The world was spun in static. He could hear the sharp ringing in his ears – ever present though it normally felt like an almost tangible pressure now, smothering him and muffling all other sound until it felt like a distant reality he was only peering in on, an observer but not a participant... the world seemed disjointed, as hard as he fought to find his footing he kept slipping...
Junkrat blinked. He tried to find something to latch onto. He was lying on the ground. It was dark. Smoke trailed across his swimming vision, spilling out into the sky...
He drew a breath but it felt wrong, rattling in his chest and shuddering through his body but doing nothing to clear the fog in his head. He tried to move. That didn't work either.
Strange how detached the whole experience was... it barely felt like his own body, just a puppet struggling to answer the pull of its strings... and he knew, despite everything, that he should be in pain but it didn't seem to reach him so Junkrat figured that was okay. He could just lie here then. Just rest, and stare up at the drifting smoke as the blackness pressed in. At the very least it didn't hurt. He guessed that was the best he could wish for, all considered.
But there was more sound, somewhere, dampened and faint beneath the static... voices... he could hear the tone, though the words were garbled to his ears. Meaningless. Not that he had the capacity to care. Just let him lie here, just let this be...
Suddenly shadows crowded his view. Hazy figures, looming over him, blotting out the sky. They leaned in, reaching for him, pressing in on all sides...
The previous peace he'd known sloughed away leaving only nausea in its place... no... no, he needed to get free... needed to...
Junkrat tried to sit up, pull back, to swat aside their grasping hands, but his body would not respond properly. It was like the weak flail of an infant. He could feel the feeble shift of his back against the rough ground, the sluggish crawl of his limbs, the frantic beat of his own heart drowning out all coherent thought.
There were too many of them. Too many of them, and he couldn't escape, couldn't wrench himself from their hold... helpless... no...
He wanted to snarl, to throw them off, to snatch up a weapon and show them the threat he was... but he couldn't. Junkrat fought as hard as he could but no matter his struggles they held him down, the far off boom of their voices echoing like thunder in the rolling storm of his head.
He couldn't breathe. Fuck, he couldn't breathe... each desperate gasp felt empty, hollow, snatched in some primal need but all futile... it was as if there were no air, nothing to answer the rattling heave of his chest. He was drowning on dry land. Blurry shapes danced before his eyes.
He thought he caught his name, or the muffled mix of syllables, reverberating somewhere amidst the ringing of his ears but he had no breath to reply, to beg, to threaten...
It was too much. He didn't have the power to fight them. He didn't have the strength to rage against the darkness eating away at his vision. He could feel himself slipping, the limpness of his figure, the drag at his consciousness as if some great weight were sucking him down...
He'd spent so much of his life clawing to hold on... funny how easy it was to surrender. The rabbit-fast pounding of his pulse faded to a distant drum. He let his eyes fall shut.
.
.
.
Junkrat didn't remember his mother. Or at least, he didn't think he did. He caught snatches sometimes, a woman singing, a woman with golden hair and a bright smile... but he was never sure if they were real or just something he had made up to fill the gaps... he couldn't picture a face. He wondered sometimes if he'd ever remembered her or if she'd slipped through his fingers one day without him ever realizing, without ever feeling the sting of her loss.
Had she even existed? Had he ever had a family, a home? He didn't know... his earliest memories were of scavenging for scrap to earn a meal, hardly the warm solace of a happy childhood. Perhaps it was better that way. Nothing to miss, nothing haunt him. He'd long ago given up trying to conjure any image of the life that could have been...
Yet somehow as he reached for something, anything, stretched his fingers out across the abyss, somehow of all people it was her he envisioned. A figure he didn't even have a face for.
Was there anyone waiting for him beyond the veil? Did they remember him even if he'd forgotten them? He didn't know...
No matter how hard he strained, floundered beneath the surface, there were no hands reaching back to clasp his, to answer a silent, desperate plea... that he might not be alone.
He didn't want to stay in this darkness. He didn't want to be trapped here, stranded, a solitary existence lathered in the silence he so despised. If death was his lot then let it be loud, let it be bright, let it be terrible if it must or let it just end. He wasn't just going to waste away for an eternity.
Junkrat refused. He felt sure, so sure, that if he could just push hard enough he would find himself somewhere else... maybe not the glittery, gilded shimmer of Heaven, fuck knew he didn't deserve that, but something. Anything more than a piss poor excuse for purgatory...
But it was like catching smoke. Every time he thought he sensed something - a sound or a light or even a faint scent - every time he struggled toward it it slipped through his fingers before he could snatch a grip. He could have screamed in frustration, whimpered even. It felt so close, as if he could just open his eyes and escape, but his lids would not move. A nightmare to which there was no end.
On and on it went, the very proximity of some release taunting him, and the closer he got the more it hurt because each time he was certain that finally he'd be free, only to be dragged down once again.
Yet after what felt like an eternity Junkrat found something that did not bleed away. It was a sound. Soft at first, but the longer he listened the more distinct it became – a steady bleep, the background hum of machinery, the shuffle of fabric. It seemed real, solid almost, and for the first time in an age Junkrat felt grounded. He was here. He was wherever these sounds were, not lost to the abyss.
Cautiously, barely daring to try lest failure cut deep, he opened his eyes.
A twinge of fear stirred. It was bright. Too bright at first, and he found himself blinking, squinting as he tried to make sense of all that white. His vision seemed unwilling to focus, blurry despite his best efforts, but after a moment he concluded with relief that he was staring at a ceiling, a very clean one at that.
Junkrat tried to sit up. Instantly the pain hit him, slicing through the fog still muffling his senses. He hissed his breath out through his teeth. His ribs and his chest were very unwilling to move, his left arm was trapped by some kind of weight and both his prosthetics were missing. He managed to lift his head slightly, glancing down and confirming exactly what he'd just decided. His body was a wreck. He was trapped, stuck in whatever bed he was lying in and utterly, utterly helpless.
He could already feel his pulse skyrocketing. Somehow he needed to move, needed to get out of here, find anything he could use to his advantage...
Junkrat took a shaky breath and tried again, fighting past the pain as he struggled to rise.
"Oh, hey, he's waking up. Hey, Rat, it's okay man, we're here, just... just relax, alright?"
If he could get himself upright then maybe...
"Um, Rat, maybe just take it easy for now? Uhhhh, Angela? Do you think-"
Clipped heels sounded across the room. "Verdammt. Go wait outside. Jamison, can you hear me? I need you to keep still, you're going to hurt yourself. You're in Overwatch headquarters and perfectly safe, you have my word, but you mustn't overexert yourself... try to stay calm... keep your breathing steady and count it with me, in and out, nice and steady... one... two... three... four... yes, like that, you're doing wonderfully."
Junkrat stared up at the ceiling while he counted, feeling the frantic pounding of his heart settle to a more regular pace. Eventually the buzzing in his head died down, and while he still felt dizzy things were beginning to fall into place.
He could see the doc leaning over him. Her figure was a little out of focus but he recognized her. She wasn't going to kill him. He was fairly sure of that, well, enough that he could bury the remaining anxiety and resist the urge to try and shift away.
"There... do you feel any better?" she asked.
Junkrat made a small, noncommittal sound, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Well, how do you feel overall?"
He thought for a moment. When he spoke his voice felt oddly scratchy. "Like shit."
"Nothing more specific?"
He licked his lips. "Exhausted. Hurts to move. Things are... wobbly. Bit hard to focus. Where's me arm an' leg?"
"Well, that's understandable, you've been kept sedated for the last few days and the pain medication you're on can have side effects. How is your memory? Do you remember what happened?"
Junkrat's brows drew together in a look of deep concentration. He did, he was sure, the recollection was lurking just below the surface of his hazy mind. If he could just order his thoughts... Abruptly Junkrat laughed, followed by a sharp wince of pain. "Blew me tire is what," he admitted. "Must'a been real pretty... shame I didn't have the best view, would almost've been worth it to see it up close... explains why I'm feelin' a little extra crispy right now. What about me arm an' leg?"
"To be clear... you do mean your prosthetics?"
"Course I bloody do, I ain't daft."
"They were damaged in the blast," she said. "I believe Torbjorn has them in the workshop at the moment, he's been doing what he can to repair them."
Junkrat's reply seemed harsh even to his own ears. "I need 'em."
Her expression was stern. "You may be conscious but you are in no state to be up and about, you need rest and recuperation, time to heal."
"I know, I ain't goin' nowhere I just... need 'em, yeah?" He hated how stupid it sounded, how senseless, but he couldn't really explain how important it was just to have them close at a time like this. Anything that made him feel a little less vulnerable… anything that could take the edge off it, was worth its weight in gold.
Mercy must have understood because her face softened. "Alright. I'll see what I can do about fetching them... actually, I might be able to pick them up now if you think you'll be okay without me. Lucio and Hana are just outside, I'm sure they could keep a good eye on you while I'm away, and Athena can alert me if need be, though your physical condition is stable. I shouldn't take long. Does that sound good?"
"Ripper."
"Very well, I'm trusting you to behave," she told him, the faintest hint of warning in her tone.
"Ain't causin' much trouble like this, doc," he said remorsefully.
Mercy disappeared from view and the sound of her footsteps retreated, followed by the swish of the door opening and hushed voices. Instructions, he figured, some kind of briefing on how not to mess him up... he wanted to pick apart the words but it was so damn hard to focus. Every time his mind wandered it seemed to want to drift, to let his heavy lids close and sink back under. But Junkrat fought it, fought the nausea and blurriness, because he refused to let himself surrender to such weakness now of all times. He had to keep his wits about him, as much as he could manage.
More footsteps approached, softer, uncertain, and he heard the scrape of a chair being dragged closer.
"Hey man... how are you feeling?"
He dredged up the energy to tip his head to the side. They were right there, Lucio and Hana, right next to him. They looked spent, he thought, and though Lucio was trying to smile there was something off about it, a faint wavering that he wasn't used to seeing.
Junkrat summoned a grin. "Feelin' a little... tire-d. Ha. Oh fuck, don't make me laugh that hurts."
Hana lifted a hand to stifle her giggles. "A pun? Really? You never change."
Lucio's lower lip trembled. "It's... it's good to have you back."
"I ain't so easy to get rid of, mate, you should know that by now," he scoffed, shifting to try and get his head to lie more comfortably on the pillow. "Reckon I'd be long gone if I was."
Something strange happened to Lucio's expression... then, abruptly, he burst into tears.
For a moment Junkrat was stunned. That wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for, certainly not the one he'd anticipated, and he had no clue how to react. Words had never been his strong point at any time and doubly so while he was still fighting to keep his mind from wandering. Must have tangled them up, but he couldn't see a way to fix it. Even if he had understood how it wasn't as if there were any comforting gestures he could give.
He pulled a face, trying to sound light. "Oi, what ya gotta go do that for, ey? Ain't like it's you all busted up. I can take a beatin', see? Still tickin'."
"Sorry," Lucio sniffled while Hana gave him a clumsy hug. "It's just... it-it was too close, you know? It was too close."
"Mercy said if it wasn't for Lucio's sound barrier you would have been killed outright," Hana elaborated. She looked down at the floor, folding her hands in her lap. "Even then, if it wasn't for her and Lucio you never would have survived the trip back... hanging by a thread... those were her exact words. I remember."
Ah... that explained something, at least.
"I... I thought we'd lost you, you know?" Lucio said, scrubbing the tears away. "I... I said we'd always be there for you, that we'd always look out for you, and I thought... I thought we failed."
Junkrat digested this slowly. He felt like he should say something, like he was supposed to, but he didn't want to screw it up. Last thing he wanted was to make Lucio cry again.
He chewed over his words, taking an uncharacteristic moment to tidy his own thoughts rather than spewing the first thing that came to mind. "Didn't fail nobody..." he said tentatively. "Sounds like the opposite, honest, probably owe ya one now... I got no ill will, was me own bloody fault is what, gettin' into trouble like that... that's what Roadie would say... ya seen him about?"
The question at least seemed to distract him. Lucio nodded. "He was here earlier. He's here every day, man, every day. Doesn't say much just sits here... I think he went to grab dinner or something, he'll probably be back soon..."
"Or we could go fetch him if you want..." Hana added.
Junkrat thought about it. He was tempted, very tempted, but part of him was hesitant too. "Nah," he forced himself to say, "he'll come back... I know he will."
"Yeah, well... you know Symmetra visits too?" Lucio said after a moment. He seemed to have composed himself to some degree, attempting a smile that Junkrat guessed was for his benefit. "Half-one, on the dot, never misses it. Think I might have been wrong about her, dude. Vishkar doesn't care about people, sees them as things, I-I always figured she was just like them, but I don't know anymore... I think she does care, just not very good at showing it."
"Sounds 'bout right."
"Oh, and some of the others visit as well," Hana said brightly. "Mercy tries to make sure it's not too crowded in here but Lena's zipping in all the time, and I've seen Reinhardt stop by. He cried. Softer than Lucio that guy, Ana was comforting him for the rest of the day from what I heard. Even Soldier dropped in... but, like, Roadhog stared him down until he left so that didn't last long. Totally scared the crap out of us."
"Roadie wouldn't hurt ya... least, not unless ya gave 'im good reason."
"Yeah, I think that's what Soldier was worried about," Hana said dryly.
Junkrat snorted. He didn't even have to think about it to see the truth. "Nah... if he wanted 'im dead he'd be dead."
Hana looked less convinced. "Well that's... reassuring, I guess. What I think we're trying to say though is everyone's thinking about you, you know? And... and they all know what you did... even if it was stupid and reckless and I still kind of want to punch you in the face for running off like that and nearly... well, point is you probably saved us. I don't think we could have held Talon off until backup arrived, even I have my limits. Everyone's proud... they'll be thrilled to hear you're awake."
It was Junkrat's turn to look unconvinced.
"I'm serious," she added.
"She's not kidding dude," Lucio said. "Even Mei and Hanzo asked after you, and I know you're not on the best terms with them."
"Huh..." They probably meant that to reassure him, but the idea of the archer snooping around while Junkrat was lying in such a helpless state was the opposite of comforting. The fingers of his left hand fidgeted, unable to reach anything but the edge of his blanket to pick at when his arm still refused to lift.
"Just... people will be happy that you're okay, you know? That you're up."
"Awake," Junkrat corrected him with a tinge of bitterness. "Don't think the doc's lettin' me up for a while yet... gonna be stuck here, probably gonna go bat shit crazy... ain't one for loungin' about, drives me up the wall, ya know that."
Lucio pondered the problem for a moment. "How about a wheel chair then, dude? Soon as you're well enough we'll get one off Mercy and we'll drive you down the halls, as fast as you like... I'll even get my gear if you want a speed boost, promise."
Hana sat straighter, perking up at the idea. "Oooh, and I'll see if I can drag one of my consoles down here! It'll be just like games nights! Although I guess we might have to uh... wait until, you know..."
"When me arms actually work?" he asked, vaguely amused by her caution.
"Yeah... but we can totally watch movies first, I have a whole collection I was meaning to get you guys to see. I've even got some stupid cowboy flicks Jesse gave me... worth a go, right?"
"Eh, could be," Junkrat permitted.
"Come on, it'll give you plenty to tease him about," she baited with a sly smile.
He managed to smile back.
Lucio and Hana continued to lump suggestions upon him, each one becoming progressively more unrealistic than the last. He appreciated the effort but his mind began to wander. Focusing on precisely what they were saying was difficult. They must have noticed because eventually Lucio tapped at the side of the bed to pull his attention.
"You, uh... you want us to keep talking man or do you want to catch some rest? It's okay if you do."
Junkrat blinked, drawing himself back. "Keep talkin'," he told Lucio plainly. "I like to listen. Been out long enough by the sound of things, ain't too keen to go back to it. Just... head's a bit muddled is all."
With that encouragement they carried on, the conversation drifting away until Junkrat lost track of it. He wasn't sure how long it was until Mercy returned.
She set his prosthetics down carefully by the bed, with strict instructions to leave them alone until she told him otherwise. He mumbled a reply, couldn't remember what he said. His lids felt heavy.
Junkrat startled, eyes snapping wide. He'd almost dozed off there. Shit, shit... needed to stay vigilant, couldn't allow this to happen, couldn't leave himself any more vulnerable than he already was... He knew, in some measure, that Overwatch was probably the safest place he could be, that no one here had shown any particular inclination to hurt him... but it was instinct at work. There was nothing more terrifying than finding himself so utterly defenseless.
His pulse was picking up again. Junkrat glanced around the medical ward, catching sight of Mercy running through some paperwork in the corner. He hadn't even noticed Hana and Lucio leaving.
"Oi," he called out to her, "what happened to the other two?"
Mercy lifted her head, setting her pen down as she stood up and walked over to him.
Junkrat listened to the click, click, click of her heels on the floor, his own fingers tapping in time.
"I told them it was best to leave you to rest," she said when she reached his side. She checked over one of the machines, though it struck his as more of an absentminded gesture than anything of concern.
"Right..."
"You really should, you know," she said, "sleep will do you a lot of good. Modern medicine has come a long way, but the less stress you put upon your body the better."
"Yeah yeah... just gonna wait for Roadie, right? Ain't fair to skip the bastard for a snooze, probably pissed enough at me as it is..."
"Alright then," she said gently, with her standard smile. "He'll probably be back soon, he usually is."
She left him and returned to her paperwork.
Junkrat gnawed at his lip. The longer he waited the harder it was to keep himself grounded, he kept slipping, his mind fogging up, it was like there was some kind of force trying to pull him under, but he struggled against it. Whether it was pure exhaustion, the remainder of the sedatives, or whatever else was in his system he had no clue. He was tempted to try and pull the tubes that were hooked up to him out, except that it was difficult without his arms and the rest of his movements being so restricted. Doc would probably stick them right back in anyways and there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it.
The only thing he could do was jolt himself back to reality when he noticed himself slipping away, straining just enough that the pain helped to sharpen his senses. He began picking at the blanket again, anything that might distract him... he couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand it. Somehow he needed to get up, to find a way out of here, a way to get himself moving, a way-
He heard Hog before he saw him. Those lumbering footsteps were always distinctly familiar. He looked up, eyes darting immediately to the massive figure entering the room, bright and alert. He stared for a moment. Then slowly, hesitantly, he allowed the tension to drain out of his body, relaxing back into the bed. His breathing steadied.
Junkrat grinned, surprised by how easily the expression fell into place. "There ya are mate! Startin' to think ya didn't care, been real quiet here without ya... well, probably would've been quiet with ya but I still could've used the company since the others pissed off. Ya miss me, huh, Hoggy?"
Roadhog didn't move. He stood where he was, silent, like a true mountain looming on the horizon. He was thinking, Junkrat knew that much, but beyond that he was at a loss. Normally he had no difficulty reading Roadhog but his brain was out of sorts...
Was he angry? He had to be angry, right? The one time he'd trusted Junkrat to handle a mission by himself and he'd fucked it up, nearly cut their partnership short... He swallowed, trying to manifest some form of patience rather than babbling before Roadhog could utter a word.
It felt like an age before he spoke. When he finally did the older Junker pointed a warning finger. "Don't ever do that again."
Junkrat understood. It wasn't anger that coloured Roadhog's words, it was concern, fear even... the thought was oddly warming and he didn't know why he had worried at all, of course Roadhog wouldn't feel any different... oh he was still ticked off, but there was no venom to it.
Junkrat's grin widened and he laughed, then winced suddenly, glowering at the pain. After a brief huff he smiled again, eyes dancing up to Roadhog's mask. "Ain't plannin' on it mate, ain't plannin' on it," he said ruefully. "Think I might just have learned me lesson this time round."
"Good," Roadhog replied. Having evidently finished what he wanted to say he plodded over to one of the chairs beside the bed, lowering himself into it with a faint creak as it adjusted to his weight. It was obviously bigger than the other seats, probably something he'd dragged in at some point to save himself crushing any of the flimsier furniture. He picked a battered paperback up off the bedside table, thumbing through the pages as if searching for his place.
Junkrat looked away, gazing up at the ceiling as the room still spun. He could feel himself slipping again.
"Doc's got me on some pretty hard stuff," Junkrat said distantly. "Ain't sayin' I'm an expert or nothin' but it makes things kinda fuzzy, hard to focus and shit... like me head's got a weight on it, ya know?"
Roadhog grunted.
Junkrat paused, licking his lips as he willed up the courage to say what he really wanted. When he spoke again it was in a quieter voice, as if whispering a secret. "Think I might just pass out again..."
Paper rustled as Roadhog turned a page. "I'll keep watch," he promised.
Of course he understood, of course he knew what to say... Junkrat let out a shaky breath, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks mate..."
He closed his eyes and without a second thought finally allowed sleep to claim him.
((Aaaand we're back at HQ. I don't think Junkrat's happy with his current predicament but it could be worse, right?
I can also finally post that one-shot I mentioned ages ago, from Hog's perspective, if uh, any of you want to go check it out.
And... um... if you'd have any feedback to give on the story so far that'd be awesome, I'm always curious as to what you guys think.))
