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This really isn't my day.
The thought crossed Jack’s mind as he lay on the ground, bleeding. He could see the clear blue sky through a hole in the sunken roof. He nearly choked on a laugh when he thought of how he would die on such a nice day, thankful that at least the sun wasn’t shining in his face. He could hear the wind rustling through the grass outside if he listened hard enough, but other than that it was quiet. No signs of his men, their enemies, or the hostages.
He was alone.
Jack tried to drag himself closer to one of the walls so that he could at least sit upright, but it proved futile. He only managed a few inches before the pain forced him to stop. Dark spots danced across his vision as he fought to catch his breath and he was forced to fight down a wave of panic as it finally set in. He wasn’t getting up from this.
He would die here. Alone.
There were so many things he still had to do. So many apologies to make. He couldn’t leave his team like this. Not after everything they’d been through.
He didn’t want to die with the thought that Gabe hated him.
Jack found himself overcome with the need to hear Gabe’s voice. As he slowly worked stiff fingers into his coat he told himself that it didn’t matter if Gabe was still angry with him or not. He’d take anything, as long as he got to hear his voice at the end.
It took a lot of fumbling to fish his phone out of his coat and bring it to his face. Blood smeared on the cracked screen as he found Gabe’s number and dialed. Even that simple action took far too much effort. He was running out of time.
It didn’t occur to him until the third ring that Gabe might not pick up.
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The rattling of his phone as it vibrated against his desk woke Gabe from the first decent sleep he’d had in weeks. He groaned when he checked his clock and saw that he’d only been asleep for a few hours. Whoever was calling him at this time was going to get an earful.
When the name Jack Morrison popped up on the caller ID he had to resist the urge to smash his phone against the wall.
They were long past the point where Jack could just up and call him whenever he pleased. Especially when it was so late at night that it was now technically morning. Jack was on assignment, Gabe knew that much, and he had to know what time it was here. What the fuck was he playing at?
He accepted the call, gritting his teeth to keep his volume down. Gabe, at least, cared about letting others sleep.
“Why the fuck are you calling me at three in the goddamn morning?”
“Three...oh, right. I must have forgotten about the time difference.”
“Are you serious right now, pendejo?!”
“Sorry. It's still sunny out here. Wasn't thinking.”
Well that was a new one.
“You still didn't tell me what you want. Gonna give me another lecture? My last mission not meet your standards?”
Gabe could hear something scraping against the ground, and Jack let out a small huff of breath. “What? No. I just wanted to...to talk. That’s all.”
“You wanted to talk. That’s it? You call me out of nowhere in the middle of the night all because you wanted to have a little chat?” Gabe’s voice was flat, but inside he was seething. “You’re half a world away and supposed to be in the middle of a god-damned mission and you’re calling me for a chat?! ”
Jack sucked in a shallow breath and let it out with a small cough. “Well, when you put it that way I guess it does sound pretty stupid.”
“You guess- No. Fuck this. You have something to say to me, you can say it to my face when you get back instead of slacking off!”
“Gabe! Wait-!”
Gabe ended the call before Jack could get another word in. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as slamming down an old landline phone, but it would have to do. He was torn between trying to get back to sleep or working out some of his anger on the range when his phone started ringing again. When Jack’s name once again flashed across the screen, he rejected the call and then immediately set it on silent. He was not going to be entertaining any of Jack’s nonsense tonight.
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Gabe ended up sleeping in the next morning and had to rush through his routine with a flurry of muttered curses. Gabe was proud of his record of punctuality and often gave his men a hard time for their tardiness, no matter how late they actually were. He wouldn’t be able to live it down after showing up nearly half an hour late.
He thought so, anyway. But when he walked onto the training field it was to a subdued silence. None of his men would look at him directly, and a strange sort of nervous energy had settled over the room. Even McCree, normally boisterous to the point of obnoxious, was silent. His hat sat next to him on a bench and he had his head in his hands.
“What the hell is going on?”
The look on McCree’s face when he lifted his head rooted Gabe to the spot. He’d never seen the kid looking so lost since he’d pulled him away from the Deadlock gang. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying.
“Didn’t you hear, jefe ? Thought they would have told you by now.”
“Thought who would tell me what ?”
McCree’s face screwed up and Gabe thought he was going to start crying then and there. He heard the kid curse under his breath in a mixture of English and Spanish when he stood, leaving his hat behind.
“Maybe we should talk about this outside.”
Alarm bells were going off inside Gabe’s mind. Whatever it was, it had Jesse messed up bad. “Jesse, tell me what the fuck is going on. Right now.”
McCree sucked in a breath, as if what he had to say physically hurt him. Gabe suddenly didn’t want to know, but it was too late.
“It’s Jack. He’s...he’s dead, Reyes.”
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The rest of the day went by in a haze. There were condolences from everyone he crossed paths with, friends checking up on him, and missions to be reassigned as funeral preparations were made.
And then came the announcement from the UN that Gabriel Reyes was to be the new Strike-Commander of Overwatch. Jack’s corpse wasn’t even cold for twenty-four hours before they’d hit Gabe with the news. It made him sick, even as he stiffly accepted the promotion and the hollow congratulations that came with it. It disgusted him how quickly they could walk over the back of a man that had thrown everything into the job.
When he was finally able to retire to his room for the evening he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at his phone. He hadn’t checked it since putting in on silent the night before and he was dreading it now. He was the last one to speak to Jack, unknowingly spitting harsh words at him as the man was dying. If there were messages there, Gabe would listen to them. He owed him that much.
There were six messages in all, and nearly twice as many missed calls. Setting his phone to speaker, he tapped the first one.
“Gabe. Answer the phone. Please?”
Jack’s pleading tone almost broke him. Jack’s voice was quiet, plaintive with a hint of desperation. He seemed to choke on the last word. The next message was nearly twenty minutes later. The words were rushed, as if Jack was worried about the voicemail being cut off.
“Gabe, I’m sorry. For everything. For accepting the position when I knew it should have been you. For being such a hardass lately.
...For being so blind to how we were falling apart before it was too late. You were right, about all of it. I was selfish, and stupid, and I just didn’t listen. Maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad between us if I’d just paid more attention.”
Gabe felt a hot spike of regret as he remembered hurling each of those accusations in Jack’s face. How much time had they wasted just yelling at each other? And for what?
The next message was dated an hour later and was spoken in a soft, melancholy tone. It made his heart ache.
“Do you think things would have ended differently? If they’d made you Strike-Commander instead? Would things have been better? God, I hope so...”
Gabe would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it too. But he didn’t realize that Jack could have thought Gabe was better for the role. Was Jack only questioning it at the end? Or had he felt that way for a long time?
“I’m sorry for blowing up your phone like this. You probably won’t see these until it’s too late anyway. I can tell. I don’t...I don’t have much time left. I just needed to hear your voice, even if it’s just a recording…”
Gabe didn’t know if it was the words or Jack’s defeated tone that caused the first tears to fall. He felt like such an ass for hanging up, even though he had no way of knowing at the time that Jack was badly hurt. Why didn’t Jack tell him?
“Gabe. Please pick up. I don’t want to die alone…”
He couldn’t do this. There was one message left, and he didn’t want to hear it. Jack hadn’t been angry with him. He didn’t yell or rage at him like Gabe would have. But really, should Gabe have expected any different?
All he’d wanted was to hear a familiar voice at the end. He could have chosen anyone, but he’d chosen Gabe. He’d picked the man that had shown him nothing but anger and bitterness for years when he could have called Angela or Reinhardt.
He had to force himself to listen to the last message.
“This….this is it, Gabe. I’m cold but I know I shouldn’t be. Can’t feel my legs anymore. Can’t feel much of anything, actually. Hard to see. Harder to think. It’s okay, Gabe. It’ll all be okay. You can take care of everyone for me. Were always good at it. Better than me. Always better.
I love you. Did I say that before? I should have. Can’t remember. But I do. Always did. Always will. Everything will be alright.”
Gabe didn’t leave his room for three days. Nobody asked why.