There was a certain ambiance to these parties that made Jack question if the world had ever really been in danger to begin with. The shiny veneer of wealth had a way of masking all the little flaws and imperfections of reality; The air seemed clearer, the food richer, and the drinks… well, the drinks were still a waste on someone like him, but he'd swear up and down they were fizzier too. People laugh lighter, smiled brighter, lived in this carefree little bubble of life while people who suffered firsthand from the crisis, and could still be waiting under rubble for a rescue that would never come.

"Gabriel looks as if he's running through plans to blow up the building over there."

Jack felt Ana's finger tap against the jacket that laid over his bad arm, though careful to not touch his sling, her voice low and amused as she spoke into her glass of champagne. Her eyes trained on a point on the far side of the room, where if Jack followed her line of sight, he could make out man who was probably Gabe. Jack wasn't entirely sure. The 80 or so meters of ballroom between them might have had something to do with it.

The two of them had stowed away into a more reclusive corner of the gala, hoping to get at least one night where they weren't forced to do the dog and pony show for politicians. It had been two weeks since they won the war, and in that space of time they had attended 6 parties. Normally, Jack was fine with playing PR jockey for the team, but the past few parties had driven him to the end of his rope socially, and his rather broken arm's refusal to set, let alone heal properly, had drained his patience. Ana, although relatively uninjured, had far less patience for politicians. Especially those desperately trying to take whatever credit they could scrounge out of the success of Overwatch, facts be damned.

"Care to share with the class Ms. Armari?" Jack raised his glass to his mouth, mirroring Ana's posture, short of his slung up arm,"Not all of us have a bionic eye."

"He's doing that thing with his mouth," she leaned against him, just slightly, turning towards him but keeping her eyes trained across the room. "You know the one. Makes his mustache go up and down because he keeps trying to stop pursing his lips."

Jack snorted. He could picture it well. "Who's he talking to?"

"Not sure." She hummed, "Dignitary, perhaps. Adawe is with him."

"What, she holding a gun to his head?"

"Metaphorically. She keeps giving him the stare." Jack winces, leaning his back against the wall. Closing his eyes, he can sense Ana's stare has shifted to him. "No saving him tonight?"

"Well, he had to learn to play nice with the other children on the playground sometime, might as well be when he's still high on victory." Jack cracked a smile, "Strike Commander Gabriel Reyes, leading the victory charge and re-establishing the safety of humanity. He'll be coasting on that one for months, shifty politicians or no."

Ana made an amused noise, throwing back the rest of her drink and placing the empty flute on a table beside them. Jack followed suit. That was his fourth flute of champagne, and he still couldn't get a buzz going. Stupid enhanced metabolism.

"Speaking of Gabriel," Ana voice had taken an alarming turn for coy, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in her blue gown, "have you asked him yet?"

Jack waved down a server with a tray of champagne, taking a glass two glasses with one hand, quickly transferring them to his bad arm, and then grabbed a third he immediately began to knock back. Ana snorted at his side, and he caught her taking a second glass for herself.

"That's a no." She sighed fondly, waving off the server as they stared with a growing look of concern as Jack emptied the flute. "Don't worry, it's practically water to him." The server looked unconvinced, but returned to mingle amongst the crowd, as Jack polished off his first glass.

"If we're going to have this conversation again, I should at least try to get hammered first." Jack groused.

"You're officially out of excuses at this point, Jack." Jack glanced down at her, only for her smug grin to meet him, Jack suddenly looked and felt constipated. "The Crisis has ended, both of you are alive, and incredibly single. I highly doubt the UN, which, I will remind you, has issued no anti-fraternization laws for Overwatch agents, are stupid enough to try to make a fuss about it."

Jack tried to ignore Ana's badgering, transferred one of his remaining glasses to his other hand and raised it to his lips, only for it to be snatched roughly out of his hands.

"Hey!"

Ana shrugged flippantly, swirling a glass in each hand, "Oh, like you could get drunk on anything this weak." she scoffed, "You're wasting perfectly mediocre drinks."

Jack huffed, fixing Ana with a stern look, but she just shot one right back. Jack ran a hand through his hair, looking away, but he could feel her stare on him like hot coals.

"It's not like he's going to turn you down, Jack."

"I know that," Jack's voice fell down slightly so it was less gravel and more growl, but it was short lived. "logically, at least."

"But emotions aren't logical." Ana supplied.

Jack was quiet for a few long seconds as Ana took a sip of her pilfered champagne, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket, and adjusting his sling restlessly.

"Look, it's just," Jack grunts, "right now the whole world has their eyes on us now that we've won the war. If I ask him right now, and then the information gets into the media's hands, any relationship that would come of it would become a public spectacle. I don't want that. I also wouldn't want my parents learning about my preferences from MSNBC."

"Well that's... Actually quite reasonable." Ana hummed thoughtfully, pressing a glass against her lower lip. "Still, I suggest you shouldn't dawdle. Perhaps things would go well for you if you ask while Gabriel is still high on victory. You might even get laid."

"Ana!" Jack hissed, but Ana only threw her head back and laugh, drawing some of the attention of the crowd back to them for a moment.

"Oh, I'm only teasing. Here, a toast," She clinked both of her glasses against his, "To you growing some balls, say, oh, before the... fifth of next month."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Oddly specific date."

"You're Imagining things," She waved off him off, trying to hide her grin behind her glass of champagne.

Jack rolled his eyes. He had heard some muffled conversations that quickly came to a stop as soon as he has walked into earshot, and was well aware that there was a small bet going on regarding his and Gabe's relationship, at least between Torbjorn and Ana. He tried to not let it bother him.

"Whatever you say, Ana." Jack mumbled half to himself, debating if he should waste his other glass of champagne or not. Frankly, the stuff was a little too sweet for his taste, but he raised it to his lips anyways, trying to drink in the posh atmosphere if nothing else. To think that nearly a month ago he was darting around street corners that had been converted into crumbling warzones, with the stench of metal and death choking out the air.

It wasn't a welcome memory, and it caused the tang of the drink in his mouth to shift into the sting of iron, like blood. He took a deep breath and choked down what was in his mouth, eager to let it wash down with the memory.

"Gabriel's coming over." Ana's voice snapped him out of his harsh reverie.

Gabe had that sourpuss 'don't talk to me' look on his face he always adopted in crowds, a skill Jack could guess he had mastered sometime in high school, perhaps even sooner. However, this time it was half-hearted and didn't reach his eyes, like he was only scowling out of habit. A very real possibility.

God, Jack had such terrible taste in men.

"Enjoying the limelight?" Ana asked, raising her glasses of champagne to Gabe as he approached, and Gabe snorted loudly, nostrils flaring.

"You two wouldn't believe the assholes they have here," Gabe huffed, grabbing one of Ana's glasses as she held it out for him. "It's like they decided to only invite the most annoying, politically unimportant idiots they could find. I just talked to some son of a duke of a country with a defunct monarchy."

"The pudgy one who kept hopping?" Ana asked.

"How ever did you figure that one out." Gabe grumbled, chugging his champagne in a equally futile attempt to get drunk. "I don't know how you two can tolerate doing this song and dance so often. You two deserve a pay raise."

"It's not so bad," Jack commented mildly, trying to keep himself from staring at the fresh scars on the side of Gabe's face. They fit him, and Jack felt like he liked the addition a little too much, given it was a war scar. "At least the media isn't here. Politicians actually need you to be alive if they want to use you, most of the time. The media just wants your corpse, or an out of context sound blurb."

"No, unfortunately," Ana sighed, "I saw that Vanterheit woman skulking around."

"Ugh," Jack felt the sudden need to call back the waiter with the champagne, "Who invited her?"

Gabe raised an eyebrow at the both of them. "Who?"

Jack grimace broke out into a smile, smacking Gabe lightly in the arm, Gabe returned the grin, in his own subtle way. "One of the media vultures you throw me at. She's the one who claimed that using containment systems on god AIs constituted cruel and usual punishment."

Gabe's face contorted like he just smelled something rancid. "Oh, her."

Jack laughed, shaking his head, "Yeah, her."

"Shrew of a woman," Ana declared. "Only interested in controversy. Shouldn't have ever made it off of whatever gossip column she crawled out of, but, well, she has some wonderful assets helping her out." She quickly looked around before groping exaggeratedly at her breasts.

Gabe let out a sharp bark of laughter, while Jack hid a chuckle with his hand, his eyes drawn to the other man's smiling face. A once rare commodity that seemed to be growing more and more common, much to his own personal delight. Gabe looked good when he smiled.

"If that's all it takes to become a top reporter," Gabe drawled, with a nudge to Jack's shoulder, "I'm pretty sure that pretty boy here has enough assets to singlehandedly usurp CNN."

"Oh, definitely," Ana nodded, "Strong jaw, barrel chest, fine completion, I'm sure if we dumped him at any news station's door he'd be lauded as their top reporter within the hour."

"What do you say, Jack?" He held out his glass in to Jack, one hand shoved carelessly into his pocket, his grin growing smug, "Want to report on how great of a job I'm doing?"

"I dunno,"Jack stared down the man "I think a tell-all about your undying love for costume design, and where it comes from, would be a much more interesting story."

Gabe's face immediately soured.

"You know," Ana said slyly, "I don't think I've heard the full story. Do tell."

"Jack," Gabe warned, and Jack flashed him a massive grin.

"What's wrong Gabe? Don't want Jack Morrison, top reporter on CNN to tell people the heartwarming story of a young man with a love for cosplay, who just so happened to grow up to save the world?"

In lieu of a response, Gabe leveled a steely glare at Jack, folding his arms.

Jack shrugged, "Then don't drop me off at CNN anytime soon."

"I swear," Ana sighed, swirling her champagne in the glass, "Every time I talk to you two, I learn about some new secret only you know about."

"Just comes with the best friend territory," Jack shuffled closer to Gabe to throw his good arm around the man, and Gabe caught him with a sidelong glance, looking like he was trying very hard not to pout, "Especially best friends who met during a secret program. I know things about him that would make the tabloids froth."

"Keep talking, Morrison, I've got your secrets hostage too." Gabe said, a bit of mirth in the back of his voice, "One word and I blow the lid on the whole operation. There's a lot of people here, and I've got a loud voice."

"Your radio voice couldn't carry to half the room. But, fine, you've bought my silence," Jack took a step away, holding up his hand two fingers extended, "Scout's honor."

Gabe rolled his eyes good-naturedly and Ana chuckled as she took another sip from her champagne. Jack cast a quick look back to the bulk of the party's guests, hoping that they could go more-or-less unnoticed for at least a little longer. Mercifully, he couldn't see anyone staring at their little huddle, pointing and whispering, but something did catch his eye. A petite woman with wild hair and an aviator's Jacket and bright orange leggings, who looked like she absolutely did not belong here.

A sharp pained jabbed at Jack from behind his eyes, and he winced, pulling his hand up to his face.

"Jack?"

The pain receded, and he looked back up to see Gabe staring at him, brows furrowing slightly in concern. Ana, too, was staring, her lips pursed like she was about to say something.

"What's up?" Gabe turned slightly to face Jack with a nod, his eyes scanning him and leaving Jack feeling like he was picked apart in a moment.

"No, No I just..." Jack started, but trailed off, his thoughts suddenly feeling jumbled and... What had he just seen? He felt like he had just seen something, but he couldn't quite recall, like the image had turned to smoke and slipped through his fingers. His tie suddenly just felt a little too tight, like it was choking him, and the idle chatter of the party felt oppressive.

He realized he had been standing there silently for a long enough time for it to be concerning.

"I think I'm just getting a headache or something." He sounded slightly unsure even to his own ears. "Maybe the champagne was stronger than I thought."

Ana and Gabe shared and uncertain glance. Jack swallowed.

"I think... I'm just going to get some fresh air. Long week. Maybe It's just catching up to me." Jack felt like he was getting a head rush. He tried to recall what just happened again, but it slipped through his fingers once again. He saw something. Or maybe a few things?

"Do you want me to come with you?" Gabe offered, taking a half-step forward, "You-"

"No, No." Jack waved him off, "Enjoy the party, and all the politics that come with it. I'll be right back, think I just need to clear my head."

Gabe squared his jaw, giving Jack another once over. Normally the feeling Gabe could assess him at a glance felt comforting, almost intimate, but at the moment it felt like a violation of his privacy. Either way, it seemed like Gabe wasn't going to pry, for the moment at least, as his shoulders sagged slightly.

"Alright," He said slowly, like he was trying to convince himself of something. Ana's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Jack gave them a quick nod before walking off.


The party felt like it blurred around him, all of the guests losing definition until they were just blots of color as he navigated through the room. Conversations lost their structure in his ears, and became a mere chattering of words in an alien language he couldn't understand. He blinked, and pearls of laughter played on his ears, with a flash of blue. It made him feel old. He'd gotten old.

No , he told himself distractedly, that's not right.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, electricity running under his skin and turning it flush. He'd never felt anything like this before. Not when hurt, not when pumped full of mystery serum at SEP, not even when he had nearly died during their mission in Seoul.

It felt like someone had turned him into a snow globe and shook him up, and all of the snow- Snow like Zurich on a cold December morning, rushed and whirled around him aimlessly. Exhale. The puff of his breath mingling with the steam of his morning coffee. He loved the quiet mornings; reminded him of Indiana.

Sharp pain at the back of his eye surged back to life, drawing a wince from him as he stumbled and a sharp whistle filled his ear.

He bumped into someone who reeked of smoke, and offered an apology on automatic, not staying to look to see who or what he had bumped into, more pearls of laughter cutting through the echoing murmur of the crowd. Cigar smoke stung his eyes. McCree-

Jack stopped dead in the middle of the crowd, all the faces, suits and dressed a blur, frivolous background noise alongside the political doubletalk and the clink of silverware. His thoughts still a whirl of broken glass and debris, like he was digging himself out of rubble.

"Who the hell is McCree?" He whispered low, Shell-shocked.

The name didn't come with a face, more an impression, a weird collection of connections; the rodeo he had gotten taken to as a kid, a smoke shop, Sharpshooting practice, Revolvers, dust storms, tumbleweeds, and… Gabe. He'd never met anyone in his life named McCree but, the name felt substantive to him, like it was permanently perched on the tip of his tongue.

His chest tightened uncomfortably, but he pushed through it, walking through the crowd of lost faces a smidgen faster than before.

Ghosts of voices kept trying to catch his ear, until the chatter of the crowd was overwhelmed by the sea of hollow and unfamiliar voices, chanting: Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.

But alongside them, a few voices old and new whispered titles teasingly into his ear: Commander. Boss. Strike commander. Soldier.

By the time Jack reached the balcony, he burst out into a half run until his good hand had gripped hard and fast around the railing, tight as a watchman's grip on his gun, his breath short and erratic.

Jack's thoughts were racing, and impossible to track. Each thought shot off into an unknown and barely connected direction with no rhyme or reason; a constant supply of unwanted information.

And none of it made sense.

Glimpses of missions he's never been a part of. People he's never seen. Names he didn't know. It came at him all at once without reason nor warning, and it was impossible to grasp onto any of it. The meaning of all the information slipped through his fingers like it wasn't there. All the while, his head was pounding.

"What the hell?" Jack hissed under his breath, the stabbing pain behind his eyes crashing into him again like waves against rocks. He wrenched his eyes shut, trying to compose himself, and when he opened them again, the balcony had disappeared.

Instead, he was in a dimly lit, run-down apartment. His eye were staring down into a magnifying glass, and work tools he couldn't recognize were in either hand. He tried to look around, but neither his body, nor even his eyes would move for him. They were trained down on a very sophisticated-looking piece of technology, working on the inner mechanics that Jack couldn't even begin to understand what it was for. Jack wanted to shout, scream, anything, but his body simply refused to obey.

Then with no preamble, the machine sparked to life, casting a red glow on the desk he laid it down on. He heard a voice- His voice, tired and rougher around the edges.

"Finally" He heard himself sigh, and he put down the work tools, breaking it the tech up to his face- He realized then it was a Visor of some sort. Jack tried to throw it back down onto the table, but to no avail, his hands steadily brought it up to his face.

"Tactical visor, Activate." He heard his voice say, muffled by the visor. Something blinked to life, a projection, and his vision swirled into a sea of red. Vertigo overwhelmed him, and he tried to close his eyes once more, and this time, succeeded, only for him to rush straight into another scene with a burst of flash of light.

Fluorescent lights passed him overhead. He was walking, briskly, down a hallway. He could hear footsteps behind him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn around. He was still trapped. His hand flew up to his ear, adjusting something, he realized he was wearing a headset of sorts, visor over his eye, not unlike the one he had been supplied for missions, but the model was different, and it felt like it weighed nothing at all, like it was barely there.

"Winston, I've got another sighting." He heard his voice say. He could pick out the aggravation in his tone.

There was some sort of commotion on the other end of the comm.

"What?" A voice, deep and somewhat hesitant, crackled into his ear. "Of Lena?"

"Damn near scared Ana and I half to death." He turned around a corner, and he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a massive statue of himself just outside the window. "We were getting a status update from Reinhardt when she just popped in there, looking like she had taken a wrong turn or something and got lost. Athena should be forwarding the security footage as we speak."

"Got it." The man on the other end hummed in affirmative. "five seconds. Long for her. Did she uh, say anything?"

Jack could feel his teeth grinding against his will, "She asked for help."

The was an uncomfortable silence on the other line. Even Jack, unwilling passenger he may be, felt somewhat cowed by his own voice's gruff response.

"She spent an unusually long time in your office." The voice on the other line spoke again, though clearly tentatively, "If you're alright with me making use of your office for a while, I might be able to pick of a more stable frequency to tune the chronal stabilizer to, and then, ideally-"

"Look, Winston," His voice interrupted, a single hand going up to his face to rub at his eyes and pinch his brow, "any means necessary. I'm going to get you more funding for the stabilizer right now."

"Didn't they just reject your last request?" Jack wasn't sure if the man on the other end was more confused or dubious.

"If I can't convince them, I'll just piss them off enough to give me hush money." Jack rounded another corner and found himself facing a large electronic door. He pressed a button and adjusted his… Jacket, he could only assume. "Either way, I'm no longer accepting their refusals. Morrison Out."

The doors in front of him slid open, revealing pure white, and as he took a step beyond them, The ground felt apart at his feet. He could feel himself tumbling in freefall, or caught in a rushing tide.

As he fell, more images seemed to flash before his eyes. Hundreds, no, thousands of scenes, from his eyes, speaking with his voice, of things he'd never experienced. Sitting at a desk that wasn't his. Living in a home he couldn't recognize. Leading missions he'd never run with people he'd never met. As he tumbled, they seemed like they've never end.

A pain bloomed at his back, like he'd been shot. And he could feel himself crumple to the ground, the world stained red. A voice, distorted like the scrape of metal on metal, echoing against itself, hissed from behind him.

"This is how it should have been."

He struggled to turn to face the over of the voice just barely managing to catch a glimpse of the barrel of a shotgun from the corner of his eye, when the vision stopped.

He was back on the balcony, hunched over next to the guardrail, his good hand white-knuckling it to the point the metal had warped in his hands. His stomach in an uproar and drenched with sweat. He blinked blinked rapidly, and realized that he was staring down at a puddle of champagne and half-digested hors d'oeuvres, and adjusted his grip on the guardrail.

He could move again. He was in control again. That was good.

His head pounded. The chatter of the party found it's way to his ears once more. He found himself stumbling back on his feet, though he still felt shaky.

Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair, telling himself that he needed to get a grip.

He wasn't getting a grip.

Jack had no idea what just happened to him, and he couldn't even bring himself to feel relief that it was over, because the thought that it could happen again, with just as little warning, had already wormed it's way into his mind and poisoned him with paranoia.

"Jack?"

"Chissake." Jacked breathed, blinking hard. Gabe had followed him out onto the balcony. Of course he would. Jack immediately did his best to straighten himself out, but his best at the moment was rather half-assed.

"Jack are you-" Jack could hear Gabe stop short, "Holy shit, you look awful."

Jack turned to glare halfheartedly at the other man, and as he did so, something inside of his chest clenched, like heartburn, but worse. A combination of that and a bitter taste in his mouth sent his stomach tossing and turning once more until he could feel himself shiver, and yet at the same time, something molten settled in the back of his gut. It was an… unfamiliar feeling.

"I said I was just going to get some air," Jack grunted, trying to sound casual but failing quite miserably. "What are you, my mother?"

Gabe looked unimpressed. "You were acting strange, figured something was going on." He craned his neck just slightly, eyes zeroing in on the puddle on the floor, and his brows creasing. "Did you just throw up?"

Jack looked away.

Gabe rolled his eyes, taking a step forward, "No wonder you look so awful." His voice dropped into quiet, hushed tones as he stepped into Jack's bubble, leaning up against the guardrail and placing a hand on Jack's back. "I know you put some pride in your little golden boy routine, but this is just ridiculous."

"Maybe I shouldn't have ate all that steak tartare." He offered weakly.

Gabe sighed, his hand rubbing a small circle in Jack's back. At any other time it probably would have been comforting, but at the moment, he was fighting down an urge to jostle Gabe's hand off of him. He just wanted to get out of here.

"Always trying to be the hero. You know, I won't destroy all our good PR in one night." Gabe snorted, his voice about as fond as it gets. "Why don't you get on out of here so you can vomit in peace, like in the good old days."

Jack wanted to jump on the offer, desperately, and almost did, but caught himself. If he was too eager, Gabe might get suspicious, assuming he wasn't already.

"... You sure?" Jack offered hesitantly.

"I think Ana and I can handle the politicians and shitty media for one night without you." Gabe scoffed, "Besides, I need my right hand man to be in top form once we get back to work. We've got a lot of work to do, and I need you for it."

Jack laughed shakily. "Thanks Gabe."

"Just try not to make another mess on the way out. These people aren't SEP standard." Gabe gave him a firm pat on the back that Jack took as a single of dismissal. He started to make his way back into the ballroom so he could leave, feeling Gabe's stare trained on his as he ambled out.

For a moment he thought about looking back, but he didn't. Instead it occurred to him that that voice he heard, right before he snapped out of it, sounded just a little like Gabe.

The thought sent an unpleasant chill down his spine.


AN: Originally posted for the reaper76 big bang, and then I was like, maybe I should post it to my FF account, so I'll be uploading the completed story over the next several days. There is some art to go along with this chapter as done by my pal pastelgayloser on tumblr, but this site doesn't let you highlight text for link for some reason. Either way, here it is if you want to check it out, you should be able to highlight if you inspect source or something.

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