Chapter Text
“You’re out of your mind.”
Gabriel’s voice is a low snarl. Jack hasn’t heard him talk to a superior – a “superior” – like this since the time someone had seriously suggested sending Reinhardt and Torbjorn together to scout “because they’re wearing armor.” That, at least, had been so outlandish that it had been funny. This, though–-
“Full assault is the only way,” Nikolaeva insists, slamming a hand down onto the table. “Tomorrow I send all RDF forces to attack the omnium. And if I do not have support of UN’s representatives–”
“This is a suicide run,” Gabriel snaps. “Your casualties will be off the charts.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Nikolaeva says, and folds her arms. “0600.”
Jack resists the urge to share a glance with Ana and instead keeps his face schooled, shoulders back, supporting his superior by not giving a fucking inch.
“You are going to kill almost every soldier under your command,” Gabriel says, pronouncing each word slowly, as if he’s talking to a toddler. “And that might give you a chance at wiping out the omnium. Might. If anyone’s even alive to deliver your payload.”
“I know the risks,” she replies, and a dark look crosses her face. “And so do my soldiers. If we must give our lives to protect our homes, then so be it.” Gabriel says nothing. Nikolaeva keeps staring him down. “Do I have your support, Agent Reyes? Or will the UN fail Russia?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack can see Gabriel staring back, lip curled, hands fisted tight at his sides, shoulders back, spine ramrod straight.
“Amari,” he finally barks, “get everyone together. I need to brief them on tomorrow’s suicide mission. Morrison, with me.”
And with one last smoldering glare at Nikolaeva – who’s wearing something that resembles a resigned grimace more than a victorious smirk – Gabriel turns on his heels and leaves the room.
Jack nods at Nikolaeva, then finally glances at Ana as they follow Gabriel. Her jaw is tight, nostrils flared, and she’s already on her comm.
Once they’re all in the hallway, Gabriel sighs, pulls off his beanie, and runs a hand through his hair.
“Sorry for snapping at you,” he says to Ana. Ana waves a hand at him, still tapping out messages. “Get everyone in our quarters in 15 minutes, yeah?”
Ana looks up at him, then, and studies him carefully. The angry flush in his cheeks has started to fade but he’s still tense, frustrated. Gabriel doesn’t really have a temper, per se; he just has zero tolerance for bullshit, and this meeting had been nothing but pure, unadulterated bullshit. Jack knows these 15 minutes are going to be a cooldown.
“20 minutes,” she amends, and then glances at Jack.
“20 minutes,” Gabriel agrees, and then sighs again. Ana nods, satisfied, and then leaves down the hallway.
“It’s enough time to get some air,” Jack says, and tips his head towards the other end of the hallway. “C’mon.”
It’s freezing outside. Quite literally. It’s been an unusually cold winter, and it feels positively brutal to Jack. Gabriel turns up his collar and before leaning on the thin railing that boxes in the small balcony, but neither of them is really dressed for this. Jack doesn’t even have a hat on him, just a jacket, and he can feel the cold railing on his forearms even through the thick fabric when he leans against it next to Gabriel.
“What an idiot,” Gabriel finally says. His breath steams in the air, billowing white like smoke. And then he bows over, hangs his head, and something twists in Jack. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this.”
“We‘ll survive. We have to.” It comes out bitter. Gabriel presses their shoulders together. “We always do.”
“And if we don’t? If Liao doesn’t, if Ana doesn’t?” His voice drops low, head turning away. “If you don’t?”
“Gabe.”
“Oh, come on, Jack. You were there yesterday. You’ve been reading the reports. You know the odds.”
“And I know you beat ‘em, every time.” Jack throws a glance at the closed door behind them and slides a hand over Gabriel’s, squeezing his palm. His fingers are icy cold. Jack is sure his aren’t any better. “She is an idiot, though. And the UN comment was a low blow.”
Gabriel finally laughs at that, shoulders easing, and then he turns his hand over and laces their fingers together before leaning in to press his forehead against Jack’s.
Jack can’t pinpoint it to any single moment, can’t point at a memory and say this one, this is it; he just knows that Gabriel is an inextricable part of his life, that he has been for years now. Half the time Jack isn’t even sure if the mind-boggling amount of affection he feels for Gabriel is romantic or not, if it’s just some kind of all-encompassing feeling for this man, something else entirely.
But it doesn’t really matter, all things considered. The things that do matter are this: Gabriel’s trust. Gabriel’s support. Offering unconditional trust and support in return. Gabriel’s ice-cold fingers between his own. Gabriel’s warm breath ghosting across Jack’s face.
They’ve been like this for years now, too, stealing quiet moments of not-quite-intimacy where they can get them, never able to cross the metaphorical Rubicon and make something out of this for fear of bureaucratic backlash. It’s okay, though, Jack thinks as Gabriel sweeps a cold thumb across his cheek. They make do.
Gabriel sighs.
“This is bad, Jack,” he murmurs. “It’s really bad.”
“I know.”
“Nikolaeva’s a great tactician, but this is rash. It's dumb.”
“She’s desperate,” Jack says quietly. “Wouldn't you be? Haven't you been?”
Gabriel exhales again and turns away, looking out over the balcony again. There's dark, oily smoke staining the skyline, and every night so far, it’s turned the sunset a deep, bloody red, like LA smog. The Russian soldiers say it's a permanent fixture, ever-present fighting sparking ever-present fires around the omnium and the old factories that have been sacrificed to the war, immolated in the name of their god programs.
“I don't know,” Gabriel finally says. “I've got something that might work, even though Torb is going to hate it. Jack–” He turns back to look at him, brows slightly furrowed, eyes steady. “There is a very real chance we won't survive this.”
“I know,” Jack says again, and his voice is nearly a whisper this time.
The air is still and cold and it feels like everything is holding its breath, unnaturally still.
Jack knows there’s no sense in having an “if we don’t survive this” conversation. There’s really, truly nothing to talk about that they haven’t said already or that they don’t already know, and god knows their lives are dangerous enough that they’d be doing this at least once a week if they really counted every shitty “last night on earth” scenario they’ve been in as their last. Gabriel straightens up slowly, hand still linked firmly with Jack’s against the railing and with the look on his face Jack thinks, for one wild second, that Gabriel is going to start that conversation.
And Jack thinks, then, that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad conversation to have. That maybe now is the time to do this. That maybe they have avoided this for too long.
But then Gabriel exhales and scrubs his free hand down his face and Jack can see the commander inching back into him, eyes distant again, cogs turning.
“C’mon,” Gabriel finally says, and tilts his head towards the door back inside. “The faster we get this briefing over with, the faster we can all pretend to go to sleep.”