Revised mission briefings, as it turned out, were just as dull as regular mission briefings. They still involved a lot of talking and not a lot of doing anything else, and Junkrat, as per usual, struggled to focus. He'd selected his customary spot as close to the exit as possible, and was swinging his pegleg back and forth.

It needed oiling. It had developed a creak somewhere near the apex of its axis, and he was determined to figure out precisely where. His dutiful investigation also had the added bonus of irritating the archer sitting in front of him, one that Junkrat was having far too much fun with.

Oh, the man liked to pretend he didn't hear it, that he was above such a petty distraction, but Junkrat knew. It was all there in the way his shoulders drew together, in the stiffness of his posture.

He'd already decided that if the man turned around to catch him in the act he'd be sitting as still as possible, and grinning.

Junkrat was in a good mood.

Things had settled back into a normalcy he was comfortable with. Sure, there were a few rough edges he might still need to smooth over, but he'd fixed the important stuff, the things that mattered, and he had a plan. He knew what he was doing. Things were always better when you had a plan.

He froze for a second as the archer's head twitched, but the motion must have been involuntary because he didn't turn, and after a few long moments Junkrat began to move his pegleg again. Slowly, deliberately, and savouring every metallic note.

The first part came down to a location. Overwatch headquarters were out of the question, that was too much of an obvious trap, and… well, he wanted Sombra to think it was a trap, but if she started to think any of the others were involved that might change her approach. He needed her to see it as something him and Hog had cooked up on their lonesome. Something she felt superior to.

The handy thing about being back on active duty was that there were other places he could work with.

The second part of the plan was more of a challenge.

Junkrat was in a good mood though, and when that good mood took him he found he was quite the optimist. You had to be, to be a visionary, a dreamer - and yes, maybe he didn't always… think things through when he was high on the sensation of actually feeling bloody good for once … maybe he talked too much, or took a job he shouldn't, or forgot to plan his exits, but this time… this time he was confident he was on the right track, because all the pieces were falling into place.

When it was all done, he'd present Sombra to the senior agents in gift wrap if they wanted. And they'd nod, and maybe smile a little too, and think to themselves that he really was worth the trouble. Even Soldier. They'd see his value.

But he was getting ahead of himself… that all came later, what mattered was taking care of the preparations, making sure his plan was bulletproof, because it had to be… he couldn't rush.

Junkrat brought his pegleg to a stop.

Momentum was key. So long as he kept moving he was in control, on a roll, and all the doubts and second guesses and lingering fears were too far behind to catch him. There was no way he was going to fuck this up.

"-already agreed to double the security, and change to a secondary route for the convoy. Unfortunately that brings us closer to civilian territory, but-" the monkey continued to drone on, shuffling his notes in front of him whilst Soldier's gaze swept over the front row seats.

Junkrat pulled a face. Someday, he would teach them the value of showmanship, and these sessions would finally be worth actually listening to. Junker speeches might involve a lot more yelling, death threats, and maybe even gunfire, but they were interesting. Junkers knew how to hold an audience, because if they lost them, they lost the power it granted.

Overwatch's tactic seemed to be to have Soldier glare at anyone who looked like they were falling asleep. It just wasn't the same.

In front of him, the archer's shoulders had begun to relax, and Junkrat waited in calculated silence until the last of the tension drained from his figure before suddenly jerking his leg forward. It shrieked, and it wasn't only the archer that turned to glare at him.

Junkrat grinned with all of his teeth. He was in a good mood.

He'd intended to get to work immediately, to jump on the problem the second he made it out of the briefing room, while his energy was still high and his spirits unwavering. Apparently, Lucio and Hana had other ideas.

Junkrat was pretty sure he'd said 'yes' out of reflex more than anything else, because it was them, because some part of his brain was still ready to leap at whatever opportunity they tossed his way. Things were going right, and he wasn't going to pause to question it.

And, well, it wasn't like he didn't want to spend time with them.

"I was looking forward to Japan," Hana said with a sigh. She was slumped over the railing and staring at the ocean below with an expression of total dejection. It was almost convincing, save that Junkrat was perfectly familiar with her more performative displays and understood well enough to know that she was more interested in appearing miserable than actually feeling it.

Supposedly they were 'eating lunch together'. This, Junkrat had yet to wrap his head around. It wasn't that he minded the company, it was just that Junkrat didn't so much eat lunch as inhale lunch seconds after acquiring it. So, it really consisted of the other two eating lunch while he sat there feeling unsure of his role in this whole scenario, and increasingly running out of things to do with his hands.

"Come on, Numbani's not so bad. I went there on tour once. The people there are great," Lucio said.

"But have you seen Japan's arcades?" she whined, arms raised dramatically before they flopped back down. "Genji says he still has all the high scores on the machines in Hanamura, I was going to smash them."

"You still can, you just have to wait a bit. Who knows, maybe I'll beat his highscores while I'm over there?"

Hana scoffed. "You couldn't beat Animal Crossings."

"No one can beat Animal Crossings."

"Not with that attitude."

"Think I might've been to Japan," Junkrat said absently as he continued to pick at one of the patches on his shorts, peeling it off a stitch at a time. "One of them arcade places too."

"Oh yeah? How was it?" Lucio asked.

Junkrat shrugged. "Seemed alright, 'cept everythin' needed coins, an' Hog blew the lot trying to get one of those onion things…"

He trailed off, hesitating. They were both waiting though, letting the silence drag as if they expected him to fill it. Hana turned her back to the railing, sliding down against it until she was seated and picking her instant noodles up. Her eyes, though, were back on him. Not demanding. Not accusing. Patient.

Junkrat let out an awkward laugh, and when he chose to continue he kept his tone light. "Just broke the glass and took the lot in the end. Grabbed some drinks too before we booked it. Think I dropped about half of 'em runnin', the cops over there are fast, mate, rob a bank anywhere else in the world and it'll take twice as long for 'em to show. Rob an arcade there an' they're on your tail before you can spit. Kinda respect that."

"You robbed an arcade," Lucio said, and he didn't sound surprised, maybe… exasperated? Scolding but maybe just a little fond, like Hog sounded sometimes.

"To be fair," Hana said, "arcades rob people all the time. That's the real crime here."

"I'm not even going to argue with that. Anyway, Rat, you looking forward to missions again?"

"Bloody right!" he said, brightening at the prospect. "Been wastin' away here."

Hana pointed a finger in his direction, her eyes narrowed. "Just so we're clear, if you blow yourself up again I'm going to kick your ass."

"Pretty sure the doc would beat ya to it, had a few eh… words to say before signin' me off for proper work."

"She's just looking out for you," Lucio said.

"Frettin' over nothin' is what she's doing. Lot of ya act like I've got some kinda inclination to set meself on fire the second I'm loose. I'm not careless. 'sides, won't be on my own."

"None of us will. Doesn't mean we don't get to worry."
Junkrat opened his mouth to protest, to point out how ridiculous the whole thing was because sure, his last mission hadn't exactly been a shining example of success, but he'd made the best of the situation with what he'd had, and everyone got out in the end. Made Talon pay for it too, in blood. Made them hurt for every scrap of ground they'd managed to take that fight. Made them burn.

He wasn't weak, and he didn't need-

But maybe that wasn't quite what they meant at all. Because Junkrat knew what it was like when someone just didn't come back. And that was fine, when you eked out an existence in Junkertown - less competition, right? He'd never lost any sleep over it. Never wasted his time wondering who was next, because it had never mattered. You only worried about things that mattered.

Frowning, Junkrat glanced down at the stitching his restless fingers were still busy tearing apart.

"Yeah, well…" he muttered, "right back at ya."

When he chanced a look up, Lucio was smiling, so he must have said something right.

Hana used the moment to slurp down the last of her noodles. She set the cup aside and turned to face him. Junkrat recognised that grin. "Hey…" she said, voice lowered to a stage whisper, "bet you a nano cola you can't steal McCree's hat on your next mission."

"No! You two, I swear… I thought the idea was he'd be coming back in one piece this time?"

Junkrat had a grin of his own though, and he leaned forward. "You're on. Got three jars of peanut butter what says ya can't talk the archer inta riding on your mech."

"Deal," Hana said without a trace of hesitation.

Lucio sighed. He looked from one of them to the other, and shook his head. "Do you even like peanut butter?"

"That's not the point!"

"I really am the only sane one here, aren't I?"

Despite his words, the DJ couldn't quite hide his smile - it was all there in the crinkles around his eyes, in the way his lips kept twitching up no matter how he tried to school his expression into something scolding. Junkrat wasn't fooled.

Putting on an exaggerated pout, Hana flung an arm over Lucio's shoulder. "Come on, Lucio, join the fun! If you can get Lena to admit she's wearing Crocs, I'll give you both a ten second head start next time we play PvP."

"Mate…" Junkrat leveled him with his most serious stare. "Ya know I can't let ya turn that one down."

Lucio made a valiant show of protest. He pulled faces, and groaned, and tried to pretend not to notice the way Hana was intent on leaning on him as if her weight could crush him into submission. In the end though he couldn't keep his laughter in check. "Okay, okay… but only because they are Crocs and everyone knows it."

"See?" Hana crowed. "Was that so hard?"

"This is why we can't have nice things."

Junkrat let them scuffle, focusing instead on teasing the last stitch out of his patch. Once it was free he held it up to examine it for a moment before stuffing it into the pocket of his shorts. If he was lucky he'd remember to sew it back on before the day was out, but he had more important things to finish first. Right, what was he supposed to be doing again? The plan. That.

But somehow his legs were reluctant to move, like someone had secretly glued him to the walkway (good prank, he needed to remember that one). It was as if his weight had magically been doubled. And it really should be easy just to stand up, but his fingers were already working their way around the stitches of his next patch and there was something nostalgic about this that he couldn't quite place, and he didn't know if it was the heat of the sun on his shoulders or the walkway itself, or even Hana and Lucio mock fighting without a care in the world, and it felt… like sand. Something that could slip away, and leave him with no footing. But it was warm.

Plan, he reminded himself sternly. He had to focus. Ten seconds later he even managed to convince his body to actually move.

Lucio gave up trying to shove Hana off of him. "You headed off somewhere dude?" he asked, watching Junkrat quizzically.

"Yup," he said, taking the opportunity to stretch before slumping back into his usual posture. "Love a good yak, but I got a project needs some takin' care of."

"A project." Lucio's tone was carefully flat.

"Not a murder project, proper project," Junkrat told him, rolling his eyes as he tapped at the writing on his prosthetic. "Gimme a couple of weeks an' you'll see."

Slowly Lucio gave a nod. "Alright, just no nasty surprises, okay? You up for games tonight?"

Junkrat shrugged. "Probably."

It was always a little easier to say than a promise, a commitment, but they never seemed to mind. It was one of his favourite things about them. Like the way they still left the door just slightly ajar, without him having to say a word.

Like maybe they understood.

He paused, shifting on his foot as he considered them. Maybe… maybe he could put things off a little longer, just see how long he could ride this moment out. They'd made no mention of his earlier misstep during the movie night, and he'd been enjoying spending time with them again. Was that so wrong? Even a bloke like him deserved a break now and again, right?

But Lucio was already lifting an arm in farewell, and… and he had stuff to do. That was the whole point of having a bloody plan in the first place. And if he faltered, if he let the momentum leave him then maybe it would fade away for good, slip his mind like things always did.

And would that be so bad? A small part of him wondered.

But a plan was a direction, a plan was a way forward, he knew where he was and he knew where he was going… and Junkrat needed that. He needed it.

And he was in a good mood, damn it, so he smiled as broadly as he could and wiggled his fingers in a hasty goodbye before his thoughts had a chance to spiral.

Junkrat didn't run on schedule. He disliked predictability, being easy to find, to pin down… the world might run in patterns, and hours, and 'breakfast time' and 'break time' and all the other little times people seemed to create, but a junker… a junker survived mostly in the present.

He knew sunrise and sunset. He knew when the base went quiet that others were probably sleeping, and sometimes he slept too. He ate meals when he remembered them, kept himself occupied with whatever happened to spark his attention first, and was late to anything Roadhog didn't personally drag him to.

He also knew that regardless of his own habits, if he wanted to find Symmetra then what he really needed to do was find a clock.

Generally he preferred to meet her in the workshop. That was neutral ground, something they were both familiar with, and it always left him plenty to occupy himself with while he talked. Finding her in the workshop meant waiting another two hours though, and Junkrat was already impatient. He could wait, if he had to… but he didn't have to.

This time in the afternoon was her 'outdoors time'. It took only a few minutes to track her down to a bench in the small terrace some of the other agents had been attempting to cultivate into a vegetable garden. It took slightly longer to talk himself into marching over.

He'd had a couple of days to consider the matter. Regardless of how he twisted it, she was just the quickest answer to the problem, and he didn't want any more delays if he could avoid them. It was convenient, almost like the universe was tossing him a bone for once, laying the answers out for him, all neat and orderly, like he was meant to find them.

Wasn't like she hadn't come to him with a problem before either. Knocked right on his door. Course, that had ended up turning into a proper disaster, but that wasn't the point… the point was… the point was symmetry.

She'd come to him with a problem, so he was probably entitled to the same. Even he understood rules like that. Like an exchange, a trade, a deal. A debt to be paid, even if he'd never expected to collect. The only question was whether she would see it the same way. And, he begrudgingly admitted, how exactly he was supposed to ask...

In the end what actually convinced him to move was the sudden realisation that it was probably weirder to lurk in the doorway staring at her as he weighed up his odds rather than just walking up with a chipper greeting and no idea what to say next.

Symmetra, ever herself, simply looked up from the tablet she had been writing on and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged, kicking at one of the patio tiles he thought might be a little loose. "Maybe I just wanted a chat, if that's alright with you, eh Sym? Sym... can I call ya Sym?"

He didn't think he'd ever thought to ask...

"I would prefer it if you did not."

Shit. Well. That wasn't quite how he'd hoped to start things off. It was too late for a tactical retreat now though, so he settled for a grin and a tone that he hoped came off as upbeat as he tried to figure out where he wanted to stand and ended up pacing. "Right-o, no worries, just stick to Symmetra then."

She made no response at first. Silences with her weren't always a bad sign though, usually just meant she was thinking. Thinking wasn't necessarily bad. Not necessarily.

"I suppose you could call me Satya", she said at length. "It would only be fair – I have been using your name all this time, after all."

Junkrat perked up immediately. "Well," he reasoned, "ya could call me Rat if you'd prefer."

"Do you not find that... distasteful?"

"Why? I call meself Junkrat, don't I? Nothin' wrong with rats... make pretty good eatin' if you can catch 'em."

Her expression was horrified.

Junkrat cackled. "I'm jokin', I'm jokin'," he said, which was only half true. Rats did in fact make pretty good eating in his opinion, if you were hungry enough, but so did just about anything that you could cook on a spit. The outback hadn't taught him to be fussy. "They're wily buggers anyway, and likely ta bite, most folk wouldn't call it worth the trouble. Always kinda liked that about 'em though... ya know when rats are about cos they're noisier than you'd think an' they take anythin' they want, but pinning them down's a bloody nightmare. Can get anywhere, those things."

She nodded slowly. "I suppose you would enjoy that. It is an odd name to take though, they have a poor reputation."

"Don't think me own reputation's that shiny, truth be told... think it's fitting. Or maybe ya figure I should'a picked somethin' more fearsome, eh? Junkcroc maybe..." he mused, scratching at his chin.

"Does it bother you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"What people choose to call you? Does it bother you?"

Junkrat considered this for a moment. "Nah. Long as it ain't 'you fucker' or anythin' to the effect then it's all the same. Always thought Jamison sounded a bit hoity-toity though, bit much for a bloke like me."

"I think it is a perfectly serviceable name."

He laughed, not sure how to respond to that. From anyone else he might have thought it a compliment, but Symmetra had a way of stating things precisely as she saw them, which in some ways made her easier to understand, and in others a total enigma.

"In any case," she continued, "if it does not trouble you then I think I will call you Jamison still... if that is acceptable?"

He shrugged. "All the same to me. Anyways, was actually, eh, meanin' to ask you about somethin', about that teleporter thing you was workin' on..."

She was studying him closely now, in a way he had begun to recognise as her 'assessing a complicated equation' look, like she was attempting to get the numbers to line up but wasn't sure where to start. "You are curious about my work?"

"Sure! Got it up an' running yet?"

She glanced down at her tablet, a light frown maring her features. "I have a prototype, yes… however, I've been unable to test it yet. Torbjöourn... declined to assist me on the grounds that he 'does not wish to become jelly'."

"It turns people inta jelly?" Junkrat asked, with considerably less enthusiasm.

"It does not," she said firmly.

Junkrat hummed for a moment. "Pity," he said, "pretty sure ya could weaponise that."

She sent a stern look his way, and he grinned, swiping at the air as if to bat the idea aside. "Kiddin', ain't my style either. No proper way to go out, bein' all jellified. All slimey an' non-spectacular."

"The science is perfectly sound, I have worked with tech like this before and I have already conducted tests using non-human matter to ensure molecular stability. Torbjörn's objection is unfounded. Perhaps he has some other grievance I am unaware of. The fact remains that I am left with the unenviable task of finding a volunteer, and I am in the process of developing the best way to… pitch it."

The way she hesitated over the words was telling.

"Pitch it?" Junkrat echoed.

"Obviously," Symmetra told him, "my approach with Torbjörn was flawed. I don't intend to make the same mistake twice."

And there it was, the spark of an idea, and somehow it just felt so much more convenient than whatever shaky road map he'd been trying to steer the conversation down. Because maybe the world really was tossing him a bone for once, and who was Junkrat to question it? It was momentum. It was all about the momentum.

"Well…" he hazarded, glancing over at her to make a better judge of her expression, "could make it a tad easier for ya if ya like… could just volunteer meself, save ya the trouble."

Slowly, Symmetra lowered her tablet. "You would do that?"

"Sure. Course, was actually hopin' to ask for a favour of me own, could do with a few of your, eh… expertise with a little project I got goin'."

At that her gaze immediately sharpened. She watched him shuffle on the spot for a few moments longer without saying a word, before carefully tucking her stylus away and setting her tablet down on the bench, lined up in perfectly parallel. Then she folded her hands in her lap and turned back to him.

"What project would that be?"

Junkrat tapped the side of his nose and grinned. "It's on a need to know basis only. Ya in?"

"It is not illegal, nor violent, nor related in any way to Tekhartha Zenyatta?"

He ticked them off one by one with his fingers, a pantomime checklist. "Nope, nope and nada."

She hesitated. "It is... important?"

"Yeah…," Junkrat said, "yeah it is."

This appeared to be all he had to say. There were no more questions, no further bargaining, she just gave one quick nod as if the matter were settled. "Then I shall take you at your word and endeavour to help you. You do understand that you are not required to offer anything in return for that, though? That is, to my understanding, part of what friendship entails."

Junkrat stared at her.

"Sure, 'course I know that," he scoffed. Because he did. Probably. It just felt a little more… natural to approach the situation in a way he was familiar with. This was asking for a favour, and favours had always come with a price before…

When was the last time he'd just… asked for help? Trusted that anyone besides Roadhog would count it worth their time... free of ulterior motives or a wager of their own… no expectation in a debt that would be repaid?

He… liked to think that he must have, at some point… right? But his memory was a fleeting and fickle thing, leaving him with the unsettling weight of uncertainty.

He went back to kicking at one of the paving stones, scratching at the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what to say next.

"It's just…" he tried, "well, might as well help ya out first since I'm here, right? That's only fair an' proper."

When he chanced a glance in her direction, he found that she was already gathering up her tablet and getting to her feet, smoothing invisible creases from her dress. "Very well. I would not object to your assistance, so long as you understand that this is not a form of transaction."

"Yeah, nah, totally," Junkrat said, his usual animation returning to him. "It gonna take long?"

"Perhaps," she reasoned, with the faintest trace of a smile, "you should have asked that before you agreed."

His expression fell. "It is gonna take long, ain't it?"

((It's been such a long time since I've updated, I know, thank you all for sticking with me! And if you're new, I hope you enjoy the story, even if updates can be super slow. This chapter was originally going to be longer but I decided to cut it here mostly because I wanted to get something out for you guys, hope it still reads okay. And big thanks to Nightelfbane for doing some proofreading for me.

I also finished that Zenyatta side story a while back (the art of patience), so if you're looking for something else to read maybe that will fill the void until next time...))