A/N
Fun fact, the idea for this came up during the lead-in to Retribution, specifically where it shows a young Jack Morrison with blonde hair for the Oslo segment, but for the Retribution comic, he's gone to having grey hair. So, easy explanation is that the Oslo image is a placeholder from earlier material (which it is), but I couldn't help but entertain the idea of Jack's hair switching colour in a matter of weeks.
Anyway, drabbled this up.
Shades of Grey
The world had once been so simple.
Gone to hell, mind you, but simple. Robots were killing humans, which was bad. Humans had to fight back, and fighting back was something good. Defeating those robots was something great. Staying as part of Overwatch was good, if only because while the enemies of the world weren't necessarily bent on destroying it, they were still enemies, and defeating enemies was good. And now? Now, he was sitting in his office, looking at a flatscreen that took up an entire wall. There was one central image from Rai News, reporting on what had just happened in Venice. Around it were smaller screens that he could bring to the centre screen if he wanted, showing news reports from all four corners of the globe. All of them sensational. All of them negative.
"La polizia deve ancora confermare se Antonio Bartalotti era in combutta con Talon," said the newsreader. "Il presidente DeBella ha tuttavia condannato l'operazione Overwatch, citandolo come 'una grave violazione del diritto internazionale e della sovranità dello stato.'"
Jack Morrison knew enough Italian to get the gist of it – police may or may not have opened their eyes and taken note that yes, Antonio Bartalotti had employed Talon soldiers as his bodyguards, and his links ran deep with the terrorist organization. However, that Overwatch had gone in their guns blazing, and assassinated an Italian national, was the real sticking point. He could turn on the subtitles and get the exact words, but he didn't feel like reading. All he wanted to do was lie back, close his eyes, and get as much sleep as he could before having to give a statement to the press.
Which he did, at least as far as closing his eyes and trying to sleep went. He had over a dozen calls from Director Petras on his answering machine, but that was another thing he wanted to put off. He'd confined Gabe and his team to base. Lacroix would return to Rome to placate the government, as well as try and get the Blackwatch site operational again – providing there'd even be a Blackwatch after this. He listened to the newsreader, bringing on a pundit to discuss "queste rivelazioni scioccanti." More talk. Less action. Talk, and talk, and talk…lulling him to sleep…ever so close…
"Jack?"
He bolted up, wide away, ready for action, or as ready as he could be in his age, and without a weapon on hand. Of course, given his genetic enhancement, he could be more deadly with his fists than most people were with a gun. And looking at Ana, standing in the doorway, he could take some solace that he wouldn't need a weapon anyway.
"Ana."
Not yet at least.
"I thought you'd have turned in by now," she said, walking into the room.
Jack muted the TV, leaving the pundits yapping away. "I had turned in."
"At your desk?"
"No-one ever said that turning in had to be in a bed."
"Well, that's what I tell Fareeha. One sleepover, and she thinks that she can sit on the couch until 1am watching cartoons before using it as a bed."
Jack cracked a smile. Not so much for Ana's account of events, but the reminder that Ana had a daughter at all, and there was one bright light in all of this. That right now, it would be about 7pm on the east coast of Canada, and…
"Jack?"
He didn't answer – Fareeha was growing up. Chances were that Fareeha would be watching the news right now. That right now, CBC would be airing something on Overwatch, and unless it went against the grain, it wouldn't be a positive spin. Which wouldn't be good for Fareeha Amari, given that she idolized her mother, and the organization she worked for.
"Go to sleep Ana." Jack lay back in his chair and closed his eyes again. "That's an order."
"How about I disobey that order and get you to rest first?"
"I am resting."
"No you're not. You're wondering what tomorrow will bring, and-"
"It's two am. Tomorrow is already here." Jack yawned – he didn't want to, but he couldn't help it. It's five hours from now that I have to be worried about."
"Yeah, well, can't help it if I'm worried about you as well."
Jack kept lying back in his seat. He hoped that Ana would give up and leave. But as he heard her pull up a chair on the other side of the desk and sit down, he could tell that wasn't happening anytime soon.
"What's going to happen to Gabriel?"
"Are you still here?"
"Until you get into a proper bed, yes." She cleared her throat. "So before that happens, I may as well ask, what happens to Gabriel?"
"Gabe did what he thought was right."
"I know that Jack, but that isn't the question. What. Will happen. To Gabriel."
"I don't have time to think about this."
"Considering that the name Gabriel Reyes is on the lips of every intelligence agency and news outlet's lips, I'd say you need to think about this. Same with McCree, O'Deorain, and Shimada."
Jack opened his eyes and sat up straight, meeting Ana's gaze. The same hard gaze she always gave him when she meant business. The gaze she'd given when they'd first met in Egypt, and hadn't stopped giving since.
"If you think I'm throwing Gabe under a bus…" he began, "then there's a lot of things you need to reconsider."
"Well luckily I'm not suggesting we throw anyone under a bus," said Ana. "But I am thinking about pounds of flesh, and that there's people who'll want it. Either from your for letting the mission happen, or Gabe for pulling the trigger."
"The world's better off without men like Antonio, I'm not punishing Gabe for that."
"And I agree. If my daughter gets to grow up in a world without men like Antonio Bartalotti, then more's the better. But we both know that's not the issue as the world sees it."
"Well it should see it like that."
Ana chuckled, and didn't stop. Not initially at least. But as Jack just sat there, she trailed off.
"Allah's arse…" she murmured. "You're actually serious."
"I am serious."
"I know you're serious, but I thought you knew how the game worked." She got to her feet. "You ever look at the mirror lately Jack? You're going grey."
"I am not."
"You are, and you know it."
"So?"
"So I'd thought that the grey hair would at least come with grey cells, but apparently I was mistaken."
Jack laid back in his chair again, rubbing his hands over his face, and indeed, his hair. Ana was right about one thing, he reflected – he was going grey. Back in the Omnic Crisis, with his bright eyes and blonde hair, Gabrielle Adawe had called him a "bona fide poster boy" (or an "mtoto mzuri sana," to be exact). He'd quickly learnt that she'd meant it as a compliment. But now, as the world turned grey, he was turning grey as well. His eyes. His hair. Everything but the belief that regardless of what Gabe had done, this wasn't the reaction that was meant to happen.
And yet he'd pushed against it. He'd urged restraint. He'd grilled Gabe alongside Ana and Lacroix. And damn it, he'd have to do it again, considering how little Gabe was talking. Sighing, he got to his feet and turned the TV off – it wasn't showing anything interesting anyway. Only more signs as to how grey the world was actually becoming, ranging from Venice, to omnic protests in London.
"Where you going?" Ana asked.
"Bed," Jack said. "All four hours of it."
"Five."
"No, four. That's enough." He walked out the door, but before heading down the hall that would take him to the commander's quarters, he looked back at Ana. "You're going grey too you know."
"I am." She threw her hair back – mainly a dark brown, but filled with grey strands. "I just don't deny it."
"And…" He trailed off, before asking, "did you think it would be like this in the old days? That it would be…grey?"
"I didn't think beyond how to destroy omnics, and how not to get killed by them." She tapped her udjat. "The eye of Horus sees far, but for me, his gaze is narrow."
Jack nodded. He wanted to smile. To say something. But there was nothing to smile about, and right now, little to say. Five hours from now he'd be saying quite a lot. Four hours from now, he'd be rehearsing how to say it. But now…
Now he wanted sleep. To see the blackness of rest.
No grey.