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The explosion left him with ringing ears and shrapnel cut through parts of his clothes and skin. Gabriel walks through the rubble anyway. He knows he will die here, but not yet. Not without dealing with him first.
The grip around his last remaining shotgun tightens at the thought of how it would go down and he prays to breathe long enough to finally tell him everything.
But the world is against him, as it has always been, and he gets pulled to the ground, falling unconscious.
Waking up with a racing heart and covered in sweat was just another little side effect, said the nurse. Like the vomiting and migraines. It's the amphetamine, benzoylmethyleconine, methylphenidate, etc etc.
Gabriel stared at the ceiling, listing the chemicals quietly to himself like he was counting sheep. Sometimes it even helped.
He stopped when he heard a whisper from below, "You awake too?"
The mattress squeaked when he sat up to look down to the lower bed, looking at the man he shared the room with.
John "Jack" Morrison. A pretty boy who joined the program out of patriotism. Cute, Gabriel had thought to himself when he told him with shining blue eyes.
"Yeah," he replied. "I'm starting to think this is all just a sick experiment to see how long it will take until we go fucking insane."
His heart calmed a little when he heard the other's soft laugh.
"Tell me about it. I couldn't go to the toilet for the last couple of days," Jack said, getting out of the bunker bed and stretching. Gabriel followed, jumping off the upper bed.
"At least they let us leave this thing if we want to though, right?" the blond asked.
"I'm not a fan of leaving things undone," Gabriel replied. "And I wouldn't want to leave you suffering alone."
Jack smiled warmly at him and patted his back, as if they weren't guinea pigs for some future war. To his own surprise, Gabriel smiled back.
"Do you think jogging at 4 in the morning is allowed?" the other asked as he went to his locker to take out his shoes.
"Couldn't care less, " Gabriel said and got his own, earning himself another chuckle.
"Gabriel Reyes: Ever the bad boy."
"Jack Morrison: Ever the dumbass hoosier."
His heart is back to normal speed, almost.
The ringing is gone when Gabriel opens his eyes again. He has to cough when he moves up and wipes the dirt on the side of his face he landed on off. When he looks forward he sees a figure, walking just like he did a moment ago, practically dragging himself with an arm around several wounds on his torso.
Gabriel pats the ground for his shotgun before finding and holding onto it, not wanting to take his eyes off him.
Jack's fingers were tapping on the round table they sat at, his eyes fixed on the files in front of them. He didn't even notice it until Gabriel put his hand on his.
Those tics were just another little gift from the soldier enhancement program.
"Sorry," the blond smiled before looking back at the files. "So, Adawe just lets you choose whoever you want?"
"Anyone I want," Gabriel hummed, leaning back in his chair after taking the first file to look through. "Like this, uh, Rostam Asadi. Age 29, perfect school and military record, located in the Middle East, good with animals."
"Why would they add that last part?"
"No idea."
Gabriel put the file on the table and pushed it to Jack who opened it instantly. His leg was jumping slightly under the table, the army knife in his boot's pocket making a soft clack sound.
"Adawe really put you in command of everything, huh? You get to do all the big choices."
"Well, I have always been better than you," Gabriel grinned, laughing when Jack rolled his chair closer to playfully punch him in the shoulder, but still hard enough for him to feel it.
"Then why did you call me here but not the others?"
"I guess this is a little too much responsibility for me so I'm willing to share the burden."
"Why, thank you, boss."
Jack put away the file and took another one. Gabriel watched him before putting his leg over Jack's thigh, stopping his restless movement. The blond blinked before noticing it again.
"Sorry," He chuckled. "God, this is all so exciting. Our very own team."
"It really is."
Gabriel couldn't help it but smile at the shine in his eyes when they skimmed over the files. He wondered how someone could be so gleeful during times like this, in a position like this. Not that Gabriel complained, it was what he loved most after all.
"This one," Jack said, waking the other up from his thoughts.
"What?"
"This one can go on the list. Mirembe. Currently in Uganda."
"Alright, put her file, uh, just over there. That'll be the 'heroes pile'."
Jack did as he was told and took another file eagerly. He put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder and shook him a little.
"Our own team of heroes," He said, voice jumping a pitch in excitement. "Our very own team!"
"You goddamn son of a bitch," Jack draws out his words in pain. Gabriel can't shoot him yet. He tells himself it's because he's too far away for his shotgun.
"So what do we do with him, let him go free?" Angela asked. Gabriel didn't know why Jack brought her along. Maybe he thought it would keep him on a leash, keep him from attacking him.
"He has enough intel on us to bring us down, we can't just let him go free," the blond replied. "But we can't lock him up here either. This is already drawing too much attention, the UN wouldn't like this. Gabe, this is your department."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Since when?"
"Since you decided to make a department for cases like this. Do something already."
"I made a division for undercover operations, not for some lowlifes you can't decide what to do with. You can't command me around."
Jack huffed and stepped closer. Gabriel noted that his scent has changed, he doesn't smell sweet anymore, lazily covered with a cheap deodorant. He's using something more expensive now and actually covers it up. The joys of a new salary.
"I'm the commander now," Jack almost whispered, as if it would make the words any less toxic. "They picked me. And I command you to do something."
It wasn't even his arrogance that made Gabriel flare up, but the slight curve at the corner of Jack's lips. He was smiling. As if he caught himself in a mirror. He'd been doing that a lot lately.
He reached around Jack to take his gun and walked to the interrogation room. When their "Schrödinger's prisoner" saw the gun his eyes went wide and he began begging.
Gabriel shot him before he could say for what.
A moment later Jack and Angela stormed into the room, the latter letting out a gasp while Commander Morrison only gave the other man a look, then turned around and left again.
"You've killed him," Angela muttered, looking down at the slowly bleeding out head after checking for a pulse.
"Great diagnosis, doctor," Gabriel replied.
"What for? He was harmless and you knew it! Just because you want to rile John up-"
"It's what he commanded me to do. He doesn't like to get his own hands dirty."
Angela stared at him for a moment. Her eyes looked like Jack's had used to.
"You've killed him," she repeated, softer.
"Then bring him back to life," Gabriel said, dropping the gun to the ground and leaving her alone with the corpse. "It's your job."
Gabriel knows the blow is coming, but moving turns out to be harder than expected and he gets thrown back to the ground by Jack's boot. He cuts his back on some sharp rubble and groans.
Jack hits him again, and again, until he's almost choking on blood.
Eventually he's finally kind enough to let him roll over and empty his lungs.
"Kicking someone who's already down is so like you," Gabriel mutters, earning himself another kick to the face.
"McCree, get me the number of Atlas News."
Jesse frowned. "What for?"
"None of your business."
"Like hell that ain't my business!"
Gabriel looked up from his papers. "Don't raise your voice. And now get me the number, that's a command."
Jesse had started to change a while ago already. He didn't concentrate on his work as he used to, preferred to be alone when at base and avoided his commander whenever possible. Not that it was a big surprise.
Jesse took a deep breath to calm himself down before speaking again, voice steadily rising but at least he was trying to control it now. "I just want to know why the boss of a shady undercover organization would want to talk to the public fucking news."
"I'll tell you again," Gabriel said, "It's none of your business."
They looked at each other for a while before Jesse began to laugh bitterly and walked forward to the desk. Gabriel almost expected to be shot right there and then.
"I'm done with this," the younger man said, putting his hands on the desk.
"Christ, fine. I will get the number myself then. Dismissed."
"No," Jesse gestured around them. "I'm done with all of this. With Blackwatch, with you, with everything."
Bite the hand that feeds, Gabriel thinks to himself as he stands up.
"So you've chosen his side? Is that it?" he asked, not able to hide the soreness in his voice.
"I'm taking my own side!" McCree shouted again, raising his hands to bang them on his desk hard enough to sting for the next days. "I thought you were just happily ignorant of what's going on under your ranks, but surprise! You were the one behind it!"
When Gabriel hesitated to reply, he continued. "Everyone's fighting over sides, it's all 'them against us', and this is all your goddamn fault! So go to hell, for all I care you can take Morrison with you."
"You can't leave. We had a deal," Gabriel said, almost whispering compared to Jesse.
"Then arrest me," Jesse replied as he turned to leave. "I wish I would have chosen prison back then."
This couldn't be happening.
"All that you are now is thanks to me!" Gabriel yelled after him, but the other had already left the room.
He stood there alone, staring at the door as if Jesse would come back any moment and apologise. But he didn't, he wouldn't, and once that realisation finally dawned over him, he stopped tapping his fingers on his desk and threw the piece of furniture over, all the papers floated through the air, then to the ground.
One of his agents knocked at the door before carefully opening. "Everything alright, sir?"
Gabriel gave up on trying not to scream. "Get me the fucking number of Atlas News!"
"You just couldn't stand someone being better than you, could you?" Jack says.
"No, that was always just you." Gabriel replies as he gets up.
For once he thanks the drugs that were pumped into them, because Jack can't see the shotgun with his tunnel vision and moves forward for another attack.
It hurts to smile, but Gabriel can't help it when he shoots the other in the side and watches him fall.
"As predictable as always." He says and enjoys the glare Jack gives him almost too much.
He watches him struggling to get on his knees and ignores his own shaking hands as he walks closer to him and reloads.
"Could say the same about you." Jack huffs, pulling out the knife in his boot and stabbing Gabriel in the back of his knee before he could react. He has always been a little faster.
Gabriel cries out and tries to pull it out, not noticing Jack getting up and grabbing his shotgun.
"As slow as always."
The weapon meets Gabriel's nose the moment he turns back to Jack and he can feel blood starting to drip almost instantly. He steps back, dizzy from the punch.
They look at each other, barely standing and barely breathing. Gabriel knows they will die here. Together. How ironically romantic, he thinks.
"Why couldn't you just accept that they picked me?" Jack asks, arm wrapped around his perforated side. "You blow up... fucked if I know how many people over a goddamn promotion?"
Gabriel looks at the other man for a moment before laughing bitterly and shaking his head. "You really believe it's that?"
The blond stares for a moment before huffing. "Honestly, I don't care anymore. Let's just get this over with."
It hurts to not be able to tell him what it was, he had thought about giving him the speech so often, but the gushing wound in his knee and broken bones hurt Gabriel more. He's just tired more than anything when he tightened his grip on the knife covered in his own blood.
Think of a strategy now, quick. Jack never liked Gabriel's shotguns, he has no practise with them and would miss. But Gabriel rarely used knives on someone who isn't tied to a chair. Both of them can barely walk with their wounds. They are almost equally handicapped. Words are no use anymore.
It's one of the few times in his life that Gabriel doesn't know what to do. He just wants it all to end.
Jack uses the moment to dash forward. Gabriel barely manages to dodge his shotgun-whip and, still with no plan or strategy, he lets instinct pull his hand up when Jack turns to face him.
Two long red lines, one from his chin to over his lip and the other just barely missing his eye. The pretty face is now ruined and when Jack steps back and notices, wiping over the blood that starts to flow, the anger comes back. Gabriel couldn't calculate it even if his brain wasn't lacking blood and oxygen.
"Goddamn bastard!" Jack shouts and shoots when the other man looks at him for too long. In the hip, then the ankle. Probably not what he intended to aim for, but Gabriel falls back to the ground, so it's still something.
Gabriel hisses in pain, looking at the new wounds before looking up to Jack who now stands in front of him. He's right in front of the sun, his face is hidden behind his shadow.
Thinking about it now, Gabriel has to realise this is all his fault. He's beaten and bleeding on the ground because he hesitated. HQ blew up because he didn't keep his agents under control. His friends abandoned him because he shoved them away.
Jack is pointing his own shotgun at him, and it's his own fault.
All he can do is sigh and look to the ground.
"Just end it already."
Jack swallows and steps back a little. Is he giving him a chance or toying with him? Gabriel is tired of both.
"End it," he repeats, getting louder when he looks up. He almost sees his eyes. "Just pull the fucking-"
Jack shoots before Gabriel can finish the sentence.
But he has never been good with shotguns.