finally bite the dust, or more likely– the sand.

Weeping to himself, with the treasure still in his hands, he was all alone. 

Crying out only to the hot Australian sun, Junkrat knew he was a lonesome guy. Someone who didn’t need others. But this time, his excuse couldn’t bandage up a wound like this. Maybe it was the pain getting to him, but Junkrat just wanted someone by his side now. 

Just in this moment, did he want someone to hold his palm tight, and with their sweet saccharine voice of theirs, coo to him that everything would be okay. That they’d be by his side forever, and no matter the accident, or horrific trauma, that they’d reassure him that it isn’t the end. 

In a state of high fever, Junkrat wanted to believe that someone was truly next to him, holding his head up, and making sure his wounds were properly tended to, fixing each fracture he had in his arms. Holding him tight, and cradling his maimed body in theirs, his knees were up to his chest, and he was laid out on his side.

Passed out from the pain, he was curled up in a tight ball, his body reclining into itself, Junkrat felt lifeless, his nerves were numb and his adrenaline was now dead and shot. With his eyes closed, he still saw his life flash before him. Every achievement, every loss, every moment that reminded him of survival, abandoned him into this lost state. 

His heartbeat softened, slower than before.. His chest rose low, with his lungs barely carrying any ounce of air.. He silently wheezed to himself.

-

Jolting upright, Junkrat’s hands gripped on both edges of the hammock, the swing rocking back and forth from his sudden movement, Junkrat was swept from under his back. 

One arm resting too heavily on his left side, his entire frame was overturned. Smacking hard against the tiled ground, covered in random junk metal and debris, Junkrat felt a hot burning sensation on her lateral region. His face was covered with shock and discomfort, his vision unfocused, the room was a complete blur. It was hard to focus.

Groaning to himself, his left arm moved to the side, soothing his side, he was caught off guard when he felt his cold sweat instead. 

Gross..

Junkrat tilted his head up, looking at the hammock above him that had stopped swinging above him, an uneasiness washed over him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. The torture of being trapped. 

The paralyzing fear of death. How a feeling of bliss was swept away by the storm that is reality. 

How he woke up without.. 

Looking back down at his hands, he stared at his right side. 

His mechanical forearm. How that day, he didn’t wake up to anyone. 

He only woke up to a missing part of himself. 

A nasty shiver went down Junkrat’s spine, a chill that sunk deep into his abdomen, and while his left hand grew antsy and shaky, rattling against the cold surface that is the ground, his right hand stayed still. It couldn’t shake and shiver like a real arm. 

Blood couldn’t flow and circulate throughout each vein that connected his nerves, and how messages from the brain didn’t make his muscles move, it was instead lines of metal framework that were held together by nuts and bolts. 

Shaking himself awake, and smacking both hands to his cheeks, he tried to keep himself focused. 

Too bad he was horrible at things like that. 

Still, at least he wasn’t a dipstick that trembled and shivered like a scared little house-mouse whenever he was in the face of danger or whatnot. 

Putting one leg in front of the other, Junkrat got on his knees, ignoring the shuddering sensation that made his body feel jittery, shaking his limbs from his feet to his neck. There was no point in trying to cry and weep about something in the past. 

From a nightmare ‘specially. 

Walking up to his door, he placed his hand over the scanner. As the door hissed itself open, Junkrat thought to himself; with small mumbles teetering out of him, 

“How long was I out for..? Must’ve been a long time I reckon.. Wonder whot the others are doin’.. Hope Soldier ain’t still inna’ cranky mood still.” As Junkrat walked past the sleeping quarters, weaving himself through empty hallways and steps, he made it back to where he started. 

Looking back at the clock that was posted a-top the wide screen TV, his expression grew into a low scowl. 

Twenty– no. Only nineteen minutes had passed. Staring at the little hand tick and tick, slowly passing through each strip that was the minutes, the Junker felt himself growing more and antsy. 

At this point, who would care if he just walked outside now. He’s a grown man, hell, he was a mercenary! Freelance too! He didn’t work under people unless he himself said so. 

Running his fingers down his face, Junkrat’s mind scrambled, listening to his internal thoughts, what he was gonna go once he went out, how he’d blow up this whole place in just a snap of a finger, his mind racing as he grumbled to himself. 

The clock still kept ticking.. And ticking.. And– wait a minute. 

He’s got an idea. 

It made so much sense! If Junkrat wanted to pass time, then he could just do what he does best! Hell, he was acting like such a bloody dipstick, he smacked the top of his temple, before rushing out of the living room, and scrambling his way downstairs to the workshop. 

Each step getting faster and faster, it wasn’t until he found himself out of breath and completely knackered did he realize he sprinted towards the workshop. 

Stepping up to the double doors, he placed his land on the hand-pad, grumbling to himself as he had to take off his open-fingers glove for it to work correctly. 

As the door hissed open, and Junkrat was strapping his glove back on, he was met with someone hunched over their work station. 

With black hair dripping down their back, and strands flicked off from one another, Junkrat was immediately creeped out. 

Who is this?? He didn’t exactly remember overwatch recruiting a bloke straight from a horror movie, and the fact they were engrossed in whatever the hell they were doing didn't help Junkrat. 

Tilting his head to the side, sure, this person IS creepy, and albeit.. A little weird.. It didn’t hurt introducing himself to them! Perhaps they were new and introduced during a meeting! He didn’t pay much attention when it came to that kinda stuff anyways. 

Stepping up to this mystery figure, a sort of springy and confident posture washed over him. His joking, witty self, who while hunched and rugged, could crack up anybody he’s met. (Mostly just cracking himself up, especially when it came to stupid jokes that nobody but him and sometimes Hog threw a stiff chuckle at.) Junkrat let out a soft grunt, coughing in his hand to get their attention. 

They stayed still, and hyper focused on what they were doing. 

Did they.. Really not see him walk up to them? Or more-so.. Hear him?? 

Letting out one more fake cough, there still was no response. 

Junkrat took a step forward, and with a firm hand, he touched the person’s shoulder to get their attention. 

“Ay’! Didja hear me? Here to say hi and whot–not. Are you new here?” 

Feeling a jerk away from his hand, the person immediately whipped their head towards him at lightning speed, staring deep into his eyes with a piercing yellow-gold glare; The sudden change in atmosphere made his heart clutch into itself tightly. 

Their stare of death could be seen through her blue rimmed glasses that hung low on their face, with strands of hair falling out from her head, her face sunk low, eyebags that were deepening deeper in her face. It didn’t hit him until now who he was saying hi to. 

It was Symmetra.