Work Text:
GABE-
Everything hurts.
You crack open your eyelids and immediately squeeze them back shut, hissing at the bright light. Fuck, are you dead? Panic grips you for a second.
No, wait. You can hear someone’s footsteps on linoleum now. Someone has noticed your return to consciousness, it seems.
“…Gabriel? Are you awake?” It’s Angela. Good, you’re pretty sure Angela isn’t a plant (you hope, but after Jack-)
Jack.
You try sit up, emphasis on the try. You can’t feel your left side and moving even slightly hurts the rest like a motherfucker. Angela, though, notices your struggle and tilts the operating table forward so that you’re no longer facing the ceiling. “Ghk- Angela! Jack- there was a bomb- who was hurt?”
She doesn’t reply right away. Tch, your head is killing you right now. You shift slightly, wishing that you could rub your temples. You hear a familiar clink-clank, somewhere around the region of your wrist. You glance downwards.
Since when did they cuff patients to the operating table? (they don't. criminals and prisoners, however-)
“… Angela?” Your voice is almost pleading, and you hate it.
Her gaze remains fixed on some point to the left of the door, like she doesn’t want to meet your eyes. All you can really see of her is a sliver of face and a surgeon’s cap, with messy blonde hair peeking out from the sides. Why won’t she face you? “Gabriel-” She hesitates, like she’s trying to find the best way to break bad news to you. You’re tense with anticipation, braced for whatever she might say. “Gabriel, the bomb destroyed the Swiss headquarters. They haven’t finished sifting through the rubble but we’ve had multiple confirmed casualties already. The United Nations has disbanded Overwatch in all but name, now. They say,” she swallows, “they say you’re to blame. You’re to go on trial in three days.”
What?
Overwatch is-
They’ve-
You can’t- You can’t think of anything for a long, silent second. It's gone, it's over. The organization you've worked with for years, corrupt well-meaning doomed hopeful stalwart and so many other things besides. You don't know if you want to cheer or mourn.
But fuck it, you’re damn good at compartmentalizing, so you take as deep of a breath as you dare (more shaky that youd like to admit) and shove the entire tangled mass of emotion she just brought up to the back of your mind. Grimly, you forge ahead. Angela hasn’t answered your entire question yet.
“Where’s Jack?”
Somehow, her posture becomes even more miserable and closed off. “They… have not found a body,” she admits, “but considering that initial scans have given investigators reason to believe that he was close to the epicenter-” She presses both hands to her mouth, muffling a sob.
(jack
dead?)
That can’t be happening, this can’t be true- Wait.
This literally cannot be true.
Next to the epicenter of the bomb? That’s a load of bull, because you were right next to him. (You remember the whole building shaking, the lights flickering. You only had a split second to react, to throw yourself over his unresponsive body-) If he were dead, blown to bits in an explosion, then you would be too. They should have found him by your side, where did he go?
He wouldn’t have been in any condition to move on his own, so logically someone must have moved him. Rescue workers? They wouldn’t have reported him as missing, unless-
unless they were UN plants too
They have Jack.
“Fuck!” you snap. You can’t stay here helpless. “Look, I need to be outta here yesterday, I don’t have time for this-”
“Gabriel, what are you talking about-”
"Angela, please, get me out, I need to get out,"
"Stop moving, you're going to reopen those sutures! Explain, Gabriel, what are you talking about-"
“I don’t have time to explain, you have to help-”
Angela snarls and slams her hand down on a tray with bloody instruments still on it. They clatter to the ground, and their echo is all that fills in the silence that follows. She’s facing you head on for the first time in this conversation, and you realize that she has bags under her eyes and hasn’t taken the time to reapply her makeup like she usually does. She would look tired, if she wasn’t so incandescently angry right now.
“Gabriel Reyes. I will not have people dance around the facts as if I am too delicate or stupid to know them. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. Am I not a member of Overwatch too? Am I not one of your trusted comrades? So then why does nobody ever SPEAK TO ME!” Tears streak down her face unnoticed, but her tone softens just a bit. “ Tell me, Gabriel. Tell me what happened. I do not want to believe that you would do such a thing. I cannot believe that you would do such a thing. I just- was it Talon? Did they take you, too? Have you been framed by someone? Give me the courtesy of a truthful answer. Please.”
She falls silent, having said her piece.
Do you trust her?
You hesitate. Angela should be safe. She should, really. After the past few months, though, discovering lie after lie all culminating in Jack’s… condition, you don’t trust anything anymore. It’s not likely that she’s been taken. Someone would have noticed, and she wouldn’t be allowed to practice medicine if they thought that she was mentally unsound. —But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a chance.
And yet, what have you got to lose?
ANGELA-
Neither of you move a muscle. If McCree were here, he might call this a showdown like from those old cowboy films he loves. But he is not here anymore- nobody is. They have all retired or died, at this point, and it is just the two of you in this room. You'd ordered your assistant and the UN busybody dogging your heels out of the room for this operation, claiming that you needed to concentrate fully for optimal results. They had protested, of course, but nobody present at the time really had the rank or medical knowledge or common sense to call you out for it. And, uh. You might have slammed the door on a few toes. It truly is not your fault that the UN busybody had decided that steel capped boots didn't go with his outfit. You got lucky and you know it, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this opportunity to find out the truth.
(In truth, it was suspiciously easy to get your way- and there's only so much you can attribute to luck or the chaos surrounding the destruction. It stinks of a plot, and right now you've got your best chance for finding out what it is right in front of you. )
Gabriel breaks the silence first. Shifting slowly, warily. His gaze is that of a predator, judging you. Even though he's still disoriented from the pain (as he should- by all rights he should be incoherent right now) you're still reminded that he could kill you with his bare hands.
“Angela,” he says. Has he decided to trust you? “In the cap of my left boot- there’s something there.”
You had cut away most of Gabriel’s armor in lieu of removing it for the sake of saving time, and you know that a United Nations investigative team will be over to sort through the scraps for evidence after you are done with the operation. But for now, his boots sit forlornly in the corner with the rest of his clothing.
You do not wish to be the one to break eye contact first, but you burn with a scientist’s curiosity. What could he have stowed away there? So you comply.
“Change your gloves. Don’t get fingerprints on it.” You look back, startled and annoyed. What does he take you for, a child? You snap a new pair of surgical gloves on. Now, where were you…
The cap of the left boot, was it? Tch. It's not coming off, where's that scalpel... Ah- there you go.
The data drive sequestered there has been through better days, but it still seems functional. You hold it up for Gabriel to see. “Are you talking about this?”
He nods sharply. “Yeah. It’s a standard port, so you should be able to use it on any computer. But turn off connectivity, I’ve got some bug-scanning programs on there that’ll seriously fuck the OS up otherwise.“
This whole scenario is beginning to stink of conspiracy to you. Still, it can’t hurt to see what he’s got on the drive. The operating room you’re in does indeed have a small computer attached to the wall for accessing the patient database. It should suffice.
You tap tunelessly on the keypad as you wait for the files to load. Gabriel doesn’t seem inclined to talk to you right now. He looks as if his mind is a thousand miles away, brow furrowed in contemplation. If you must be honest with yourself, you wouldn’t know what to say to him anyways. You don’t think that he would wantonly destroy everything he’s ever worked for. (You didn’t think that Amelie was capable of killing Gerard either.) But questioning him before you have assessed his side of the story- when you have already gone to such lengths to find out what is going on- would be counterproductive. It’s not as if you can make small talk with him either. What would you even say? As such, you stay silent.
The files finish loading. There’s an extensive catalogue of documents- impossible for you to finish in this time frame. The first one is a report of some kind: "SUBJECT J RECONDITIONING PROGRESSION”. You open it and skim through. It seems to be a file describing brainwashing tactics used by Talon. Horrifying and inhumane, but unfortunately nothing less than you expected. You don’t understand why Gabriel thinks this will convince you to help him escape. Is he trying to explain what was done to him? You keep reading onwards.
… methods utilizing isolation and insecurity considerably more effective on subject…
…has shown negative response to the falsified documentation, alternative procedure necessary…
…positive results, approval for general Overwatch and Blackwatch implementation requested…
Hold on. This file…
This is an Overwatch report? No, wait. The seal isn't quite the same. In fact, it almost looks...
You're reading a United Nations report. The UN is using brainwashing techniques to control Overwatch operatives? This… This cannot be. Is it a forgery? If it is, you are unable to tell, but- impossible! Just-
You must have made some noise to indicate your shock. Gabe wearily glances over at you. “I know what you’re thinking. S'gotta be fake. But believe me, I checked. You can look over the rest of the files later- it’s all there. Everything that I could gather.”
You glance down at the long, long list of documents in the drive, and all of a sudden you can’t bear to look at it any longer. You rip the drive out in a flash of fury. Has everything you’ve ever worked for-
No. Don't lose your composure again. Be the voice of reason.
“Surely… you must have been able to go to someone. I know that your relationship with Jack was rocky, but he couldn’t have ignored an accusation this serious.”
He laughs, low and miserable. It sends a chill down your spine. “Do you- Do you think I didn’t try? Oh, Angela. Who do you think Subject J is?”
Subject J.
Considering the conversation so far- J for Jack?
Oh. Oh no.
Gabriel is not, and has never been an actor. He keeps his secrets close, true, but he doesn't lie. His lack of talent for untruth was a part of why you respect him, and right now... You don’t think he’s faking. This database in your hand, his composure while telling you this utterly outlandish and ridiculous story… the grief in his eyes. He wholeheartedly believes that this is true.
But do you believe him?
You hesitate.
“Get me out of here, doc. Or they’ll get me like they got Jack.” He fixes you with an intense, desperate stare. Oh. He’s scared too, you finally realize. That, of all things, is what pushes you to take that leap of faith. You’ll help him escape, but nothing more.
If you can help him escape.
“This is an operating room, not some Blackwatch safehouse! Do you think I have some sort of, of secret passage behind the heart monitor? Even if you have my aid- which I am not saying you have, by the by- you won’t be able to leave here alive!”
“Fine. Then I won’t leave here alive. How’s work progressing on the Caduceus?”
You flounder for an instant, you haven’t advertised that research at all, how does he know- then the implications of what he has just said hit you.
“No. No, no, no, absolutely not! It’s not ready- I haven’t tested it- even revival after half an hour is risky, that’s not- I can’t use it on you!”
Gabriel shrugs, entirely too nonplussed. “I don’t see a problem with it.”
“You are essentially asking me to kill you and then bring you back to life! I believe my objections are valid!”
“Either you fail and I die, or you succeed. Look,” he says, not unsympathetically, “you know I wouldn’t have asked if I thought I had any other options. If it doesn’t work, you can tell the truth and say that you tried to revive me but you failed. Either way, I’m not getting out of here. Not like this,” as he gestures with his manacled hand.
And, oh, you hate it but you know that he’s right. If what he’s given you has even the tiniest grain of the truth in it, then he won’t get a fair trial. It’s life in prison or execution for him, and either way, it would be but child’s play to silence him for good. But this- whatever you had imagined for the first test of your life’s work, it hadn’t been this. You think you could almost hate him for ruining it for you.
Instead, you switch his morphine drip back on. “You won’t thank me later,” you warn.
The man has the gall to smirk at you as he goes under. Honestly. You estimate you have four more hours before people start to get suspicious about the amount of time you’ve spent in here.
But for you? That’s more than enough.
Time to get to work.
—////—
Later that night, when news of a disturbance at the morgue reaches you, you breathe out in relief and hope that you have done the right thing. The datachip Gabriel left with you rests heavy on a chain around your neck.
Godspeed, friend.
UNKNOWN-
{nobody will come for you, boy}
{give in}
No!
{do you still believe you will be rescued?}
{by him?}
{he betrayed you. betrayed everything you ever worked for}
{he must have been planning this for such a long time}
{did he ever trust you in the first place?}
No. That’s not-
{but you never deserved something as important as trust in the first place}
{stupid naive boy}
{every decision you ever made was the wrong one}
{they are glad that you are gone}
{they will be happier without you}
{you were always}
{and always will be}
{the wrong choice}
… no
{shhh shhh dont worry}
{its alright}
{let us make the decisions for you}
{it wont hurt anymore}
{if you trust us everything will be alright}
{no more fear no more doubt no more tears}
…
{…}
i… i want it to stop hurting
{we know}
{dont worry, 76}
{you will be taken care of}
promise?
{would we lie to you?}