Apart from the gentle hum of the central air unit through the vents and the slight breeze blowing against the windows, the headquarters had fallen almost completely silent. The sun had long since set and there was but one lone operative still roaming the halls of the large building, slowly making his way toward his quarters. Each step that he took was slightly labored and sluggish, as the old soldier was starting to get sore and stiff from the day's mission; it had been a tough one and the more difficult ones were beginning to take their toll on his old joints. He let out a heavy sigh as he approached the door to his living quarters, moving his hand to swipe his keycard and activate the lock. "It's good to be home," he breathed as he stepped inside the now open doors.
He moved to drop his gun by the bed, careful to prop it up for a quick retrieval if necessary, and trudged toward the bathroom at the far side of the living space. He flicked on the light and stopped for a moment at the mirror, reaching up slowly to unlatch his visor and peer at his visage. Tired eyes stared back at him from a battle-scarred face and the soldier quickly found himself yawning as he set his visor down on the side of the sink and turned toward the laundry basket. He had only removed his jacket, however, when he heard rustling coming from the far side of the bedroom. The old soldier paused for a moment, and then slowly and carefully turned to survey the room behind him. He reached down for his visor and returned it to his face to get a better look with his night vision, as his aging eyes weren't as sharp as they used to be. Soft footsteps could be heard slowly approaching the bed, yet he still couldn't see anything due to the light from the bathroom interfering with the visor. He could either run to his gun, which was sitting where the noise was approaching, or dart to take cover; he wasn't sure he could do both in his current state. It took but a moment for him to make his decision as another step could be heard moving toward the bed; he flicked his hand up to switch off the bathroom light and then rolled across the bedroom floor toward the side of the bed. In one swift motion, he snatched up his gun and propped it against his shoulder, pointed in the direction of the invading footsteps. The visor was now performing its duty properly and the soldier had a clear view of what was intruding in his private space. A tall muscular figure stood at the opposite side of the bed, dressed in a black leather hooded trench coat, and clad in carbon fiber armor; the figure had its arms raised, palms out, as if to surrender.
"Now, Jack… is that any way to greet an old friend?" The deep gravelly voice was familiar, as it had once belonged to someone close to him, but his old partner was now a member of Talon and thus – an enemy.
The soldier scoffed, "What the hell are you doing here, Reaper?" He squared his shoulders and took better aim. "I should kill you here and now – finally be done with it."
"I'm sure death would be a welcome change, Jack…" Reaper shook his head, "but that's not why I'm here."
The hooded man lowered his arms and started walking around the bed closer to the soldier as he continued, "I'm here to talk about—"
"Cut the shit, Gabe." The soldier's finger tensed around the trigger, "We both know why you're here."
As fire erupted from the barrel of the soldier's gun, Reaper dissipated into a cloud of black wispy smoke and drifted across the room; the mercenary retook form behind a dresser for cover. "You could have killed me, Morrison," He chuckled as the sound of fire died and a few bullets could be heard falling to the hardwood floor, "Really should watch where you point that thing."
"I'm sick and tired of you constantly treating all of this like a game," The soldier was slowly making his way across the room toward Reaper, careful that he didn't trap himself in a volley of return fire, "this bullshit is getting really old."
"What, did I hurt your feelings?"
"You let me down, Gabe."
"I let a lot of people down, Jack," The air in the room shifted and Reaper's voice was now coming from behind him, "But a lot of people let me down, too."
A leather-clad fist connected with the soldier's face and his gun was bashed out of his hand a moment later; Morrison now found himself pinned in the iron grip of his old partner, flung against the wall. "Now, are we going to have that talk, or is this bullshit going to go on forever?"
Reaper received only a few indistinguishable choked words as his reply until he removed his hand from the soldier's throat and repositioned it at his shoulder, "Well, Jack?"
"What the hell do you want?"
"I already told you – to talk."
"You know this won't end well, Gabe."
The hooded man shifted his gaze away from Morrison, "You know you only call me that when we're alone…"
"What?"
"I'm tired, Jack," Reaper loosened his grip on the old soldier and relaxed his shoulders, "just so tired."
The soldier stood there, no longer being held by reaper at all, just staring at the man before him. He now appeared to be completely broken, revealing the mocking attitude from earlier as a mask. Morrison leaned toward him slightly, "Gabe?"
"I came unarmed," The hooded figure raised his arms up as he took a step back, "you can check if you want – I really just came here to talk."
Silence fell between them for a moment and Reaper lowered his arms back to his sides as the old soldier let those words settle. The wind outside had begun to pick up and a rustling had started at the window. Reaper glanced at the dancing tree outside and continued his previous thought. "I joined Talon out of hate, wanting vengeance for some imagined slight Overwatch had committed against me," He shook his head and continued, "but they had no way of knowing what would happen to me."
"You've done so much harm, Gabriel…"
"I know," Reaper peered back up at the soldier.
"I don't think the other agents are going to just let it slide."
Gabriel shook his head and reached his hand up to his mask, unlatched it, and pulled it down to reveal the scarred and choppy flesh underneath. "I understand, Jack," He moved his eyes up to meet the soldiers', "but I only need one person to forgive me right now."
A moment passed as the two of them listened to the whistling wind outside the window and Morrison took in the sight of his old partner's battle-scarred face. The soldier reached up to his own visor to unlatch and remove it, "Hell, Gabe – your face is somehow worse than mine."
Reaper chuckled and then leaned in slowly to meet his own worn lips to Morrison's as the old soldier tilted his head and reached a hand up to Gabriel's cheek.