Junkrat was distracted for the remainder of the day. Despite Mercy's recommendation that he rest he found himself too wound up to try, there was a lot ticking away in his head. It would all work out in the end, he told himself, but that didn't stop his mind running over other outcomes.

This wasn't something he was used to dealing with. The rules of Junkertown were... loose, to put it lightly. No one really gave a toss who got killed or why, it was all just part of life in the outback, and while Junkrat saw no point in hurting folk who minded their own business he wasn't exactly torn up about hurting those who had it coming. Hector had tried to shoot him. That was that, wasn't it? He'd tried to shoot him, so Junkrat had shot him back, and that was fair.

Except... except some of Overwatch seemed to regard Hector as an old friend, and they had funny ideas about sparing people when possible and stuff and things got kind of uncertain...

Maybe he could have knocked the bastard out or something, or hit him until he stopped putting up a fight, but that was a hassle and at the end of it the same problem remained. You had to kill an enemy when you knocked them down. If you gave them the chance to get up again, you gave them an opportunity to turn the tables. Take them out and save yourself a fight in the future...

He'd been stupid enough to offer Hector a chance. More than he'd given anyone before. That was good, right? Meant he'd been doing this proper, like Overwatch wanted... or trying to, at least. Had to count for something. But what if that wasn't enough? What then?

"Are you alright man? You've been kinda... out of it today? I mean, I'm not trying to press or anything but you know... is something bothering you?"

Junkrat blinked, slowly drawing himself back to reality. His gaze focussed on Lucio, sitting beside Hana next to his bed. He'd been talking to them, right? Must have, but his memory was cloudy and he found he couldn't quite remember any of the conversation beyond the vaguest of strokes.

He needed to say something. Shouldn't lie either, but he found himself oddly reluctant to speak. Junkrat gave a shrug, glancing away. "Doc reckon's she'll be lettin' me go tomorrow."

"Dude, that's great news! What's wrong with that?"

"Nothin', it's bloody fantastic, just means I got more stuff to think about," Junkrat said plainly.

Hana adopted an inquisitive expression. She lent forward slightly, hands resting on her knees. "What kind of stuff?"

Junkrat's gaze skipped over her and settled somewhere else entirely. He scratched at the back of his neck, lips pursed as he mulled over his answer. "Not sure I should tell ya, really... heck, ya might already know. Ain't too sure."

"Well can you at least give us a clue?" she demanded.

For a while he was silent, scowling to himself, but he sighed. "I'll tell ya the whole story tomorrow, cross me heart, but... ya know I forget, sometimes, that ya might not see things my way? I've done a lot of shit without thinkin' twice an' it always just seems right but I dunno, never really wondered what everyone else thought before Overwatch."

Lucio was studying him carefully. "Is this the whole crime thing again?"

Junkrat just shrugged once more, unwilling to elaborate.

"Because we told you that doesn't matter."

"Yeah, mate, I remember," Junkrat said.

Lucio was still watching him, but it seemed to Junkrat that he was trying to say something. He kept opening his mouth but stopping before any words could escape, as if rethinking his entire sentence. Eventually he appeared to settled on a response. "My sound gear," he said softly, "you know I stole that tech from Vishkar?"

Despite himself Junkrat's eyes went wide, laughter bursting from his lips. "Ya kiddin'!"

He shook his head. "Nah, it's true dude."

Junkrat was still reeling from the very idea. He would have written it off as a joke but Lucio's tone was dead serious. He forced himself to absorb this fact, looking at the DJ in disbelief as he stifled any remaining giggles. "Shit... never figured ya for the thievin' type..."

Lucio looked offended. "It's not like I was stealing it for myself. It was for the people, you know? They wanted to take our home, and there was no way I was gonna let them do that... someone needed to stand up, to fight for those that couldn't... we drove them out in the end, I don't regret it."

Junkrat grinned. "Ya ain't really a pushover, are ya?"

Lucio blushed at that, his reply somewhat faltering. "Well... can't back down when people need you. Doesn't mean I'm excusing crime but, like... if it's for the right reasons..."

Hana let out a groan, throwing her arms up in the air. "Ugh, that's it, I feel left out. There's no way I should be the most honorable one here. Help me steal something."

"Hana, no," Lucio laughed.

She pouted. "No fun."

"Ya didn't hear it from me," Junkrat said, bending forward conspiratorially, "but the monkey keeps his peanut butter in the control room, right locker, doesn't shut properly, ya just gotta give it a bit of a whack."

"Rat, no," Lucio said, still laughing.

He straightened up with mock innocence. "Oi I've done nothin', just sharin' a little info is all."

"Awwww, he's just trying to help. The great peanut butter heist... come on Lucio, where's your sense of adventure?"

"You two... I swear..."

"You know we're only teasing."

"Probably," Junkrat said with a wink.

Lucio just shook his head, but his smile was still plain as day. "Man, you're as bad as each other."

"And yet you still adore us," Hana said with total confidence. Lucio didn't deny it.

Whatever the case, the two did something to lift Junkrat's spirits. He didn't know how to explain it all to them. Didn't know what they'd make of everything tomorrow, but for now... for now they were both here, and they seemed happy, like they wanted to be there... and that was good enough.

As the day drew on though he was left once again to his own thoughts and the bitter ringing of his ears. It was some time in the evening when his restlessness peaked, and he began to tear up one of the bedsheets out of the feverish need to destroy something.

Thankfully Mercy wasn't about to scold him, the doc didn't spend all her time in the medical ward and Roadhog probably wouldn't have cared much even if he had been awake. The sound of fabric tearing was at least partially satisfying as he shredded the material into smaller and smaller pieces, taking an almost intense interest in the process. It was a nice distraction. However, when he was done, and sitting in a confetti mess of torn up bedding looking for something to burn it with, he remembered that, well, he couldn't, and his mood immediately soured. Doc had been very strict on the whole no-fire thing, wouldn't even allow him a lighter. Fuckin' ridiculous.

He tossed the scraps up in the air, watching them float down to the floor. Bored with the whole thing he sat back, chewing absently on his fingernails. Couldn't stand this. Bloody doc got things wafting around in his head and then left him to stew. This was her fault. But... but she'd only been trying to help, hadn't she?

Whatever her intentions Junkrat did not like thinking of problems he had no solution to. He liked problems he could solve, immediate actions he could take, to fix things in the same way he cobbled together a homemade bomb, to move forward and not... not be suck waiting for shit to happen. God he hated waiting.

He supposed uncertainty was nothing new to him. He'd spent most of his life not even knowing if he'd see the next day, let alone what it might hold. You just had to live in the present, right?

Tomorrow was taunting him though, whispering little things in his head until he pressed his hands to his ears in a useless bid to block out his own concerns. He couldn't fix tomorrow because tomorrow hadn't come. There was nothing to do but ponder the possibilities, and that was the opposite of helpful.

He wanted something he could fix. Something he could get right, now, so he felt like he was doing something, wasn't just lounging about like some useless lug...

Then suddenly a memory sparked somewhere in the back of his head and he paused, mouth turning into an 'o' as an idea fell into place. He'd forgotten about that, but now that he thought about it, it was something he should probably address. He'd managed similar before. Problem. Solution. Action. This was something he could do, something he could accomplish, something to ease his waspish energy. To grant him some sense of satisfaction.

There was just the trifling matter of his own mobility to deal with...

He was fairly sure the doc would want him to stay put for now, and he was also fairly sure everyone else would want her permission first before releasing him, so that meant he was on his own. The doc wasn't here though, and Roadhog... Roadhog had been napping in usual his chair for the past hour.

It was almost too perfect an opportunity. Junkrat tipped his head to the side, estimating the distance he'd have to go and his own potential to make it. In the end stubbornness and determination won out over common sense and he chose to ignore any doubts.

Junkrat chanced another look at Roadhog. He seemed to be dozing, book resting on his belly and rising and falling with his steady, wheezy breathing, but with the mask covering his face it was hard to be certain... Still, Junkrat was feeling confident. He was too happy with his plan to back down now anyway.

He turned his attention to where his pegleg sat, a few feet from the bed. If he leaned out far enough he was pretty sure he could reach it. He had the advantage of height after all.

Trying his best to be quiet he unfurled his body and stretched his arm out toward his prize, shifting himself further off the bed. However, part way through his plan he came to the sudden realization that he wasn't feeling quite as strong as he was used to, and that his position was very precarious. His eyes widened, but by then his balance had already failed him, and his desperate attempts to scrabble back to safety were in vain as he slid from the bed to the floor with an undignified shriek.

Fuck that hurt. Face locked into a grimace of pain he drew a steadying breath through his nose, preventing any slew of profanity that threatened to spew forth. Needed to remember what he was doing. Quiet, yes. He had to be quiet.

Biting down on his lip to distract himself he very carefully sat up, moving slowly in case his injuries protested. It hurt, but not unbearably so. Upright and emboldened by this fact, Junkrat looked around, eyes immediately latching back onto his peg leg, and he reached out for it with greedy fingers.

"What are you doing?"

Junkrat froze, caught in the act. His expression flickered before settling on a grin, and he turned his head to look somewhat sheepishly at Roadhog. "I, ah... was gonna go for a stroll?"

Roadhog folded his arms, looming over him in a way Junkrat suspected meant he was not impressed. "No."

"Oh piss off, I ain't a bloody prisoner!" Junkrat snapped, glaring back.

Roadhog said nothing. Again, he did not seem to be impressed.

Junkrat huffed, snatching his peg leg and pulling it to his chest as he curled in on himself sulkily. "I know, but I got things to do, alright? Can't just wait for the doc to let me out."

Roadhog considered him for a moment. "What?"

"There's... things that need fixin', and I wanna get it sorted now cos I don't know what's happenin' tomorrow and I want it done is all..." he blurted out, unable to explain the sort of urgency he felt. His fingers played over the edge of his pegleg, toying with the spring that acted as a shock stabilizer.

"Where?"

Junkrat cocked his head to the side, surprised to not be immediately shot down. The fact that Roadhog seemed to be humoring him was encouraging. He hummed to himself briefly before he decided to answer. "The workshop."

He studied Roadhog's posture keenly, scanning for a response. He appeared to be deliberating, coming to a slow and careful decision. "I'll wheel you," he rumbled eventually, nodding as if the matter was settled.

"Oi, I didn't ask ya to mate, I can walk!" Junkrat insisted, and then paused, remembering his last shaky attempt to cross the room. "Probably," he amended, with slightly less confidence.

Roadhog gave an amused sort of grunt, leaving Junkrat sitting on the floor as he went to fetch the wheelchair from its usual spot in the far corner of the room. He trundled it back, stopping right in front of him and waiting with total patience.

Junkrat eyed the chair with distaste. Then he looked up at Roadhog's mask. "Alright, fine... but just so ya know I could do it meself if I wanted to, just lettin' ya earn your keep."

"Sure."

Satisfied that he'd put up enough of a protest to maintain his dignity, Junkrat hefted himself up into the wheelchair with considerable difficulty, wincing with the motion. He settled his unattached peg leg across his lap, leaning back and attempting to get comfortable. His body was reluctant though, and he found himself fidgeting but unable to find a position that quite suited him. Giving up he twisted around to grin at Roadhog as a thought occurred to him.

"Oi, guess what mate?"

"Hmm?"

Junkrat's grin broadened. "I wheelie hate this thing!"

Roadhog's long suffering sigh was enough to have him cackling in a very self-satisfied manner, thoroughly pleased with is own cleverness. He finally calmed down enough to sit still, and stretched one lanky arm out to point at the door. "Time to skip this joint! Um... temporarily, I mean. To freedom!"

"Know you're going right back here after?"

"Don't bleedin' well remind me. Just... help me get some things fixed, yeah? I'll be good, swear on me dubious honor and everythin'." His smile was more toothsome than innocent.

Roadhog's grunt did not sound particularly convinced, but he stepped into motion regardless, pushing the chair while Junkrat pointed and called out directions enthusiastically despite knowing that Roadhog already knew the way.

The hallways remained clear, and it was only as they came to the workshop doors that Junkrat reached back to pat Roadhog's arm in a signal to stop. "That's far enough Hoggy, I can take it from here. Got both me arms now, see? Can push this thing meself."

Junkrat didn't need to look to sense the suspicion in Roadhog's stance.

"I'm not up ta trouble, promise, nothin's gonna explode... mostly... absolutely..." he corrected with a nervous giggle. "I just wanna do this meself, okay? Gotta do some things, elsewise what use am I, eh? You can pick me up later if ya that worried. Not like I'm gonna make a runner."

Roadhog was regarding him with an air of total skepticism. Junkrat gazed back, willing him to understand importance of this to him, how much it meant to feel anything other than useless for a change, to accomplish something without it being handed to him, to prove that he was capable and ready once more. Prove it to himself as much as anyone else. Roadhog had to understand. He always understood.

The mountain of a man grumbled, but he must have picked up on something. "Behave."

"Right-o! I'll be good as gold, mate," he said with a mock salute and a jaunty smile.

Roadhog did still not appear reassured. Nevertheless, he lifted a hand in a weary gesture of farewell and reluctantly lumbered away with only a few backward glances. Junkrat waited until he was out of sight before entering the workshop.

The room was immediately familiar, just as it was always kept, Torbjorn's things on one side and Symmetra's on the other, with his own slew of half finished projects bundled into the corner. He'd never had his own official space but Torb didn't seem to mind sharing provided nothing went missing, and he'd been more than happy with that arrangement. Symmetra's side was the only place that was off limits to him, and it was there that his eyes were drawn now. She was sitting at her desk. Of course she was. Her schedule was probably the most predictable thing in the base, he'd never doubted he'd find her here.

Either the sound of the doors swishing open or the awkward squeak of the wheels must have given him away, because she looked up, brow creased in mild irritation. As she took in the sight of him her manner changed, her confusion evident. "What are you doing here?"

"Maybe I thought I'd visit you for a change, eh?" he suggested brightly.

"I was under the impression you were still recovering."

"Yeah, well," he said with a shrug, "prosthetics need fixing up."

He lifted the peg leg up, waving it vaguely as if that were evidence enough. She did still not look particularly pleased. He found he was unexpectedly disappointed.

"I though Torbjorn-"

"Nah, bloke knows his stuff - did a bang up job, ain't gonna lie," Junkrat cut her off, "but there's no accountin' for the fiddly bits. He doesn't know how it's supposed to feel, ya get me? But if somethin's off I know, can't help it, and that doesn't sit right. So I figure there's no harm in sorting it now, not like I got anythin' better to do..."

"I see," she said.

He waited, but that seemed all she had to say, and his gaze darted somewhat anxiously as absent-minded fingers strayed to pick at the hem of his shorts. He pulled his grin back into place. "Ahhh come on, didn't ya miss me hangin' round here at all?"

She pondered this for a second. "It has been... different."

Right... shit, he cursed himself for his own stupidity. "Guess it's been real quiet... probably enjoy that."

To his surprise she did not answer immediately. Her expression turned unreadable, and when she spoke again her tone was pensive. "While quiet is often appreciated, I am more accustomed to you than I expected to be... it's good to see you here again."

He laughed, but his grin felt more genuine this time. "Could'a fooled me."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, that was... not my intention."

"No worries," he assured her, wheeling himself over to Torbjorn's absent workbench. Steering the thing was slightly harder than he'd anticipated, but thankfully there wasn't much in the way of obstacles. He dumped the peg leg before him and contemplated his options. Arm or leg first? Well... he supposed it would be easier to work once his fingers were responding in the way he was used to. He rifled through the tools, finding a suitable screwdriver and began the slow process of carefully unscrewing the plates of his arm, trying to resist the urge to hum.

Despite his preoccupation, Junkrat glanced over his shoulder, taking note of Symmetra reabsorbed in her work, drawing careful lines with total focus as she crafted her blueprints. What had he planned to say again? He'd come this far, couldn't fuck it up now...

There didn't seem to be an easy way to spit it out though, so he swallowed down his misgivings and decided to be plain.

"Was meaning to apologize to ya, actually," he said, louder than he had intended. Oops, well… no going back now. He tilted his chin up in an endeavour to exhibit some form of confidence.

"Whatever for?" she asked, though his words had clearly caught her attention.

Junkrat found himself studying her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had not looked up from her work but she had paused, and her head was angled slightly to the side as if to indicate her curiosity. He fiddled with the screwdriver, spinning it round and around in his grip. "You know, uh, about before..."

"You will have to be more specific."

Junkrat sighed. "Right, right... I mean on the mission. You asked me somethin', an' I maybe acted like a bit of a twat, had a lot in me head at the time, might've been a tad pissed at ya too if you want the whole truth, and I kinda just... didn't wanna think too hard, I guess, so I ended up stickin' me foot in me mouth like usual when I really should'a just said yes-"

"Jamison," she said, with mild exasperation, "you really will have to be more specific."

"Ya asked if I thought we was friends," he said, quickly like he had to be sure the words would get out. Here he took a pause, frowning at the screwdriver. "An' I think I told ya to piss off or somethin' to the effect... and so I'm apologizing, right? Cos if I'd've been thinkin' straight I wouldn't've blown ya off like that... and I can't go back an' fix it but I can tell it to ya proper now. The answer's yes."

His gaze flickered up in time to see Symmetra turning to look at him. Her expression seemed uncertain. "You... remembered that?"

"Yeah... I don't forget everything ya know."

"Still, a lot happened then. I did not expect that you would consider it important," she told him.

Junkrat drew a sharp breath. "Course it's important. Look, I fuck up a lot, right? Least I can do is set things straight when I remember... So... mates?"

He grinned at her hopefully, leaving the question hanging. It hovered a little too long in the air for his liking, and Symmetra's lips were pursed tight in a troubled sort of way that did not encourage his confidence. He didn't understand why she appeared to be running an equation when she was the one who'd asked in the first damn place. That meant she knew the answer, right? Or had he messed it up that bad? Had he misread her entirely?

His smile grew uneasy and he began to drum the fingers of his mechanical arm against the workbench without even realizing.

Then, finally, she gave a hesitant nod. "Friends," she agreed, and despite her previous pause her tone was assured.

Junkrat beamed, relief washing over him in a tide. "Guess I better let ya in on the secret handshake then!"

"You have a secret handshake?"

He giggled, delighted. "Nah... maybe I should make one though. Doubt Roadie would have any of it but think the other two might... You, ah... made any progress with that whole Lucio thing?"

She nodded. "I believe so. I would not call it resolved but he does at least appear to be considering what I have to say in regards to Vishkar, and my own involvement. I suppose in all fairness I may owe you an apology as well... it has been brought to my attention that my actions were something of a misstep... I am sorry I overlooked things."

He waved the idea aside with a careless flap of his hand. "Nah, it's all good... well, I mean it wasn't but that's done with, and it was kinda me own fault too... I know ya didn't mean nothin' by it, can't rightly fault ya for a mistake when I'm so bloody good at 'em meself. That's fair, right? Symmetry?"

"Perhaps," she said, which was close enough to an agreement for Junkrat.

In any case, he was feeling quite pleased with himself. This, at least, was apparently something he could do right. That in itself was a strange development. An encouraging one though. Stupid how giddy such a small accomplishment could leave him feeling.

He flipped his attention back to the screwdriver in his hand, undoing the last few screws and prying the plating free. He set it aside, examining the insides. Then he gave his fingers an experimental wiggle, taking note of how the components moved. Needed to loosen a few parts, he decided.

Funny thing about his arm, really. He'd never been able to feel with it beyond the most basic of pressures, but he'd grown used to how it responded to him, how each thought would turn into movement - as natural as breathing. When it suddenly failed to translate properly he was left with the disconcerting sensation that it wasn't really his arm at all... less so than usual, anyhow.

Selecting the right tools for the job he leaned in close, itching to get to work. As he did, he found himself falling into old habits, a meaningless stream of chatter bubbling out of him. Symmetra didn't seem to mind. As usual she listened with half an ear, offering short responses when he trailed off or prompting him when he lost his place. The routine was familiar, and for a while he forgot about tomorrow entirely, lost in his task and perfectly content.

He'd missed the workshop more than he'd expected.

Junkrat was busy reattaching the plating of his arm when Roadhog returned. He caught the sound of his footsteps immediately, pausing as he recognized a peculiar urgency in the stride. Hurriedly twisting the last screw the rest of the way in he turned and held up his hands. "I've been perfectly good an' nothing exploded! Got a witness and everythin'," he insisted, gesturing wildly to Symmetra, who watched curiously from her own side of the room.

Roadhog did not appear to care. "Time to go," he growled.

"Mate, I ain't done here! Haven't even got to the leg yet."

"Tough luck."

"Fuckin' hell, Roadie, what's with ya?"

No response seemed forthcoming, and Junkrat couldn't decipher the reason for it in his posture alone. Since he appeared intent on wheeling him off regardless, Junkrat snatched his leg off the workbench, gnashing his teeth in frustration.

"Alright, alright, have it your way," he snapped, hunching forward as he cradled it to his chest. He remembered, a little late, that Symmetra was still there and his head shot up as he turned to look at her. "I'll, uh... be seein' you around I guess."

"Take care of yourself," she said slowly, lifting her pencil as she returned to her blueprints.

Muttering under his breath Junkrat let Roadhog steer him away.

"What's the rush then, huh?" he demanded once the doors closed behind them. "Actin' like a right hoon. Was gonna fix up me leg. Was gonna look at that bloody pulse bomb too if I got the chance. Doc on your case or somethin'?"

"Need to go back." Roadhog's pace was quick, and his breathing rasped in and out through the filters of his mask. A brief spark of concern rose in Junkrat's chest. Something was up. Roadhog never pushed himself like this unless it was important.

"What's happenin'? We need to bail?" he asked, suddenly alert. A myriad of possibilities flooded his imagination, but there was no reply. Junkrat bared his teeth in a snarl. "Fuckin' tell me already, I ain't-"

The words died in his throat, body suddenly turning rigid as he beheld the sight before him. Floating round the corner and drifting toward the workshop in an almost meditative state was a shiny, silver omnic.

It glided closer, but as Roadhog stumbled to a halt it seemed to notice them, drawing to a stop itself. Junkrat stared in abject horror as the thing tilted its head slightly to the side, then lifted one hand in a circular sort of wave. "Greetings."

He felt as if his eyes would pop out of his skull. His mouth hung agape for a moment, struggling to remember words. "Omnic," he managed to hiss urgently, scrabbling for his frag launcher before realizing it was nowhere to be found.

The bot watched this display with an air of puzzlement. "I apologize, I did not mean to startle you."

Junkrat was having none of it though. He twisted in his seat, pawing at Roadhog desperately. "What are ya waitin' for? Scrap the thing! It's a bot! There's a bloody bot in the base!"

Roadhog just sighed. He set a hand on Junkrat's bony shoulders and gently pushed him back into the chair, ignoring his pleading look. Junkrat was stunned. He was still shaking, body twitching in its usual flight or fight response, but nothing was happening. Roadhog wasn't pulling out his gun, wasn't snagging the thing with his hook, he was just standing there and Junkrat didn't understand. He shook his head in disbelief.

"There's a fuckin' omnic here," he said, as if that wasn't clear already.

Roadhog's mask was as impassive as always, and Junkrat felt slightly queasy. He didn't need a face to read him. Roadhog was not pleased, but nor was he surprised. "I know."


((So, you guys remember when I mentioned new recruits ages back? Well yeah... poor Rat can't catch a break. To save any confusion I've been running under the assumption that Junkrat joined Overwatch before any of the omnic cast because it didn't seem particularly realistic to me for him to sign up willingly if he knew he'd have to be working alongside bots. Also, I um, haven't slept in a long time so if this is a mess, or the pacing's off, or there are a load of mistakes or whatever I'm sorry, I'll try to go back over it sometime later, just wanted to share this now rather than sitting on it...))