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All those bodies, and not a single survivor?
You stopped looking.
You gave up.
How could you leave them?
Not good enough.
You call yourself a healer?
Pathetic.
You shook your head. That voice was familiar, but you weren't sure if it was your own or someone else's.
Your eyes didn't open until you could hear the gun fire through the hands clamped over your ears. The bodies were still there. Civilians, innocents, men, women, and even a handful of children. You couldn't save them. There were too many, and most already gone.
Someone was calling your name, frantic, annoyed, angry, desprate... Your vision blurred and you weren't sure if you were even breathing until someone's shoulder shoved against your back, sending you sailing forward just as the spot you'd been stuck to was bombarded by some small explosion. You closed your eyes again and shook your head, the tears not quite coming.
A groan. The man next to you was sprawled out on his back, grimacing in pain. You tried to wrench yourself away from the numbness that had settled inside of you, attending to the soldier beside you. He wasn't one of your teammates, but he was hurt, and he wore the friendlies' suit. You didn't know him. You worked as fast as you could, examining him with a blank expression, handling his wounds with little warmth. His armor was shredded, his chest bloody and embedded with shrapnel. You tried. You tried so god damn hard. But you couldn't fix it this time. Just like you couldn't fix the gore around you. Too much blood. He had lost far too much blood in the time between the explosion that had ripped his body open and the time it took you to recover and get to him. This man, trying to defend his home, sacrificed himself to save you, when you should've just died with the rest of them. He would die in vain.
The last labored, gurgling breath he drew, and he spoke, "Did you even try?"
-
You woke in tears, gasping for breath and sobbing, the feel of warm blood still on you hands and torso. So vivid. And not the first time. Nightmares have plagued you ever since that day, that awful, awful day. And no one even knew. You pulled your legs to your chest and bit your lip, trying to stop the water flowing from your eyes. It took a few minutes and a couple of deep breaths to dry up but you didn't feel any better.
It felt like an hour before you finally pulled yourself from the bed. The clock read 3:23, but you knew you wouldn't, or more you didn't want to, fall asleep again. Unsure of your destination, you wandered into the hall with a jacket, only barely managing to pull it on. You were so tired. So weary, you felt heavy. But what made it worse is that you knew it wasn't physical.
The kitchen was empty when you clambered into the bar stool, a glass of cold water in one hand and chocolate milk in the other. The water was just to swallow the ibuprofen, painkiller. Your headache was building up to be a migraine. The chocolate milk was to help calm your nerves.
--
At just three thirty in the morning the Overwatch base began to wake, starting with one Jack Morrison. He was only one of three or four up before the sun, two of which were the Shimada brothers but they never showed outside their rooms until much later. Jack however showed
more interest in coffee than staying in his room.
It wasn't until he had the coffee cup full and to his lips that he noticed the figure sitting at the bar, close to the wall and somewhat hidden. You had zoned out completely and sat perfectly still, your black jacket blending well with the shadows. Jack didn't say anything, but he lowered the mug. His scars were visible without his mask but he didn't mind, not like you hadn't seen them before.
--
You knew Jack was there and somewhat waited for him to notice you. When he didn't, you simply ignored him. But then he did see you, and you wanted to cry all over again. It must have showed because he kept looking at you and lowered his coffee slowly, brows furrowing slightly. You didn't move.
"(Y/n)." He said it somewhat matter of factly, but quietly, gently.
You shifted you tired gaze to him. And bit back tears. "I'm sorry..." Your voice cracked with emotion but you didn't let anything show too much, your words hoarse from your dry throat. Your chocolate milk sat forgotten on the counter.
Jack set his mug down completely and motioned for you to come around.
You swallowed and took your time, wobbling as your blood started to flow again with movement. You stood still in front of him, eyes aimed down but only because you couldn't work up the energy to look anywhere else. His expression softened greatly.
Jack lifted his arms a bit, his plain grey tee shirt rustling quietly. You felt your eyes burn and latched on to him, arms wrapping tightly around Jack's waist. It took a moment for it to happen, but soon enough you were sobbing quietly into his shirt, his arms pulling just as tightly around your shoulders. He murmured in your ear, trying his best to comfort you. You didn't pay attention. You couldn't focus on any one thing enough to really think about, everything just running through your mind at once.
A hand stroked your hair, the whispering pausing for him to gently kiss the top of your head.
Even after your tears had dried up, after Reinhardt had passed through still bleary eyed, you stood there. Grounded only by the man holding you close. You didn't ever want to let go.