Nostalgic.
That's how it felt, Jack decided. Just like old times. Nothing he ever did in his life as a vigilante ever came close to life in Overwatch. Then again, it's easy to feel like you're part of Overwatch again when you've all but joined up.
When Winston put out the call, Jack answered. Not immediately, though. A few more gangs needed clearing, and he needed to work on his cover. Former Commander John Morrison couldn't return to Overwatch, after he'd run it into the ground and tore his own family apart. But the mercenary Soldier:76 could. Besides, Jack couldn't bring himself to take the reins from Winston; the former follower had fallen into a leadership role in the power vacuum, and though Jack couldn't say it out loud, he was damn proud of the determined, hopelessly idealistic ape.
Maybe it was thanks to Winston's new tactical mind that their operation went so smoothly. Or, perhaps it was the experience of the operatives. Winston and Jack were joined by Lena Oxton, Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou, and Dr. Angela Ziegler, plus some new blood, the daughter of Captain Amar called Pharah. They fought as a team, just like they did in better times, when their enemies were unending legions of omnics instead of today's Talon goons trying to pilfer Greek artifacts.
Now, reclining in the Orca's pilot seat, letting the autopilot do the work, looking at the starry sky, Jack Morrison almost felt like himself again. Everything about Tracer's dropship was the same as six years ago, the girl probably feeling as sentimental as he did. The excitable Brit objected to letting some mercenary operate her baby, but was allayed when she saw how easily he could operate it. Getting up close to Lena again had been worrying; Jack had wondered if his tac visor and voice filter would be an adequate disguise, but if Tracer didn't immediately pull him into a bear hug and tell everyone that their favorite boss ever was back, he was in the clear.
Nobody knew Soldier: 76 and Jack Morrison were the same, and it was best that way. That's what Jack told himself that up until when Angela walked up those stairs.
"John."
Dr. Ziegler was testing him, looking for any reaction to her accusation. But she might not not know for sure, and he wasn't going to slip up.
He turned his head slightly, red visor meeting the stern visage of the Swiss doctor. "Hmm?"
"You're John, aren't you?" Angela said.
Jack rolled his head back forward, reclining just a bit further as he replied gruffly, "Lucky guess. John's a common name."
"And the name of our former Commander. My Commander. Shall I show you my proof, Jack?"
Jack sighed. There was the slightest chance that she was still bluffing, but the Angela he knew made it a point to never gamble. He peeked his head back, checking on the other passengers. The dropship was large, but not large enough to stop a heated argument from being overheard, and the lack of any doors didn't help. Mei, Tracer, and Winston slept at the main room's table, the smaller girl apparently comfortably napping somehow on top of the gorilla's armor, and Mei facedown and snoring. They probably were catching up, laughing at jokes, and having a fun time before they passed out. Pharah couldn't be seen, but he had no reason to suspect she'd moved from her powernap in the secure seating.
But his paranoia kept him alive this long. If Jack had a chance to keep his secret, he'd take it. The old soldier asked, "Did you tell anyone else?"
Angela shook her head.
"Good. The Nook. Now."
A few moments later, the two old warriors stood in the alcove underneath the pilot deck. The stairs blocked the view and the light from the main room, but the open passageways meant they quieted their words. In the shade, the orange screens bathed Angela in their soft glow, from the side and below, like the fiery seraph she was. Jack could only imagine how he appeared to her.
He began first, crossing his arms as he added some extra gravel to his already-gruff voice. "So, you caught me, Dr. Ziegler."
"Ja."
"How." Jack meant it as a question, but the tone made it a command for explanation instead.
Angela reached behind to a pouch behind her back, pulling out a small plastic bag. In the darkness and orange light, Jack couldn't see what it held... wait, there was a small sliver of light inside. Of all the ways to be busted...
"It took me some time," Angela began, "...but I finally realized who you reminded me of. I have trouble enough looking young, and yet you've bleached your hair to look older. And you wouldn't notice one fallen hair from your seat missing in all the excitement, would you? "
Frustrating as her discovery boded for Jack, he couldn't stop the smile on his face, hidden underneath his mask. Mercy was always the smarter of the two.
Angela stored the bag away, and looked him dead-on. "Take it off, now."
Jack broke his gaze away. "Really, Angela?"
"I know you're standing in front of me, John, but I need to see it myself," Angela said.
The old soldier took a deep breath, and brought a hand up to his cheekbones. He exhaled, lowering his hand, taking the facemask of his visor down with it. Overwatch's golden boy had gained a few wrinkles and a few scars, but despite everything, it was still him.
With uncovered eyes, Jack looked back at his old friend, comrade, confidant. He wasn't sure if Angela was about to punch him, or run away to tell the others, or start yelling in anger. But he wasn't expecting her to fall forward and catch him in a hug.
Somehow, it felt like that was the worst outcome.
She pulled her body away after a moment, her hands still grasping his jacketed wrists, and Angela spoke, sounding like the doctor was on the verge of tears. "You're here. You're real. You're alive."
"Somehow."
She grew stern again, her sky blue eyes looking right through his cerulean. Jack had to look away. "Why didn't you ever let us know you were alive, John?" Then angry. "And what's this about the 'dangerous vigilante actions' I've heard about?"
"Overwatch deserved better than me," Jack said, after mulling over his response for a few seconds. "I couldn't come back. Not after I let it all crumble." He couldn't even bring himself to look his old friend in the eyes.
Yet, he could still bring the venom to his voice. "But Overwatch deserves to know who tried to kill it."
Was that... pity on Mercy's face? "You didn't have to fight alone. Or walk down the path you have," Angela said. "We could have helped you, Jack. I know I would have."
"I don't think so, Doc. Overwatch wouldn't be ruthless enough to do what I need to do. John Morrison wouldn't be either. But I can."
A few moments of silence between them, only the soft beeps of the consoles and the hums of the engines letting them know time was actually moving forward.
"Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Dissociative Identity Disorder-"
Jack tilted his head in confusion. "What?"
"I must begin with a diagnosis before I can administer treatment, mein freund."
"No." He punctuated the word with a swiping motion. "You're not my doctor anymore, or my therapist."
"John Morrison was, and I just found out that he never died. And now he owes me six years worth of checkups?"
"Stop. Trying. To help me."
Angela remained as defiant as ever. "I heal. That's what I do."
Jack finally resigned, his protests weakening with each word. "Even you can't heal the past," he tried to argue.
She waved him off, with a small smile on her face. "This won't be my first impossible task completed, Jack."
Jack couldn't argue with that.
Neither Jack nor Angela had anything more to say, so it was time to get back to the world. Jack returned the tac visor to his face, the red eye-line looking to the doctor. "Please, Angela. It's best for the rest of them to keep on thinking I'm dead. At least for now. I hope you understand."
Mercy sighed. "I can't say I do," she stated. "But, doctor-patient confidentiality is of the utmost importance. If they find out the truth, it will not be from me, even though it is my professional medical advice to be honest."
"Then I want a second opinion, doc."
They parted on the other side of the stairway, Jack making his way to the pilot desk and Angela heading downstairs. Soldier: 76 made one final comment before he sat down again. "You know this will be a lost cause, right?'
Then came Mercy's. "Heroes never die, my friend."
This one did, the old man thought to himself.
But Jack couldn't honestly say he wanted it to stick.