Title: Relation
Characters: Dva, Reinhardt
Note: I think I've mentioned this before, but a review prompted me to clarify that this story isn't entirely canon, as it deals with AU elements (i.e, the fact that everyone is seemingly apart of Overwatch save Reaper and Widowmaker) and some chapters deal with unanswered questions. I'm sorry if I hadn't made that explicit and mislead anyone to believe this was 100% canon compliant. It's more like.. 65%.
And it seems notes are just a regular thing now. Oops? - Guixi
The young adult's tongue peeked out from her glossy lips as thin brows dipped into concentration, deft fingers untangling the white wires in front of her, before finally and with satisfaction slammed the plug into the socket. There was a deep rumble of a noise in awe, signalling that it all had connected properly. She dusted her hands, and rapped the table's leg beside her.
"Okay, big guy, it's all done!"
She braced herself for what she deemed the fun part as a strong grip captured her legs and yanked her out from under the desk, enjoying the perks of being a lazy genius and giggling heartily at how effortless Reinhardt made it. He knew his strength, and he was always the gentleman, hauling her carefully back to her feet and offering the Korean gamer a wide, warm smile.
"This will play Hasselhoff?" he asked, kind eyes gazing at the music deck with the player already in. It seemed so tiny, and self-consciously he glanced at his huge, meaty hands. One finger surely covered three or four of the ludicrously tiny buttons.
"It'll play whatever you've downloaded onto it." she confirmed. "So yes, Hasselhoff."
"Splendid, truly splendid!" he commended, patting her cheerfully on the back. He wouldn't have needed Hana's assistance if it wasn't for Junkrat's explosive first day, which unfortunately had caused collateral damage in the very foundations of the base. It had since been repaired – with fortifications made to prevent such a thing happening, but one of the unfortunate items that had gotten broke in the shake up was his vinyl records.
He had been furious, and no amount of comforting from Angela or drinks of sorrow with Torbjörn had tempered him. The valorous man was quite ready to have a stern chat with the demolition expert, but it had been the Korean teen's intervention that quelled his fury. She couldn't fix his records, but at least she gave him his music.
Reinhardt beamed, shuffling closer to the device and delicately selecting his favourite song with his pinkie finger, sitting back on the bed in anticipation as it started, the sound quality far above what he was used to, which made it all the more enjoyable.
Hana peered at the screen, reading the song title aloud.
"David Hasselhoff, Looking for Freedom." she recited. "That sounds.."
She trailed off as her words were drowned out by both the music and the German singing along, and she grinned lightly. The teen was going to quip at how lame it was, especially since she didn't like that particular genre of music, but seeing the older man so delighted, she couldn't bring herself to say it. So, she shrugged, tossed herself on the bed with her head leaning off the back.
To Reinhardt's credit, his singing voice was quite something. It easily dwarfed the actual singer's tone with his rumbling cadence, and his German accent twisted the lyrics into something more booming and powerful. Hana thought he would be better suited for opera, than pop music.
As he still had company, he finished off a verse, hands patting his knees as he turned gleefully to his young friend, voice full of mirth. She tilted her head – finding it strange how the first thing she thought was how pleasant he was when he had quite the grizzled look on him, littered with scars that boys she knew would deem as 'cool'.
"This song takes me back," he wistfully stated. "He performed it at the Berlin Wall, and what a performance that was! He had this jacket with motion lights. I always wanted one of those, but.. they didn't really have my size."
"Thanks for the history and fashion lesson." she teased, leaning up to shove him ineffectually, as it didn't make him budge an inch. "Maybe I'll commission Symmetra to make you a light jacket."
"Hm! Do you think she could do it in other colours than blue and white? I'm a fan of gold, myself!"
As she laughed at his joke, he gave a small chuckle and regarded her quietly. Reinhardt was fond of the young adult, as he was acutely aware she brought out a paternal instinct in him to protect her, beyond more than what he already did for Overwatch. He didn't know why she'd rather spend her time with an old relic like him, but he liked the time they did spend together, like a father and daughter bonding.
Unlike Jack, however, he didn't deny it – no, in fact, he embraced the fatherly (or, perhaps, grandfatherly) figure he represented. There was only one concern however, relating to the teen's ease of viewing the older members in a familial light. It was sweet on the surface, but underlining it could potentially be something neither of them wanted to think about.
"Mäuschen," he started softly, which caused Hana to immediately sober up, and scrutinize the older man for what he was about to say. She didn't like it when the veterans took that tone with her, as it came across far more patronizing than they ever intended. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but no amount of surly looks could ever halt the great knight.
"Do you ever miss your parents? I don't think I've ever heard you talk about them." That was one way to broach the subject.
Hana tutted, arms coming to fold defensively over her chest as she feebly glared at the floor. Reinhardt was not the first to try such a topic with her, as Mercy had been on the same line of thought far before he had come to ponder on it. Her response seemed autonomous as she regurgitated exactly what she told the doctor.
"Nah. I FaceTime them like, every night. Don't worry."
Reinhardt drummed his fingers against his knee, knowing that she was either lying or not telling the full story, but ultimately sighed lightly. He didn't want to force her, especially with the increasingly bad mood that was overtaking her.
The teen herself was quick to change the topic, shuffling closer to the senior man and pointing at his face. "Where did you get that scar? Are you blind in one eye?" she asked bluntly.
"Ah." A sombre, nostalgic smile crawled across his lips as he seemed to gaze elsewhere, pulling memories back to that instance that had cost him an eye, so to speak, gingerly touching his scarred cheek where it had never healed properly, still looking more raw than his peachy, flushed skin colour.
"To get the easy question out of the way, I lack decent depth perception, yes." His scarred eye was milky white; with the iris clouded over like a thin film had been encased, rending him without any kind of decent sight. There were medical procedures available (especially now) to fix it, or better yet, simply replace it with a life-like cybernetic eye, but he naturally turned it all down, and accepted his failure as it should be.
"As for how I got the scar.. let me tell you a short story of a young champion thirty-five years ago, and a little company called J08. I will – ah, try to translate as best I can, too."
That 'little company,' was in fact a conglomerate, specializing in armour production stationed mainly in German, with some affiliation with the Swedish mechanical researchers of the Ironclad Guild. While the latter developed weaponry and dipped their toes in defence, the former revolved around producing the best kind of protection.
They had been developing a new suit of armour that would be mass produced, though the sheer size, scale and person needed to don the suit caused them to scrap that idea. Therefore, they focused entirely on specialization that only a select, hand-picked few would come to wear it. Naturally, when it came to prototyping, they needed a subject to test it.
Reinhardt Wilhelm, then soldier of the German army, reclined back on the pathetic excuse of a plastic chair as he waited for the engineers to be finished with some details regarding the armour. He was calm, though inwardly he was excited as a kid in a sweet shop – he had never accepted a proposal so quickly as the one for being able to test the new project, dubbed Kreuzfahrer Rüstung, or, Crusader's Armour.
He tried not to let his happiness show, instead recalling back to his military training and sitting ramrod straight the moment the lead engineer and, oddly enough, a medical professional exited from the room in front. Reinhardt stood, removed his cap and attempted not to overwhelm the personnel with his height and imposing uniform.
"Major Wilhelm, thank you for waiting." the head engineer said, glancing at her clipboard briefly before back up to the man. "We would just like to make you aware of how the armour functions. Doctor?"
"Yes," the male beside her continued on seamlessly. "It uses an advanced form of biofeedback technology. To simplify, it will enhance your strength to super-human level. We do wish to experiment on granting a greater awareness of your surroundings and vision capabilities.."
"Say no more, my good doctor." beamed Reinhardt. "I care not for all this technical talk. Let us get to testing!"
When he fell silent, Hana tried to prompt him with nudging him by her foot, as she couldn't be bothered dragging herself closer. He made no response, so she tried harder, but was met with the same. Rolling her eyes, she crawled towards him and pulled on his arm.
"Come on, you can't just stop there!" she protested. "You were just getting to the good, gory part."
The elder snapped out of it, sheepishly looking away from the teenager and ran a hand through his greying hair. Recalling the tale, he realised just how dramatic and dark it truly was, and even thinking on it made him grimace. He didn't want to share such an ending with her, his hand once again absent-mindedly caressing his scarred cheek.
Especially because it was not the only wound he suffered. Many of the lacerations that healed (poorly) on his arm, back and chest were attributed to that very story of donning his iconic symbol of virtue. He bowed his head deeply.
"I shouldn't have started the story in the first place. It's not something a young girl like you should concern yourself with."
"Ugh. I'm not a child."
"You are fourty-two years my junior, Hana. You are a child to me."
He regretted saying that the moment it left his lips, because she slid off the bed, dainty hands balling into fists and stalked towards his door. Reinhardt made no attempt to stop her, not wishing to further embarrass himself.
He sighed deeply, wincing when the door slammed shut at her exit. Perhaps he should have taken Jack's approach and not encourage her attachment, because witnessing that cut into his heart far deeply than he would like to admit.