She wasn't surprised that Gabriel left Jack's ceremony early, before he'd even accepted the title of Strike Commander. She wasn't even surprised to find him in the ruins of his office, among wooden shards and the sharp dust of glass. She was only surprised that he only had wounds on his hands, glistening red gouges reflected in the tiny drifts of shattered glass around his knees.
"Go away, Angela." Pain and the habit of being in command made his voice thick, his raw throat grating against the plea. Angela almost obeyed, wanted to leave him in whatever broken peace he was trying to make for himself, but she was a doctor first and foremost. Wood cracked and glass snapped under her feet as she approached his back, a hand already pulling her medkit out.
"Not until I've done my job." She knelt beside him, ignoring the sharp bite of the wreckage underneath as she pulled out bandages, wipes, the usual balms for pain. Gabriel scoffed something sour, but didn't stop Angela taking his nearest hand into her own, plucking the debris of his rampage out of his knuckles and palms.
"I did do my job…" He clenched his other hand, only driving the shrapnel in deeper with his fist. "I did it every day for the past five years, better than anyone else, and they go ahead and give it to HIM?!" He knocked aside the only thing still left intact, a lamp whose light smashed out as it hit the floor, but even the fresh burst of rage didn't phase Angela as she dressed his angry wounds. She was well used to it by now.
"He's your friend, Gabriel," she said softly, watching him slowly shake his head as she tied the last red-stained wrapping.
"Not anymore," he said, weak with weariness. "If he had any respect for me, if he had any kind of selflessness…" Whatever Gabriel wanted to say escaped in a sigh, and his head hung limp as Angela moved in front of him to take his other blood-soaked hand.
"...What did I do wrong, Angela?" he asked quietly, almost hissing as she cleaned the ribbons he'd cut through his palm.
"Nothing, Gabriel. Nothing at all." She couldn't lie and say it was wrong that Jack was chosen instead of him, or that she disagreed with the decision. So that was all she could think to say, anything to stop Gabriel blaming himself.
"Do you know why they chose him?" he asked, numbly watching her tie the other bandage off around his wrist.
"...No," she answered honestly.
"It's because they made him into a leader," he told her, muscles tensing dangerously again under her touch. "The kind they can control. Whatever they did to him, whatever things they put in him, it's made him exactly what they want. The UN doesn't want a commander... they want a poster boy."
He stared at his padded palms as he cursed, only lifting his bleary eyes when she squeezed his upper arms, showing age-paled scars to her over the sunken shadows of his face. She knew as well as him that Jack was special, a product of the war he was built to fight against like scores of other soldiers. Not Gabriel, though. He had to compete without nanomachines running through his skin or steroids laced in his blood. All he had was his own flesh and bones, and that insomniac mind she fell in love with.
"You know that isn't true, Gabriel," Angela said, if only to try and convince herself.
"Oh yeah?" The laugh he barked was dead, devoid of humour. "You know what they called me in Mexico? El Segador. The Reaper. Not exactly someone you'd want as the face of world peace."
Despite the bitterness soaking through the cracks of his voice, Angela only had fond memories back then. 'El Segador' was meant as an honour to the Omnic killer, not a curse to be feared. "I remember that time in Mexico. They called me an angel." It was the first time anyone had seen a Valkyrie suit in the field, so she couldn't blame them.
No matter how small the smile Gabriel gave was, she was happy it was there. "We must have been a sight to see." He picked at the edges of his bandages, knowing full well how it annoyed her but also knowing she wouldn't scold him this time. Not when she was focused on juggling two different truths; the one she believed in and the one she wanted to believe in, if only to keep that smile going for a little longer.
"Gabriel… Jack's augments didn't affect him as much as you think-" She'd let go of his arms but he reached for her fingers, instantly restoring the connection in a fumbling grasp for hope.
"You know what they did to him?" he asked, fatigue wiped away from his bright eyes in the gloom of the ruined room.
"I… was involved in the program he was part of, yes, but-"
"Then you know how to do that to others, right? You can… enhance other people?"
She'd been expecting the question, dreading it as well, but it was his gaze that she should have prepared himself for, that desperate glimmer of oak-brown in his irises. She had to force herself to cut through it with steel. "Gabriel, I am not doing an operation like that on you. You don't need anything more than what you already are… no matter what, you'll always be the man I love." His beard felt cold, damp with sweat as she held his cheek, and he couldn't quite face her.
"...I could be better than a man, though," Gabriel said to the glittering floor. "I could be a hero. And you know what they say about heroes."
"...They never die," she finished quietly, barely a hush against him. For a long moment she just sat with her head on his, bathed in his fleeting warmth, wondering if she'd known it would come to this when she gave Jack his first dose of nanobots.
"Angela?" Gabriel whispered, cradled in her contemplative quiet, no doubt trying to see what was in her head.
"I'll think about it," she said curtly, forcing herself apart from him. "No more than that. Just… don't hurt yourself again, please." Her fingers lingered again over the bulky white mittens of his hands. "Heroes might not die, but they can still get infections."
Gabriel smiled again, either just copying her or trying to fool her that he was okay. He was surprisingly good at doing that.