Reinhardt woke to a cramp in his neck. He sat up, disoriented. His mind was torn between the stabbing pain and the fact that he was precariously sitting on something, so it took him a moment to actually know where he was.
Couch. The Rover meeting room. Swiss HQ. Shit. He had lost count of the amount of times he had woken up there in the past two or three years.
He ignored the sharp pain in his right hand as he kneaded the muscles into submission, but soon his shoulders and back joined the chorus of aches. Then, it was the rest of his body.
He stretched out with a long, sleepy yawn; waking up sore was nothing out of ordinary, but the way his hand hurt was not exactly- wait. Bandages, he noticed at last. Ah, the wardrobe. Ana . He almost smiled, remembering how she took care of him, the chocolate. Everything .
The way he had talked to her made him want to scoop his eyes out with a spoon.
He sighed, probing his bruised knuckles softly. The wardrobe door was not very solid, mirror or not, but the clothes-hanger rail was. Moving the fingers hurt, but he was sure he had broken nothing- it was not exactly the first time he had punched something he should not have. Maybe it would be a good idea to move the wardrobe somewhere else… Though, if he could get Ana to take care of him again, he would not mind keeping it where it was.
He ran a hand over his hair. He would have loved to invite her to watch a film but, by the time she had finished bandaging his hand, he sure had used up all his luck for a year. He would rather retreat on his own than make her give him the cold shoulder for weeks. He really, really hated that.
Besides, he already had been the biggest idiot in town for asking her about her story. His stomach dropped at the thought. How could she live with what happened? He could not fathom being in her boots, yet she had moved on. She was a good soldier, a good Captain. She cared for the team, she would put herself at risk to get a better shot and save someone. She got her eyes enhanced to keep them safe. She was a good mom to Fareeha, a good friend to them all.
If she was not inspiring, he did not know who was.
Besides, she had gotten out of her comfort zone to help him and take care of his mess. He could not put in words how much that meant to him, but he should let her know, somehow - as long as she did not insist in asking him about his stupid comeback.
He felt a surge of embarrassment just by thinking about it. Good grief. Some days he could do nothing straight. He sighed, rubbing his scalp vigorously.
She- Ah, she was so strong… And then, there he was, losing his nerve over how similar to Eichenwalde the French city was.
The moment they set foot in the castle, when the battlements and the tall towers cast their shadow over him, he felt the icy grip of dread on his chest. His limbs went numb as his heart leaped like a runaway horse and only after a while, Ana's shoves made him move again.
He would have given a hand to take his helmet off at that point because he was panting like a dog, but he did not dare to face her or anyone, for the matter. Let alone when the Bastions were already attacking.
He did not dare, in fact, to do anything that was not hold his shield and stand in front of his soldiers until Jack asked him for support. And, of course, he had to fucking miss a tank and then charge into the enemy lines.
Goddamnit .
He had panicked then, because that was exactly what he knew would happen and he fucking did it anyway, leaving his team way too far away so they would die again. And, if all that had not been enough, Gabriel jumped in the middle of all those Bastions and almost gave him a heart attack.
Reinhardt squeezed his eyes with a hand, fighting the urge to punch himself in the face. He could forgive himself for freezing over a castle but, for being absolutely useless? That was a different story.
Yet, his mind kept going back and again to the castle. The battlements. The flags waving in the air. Maybe he was being too hard on himself, like Ana said? Maybe he had been too distracted to think straight.
He wanted to believe it, but the pit in his guts said otherwise. Thinking or not, he should be better. He could be better. He just needed to train harder. Fight harder. Maybe review past missions, see how he could have done better.
He could use the holoroom for that, he thought, getting up- slowly. His legs and lower back also needed a good stretching, but the way his replaced knee complained made him frown; overdoing it at the gym after spending hours in his armour was never a great idea, but he always seemed to forget about it until everything ached.
Well. Whining about it would not help matters, but preparing a better training regime might. But first, he would take a long shower. Hopefully, the water would drown his worries and his embarrassment, and would help with the soreness.
After the shower, his hair still dripping wet, Reinhardt removed the wet bandages and plasters from his hand. The area around the knuckles was swollen, the unbroken skin painted in several shades of purple. Water had softened the scabbing over the scrapes and cuts, but the sticky strips over the deeper cuts were still holding.
It looked way worse than it was, to be honest, but he would not mind having it bandaged again if Ana was to do it. Oh, but, actually, nothing prevented him from asking her. He felt a smile creeping in. He could use that as an excuse to give her a little present.
Now, what could that be? What did Ana like? She was not known for having many possessions- none of them did. She always dressed in military clothes, wore no jewellery and, even if she did, well, she was likely to take his present the wrong way. It had to be something much more mundane. But, what?
Reinhardt took a couple of rice crackers from a cabinet and devoured them. The global war had made both supplies and commodities scarce; salt and sugary products, such as that chocolate Ana offered him yesterday, were considered luxuries in many countries. Just, that chocolate paled before the real thing he used to have when he was a boy.
Now, that would be a present for her, if only he could find some.
He sat on the bed and wiggled his trusty compression sleeve around his replaced knee. Of course, he could buy stuff at the canteen, but what if she did not like it?
No, he would need to think of something else. But, what ?
He was buttoning up his cargo pants when someone knocked at his door— which was unexpected, given the time it must be.
"Come in," he said, and Jack obliged. Jack . He was wearing his fatigues, his hair coming up in perfect spikes, his blue eyes always confident—wait. Reinhardt looked at his wrist datapad and had to hold himself on the wall.
It was fucking 8:30 AM. Shit, no wonder he was starving. They all usually started the day at 6 AM sharp, and honestly, he did not remember the last time he woke up this late while not being at the Med Bay.
Shit. He had also missed the first meeting of the day. Oh, boy. Great job, Reinhardt.
"Hey, you weren't around for breakfast or debriefing, so I thought you may still be he- Holy smokes, man," Jack said when he spotted the wardrobe in shambles. "What happened?" He blinked a couple of times and then frowned, continuing before Reinhardt could answer. "Ok, I'm shit at this but, you know, I can pack a punch or two if the gym is not available…"
"The gym was available," Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck upon seeing Jack's suspicious glare. "This was unintentional. I ran into it at night."
The other man cocked his head and pursed his mouth when he spotted his hand. Shit. Whether he broke the wardrobe because of a nightmare or in a fit of anger, there was no good answer.
He almost took a step backward, the threat of the counsellor heavy in the air. He hated going. Really did. It was a waste of time that made him feel worse at the end of the session than when he got in. No, beer and a chat with Torb was a much better solution to his troubles, even though the Captain would not see it this way.
No one ever did.
"I had mine moved away from the bed long ago, man," Jack snorted softly in the end, looking at the vandalised wardrobe with an indescribable expression on his face. "Cannot count the times I've broken the door... Just clean the glass ASAP before someone has an accident."
" Ja , I didn't have time, yet," he said, relieved that Jack would not press it.
He was about to offer him a seat, but there was nowhere to sit. His room was usually neat —this was the Army, after all— but his bed was undone after leaving in the middle of the night, his clothes were still on the chair, and the floor was a mess. Hardly appropriate for visitors, unfortunately.
Jack started talking, though, as if it did not matter. Not only that, he did with the ease of someone that had been awake for hours and had no trouble sleeping; too fast and too annoying for Reinhardt to follow when he was still struggling to put his t-shirt on right.
"-and so, hoped you'd be up for some sparring," the Captain finished and looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. Well, whatever he had said was probably very interesting, but the last bit was definitely a nope . Just, his hand was a feeble excuse, mentioning his knee would grant him detention on Med Bay, and he did not want Jack howling with laughter at his aches and pains after the gym.
"Didn't you get shot yesterday?" Reinhardt asked instead, raising an eyebrow.
"Ah, that's dealt with," Jack raised his t-shirt to show him his side. There was a pink patch of skin over his ribs— a scar.
"Bloody super-soldiers," he snorted, putting his boots on.
"Ah, don't be like that," the Captain changed his weight from a leg to the other, amused. "Sure the German army had a program like the SEP. Or is it a coincidence most of you Crusaders were like freaking towers? I remember reading that your General was taller than you."
" Ja , he was four inches taller than me, as he loved reminding me of…"
He remembered putting on years in the Army, getting taller and bulkier, and yet looking distraught at the mountain of a man that was Balderich— until one day he realised he could look at him in the eye without breaking his neck.
He could imagine him now, laughing at him, hands on hips, because he was taller than Reinhardt even with his head shaved. He laughed a lot, the bastard. And loved picking on him whenever he could.
Balderich would have liked it in Overwatch. Not only that, he would have been a great Commander for the team if Reinhardt had not-
He made fists with his hands and squeezed them hard enough for some of the cuts to reopen.
"Ah, I don't know," he swallowed, and tried to bury the feelings underneath a forced smile. Every time he had a bad rub with his past, even the smallest details brought back memories of Germany. "While most of our squadron was above the average size, we were from different backgrounds and I don't recall having heard of any genetic modification. Maybe we Germans are naturally like this?"
"Of course, why didn't I think of that?"
Boots tied, he stood up in front of Jack- he was a tall, muscular man on his own right; but how much that was the super-soldier serum, he would never know. Nor it mattered, at the end of the day. He was a good soldier and a nice comrade; one that Reinhardt had no idea what was doing in his room.
"So, not to sound like a dick but, is there something other I can help you with, or…?" He asked slowly, hoping to come straightforward enough to have an straightforward answer. He was not in the mood for riddles. Or, at least, the only riddle he was interested in was thinking of what he could do for Ana.
"Well, I just wanted to, you know," Jack rubbed the back of his neck and looked around, "do stuff together. We rarely do much together other than group training. Thought it might be good to know you better."
That was interesting, considering he and Gabriel did everything together with little room for anyone else (other than Ana, of course). Not that he was opposed to the idea; Reinhardt loved hanging around with his team more than with anyone else, but it was nothing but strange after so many years. Unexpected, so to speak.
"It's ok, though," Jack continued so quickly that Reinhardt wondered if he had looked at him the wrong way. "Was just an idea. Will leave you to-"
"Can do a light workout with you if I can get something to eat, first," he said before the Captain had absolutely committed to his retreat. "Emphasis on light ."
Exercising would ease the soreness and help clear his mind. It always did.
"Light?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "Ok, I know yesterday was rough, but I'm starting to worry."
He looked worried indeed, and Reinhardt forced his slow-working mind to join the dots. Probably that was why he was there in his room. Not because he suddenly wanted to spend more time with him, or train, or anything, really. That was just the excuse.
Maybe yesterday he concealed his issues worse than he had imagined.
"Appreciate it, but no need to worry," he clapped Jack in the shoulder. As long as Gabriel did not know, he may still avoid the counsellor. "I'm no super-soldier and had a rough day. That's all."
"Actually, you-" the Captain stopped talking abruptly, torn, but took a breath and nodded. "Right. Let's go get you some food, then."
Half an hour later, Reinhardt was ready to try his luck at the gym. He was still stiff and sore from yesterday's crazy workout despite the warm shower, but he had been there before. And, as such, he rolled his shoulders and started an easy warm-up routine, trying to ignore Jack's amused snickering every time he grunted at the effort.
A lot of sweating and growling later, he jumped to the pull-up bar and managed to do a series of ten without dying.
"Good job, man," the Captain smacked him in the arm.
"Ah, that felt good," Reinhardt sighed, stretching his way-less-sore back. "But I better stop that before I screw my hand any further. Ana wouldn't be pleased."
"Ana?" Jack crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. "Is there something, you know, going on?"
"As if," Reinhardt snorted and took a long gulp from his water bottle. "But she took care of my hand even if I had been a complete jerk to her, and the least-"
"A jerk? You? Can't believe that."
Reinhardt frowned and crossed his arms at Jack's choice of words. He and Ana always were so in-sync it was nauseati— He slapped himself at the thought and shook his head.
Listening to them talking yesterday had grated on his nerves so much that he had wanted to slam Jack's face against the aircraft's wall and throw him out for good. It had been pathetic. He had been pathetic, and he felt utterly embarrassed about it. It was not his place to be jealous, absolutely not. Ana could spend her time however she pleased, and with whoever she pleased— as much as he hated it was not with him.
"Man, you are really scaring me today. Maybe you should see a couns-"
"I'm perfectly fine!" Reinhardt put his fists on his hips and puffed his chest, hoping that he would not notice his nervous swallowing— but Jack did not seem to be buying it, and so he recurred to desperate measures. "What about we run some laps around the building?"
The look in Jack's eyes suddenly changed to that of a predator. He was fast; faster than any of them and not humble at all about it. Reinhardt knew he would not let go of an opportunity like this.
"Sure you're up to it? This is my thing, and I won't go easy on you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Reinhardt snorted, relieved beyond measure. He would rather wheeze his lungs out trying to keep up with him than see the counsellor any day. "But I thought shooting was your thing."
"I can also give you a beating at that if you want," he crossed his arms, the smile of the cat that ate the bird plastered on his face. Then, his expression sobered. "On a more serious note, do you remember to train your aim now and then? With a firearm, I mean."
"Ah, Jack, I grew up in the Army as much as you did! Of course I train my aim," Reinhardt rolled his eyes. And it was not a lie, just he did not train it as frequently as the Captain would like him to. Besides, if he had to resort to firing a rifle while in combat, they were more than screwed. "Now, let's go running before I ditch you for my breakfast."
They fitted ice grips on their trainers and put on some hoodies from the locker; running or not, it was November in the eternally snowed-in Switzerland and they did not want to slip or freeze to death the moment they stepped outside.
Reinhardt's stomach grumbled, and he rubbed it absentmindedly. Soon he would go to have a proper breakfast. Mmm~ sausages with eggs and roasted veggies. A classic. He smiled to himself. He just needed to run a bunch of laps and he would be back in the warmth with his food, and he could get on with his day.
He had another idea to manage what happened in France— he could also use the holoroom to stride across several castles, including Eichenwalde. The mere idea made him swallow, but he was no coward. Besides, anything was better than going to the counsellor. Anything .
"Ready for me to double your laps?" Jack interrupted his thoughts jumping by his side, rubbing his hands together. "Maybe triple them."
"Preposterous!" Reinhardt made slits with his eyes. He could admit when an opponent was way better than him, but he would not allow anyone to destroy and humiliate him without a fight. "I dare you to try."
"Six laps," the smile in Jack face grew bigger, and Reinhardt had to restrain himself from cracking his knuckles. "If I triple yours, you would train with me at the shooting range for a week."
"If you can't, you'll help me repay Ana for her kindness."
"That's a deal," the Captain punched him in the arm. "Prepare to eat my dust. Or my snow, in this case."
"We'll see about that…" Reinhardt snorted, stretching his legs and his lower back. What Jack did not understand was that he would do anything for Ana- and winning a bet was no exception, aching knee or not.
They dashed at the command of "go" and boy, was Jack fast. His strides did not seem to register they were running on snow instead of on a track and, in seconds, he was leading the race. Which was expected, but still impressive.
Soon enough, Reinhardt was alone amid the cold white silence of the snowy landscape around the building, and he put on some music to keep things interesting.
Unlike Jack's, his body was not made for running. Yet, the additional effort of sinking in the snow was similar to running in his armour. He grinned as he pressed forward, heart thumping almost in sync with his strides, Hasselhoff blaring on his earbuds. As long as his knee did not fail him, he could convert enough of his endurance into speed to keep Jack from winning.
"On your left!" The Captain said when Reinhardt was barely more than half-way through the first lap. Jack was ungodly fast, that was for sure. His cheeks were pink, his hair wet with snow, and he was laughing.
Let him laugh. He would not be able to keep the pace. Reinhardt was positive about it. He remembered his first Winter in Eichenwalde, when his armour was a half-working freezer and he still had to get in it to play war games for the Army. And before that, the Winters in the Black Forest as infantry and as part of the armoured division. Hah. This was nothing, he thought, chasing on.
Seven minutes later, Jack was already on his third lap and Reinhardt had cleared three quarters of one.
"Guess what?" Jack panted as he ran past him again.
His teasing was getting old already, but his strides were slower— he would not make it, not by a long shot, and Reinhardt almost cackled. If he had learned something while protecting their team was that a lot of battles were won by patience alone.
After eleven minutes, Jack was close to finishing his fourth lap and Reinhardt was trying to close their gap as much as possible. He was half way into his second lap and pushing as much as he would go. His tired body was complaining already, so he focused on his breath and his objective. And his breakfast.
Ah, how he hated running.
He turned around a corner and saw Jack trotting slowly in front of him, almost as if he was waiting for Reinhardt to catch up. Almost. Jack turned around at the sound of his footsteps and the panicked look on his face was absolutely worth the burning ache spreading up Reinhardt's legs.
The Captain pushed forward, trying to get his pace back. In his hurry, one of his trainers lost grip and he fell in a spectacular tumble of limbs and snow dust. Reinhardt tried to jump over him, but they were too close; he tripped on one of Jack's flailing limbs and rolled over him in the air to land on the snow a few feet apart.
Well, at least he had ice on everything that hurt, now.
Jack groaned, getting on all fours and then scrambling up. He jumped a couple of times in place, shaking his sweatpants while hissing.
"Bloody snow everywhere !"
Reinhardt could not help but chuckle and pant at the same time. He got up slowly, his body resenting all the extra running, and gasped when the muscles around his bad knee cramped and locked it in place.
"You ok there?" Jack walked over to him while rubbing his lower back. "Cramp?"
He grunted as an answer, digging his thumbs on his thigh and running them down the sides of the knee to ease the muscles and the tendons. His leg cramped sometimes as a side-effect of the surgery, but the knee had never locked like this.
It was anything but fun.
"Ah, I was so unlucky," Jack grabbed his waist to help Reinhardt keep his balance as he worked. "You really took me by surprise, there. I wasn't expecting you."
" Ja , you were too busy busting a gut to notice the big German," Reinhardt snorted, testing his weight once he managed to loosen up the cramp. A sharp pain ran through his knee, but it settled quickly in a burning ache. Compression sleeve or not, there would be no more running for him in a couple of days, at least. "Let's go inside, eh?"
"No way," Jack put his hands on his hips. "Not going to finish? What about our bet?"
"I won!" He slapped the Captain in the back, making more snow drop from him." You can't run six laps in the time I clear two. Not even in my worst day."
"What the— I almost had you!" Jack groaned as they walked —or limped- towards the building.
"I cannot hear you over the sweet calling of the breakfast I rightfully won, Jack..."
"You know what? I take it away. You can very well be a jerk when you want."
That made Reinhardt laugh.
Coming back to the building was like getting slapped in the face by a huge, warm, dry hand. The difference in temperature and humidity took Reinhardt's breath away for a moment, but soon he was sighing in content. He could almost taste breakfast already.
The warmth melted the snow on them so quickly that, when he reached the changing rooms, he had to change all his clothes. A long suffering huff coming from Jack's locker made him think he was not the only one with that problem, and he chuckled.
He was dog-tired, but in a better mood altogether.
"I won't accept defeat!" Jack said all of sudden, slamming his locker closed while holding a bunch of clothes that barely hid his nakedness. "If I can lose without evidence, so should you."
"Without evidence?" Reinhardt snorted, taking his wet clothes off. "You were about to drop dead when I reached you, and I just needed-"
"You needed a complete lap, at least! I would have recovered way before you had done even a quarter. This is an absolute abuse. We both should either lose or have a rematch."
That was rubbish. Completely and utterly rubbish. But Reinhardt was still at loss about Ana and should rest his knee. As unfair as it might be, he would need to find medium ground with the super-soldier.
For now.
"Ah, damn, I'll go to the practice range with you," Reinhardt said, putting in a dark blue t-shirt. "But tell me what I can get Ana."
Jack looked surprised for a moment, then erupted into laughter.
"Sugar and cinnamon doughnuts. She loves them," he nodded with an amused grin.
"I've never seen her having those…"
"Of course not. They're expensive, and the calories are worth two hours of cycling, at least," Jack put on his boots. "But I always get her one or two when I need help with something specially horrible."
"Then she'll know I've spoken to you…" Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.
"Bake her a cake, then," he shrugged. "Buy her tea. Make her cookies. I don't know what else to say, man. Or," he continued, raising a finger, "you can ask Gabe. He knows her better than I do."
"Just what I had in mind," Reinhardt rolled his eyes. First, baking was out of the picture unless he planned to burn the building down, or worse. Buying tea leaves could be an option, but that would need to wait until he was off-duty. And second, no. No way he would ask Gabriel about this.
"You know," Jack continued, though his tone was more tentative, now. "He is having a rough time with-"
"Really?" Reinhardt snorted, lacing his boots. "Hadn't noticed!"
"It's nothing personal, Reinhardt. Don't-"
"I know. I just happened to screw up, unlike the rest."
"About that, is, you know, something the matter? You were unusually restrained, yesterday."
Reinhardt drew a long breath and considered slamming his head against the nearby wall for not shutting his mouth when he should have. But it was too late, now; Jack was waiting for an answer.
"I was trying to protect the team better," he said slowly, and it was not a lie. Just, it was not all the truth, either.
"Well, you already do a great job. Though, sometimes a good offence is a good defence. Like, when you broke the ground and made them all scramble," Jack made a gesture with his arms. "Actually, that was quite cool."
"Of course it was! Been practicing it a lot," Reinhardt crossed his arms, secretly relieved that Jack did not think he was useless. That made him feel marginally better about the whole thing. "I'll do better next time, promise."
"Don't be too hard on yourself," the other man punched him in the arm, playful. "We all have bad days. Look at Gabe. I'd have killed him when he jumped in the middle of those Bastions."
"You're not the only one…" he snorted. "Does he have the smoke-thing under control, now?"
"He's less angry with the world today, I think," Jack winced, and Reinhardt wondered what sort of conversations and whatnots were happening between the two men. "I've contacted the SEP program this morning and I'm waiting for news, but we need to keep this in secret for now."
Made sense. Having their Commander dissolve like a ghost was not the sort of thing that would help the morale of their troops. Thought, truth to be told, Reinhardt was not exactly apprehensive about that. Maybe he had lived enough battles, super-soldiers, and Omnics to care— or maybe he had charged one time too many against a wall.
"I understand," he nodded. "But, concealing the smoking and that temper will be fun."
"Yeah, I know what you mean…" Jack's shoulder's sagged, and Reinhardt put an arm around them.
"I can always wrestle him," he said with a devilish smile, flexing his free arm. "Give him a beating so he has something to be angry about."
"Fuck man, I didn't know this side of you," Jack seemed half bewildered and half scared for a moment, but then laughed, his stance relaxing. "You know what? You may be onto something here. Mind if I call you if it is, ah, suitable?"
He had not been exactly serious about it but, why not?
"Please do, my friend. But now, breakfast!"
The world looked much, much better with a full belly. And even more with two cinnamon doughnuts safely packed in a paper bag.
"Computer, where's Captain Amari?" Reinhardt asked to a panel on the wall, and it flashed her location in HQ's map; her office, perfect. He looked at his reflection on the screen and ran a hand over his hair; the day he did not ensure he was presentable before going to see a lady was the day he would be dead and buried.
He walked through the corridors, greeting people here and there. He had met many people at HQ— enough to find someone to have a beer with in the afternoons if needed, enough to sometimes share his bed. But something strange had been happening during the past weeks— or was it months? He got deployed so much he did not even know anymore. Lately, finding someone to have fun and unwind for a while had been challenging, and Reinhardt did not know why. He was as handsome as he had always been and, if anything, he was stronger, fitter.
One lady he knew pretty well scurried past him barely waving at him— and it was the third one that did it that morning.
"Emma!" He called her, and she stopped suit, her chubby frame unable to hide the tension on her shoulders.
She turned around, though, a small smile on her face as she pushed her glasses up.
"Hey. I'm busy, can we-?"
"Just have a question! Quick one, really," he smiled, putting a hand on his hip. "Do you-"
"I can't! Sorry!"
She ran away. Literally. She ran down the corridor and left him hanging. Reinhardt turned around to see if there was a big predator behind him —A lion! A dinosaur!- but actually, there was nobody else around.
Damn it, what was wrong?
He stopped by a column that had a polished metallic surface and looked at his reflection. He was not running around naked. He also looked practically like any other morning, though more tired. His hair and beard were as neat as ever. He smiled at the wall, and it showed him back his perfectly aligned teeth.
There was nothing scary or horrible about him that he could notice. Reinhardt scratched his beard and resumed his walking. This was something he needed to investigate, even if he did not know where to start doing so.
He could try to ask more people around. Maybe he had done something wrong, unwillingly? The guys he sat with during breakfast did not seem concerned so, at least, it was only something pertaining the ladies.
Maybe he could ask Jack. He had a sixth sense regarding women.
Ah, but there was Ana's office door, right in front of him at last. All right. Reinhardt looked at the doughnut bag that he had been carefully carrying and reviewed the plan. He would get there, praise her hair and her beauty, then engage in silly conversation while at the door. Nothing awkward, nothing that could be misinterpreted. The bag will be out of her sights at all times, until it was time to show her his hand.
Then, and only then, he would give her the present while emphasising it was a gesture of gratitude. That was it.
Maybe he was being ridiculous, but she had been absolutely adorable last night and it was the first time he gave her a present; he did not want to screw up their relationship over a trea—
The sound of something hitting a surface hard made him look straight at the door. There was an argument. His eyebrows twitched as he recognised Ana and Gabriel's voices, and he rushed into the room.
Both Gabriel and Ana turned in surprise when the door slammed on the wall, their hands already at the gun holsters they were thankfully not carrying.
"Hey," Reinhardt raised his left hand as a greeting, keeping his right one hid behind his back. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt."
He grinned, trying to give his cheerful and honest posing a better chance, but his friends were burning him up with their glares. They looked worn-out, unhappy. Angry.
"Did you need anything, Reinhardt?" Ana asked curtly, so different from last night that he felt compelled to punch Gabriel to the moon.
"He probably was looking for me," their Commander straightened, the tension on his shoulders dissipating somewhat— or maybe just changing places, for he was now looking at him as if he was about to go for his throat. "I've heard you wouldn't mind taking me down at the gym."
Oh, Jack had wasted no time.
"I don't mind fighting anyone," Reinhardt said, his smile sharpening. "Anytim-"
He had not even finished talking when Gabriel threw a punch to his ribs- and, no, he did not hold back. Reinhardt parried the attack with his forearm, but almost did not manage to block the second punch in time.
"Hah, all bark, no bite," Gabriel grinned, taunting him with a gesture of his hand. "Come on."
Paper bag and all, Reinhardt made fists with his hands. Gabriel was faster than him any day, so he had to wait for his overconfidence to make an opening for him. Which always happened, if Reinhardt was patient enough. He just had to watch it, even if that meant-
"Gabriel!" Ana hissed through her teeth, grabbing him by one ear and pulling him back to a chair in front of her desk. "I'm going to kill you. And you," she pointed at Reinhardt, burning a hole through him with her glare, "get out of here if you want nothing."
"Nothing that cannot wait," he smiled nervously and took a step back, hitting the door frame with the back of his head. It was only then that he remembered to duck. "I'll catch up with you later, ja ?"
She only made thin slits with her eyes, and he closed the door on his way out.
Ah, Ana was pissed off, but she would definitely kick Gabriel in the nuts if the need arose and would not have second thoughts about it. Good. Despite knowing this -and he already did before entering her office in the first place- he stayed by the door, listening.
He sighed, pulling out a squeezed, no-longer-round doughnut from the crushed paper bag and ate half of it in one bite while stretching his bad leg. Standing up ached, so he leaned in the wall and ended the doughnut's agony.
He loved how Ana could be sometimes like those Jekyll and Hyde characters, even if he loved it even more when she was relaxed and laughed.
Sometimes she looked at him in a way that made him melt inside, like she did last night. Her golden eyes softened- not as if she was making bedroom eyes at him, but with genuine affection. He could, of course, be delusional about the whole thing. Probably was. Damn, but were the doughnuts good!
Reinhardt looked at the brown bag. He should probably buy her three doughnuts to compensate for meddling in her discussion with Gabriel— but that would be too much. Maybe two and some Apfelstrudel? The one his mom used to make was delicious, that was one of the few things he remembered of her, but the Swiss recipe did not make it justice. If only—
The door opened, and he found himself looking at Gabriel in the eye, who immediately sported his patented know-it-all smirk.
"Hah. I knew you'd still be here," he snorted, closing the door. There was a dangerous fire in his eyes despite his smile. "Ready for round two at the gym?"
No, he was not. His knee would put him at a clear disadvantage. Not to say, he would screw it and his hand even further. No, he would not give him the satisfaction of beating him. Not today, at least.
"Busy, as you see," Reinhardt frowned, finishing the last doughnut. "Not in the mood to fight, now."
"Ah, just like in France," Gabriel cocked his head. "And screwing up as much as then. Yes, don't glare at me," he pointed a finger to him. "I know what happened, now, and you didn't say something was troubling you. You didn't ask for help later. And you haven't check in Med Bay today despite being unfit for duty."
"I'm not unfit for duty," Reinhardt offered him a small, strained smile.
"And when would you consider yourself unfit, then? When you get us all killed?" The Commander's dark eyes bore a hole through him, and Reinhardt gritted his teeth so hard his jaws hurt.
The next he knew, he had grabbed a fistful of the other man's t-shirt and was pulling him up to his toes. His right hand was ready to punch him square in the face, but the pain of squeezing his fingers was a tiny beacon of reason in his mind.
Not because he would hurt his hand, though. Screw it. His only worry was that they were in the corridor, in front of Ana's door, and she would get angry at him again.
Gabriel ran a hand over his goatee, and that was the only thing that betrayed he was thinking his next words twice before saying them.
"I'm just saying that screwing your team like this is not your style, man."
"It's more yours, right?" Reinhardt snapped, letting him go with a shove. "Not communicating with the team, getting out of sight of everyone, jumping into the enemy, being sick and not telling anyone-"
"I'm not sick," Gabriel raised an eyebrow and paced in front of him with slow strides. "And I'm your Commander; I do the finger-pointing, here."
"Of course. Sorry, I forgot my place. The sheer irony of all this got me confused."
"Ah, stop being a pain in the arse," he rolled his eyes. "I know yesterday I rubbed salt on the wound, but cut me some slack. I didn't know you were such a grudge-holder."
"Me," Reinhardt glared at him. "Who started a fight in Ana's office?"
Gabriel's mouth curved into a cheeky smile that did not touch his eyes.
"Yeah, we better go to my office before she kick us both to the Moon," he snorted. "We'll discuss more there."
"That an order?"
"Does it need to be?"
"I don't want to talk more about this. I know what I did wrong, and I already have a plan-"
"Then, it is an order," Gabriel shrugged, but his voice came out sharp, hard. "Get moving, or you're giving me laps around the building until you fall to your face, and then we get moving."
"Why? What's there to discuss?" Reinhardt let go a long-suffering growl and started walking. "If you're sending me to the counsellor, then do so already."
"Oh, no, not yet. You interrupted us grown-ups while we were talking, so-"
"Talking? You were yelling at Ana."
"She was yelling at me. Very different story. Very common, too."
That made Reinhardt snort. He would have laughed if he was not dreading the conversation they were about to have. Or about to try to have. Gabriel would not beat around the bush like Jack, and he would probably be the worst person to have a heart-to-heart conversation ever, if Reinhardt was inclined to it. Which he was not.
"Actually, it was such a party, I'm actually glad you crashed it," the Commander continued. "She was delighted about me not telling her about my condition, for yelling at you, for flanking the Omnics and, last but not least, for saving your arse from the Bastions…."
" Ja , don't jump in front of me like that next time. They could have killed you."
"Shall I let you die next time?"
"As much as it pains me sometimes, you are the Commander-" He oofed the end of the sentence when Gabriel punched him in the lower ribs, glaring. "It's true. The world needs you to win the war."
"They need all of us to win the war," he grunted. "You will live enough to woo Ana and make me win my bet with Jack."
The bet. It was preposterous that they had bet money on their relationship. Reinhardt had been angry at them at the beginning, but he had grown to place hope on it. If Gabriel, scheming and calculating as he was, bet that it would happen… Well. It sure must mean something, right?
Just, Reinhardt could not see how that was bound to happen, just like he could not see where they were heading.
"Your office is not this way," he mentioned when they got into the elevator.
"Very perceptive," Gabriel pressed the button for the ground floor and stared at the closing doors. A moment later, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, and Reinhardt had the certainty that he was about to jump any second, now.
At him. In the elevator.
It would make for an interesting fight. Space constrained, no weapons, and with the additional risk of making the whole cabin fall down the shaft...
It was not going to happen, though. Probably . But there was something to do with the way Gabriel carried himself that gave that idea of a predator- and it was not new. Maybe Reinhardt should have noticed something was going on, but the Commander had not been exactly accessible in the last months- oh. Maybe this was why. But, well. If Ana did not know about his problem, what chance did he have?
The elevator dinged, and Gabriel walked out first, heading straight for Med Bay. The moment he opened the large white doors, a nurse was there to greet them.
"Mrs. Handsan, I was hoping to see you," he made a gesture.
"Glad to see you could make it, Commander," she said, walking by their side. "This is for you," she produced a small container with the mark of Med Bay on it from her pouch and gave it to him. "You also said you were ready for the test?"
"No, not me. The Lieutenant will assist you."
"Will I, now?" Reinhardt cocked his head. He did not mind helping any day, but he could feel in the air that it was a trap. Not that the nurse wanted to mess with him; he knew her, she was kind -and not exactly into men. It was Gabriel he did not trust.
"You will, yes," Gabriel snorted, but there was a tiny smirk on his lips. "But I will stay with you so you don't freak out."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
" Perhaps ..."
The nurse sighed and made a gesture with her hand.
"Follow me, please."
They entered a small room; the only furniture visible were two cabinets placed in front of a flimsy-looking stretcher. There was a light, too; a security camera, the likes of which they used in the corridors.
Before Reinhardt could even ask why they needed a security camera in a room, the nurse plunged a syringe in his right arm and gave him a shot. No warning, no words. Nothing. He took a step back on instinct, feeling his arm burn.
"Ow, that was not-"
A trail of fire moved from his arm to practically everywhere, and he leaned on the stretcher with a gasp. Its wheels screeched at the weight, but it held- which was good, because he could not move anymore. Or breathe, for that matter. His heart started beating with such strength it hurt, his mouth dried up, and all his mind could think of was how embarrassing would be to die due to a prank instead of in battle.
Because he was going to die. Right there .
"That'll pass in a moment," he heard Gabriel's voice in a haze, and he was actually right.
The blazing left a tingling sensation on his muscles, but they responded again. Reinhardt gasped for breath. The air stoked him like a furnace, and he made fists with his hands. He felt incredible. The soreness of his muscles? Gone. The aching on his knee? All but a foggy memory at the back of his mind. He could do anything! Run a mile in ten seconds, lift an elephant. Any-fucking-thing .
He turned around to see Gabriel swallow the contents of his med container but then, almost as if the clock had turned back the past six seconds, he wheezed, stumbling up to the wall as his vision clouded in a white haze. Tiredness draped around him, his limbs heavy as if they were strapped in rocks.
"Yeah, I know. Crashing sucks… We are working on it."
The door opened, and he just noticed because he was standing right by it. Small hands touched him here and there and then patted his arm.
"You did good, Lieutenant," she said, pleased. "Now, take it easy for some minutes. You'll be just fine when your blood pressure stabilizes."
Ja , just fine. He was this close from passing out. Embarrassing. So embarrassing.
"Take a deep breath, man," Gabriel leaned on the wall by his side and grabbed his arm, pulling at him sideways. The motion almost sent him to the ground, but the Commander held him up with his shoulder. "It probably would be better if you sit down, really."
No more moving, ever, Reinhardt wanted to say, but he did not dare just yet. His vision was returning, and he could feel the warmth radiating from the other man and the slickness of the wall under his hands.
He managed to turn his head at him, and noticed it was just the two of them in the room, again.
"How's your leg, now? Any better?"
It was difficult to feel anything when his body was pumping adrenaline like crazy but, as his heartbeat stabilized and he could stop panting like a dog, Reinhardt realized his knee was bothering him way less, now.
"What was that?" He panted after what felt an eternity, making fists. His forearms tingled softly as he squeezed his hands, and he could feel every single muscle on his body. At least, he was not dead. And he had not fainted. Not that he remembered.
"It's an experimental drug we are making. We call it nanoboost ," Gabriel said. "Gives the lucky recipient a burst of energy via a bunch of self-destructing nanites. The body can use the extra energy they generate to heal or over-perform as required. As for now, yes, using it kind of sucks, which is not exactly what we need for combat operations."
" Sucks doesn't make it justice."
"Well, we've not tested it yet in normal humans -well, other than you, but you hardly qualify," he shrugged. "Good to see you didn't drop dead."
Reinhardt peeled himself from the wall slowly, not fully trusting himself yet, but his legs held. He stretched, feeling just fine. Way tired, but fine. He looked at his hand and noticed half of the cuts were now scratches.
Impressive. Why did Overwatch not use it for healing their operatives, then? Other than cost, of course.
"Wait. You said it could have killed me?" He realized, eyebrows shooting up.
"I was joking ," Gabriel rolled his eyes in a very theatrical way. "Unless you get a double dose or you have a heart condition to begin with," he shook his head, making a face. "Ah, come with me. I'm not done with you yet."
Reinhardt walked after him and realized, not without dread, that they were getting into another room. He felt weak and was starving like he had not eaten in a day; he was hardly in any condition to partake into more tests, even more if they were going to be as strenuating as the last.
"Are there more tests?" He asked, hoping his voice concealed his worry.
"No, not until next week," the other man leaned on a table and took a deep breath. "You'll get all the details in your datapad soon enough."
"What? You don't mean-"
" Yes ," Gabriel's shoulders shook a bit as he chuckled, though he sounded strained. "I can't play the guinea pig part anymore, the drug doesn't play well with my condition."
Grand. Just grand. Reinhardt rubbed his face with both hands. Shit. And he said every week .
He was going to die in a lab, far from battle. Without his armour. Like a rat .
"Don't moan. You're the best suitable to continue the tests. Hopefully, the hospital and Overwatch will bring nanites for everyone when the war is over. We just need to help that-" Gabriel stopped talking as if he had just had a huge realization.
Just, it was not that.
He doubled over with a pained gasp, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders dissolving into swirls of black smoke. He held himself on the table and dry-heaved violently, as if he was coming undone from the inside.
"Bloody useless- " He groaned, tumbling sideways and holding himself on a wall.
Reinhardt went after him, reaching out in time to put an arm across his shoulders when he was about to fall to his knees. The solid-yet-moving smoky quality of his flesh almost freaked him out; watching it was one thing, but experiencing it— holy shit.
"Hang in there, I'll call someone..."
"No!" The Commander snarled, slapping Reinhardt's arm away and leaving behind a black trail in the air. He circled the table and hold himself on it again, breathing hard and solid enough to crack the plastic surface with his bare hands. "It'll pass. Talk to me. Now!" Gabriel growled among teeth, the desk cracking ominously in the background.
Reinhardt looked around. The way the Commander was writhing and burning everything with his glare made him think of a rabid animal, hurting and despairing. He thought of getting out and look for help- but the door was bolted from the outside. Another camera spying on them made him think this was not an accident, either.
"Fine," he sighed, resigned to play along. "What do I talk about?"
"I don't care! Just talk!" The Commander gasped, doubling over again. "AnythINGNNH-"
Reinhardt's eye travelled across the room as he tried to think of something that could distract his Commander. The room was larger than the previous one, but it had a chair and a bed, this time. And some shelves. It almost looked like a spartan version of his own room.
The camera had a red dot underneath it, and he made a face. Computers never made for good stories. Robots were absolutely out of question, bloody things. Gabriel hissed and groaned in pain, and Reinhardt rubbed his thighs with the heel of his hands.
It was not the first time he had been in this situation, if he did not take the swirling smoke into account, and it was nothing he wanted to remember. Yet, he could not help himself.
Reggar was an absolute dumbarse that had the most stupid ideas possible. He was hilarious to be around, and one of the few people capable of infuriating Balderich.
Reinhardt squeezed his eyes, wishing his last moments away from his mind. It did not work, and Gabriel did not help matters- but, sometimes, remembering better times did.
"There was a place in Bavaria, you know, the bit that used to be a forest at the south of Germany," he grabbed the only chair in the room and sit near the door. "When I was posted there, it was common to see bears and wolves and… It was a nice place," he said, stretching his back. It had been nice before it was levelled to the ground by the Bundeswehr's missiles, rockets, plasma guns, and the Omnics. "Anyway. There was this little village where a candle was always lit. Always . Being the bunch of curious guys we were, one day we asked the elders and they said the candle marked the place where the last werewolf of the region was killed. Of course, we laughed our arses off."
"That's all you could think of? A monster story?" The Commander's voice trembled, strained, but there was a hint of amusement on it. "I'd be a better vampire than werewolf, though."
"Don't laugh, I'm not making this up."
"Sure…"
"The candle was there to prevent the werewolves from returning to the village, and the good people always took care of replacing it when it burned down. They kept it dry and protected from the wind," he continued, "but they couldn't really protect it from us bunch of idiots."
It was Reggar's idea, of course it was, and it was the best idea any of them had heard in a month. They did not go to sleep that night and sneaked out of Eichenwalde trying to conceal their footsteps and their laughter. Reggar tripped and broke his nose against the wall, which was even more amusing at the time than the werewolf story, and Johanna almost woke up the whole platoon when she mistakenly opened the cargo door of a gravel truck.
Those two always got in trouble, much more than Reinhardt himself, and that was a feat. So much, that when part of the castle's battlements rained down on them due to 'friendly' fire, he knew exactly whose armours had been crushed beyond hope without even having to take their helmets off.
"Holy shit, man," Gabriel's voice brought him back after what felt a lifetime. "You ever going to continue?"
"Sorry, we-" Reinhardt trailed off, swallowed. "We put off the candle. Of course we did," he dug his fingers on his legs. He hated not having one good goddamn memory that was not soiled by blood and death. "And then, we came back laughing only to find a pack of the biggest wolves we had ever seen. To say we shit ourselves is an understatement."
"No weapons?"
"Just hunting knives. We rushed to relight the candle, got all the wolves into the village."
"Shit."
"The General almost kicked us out of the Army," he let go a shaky chuckle and clamped his mouth shut to swallow the lump in his throat. They served detention for a week and were forced to help the villagers for a month during their time off in the worst of winter, but he could not manage to say that much. "Was fun."
There was a moment of silence only broken by Gabriel's heavy breathing. He stretched out like a cat would, bringing his spine inwards and his shoulders back, and sat on the table, looking at his shaking hands. The smoke was almost contained and, if anything, it flickered softly from his curls.
"Looks like it's shit," Reinhardt said when he trusted his voice would not falter. The other man did not need his stupid problems on top of the smoke.
"It is, when I can't control it."
"And when you can?"
"You saw how I took those Bastions down," he snorted, a little smile on his lips. "Useful. Weird, but useful. And it's not worse than the SEP program, anyway. I'll live. However-"
He stopped talking, frowned. There was an awry look on his face, but it did not seem to be because of the pain, this time. He seemed unhappy. Maybe somewhat embarrassed, too? Reinhardt could not tell for sure.
"This time it was easy, and with these drugs I can more or less choose when it happens," Gabriel continued at last. "But, sometimes, I need help to get it under control. And it breaks Jack every time he has to do it."
Reinhardt may be drained and exhausted, but he heard the silent plea on his voice. It made him take a deep breath.
"Med Bay would only call you in those situations," he continued. "On a normal day I can manage alone or with a nurse on the mic."
Sigh. It sounded like shit, but turning his back to a challenge or someone in need was just not part of his nature.
"Do I get to punch you, though?"
"Only if you can make me solid enough, first," he snorted. It was almost a laugh, but it was bitter, sad, and broken. "Now, how can I help you back?"
That took Reinhardt by surprise.
"I don't need-"
"Don't give me that shit. I'm not Ana, I'm not Torb. I can take you when you're angry. I can fight you. We can train together if you rather bench."
"It's fine, really. Doesn't happen this frequently…"
"It is a fucking order!"
There it was again, the smoking on his shoulders, the blackness on his eyes. It was terrifying to witness— yet Reinhardt felt something akin to sympathy diluting the resentment he held against him. Losing control of his body and his temper like that really sucked. Not to say how painful it looked, as well.
"Fine, you're going to the counsellor the moment we're out," Gabriel growled, hiding half of his face in a hand.
"Aw, wait— Just… " Reinhardt squeezed his eyes for a moment. "I can go with you to the gym, but it was-" Ah, damn. He did not want to say it out loud. But he told Ana about it. Should not be that horrible to tell Gabriel, should it, now? "The place, where we landed, it felt just like-"
Goddamnit. It was horrible. It fucking was, because Ana's gaze was soft and caring, and Gabriel was judging him, and it made all the difference.
"Eichenwalde," the Commander helped out when he stopped talking, and Reinhardt let his head drop. "I imagined that much. But I've never had a report about you that-"
He gritted his teeth all of sudden, squeezing his midsection once again, and Reinhardt made a face.
"Is this a matter of time? Can I do something?"
Gabriel fell on his knees and vomited a black mass that swirled the moment it touched the ground. Reinhardt grimaced. He had seen quite a lot of things in his soldier life already, but that was disgusting. The thing smoked and twirled faintly before dissolving in thin air, its blackness returning to its owner.
Dis-gus-ting.
"Ughhh, fuck this shit," the Commander sat on the ground, panting, and leaned his head on the leg of the table. He was pearled with sweat but, at least, it looked like most of the tension on his body had ebbed away.
Reinhardt was trying to remain inconspicuously silent, hoping the other man would forget what they were talking about, but his wrist datapad started beeping and blew his flimsy cover. It was Ana, whose jingly ringtone was the same for all of them in the team.
"You better pick it up. Don't want her here, now," the Commander grunted.
He tapped the datapad's screen and picked up the call, wondering why would she present herself there, of all places. Sure, she had superpowers, but that was far fetched even for her.
"Hey Ana-"
"Hey," she said. Her voice was a bit lower than usual, and she did not seem angry any longer. "I was looking for you, and saw you're at Med Bay..."
The look on Gabriel's eyes said he would have cooed right there if he had not looked like a freighter had run over him and left him for the vultures. But then, he sobered straight away and mouthed ' don't tell her about me '. Great.
"I, ah, I'm fine," Reinhardt rubbed the back of his head. "I'm helping on a top-secret drug trial of… some sort."
"You sure you're ok?" Ana put so much emphasis in her words that Reinhardt could imagine her raising her eyebrows perfectly. "I'm in my room now, if you want a coffee. Or some food."
Reinhardt almost choked on his own breath.
" Danke , I'm— I'm just tired," he blurted, trying hard to find the proper English words. "Look, ah, can we speak later? I'm a bit in a tight spot, right now. Top-secret tight spot."
"Sure... See you then."
Ana hung up, and Reinhardt let go a long, long sigh.
"Gabriel," he called, looking at the ceiling for a moment. "Did she just invite me over?"
The Commander laughed. It started as a chuckle, low on his throat, and then he guffawed, holding himself as he winced and chortled at the same time.
"But, I don't understand. She's being so friendly all of sudden-when you're not involved, that's it. Not that I'm complaining," Reinhardt made a gesture with a hand. "But it's disconcerting ."
And not only that. He was scared this strike of good luck would end as abruptly as it had started, but he would not share that bit with the Commander.
"All of sudden," the other man rolled his eyes. "I can't believe that you, from all people, have not noticed she likes you."
"Ah, don't jest…"
"I'm not, and her concern and her invitation to feed you, just proves me right. I have even received complaints from quite many ladies in the base that feel intimidated by her if they approach you."
"Oh? Is that why everyone's running away from-? Wait, what?" Reinhardt looked at Gabriel as if he had turned into a Wolpertinger. Actually, due to his snarky, mischievous nature, chances were he may have been one in disguise all this time- but he was digressing. "Stop pulling my leg, Gabriel!"
"I'm telling you I'm not joking, man," he snorted. "She doesn't look at Jack or me in the same way she looks at you."
Reinhardt rolled his eyes. Fine, he had noticed her soft smiles, but it was not as if they were exclusively for him. Also, to think that she liked him better than two of her favourite people was too bold.
"Suit yourself if you won't believe me," Gabriel shrugged tiredly. "Guess you'll see it for yourself one day."
"Fine. Say, for argument's sake, that I believe you and she's liked me for a while," he crossed his arms. "Why being start being friendly just now and not a while back?"
"Well, I don't have the specifics. But Jack experienced a similar transition; at the beginning, Ana was also cold to him. She was 'giving him space', if you know what I mean."
Yes, he knew it very well. And yes, things between Ana and him were better than they had been years ago, but what happened last night was extremely rare. Sure, she talked to him, they watched films together sometimes, got together on planned team nights, she asked him to play with Fareeha now and then… They had a cordial, friendly relationship, but that was it.
She had been keen to let him know when things got too personal between them, and— well. He sucked at discriminating what was too personal and dreaded her cold shoulders, so he did his best to stick to what he knew worked: work-related conversations, light stories, jokes, the odd hug.
That was why he treasured every time she got out of her way to chat with him, or to show him a film she had not seen, or to tell him about Fareeha. And yesterday, even if he had been plain horrible to her, she still—
He sighed. If only this friendly mood of her would last forever...
"One day she came around and they became bestest buddies," Gabriel continued. "But about why now, who knows? She's still quite broken, and I think she doesn't even under-"
"What do you mean, she's broken ?"
The Commander rubbed his face with his two hands, then let go a long breath.
"Why am I talking to you about Ana, again?"
"Because you've been a piece of shit to me and you want to make up for it somehow?"
Gabriel sighed, looking like an oversized rag doll leaning on the table, legs sprawled in front of himself.
"What I meant is exactly that. Or do you know a lot of people that cold and detached? It takes her ages to let anyone close, if she does. She's absolutely terrible with people, worse than me— yes , don't look at me like that."
There was a lot of truth on that. But some people were more reserved than others, and some people just needed their space and time alone. If anything, that was what Reinhardt had always thought about Ana. But, to say she was broken implied something bad had happened.
Something like-
"Ana told me she shared her story with you," Gabriel continued, making a tired gesture with his arm. "So, by now, you should know about Sam. Captain Muramak, you know, the guy that came to visit Fareeha."
"I do," Reinhardt glared. To think he had had him within hand's reach and could not use that opportunity to make him apologise to Ana made his blood pressure rise. "Why did you allow him to get into our base? You should've punched him to oblivion when he showed up."
"Because we needed him," Gabriel sighed. "And Ana needed to face him at some point. Better if she did it with us than alone, am I right?"
"That's one way to look at it…"
"In any case, you must have realised by now how much what happened in Egypt screwed her."
"Of course," Reinhardt huffed softly. "She caused a lot of casualties. They were her friends. Her father, too, I think. That would change anyone."
"That too," the Commander let go a long, exasperated sigh. "But I'm not talking about that, exactly. "
"Then?"
"Man, you are so dense, sometimes," he frowned, rubbing his stomach. "I recommend you talk more to her, now that you're in her good graces."
"This is about Captain Jerk, isn't it?" Reinhardt frowned. "He did something to her. On top of abandoning her and Fareeha, I mean, which is more than enough for me to take a flight to Egypt and strangle him with my bare hands."
"There, there," Gabriel got on his knees slowly and then leaned on the table to get up. He was pale, sweating, but in control of himself. Or, at least, he looked like he was in control. "In any case, don't get yourself all hyped about your new status. It won't give you any chance, at least, until the war is over."
A chance? A chance with her? Reinhardt swallowed. He had not even considered that since- he could not remember when was the last time he allowed himself to dream about that. There was only so much disappointment he could take.
Besides, even if she liked him more now, she did not like him in the way Gabriel was implying. No. That could not be possible because she was clearly uninterested , as she had said it to him several times.
But...
"She won't even consider it until she's sure she won't have to make that choice again. So, keep in mind you have a war to win next time you decide you're too stubborn to ask for help."
"I, ah- Is not… that ," Reinhardt sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Going to the counsellor is useless, and I knew all of you would send me there straight away. I just need some time to sort myself, that's all," he gave him the best grin he could muster. "I manage quite well. Besides, it's not as if we went to a castle every day, is it?"
Gabriel stared at him first in disbelief, then in annoyance. Finally, he shook his head.
"So, this is how you've done it? You've smiled your way out of the counsellour's grasp. They believed you," Gabriel pointed at him. "And so did we."
There was a moment of silence after that where the Commander looked unusually solemn and Reinhardt tried not to squirm.
"I'll call Ana's counsellor and you'll go see him this afternoon," he walked towards him with slow, unsure steps. "He's very good at hopeless cases."
"No, no, no. Have you not heard what I said? I just need-"
"And I told you before, do you want to get us all killed? If not, you'll give this guy a chance. Look at me. You think I like coming here and vomiting black shit? Think again, man."
Reinhardt crossed his arms and grumbled, feeling a knot forming in his guts again. He did not want to talk to another counsellor. He did not want to talk about Germany, period. He just wanted get on with his life, get a present for Ana, and have eight hours of good sleep. Why was it so difficult to understand that the counsellor did not help with any of those?
Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder and leaned his weight on him.
"Come on, now. I'm doing this for your own good," he said, wiping an imaginary tear off his eye. Then, he sobered again. "Don't make me open a file and pull you out of the Strike Team. Understood? If not for yourself, do it for the team."
" Are you just blackmailing me? "
"Whatever works, man," he shrugged.
Reinhardt felt the proverbial knife being plunged on his back and let his head drop. There was not escaping from this one, now.
"Fine. I'll go, since I have no choice… But I don't promise anything."
He would still feel like shit, the counsellor would still not listen, would not understand , and Reinhardt would find another way to get rid of his appointments. That, he could promise.
"Good boy," Gabriel patted him in the shoulder as he walked towards the door, but he stopped when he was about to get out. "By the way, about our deal. It would better if you didn't tell Jack. Or Ana. What they don't know doesn't hurt them, am I right?"
"Indeed… But, wait a moment," Reinhardt made slits with his eyes, an evil half-smile painted in his face. "I think… Ja . It is my time to blackmail you ."
"What do you want?" The Commander glared. "I swear I'll kick you in the nuts if you try to talk me out of the counsellor."
"Ah, no, it's not that," Reinhardt leaned on the chair and crossed his arms. "Let's say I wanted to make a gift..."
Many hours later, Reinhardt knocked at Ana and Fareeha's door and swallowed as he waited, hands hidden behind his back.
Ana opened up dressed in a plain shirt and baggy trousers, and she was so cute when she was not wearing her uniform that he almost forgot to say hi.
"Hey. Wasn't sure if I was expecting you at all," she held herself at the door in a way that made dark hair spill over her shoulders, a little smile on her lips. "I am playing games with Fareeha."
"Sorry, I got caught up-"
"Reinhardt!" Fareeha ran to the door and popped underneath her mother's arm, a big grin on her face. "You came to play with us?"
He bit inside his mouth; all he wanted to do was grab them both in his arms and squeeze them against his chest. He could use a hug. Or two. Bloody counsellor had made a wreck of him, and he was still feeling like shit even after a really long shower.
In other circumstances he would have gone straight to the gym to blow off some steam but, due to the forsaken draining effects of the nanothing , he was stuck in an emotional roller coaster without a way out.
He was hating every second of it.
At least, this guy had listened to him- which was both good and bad, because he made him talk a lot about Germany and his memories. He had liked Reinhardt's idea of using the holoroom, but he had also asked him to train before the marathon. And, to train, he had asked him to get acquainted with what felt bad and why.
Reinhardt had been tempted to send it all to hell, but he had to give the counsellor something; he had piqued his interest by proposing him a task that both sucked and had good perks.
He just needed to find the little courage he had left after the session.
"I came to bring cake!" He tried to grin, showing them the bundle he had been hiding at his back. Looking at it with huge eyes, the girl took the wrapping off to discover an uneven oval lemon sponge that was a bit burnt on the edges.
"You-" Ana babbled, her eyes almost as big as Fareeha's. "You can bake, now?"
"I'm afraid it was a team effort," he chuckled softly, feeling that the corridor was boiling hot all of sudden. The little Captain eased him from the sweet burden and ran inside with it among giggles. "I whisked the eggs and the flour; that was as much as I could do without causing a catastrophe."
"That's more than I can do," Ana snorted, eyes down, but there was a little smile on her face. "What's the occasion?"
"I wanted to thank you for yesterday," he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just that, promise," he continued when Ana kept on staring at him in silence.
"It's—It's very sweet of you. Pun intended," her voice was somewhat neutral, but she seemed genuinely happy. "Do you-?"
"I also need to ask something of you," he interrupted her. If she started talking about something else, he would probably lose his cool and the chance to make this work. "If you don't mind humouring me."
"Sure," Ana nodded and fixed a rebellious lock of hair. "What's up?"
"I, ah… I need to talk to someone about home and my team," Reinhardt hooked his thumbs on his belt so he could squeeze it inconspicuously. His cheeks burned, and looking at her in the face was probing to be a feat of strength. "Was wondering if you would mind me telling Fareeha, since...?"
He trailed off when Ana's eyes went down, her mouth pursed. She closed the door behind her, probably to keep little ears off their conversation, and leaned on it.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit . He was counting with her friendliness- if she were to push him away now, he did not think he could come back again. Ever.
"Yesterday, I realised that— well. That you would not talk about what mattered," Ana said with a sigh, surprising him. "I'm glad you did, in the end," she looked at him in the eye for a moment, "but I'm sorry I pushed you into a corner. I'm sorry you felt you could not tell me."
His heartbeat skyrocketed.
"Ana…"
"No, let me finish," she snorted and crossed her arms in a way it looked she was holding herself together. "Thanks to my stupid ex I'm—I'm a control-freak. But, if we are to be friends, I need to let you be yourself. I need to trust you with this," she made a vague gesture at them. "So you can come to me without fear."
Her words lit a fire in Reinhardt's chest, and it was so bright that it made the knot in his throat impossible to swallow.
He had dismissed Gabriel's words because they were madness in the mouth of a mad man. But he was right- and Reinhardt was going to kill fucking Captain Bastard really slowly next time he saw him.
"Hey?" She asked in a low voice, her small fingers touching his forearm. "Are you- are you ok?"
"No. Shit day," he wheezed, tears spilling down his cheeks. He wiped them with the heel of his hand, smiling like an idiot while he tried not to break down. Bloody counsellor. Bloody Gabriel. Bloody hell on a toast. "I- This is great. Really. I suck at-"
Reinhardt was going to say everything , but sniffled instead. Ana seemed to understand what he meant, though, because she patted his arm and continued:
"The one and only caveat is that, if you abuse my trust, I will strangle you with my bare hands and then I'll eat your heart with a spoon. But I know you won't," she half-smiled, and he barely saw it through the tears.
He wiped his eyes again and grabbed one of her hands to squeeze it softly. He would hug the air out of her, but a reverence seemed more appropriate for this moment of solemnity.
"I won't fail you. Promise," he said in a tight voice.
"You've never failed me… This is on me. Sorry," Ana said in a low voice, rubbing his fingers with her thumb for a moment before letting go. "But you promised me you'd tell me," she hissed a moment later, poking his chest with a finger.
"I promised to tell you if I couldn't be your friend," he shrugged. His face burned, his hands burned. The very air was absolutely on fire, but he tried his best to ignore it. "And, I could. Poorly, but I could."
" Please , complain next time," she almost pouted, her shoulders dropping. "Give me a clue, at-"
"GUUUYS, come on," Fareeha banged on the door. "There's CAKE here!"
"Manners, habibti! We're talking," Ana said, then let go a long sigh. "Can I offer you some cake? Don't think I can keep her from bursting out for much longer."
"Thanks, but I, ah, I'd be a horrible guest," Reinhardt half-smiled, then rubbed his eyes again. Impossible as it felt, he still seemed to have tears to shed, even if this time they were not exactly of sadness. "I'd only upset Fareeha."
Ana made her golden eyes into slits as if, all of sudden, she had joined all the dots and realized something she did not liked one bit.
"Do I need to kill Gabriel again ? He promised me he would not-" she stopped herself in the last moment, pursed her lips, and took a deep breath. "He said he would help, but..."
"He forced me to see your counsellor."
"Oh. I see," her gaze softened straight away, seeping understanding and sympathy. They stood in silence for a moment, one in front another, until Ana continued. "You know, I keep a secret stash of spreadable chocolate for days like this," she said in a low voice. "Best thing to improve your mood- even more when spread on top of a cake."
He could not help but chuckle at the idea of Ana stuffing herself with spreadable chocolate when life made her sad. She was too cute. She would also kill him with the tip of a pen if she was reading his mind right now, but her soft gaze was worth any death.
Ana wrapped an arm around one of his and pulled.
"Come on in. We'll discuss about Fareeha and your stories when you're feeling better."
"You sure?"
She opened the door without a word, and pulled him in.