Author's note: Definitely not canon, just getting that out there right now (although there aren't really any true canon fanfics if you think about it ;P). Another warning: I wrote this late at night/early morning in the middle of battling my insomnia so it's probably not very good but whatever. With all that said, try to enjoy my attempt at an Overwatch fanfic.
It was Symmetra who found him.
He was a pretty sad sight, sitting on the ground propped up by the wall at his back. His hands, which were usually almost always moving, pressed weakly against the wound in his side.
At the sound of her footsteps his eyes weakly fluttered open. His eyes didn't hold their normal mischievous glint, instead they were dull and glassy.
"Was wondering when someone would find me," he croaked, his voice betraying his body's condition as it wheezed past his lips.
Symmetra called for Mercy but knew she wouldn't get here in time. It was obvious by the pool of blood he sat in that he'd been here a while. Mercy was across the battlefield and while the fighting had begun to die out it would be a while before she could get here safely.
So Symmetra did what she could. Shifting his hands away gently, she covered his wound with a patch of hard light. It would keep him from losing any more blood although with the internal bleeding he most likely had it was only delaying the inevitable. She grabbed his hand and held it softly, squeezing just enough to let him know she was still here.
She didn't know why she did what she did, considering the past between them. They'd never gotten along well, probably due to them being polar opposites she supposed. He was explosions, chaos, and anarchy. She was order, light, and peace. He was laid back and relaxed, she worked hard to constantly improve everything she could.
They fought frequently with truces occasionally arising when they were forced to work together.
She'd done the majority of the fighting though. Usually when she started firing away with an onslaught of insults, (mostly centered on his hygiene and organization) he just sat there watching her with an insufferable grin plastered on his face. When she finally wound down he'd apologize with a tone that always left her questioning if he was being sincere or sarcastic.
He did do his best to change though. Compared to when he'd first arrived at Overwatch he was a changed man. Even now on the battlefield he wasn't covered from head to toe in soot, and without the blood he'd probably pass as clean with only a few questionable spots.
But despite all that here she was, holding his hand as he died. The irony would've been amusing under better circumstances. Symmetra, the person he probably liked the least on the team, was the only person present in his final moments.
He didn't seem to care though. He gripped her hand like he was trying to use it as an anchor to the land of the living. His eyes were dim as he tried to keep them open, lacking their normal mischievous glint.
"Not quite how I thought I'd finally kick the bucket," he suddenly croaked, his voice rough and wheezy.
"How so?" she questioned, her eyes confused and curious as they locked onto his.
"Thought I'd die blowin myself up, accidentally of course. Never thought it'd be a bloody bullet to put me down," he wheezed, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"That is understandable, I thought you were referring to your present company," Symmetra said after a moment's contemplation.
"Eh, kinda thought it'd be nice to die with a friend by my side but I thought it'd be Roadie," he replied, shifting slightly.
Her eyes widened at his off handed comment. A friend? He actually considered her a friend despite her frequent nagging and cold demeanor?
He suddenly began coughing violently, specks of blood signalling significant internal damage. He slid down the wall as he coughed and ended up on his side. Symmetra quickly laid him out on his back with his head pillowed on her lap. She reached down and grasped his hand again as his coughing fit finished.
He was wheezing significantly now and she thought she could here a faint gurgling with every breath he struggled to take. His wheezing suddenly sped up as his hand tighten around hers.
"I'm not ready to go, I thought I was but now I don't wanna go," he said, his eyes pleading with her to save him. "I don't wanna go," he wheezed out one last time before his labored breathing suddenly came to a stop.
His eyes closed one last time never to again open. His hand which had been gripping hers tightly suddenly relaxed, the returning blood flow to her hand causing a burning sensation. She didn't feel it though.
She didn't really feel anything.
The logically part of her brain helpfully informed her she was probably going into shock but it was drowned out by the torrent of emotions flooding her mind.
Junkrat was dead, and it hurt more than she thought it would.
Rapid footsteps rang out suddenly through the grim silence in the street. Mercy came hurtling around a corner eyes searching for her patient before she stopped abruptly at the sight before her. The louder slightly slower steps of Roadhog came from behind her before he too turned the corner and stopped.
His face was covered by his mask but his emotions were obvious in his body language. First shock as he stood there taking in the scene, then anger as his hands tighten on his shotgun, before rage overtook him. He whirled and with a terrible roar charged back the way he came, towards the distant fighting that still raged on. He didn't protect Junkrat like he should've but he would certainly avenge him.
Mercy broke free of her shock as she realized Symmetra was staring at her with empty emotionless eyes. Rushing forward she attempted to move Junkrat's body away so she could assess Symmetra but Symmetra refused to relinquish her hold on him. She'd drawn him up further onto her lap and now cradled him protectively.
"Symmetra, he's gone you have to let him go," Mercy pleaded in vain. Her words received no response from Symmetra, the architect's mind too clouded with thoughts and emotions to register what Mercy was saying.
That was how the rest of the team found them a little over half an hour later. With Roadhog's rage fueled onslaught the fire fight had become a massacre as he almost single handedly shattered the enemy lines. He had been a terrible force to behold as he slaughter the Talon soldiers without any restraint. He hadn't even allowed them to retreat, hooking any that dared to attempt it and pulling them in close for a lethal burst from his shotgun.
Now that his rage was sated he lumbered over to where Symmetra sat with Junkrat's body and gently pried her arms off. In her shocked state she didn't really notice what he'd done until she was picked up and hugged tightly against the massive chest of Roadhog. With that she broke, all the grief and sadness she'd been trying to surpress rising to the surface with a wave of tears and sobbing.
The transport quickly arrived to take them back to base. Roadhog carried the now unconscious Symmetra cradled in one arm and Junkrat's body in the other. Depositing Junkrat in the medical bay of the transport for Mercy to take care of, he then lumbered over to the seats and carefully strapped Symmetra into hers.
The ride back to base was silent, the devastation obvious on every face. Deaths weren't common in Overwatch, hence Mercy's common quip "heroes never die".
But a hero had died.
No one was sure how to proceed now. They hadn't ever had a funeral before, at least not a real one with an actual death. The closest examples they had were Jack and Ana's funerals but those were simple affairs because only a few people actually thought they were dead. But now, this wasn't faked, there would be no mysterious vigilante popping up under a moniker. Junkrat was really gone.
Upon landing Zarya had carried the still unconscious Symmetra to the medical bay for Mercy to check out. Roadhog had carried Junkrat's body to the medical bay so that Mercy could take care of the body and arrange the legal work that had to be dealt with now. After that the team had scattered, each going to their own areas to find comfort.
The base was nearly silent, the only noise coming from McCree as he stumbled around the base, leaving behind a trail of empty whiskey bottles in his quest to drown out his sorrows.
--
It was a full day later when Symmetra awoke in the infirmary, dazed and confused. Then she remembered and promptly burst into tears again. Mercy had tried to comfort her but Symmetra hadn't stopped sobbing until Roadhog had shown up. He'd quietly requested to speak with Symmetra privately which Mercy reluctantly agreed to.
She paced up and down the hall outside the doors for what felt like years when the they suddenly opened. Roadhog stepped through and gave Mercy a quick nod of acknowledgement before lumbering down the hall.
The sight that greeted Mercy upon entering the infirmary was surprising yet wonderful compared to when she'd left.
Symmetra was sitting in the bed with a small smile on her face as she flipped through what appeared to be a sketchbook. Before Mercy could get close enough to see what was on the pages Symmetra noticed her and shut the sketchbook. Curiosity burned within Mercy but she didn't try to pry, if the sketchbook was what Symmetra needed to cope with her grief then Mercy would leave things be.
--
The funeral was two days after that.
It had been a simple affair with few words said but with many tears shed. They buried him on a corner of the blasting range. His tombstone was a simple slab of black stone engraved with his full name, code name, his estimated date of birth, and his death date.
The loss was noticable even weeks later although it was fairly subtle. The base didn't shake at random times during the day from him testing new explosives. The halls didn't echo with the sounds of his awkward gait. His insane cackle no longer sounded out in the middle of fire fights on missions anymore. Roadhog was more even more reclusive than before, only appearing for missions and disappearing as soon as they returned.
He refused to open the door to his quarters for anyone except Symmetra which surprised most when they'd found out. She was the only one he'd talk to and could often be seen by his side during missions. Their sudden friendship had confused the rest of the team to no end. It seemed to be the most unlikely friendship possible. The massive, rough junker and the comparatively miniscule architect.
But neither cared about the questioning glances they received. They had bonded over Junkrat's death, as the two people he considered to be his friends. They both leaned on each other for support (only figuratively of course) and grew to be close friends despite their countless differences.
Symmetra was grateful to Roadhog in the months following Junkrat's death. At first she'd been an emotional wreck as she came to terms with her feelings. Because while she had often nagged him on a variety of topics he was the only real friend she had on the team.
Junkrat had been there for her constantly, a (somewhat) patient ear to listen to her complaints on a design she was struggling with, a fierce protector on the battlefield who always had her back, and a close confidant for when her past troubled her.
She had never really thought of him as a friend but that was probably because she'd never had a real friend before. In Overwatch she was a bit of an outcast, not fitting in with the "old crew" but also not quite fitting in among the new heroes. And before Overwatch she'd been with Vishkar, where any human interaction she received was cold and strictly professional. Those people weren't friends, they were associates and allies.
But she didn't care about any of those people. Because the one person she'd come to care about was gone, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.