Junkrat was not hiding. He was not, cos he wasn't a bloody coward. He was a Junker, an explosive wielding maniac who would fight tooth, nail and claw to the bitter end if he had to, and had come damn near close in the past. So no, he was not hiding... he may have been avoiding people, however.

He didn't know how long he had till this 'little talk' went down, but he was determined not give them any excuse to make it sooner rather than later. So he skulked around the base from one secluded area to the next, scribbling in his notebook as he drew up plans for new traps, alert for the slightest sign of those to avoid. This, at least, gave him something to focus on. The alternative was thinking about things like what his chances of being permitted to stay actually were, or what Lucio and Hana might make of the whole mess...

And the bot. There was really no avoiding thinking about the bot. As much as he tried to guide his mind on other tangents, it was irrevocably drawn back.

It was a problem that was proving increasingly difficult to solve. He'd tried the Junker way. Oh had he tried. But the bot refused to let that happen, and worse than anything else, it refused to act the way it should...

Junkrat had... never actually met an omnic during his time in the outback. Things would need to have a circuit loose to even consider going near Junker territory. He had, however, heard the stories. Everyone in the outback knew what the omnics had done, how they'd murdered folk and then tried to pretend they were people too and steal their land, how they were the whole reason the place was an irradiated shit hole.

Growing up everyone had always been quick to reaffirm their hatred of the things. They were soulless, deceitful, Junkrat had always known they were the one thing worse than any cutthroat or bandit. They deserved to be nothing more than scrap metal.

The first time he actually laid eyes upon one he'd known that he'd been right, just seeing them made his skin crawl. How the rest of the world couldn't see it he didn't understand...

But this bot... this bloody rust bucket... if he hadn't known better he might have thought that at times it was trying to help him.

It had called for aid after his tumble from the cliff, had lied to cover for him, had done nothing but speak calmly when it had him locked in and at its mercy, had never lashed out regardless of how many sneers or jibes Junkrat directed its way... despite him trying to off it twice now...

That was a trick, right? It wanted to fool him like everyone else...

But why go to the trouble of that rather than simply removing him?

His steps stuttered, leaving him stranded as he hovered hopelessly, no answer within his grasp. He couldn't beat the truth from the walls any more than he could fix his own problems with the fire and destruction he was so fond of. The bot made no sense, it made no sense, it...

No, he never got anywhere with this line of thought, better to stick to his designs. He'd make some nice traps so everyone was impressed and maybe not so angry about what he'd done, and things would at least be kind of normal, he'd have time to deal with the omnic later. That was the best plan he had.

Resolved, Junkrat found his equilibrium again, shrugging off the stillness like an ill fitting coat. His scribbles and nervous pacing did not feel enough though. Didn't satisfy the itch inside him. The need for progress ate at his insides, incessant.

It was thusly, in the early hours of the morning, that he decided he might be able to risk a trip to the workshop.

Just enough to still his restless fingers, get some proper work done and tide him over until the dawn.

There was no way in hell he was getting any sleep. Everyone else would be though. Normally the absence of people to pester would have bothered him but right now it was perfect.

Considering himself very clever for choosing the optimal time to strike, he slunk his way down the corridor and slid past the workshop doors. It was here that he froze.

Really should have questioned why the lights were on... everything was a bloody trap these days.

Sitting at her desk and glancing up at him was Symmetra, and he couldn't make sense of it because he knew her schedule didn't involve working at whatever god awful hour it was right now. Symmetra was a creature of habit, and this was so wildly outside of the bounds she had set for herself that something was clearly up, even he knew that.

Junkrat narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher some kind of meaning in the way she watched him. She looked much as she always did, perfectly presentable without a strand of her dark hair out of place, head held high.

Was she mad about the whole fireworks thing? Had she been waiting here to admonish him this whole time?

Her face remained a mystery though, and she said nothing... did she expect him to speak first, to apologize? Because he wouldn't, it had fuck all to do with her and he had enough people ready to tell him what he'd done wrong already.

He could back out, turn around, pretend he'd never been here...

Skulk around again for the next few hours...

No, that wasn't what he needed right now, he needed things to work with, to give his hands something to do, and he wasn't about to turn tail because of one bloody look.

So he squared his shoulders, tilted his chin up and asked, "The hell ya doin' here?"

It might have been miles from his usually cheerful entrance, but Symmetra did not appear offended. She raised one eyebrow. "I'm working," she told him primly.

"Well yeah, but..." Junkrat huffed, scratching at his sandy hair. "Ya know what I mean, ain't like you to be here now, ain't part of ya schedule."

"I am capable of adjusting my schedule when necessary." There was something almost defensive about the way she spoke, as if she were the one who needed to be on guard.

He lingered by the door, still unsure. "Can't sleep then?"

"I do not wish to," she said after a moment.

That was… unusual. He'd half expected a lecture on the logic of her decision, not the flat answer she provided.

Was she hiding something? Couldn't be a coincidence, finding her here now, could it? But what would Symmetra be up to of all people? There had to be something here he wasn't quite getting, and he needed to figure out what. He shifted his weight from foot to peg leg, eying her uncertainty. "Why not?" he hazarded.

"There is work to be done."

"Always is with you, still don't keep ya up most nights, so I gotta ask... what's different?"

He left the doorway then, finally wandering into the workshop itself and leaning against one of the benches, picking up one of his grenade shells to fiddle with. He kept one orange eye on her as he did so, but her concentration seemed elsewhere. She had that far off look, like she was attempting to calculate something.

"We agreed that we were friends, correct?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said warily, fingers tightening on the grenade shell.

This must have been the right answer though because she nodded.

"Given recent events I understand you are in something of an awkward position. Social protocol dictates that as a friend, I should be offering comfort or advice, but I cannot fathom how... I do not even approve of what you have done. I could not even react to stop you..." A frown twisting her features. She tapped her pen against the edge of the table in a repetitive pattern. "The more I think on it the more I am forced to admit there is so much beyond my control, so I have chosen to address problems that I understand clearly. I can expand my arsenal, improve my technology, eliminate the weaknesses that our last mission together revealed so that any future battles do not end so unfavorably. That way I will at least be achieving something, I will have control over something. Do you begrudge me this?"

She was waiting expectantly, attention firmly his.

Junkrat blinked, struck immediately by a familiarity he had not been expecting.

He knew what it was like when you just wanted something to work. When all your problems just wouldn't make sense so you threw yourself at the one you thought you might just be able to get right... he just hadn't been expecting it from Symmetra, someone so logical and put together he couldn't picture her scrabbling for a solution with the manic energy that so often overtook him.

Junkrat's remaining unease left him in a tide.

It took a remarkable effort not to burst out laughing. He stifled a giggle, putting down the grenade shell with a click and shaking his head. "Nah... reckon this is the most sense ya made in a while," he said with a wry smile. "And ya don't gotta worry about me, so long as ya ain't here to give me an earbashin' I think we're good... ya ain't pissed though? Kinda hard to tell what ya thinkin' sometimes."

Symmetra pondered this. "I am... irritated that I could not predict these events unfolding. I am not angry at you though."

He snickered. "Well, you'd be the first. Really fucked this one up..."

"You do make a habit of it," she said.

He stuck his tongue out in retort. He thought he caught the faint flicker of a smile before she returned to her drawings, fleeting but encouraging all the same.

Junkrat pushed off the workbench, edging a little closer so he could peer at the blueprints set out in front of her. Not quite close enough to cross the unmarked border that divided the workshop, but close enough he'd be pushing his luck if he took another step or two. Symmetra might have agreed that they were friends but she appreciated her personal space.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning forward and squinting as he tried to make out any details. "So, what ya workin' on then? Turrets again?"

She glanced down at the designs. "I have already made some adjustments to how my turrets deploy, as well as increasing the potential strength of my barriers. Currently I am attempting to rework some Vishkar technology into a form we may be able to utilize on missions - namely teleportation."

She lifted her prosthetic arm, bringing forth a shimmering blue diagram. The pieces were alien to Junkrat but there was an intricacy to them he could admire, each part carefully sculpted and hovering in place. "The designs are patented, but alterations were already necessary to allow for multiple trips and users."

He gave a low whistle. "Fancy."

Symmetra closed her palm and the image disappeared. "Not especially. If I can create a working model it should allow us to retreat or reposition much faster in the field though, which will be advantageous."

"Sounds bloody brilliant to me."

Still, she did not seem satisfied. "I should have done it sooner. I think... that perhaps it reminded me too much of the work I used to do for Vishkar, but I should not have allowed such feelings to get in the way."

"Oh, fuck those suits," Junkrat said with relish. "Reckon I should pay 'em a visit some time, bring me best toys. Bet Lucio would love it too!"

His smile faded at the thought of the guy. He still hadn't seen Lucio or Hana since the fireworks and he wasn't sure he wanted to, or if they wanted to, or what he was even supposed to say... he'd wanted to avoid this, dwelling on them. He'd been doing pretty well at it up until now too.

Irritated, Junkrat paced a few steps to the left, then abruptly changed direction, circling back while he fumbled with his satchel and drew out a detonator. The weight was comforting. He let his fingers play over the safety, trying to find something to send his mind elsewhere.

"Hey, can I ask ya a question?"

Symmetra had returned to her work, but she inclined her head so he knew she was listening. "You may."

"What do ya think to omnics?"

"In what way?" she asked.

"Well, do ya like 'em or ya hate 'em? Me, I think they're untrustworthy scrap heaps, but I figure most folk already know that by now..." He trailed off, though his pacing continued. Back to omnics again. Could he think of nothing else?

"You find them untrustworthy?"

"Yeah!" He spun on his heel, a hand on his hip as he turned to address her. "Look, just cos they act all friendly don't mean a thing, they ain't people, they're..."

"Machines?" she suggested.

"Right!"

"And that is what bothers you?"

Junkrat straightened up. "Course it does! They don't feel, don't got no heart under that paneling, it just... makes me sick seein' em pretendin' all the time, after all the shit they've done... people do shit for a reason, ya know? Money, food, whatever. But the fuckin' omnic crisis... weren't no reason for that, no reason for Oz, no reason for any of it... they just got a screw loose an' went off killin', then acted like they were blameless once it was all done... like there ain't always the chance they'll do it again," he spat, the words pouring in a torrent. "An' no one would see it comin' cos they're a bunch of bloody drongos who think ya can trust tin cans, and... tin cans don't need a reason... they ain't like people... they ain't people..."

He drew a shuddering breath, finally coming to a stop. His hand clutched the detonator like a lifeline. It was so easy to spill it all, the hatred and the frustration and everything he wished he could make people understand, what he knew Soldier or Ana or any of the other agents would ignore no matter how hard he strove to explain.

But what good did it do here? What good at all?

Very cautiously he attempted a laugh, shooting Symmetra a look. "Crikey, I didn't mean to say all that now... was just wantin' to know where ya stand on this..."

He fidgeted, trying to dispel the lingering anger his voice had stained the air with, brush it all aside, sweep it under the rug, a jaunty smile to hide his careless slip.

Symmetra put down her pen, lining it up perfectly beside the paper before she folded her arms and returned her attention to him.

"I believe you have the opposite problem to me," she said. "Machines are machines. You and I, we construct and deconstruct them on a regular basis. Everything we create, we understand its function, its purpose. To my mind omnics are simply a more complex example, there is coding and mechanics behind every part of them. Surely their actions can be traced back to an underlying cause, a reason, even if it is an error in construction? There is always a logic to their actions. Humans, on the other hand, I find harder to understand… omnics are not the only beings to have spread destruction across this world."

Junkrat frowned, trying to put this together. "So ya like bots then?"

"I think omnics hold a place in this world for now, and so long as things remain in balance there is no reason to destroy them. They are very fascinating machines, and some of them are also good conversationalists.."

"But do you like 'em?" he pressed, an odd desperation in his tone.

Symmetra sighed. "I'm not sure I understand the question... I neither like nor dislike them. Does my opinion matter greatly to you?"

He shrugged, fiddling with his detonator once more. "Was just curious…" he muttered, barely convincing himself, "ya really don't mind them bein' machines?"

"Not at all. Machines are not monsters."

Junkrat grimaced. "Reckon there's a few folk in the outback that'd disagree with ya there."

"Yourself included, I presume? I have no intention of arguing with you Jamison, you asked for my opinion and I provided it, that was what you wanted, was it not?"

Wasn't it? Why had he even started this conversation in the first place, it wasn't what he was here for... did he want to argue with her? To rant and rave about the evils of omnics as if airing it would do anything to clear his head? Or had he hoped against hope that he might find a kindred spirit, someone who could tell him that everything he thought was right and that there was no need to be second guessing things over and over in an endless loop of uncertainty?

But Symmetra was only herself, no more and no less, she wouldn't change on a whim to suit his needs. She was clear and distinct in her answers, but she would not bend to his viewpoint and nor was she about to encourage his more emotionally charged speeches. She wouldn't be Symmetra if she did.

Junkrat scraped his leg across the floor. "Dunno," he mumbled. "Maybe I'm just talkin', only had Hog to chat to and the big lug wants his beauty sleep. I don't wanna think about omnics, ya know? But I always end up there anyways cos there's one here, and I can't get rid of the thing and they ain't gonna appreciate that I tried... and there's other things I don't wanna think about either but ya never get to choose what ya forget, do ya? Funny that... We ain't the best at solvin' problems, are we?"

Symmetra pursed her lips. Her reply was soft. "It sounds like a great deal is troubling you. I'm sorry that I am unable to help..."

"Nah, don't be," Junkrat said, affecting a little more cheer into his tone. He wandered back to the workbench, settling on one of the stools and passing his detonator from one hand to the other as he tried to think of something a little more assuring to say. A joke perhaps?

Wasn't like him to let this kinda crap weigh him down. Wasn't like him to admit it bothered him.

Symmetra's hesitant voice distracted him. "I could... make tea?"

He shot her a perplexed look, detonator forgotten. "Tea?"

"Yes. I often find it calming." She was watching him so earnestly, expectantly, as if this offering could do anything to fix his problems, but Junkrat found he was smiling.

Stupid as the whole thing was it still buoyed him. Tea meant nothing, but...

How long ago was it that people would have rather spat on him than offer the courtesy? How long ago had Symmetra herself looked at him like dirt on her shoes?

Time was always difficult for him to follow, but it did not feel so far back…

How long ago since he hadn't even had Hog, only himself to rely on and a world that offered no favours?

Maybe he'd fucked up, sure, but he wasn't back then…

He'd made progress. He was making progress. Far more steps back than he liked, but he was still stumbling forward, from one accident to the next, and it was the little things, really, that proved it.

Junkrat giggled.

"Yeah, ya know what?" he said. "Tea would be bloody great."

It wasn't what he normally drank, but it was pleasantly warm and Symmetra seemed to be satisfied that she was accomplishing something, which in its own way was bizarrely gratifying.

He let her return to her work and her own mug of tea as he sipped, at last examining the various bits of scrap that might suit his purposes. The true reason he was here. When he had built an adequate pile he dug out his notebook, hunkered down and finally got stuck in.

It felt good, when things clicked together, when his mind could see a clear path and he could create something out of what others simply threw away. He could build all kinds of things. Lethal things, because that was what he was good at. Oh, he was a genius when he worked, and thoroughly delighted with his own wickedness.

The twist of the screwdriver, the heat of the welding torch, the scent of metal and grease... they were a comfort that he'd been drawing upon for years. A dash of high powered explosives and it was perfect.

Even if he had been planning on avoiding everyone, Junkrat supposed he could make an exception for Symmetra. Sharing the workshop was familiar. She didn't press. She didn't look at him with wounded eyes, or the hard stare of accusation. Symmetra just wanted to work, and he thought they had an understanding in that regard.

He almost felt disappointed when she excused herself an hour later to return to her bed. He was left alone with the reminder of the ever nearing dawn and a scattering of half-finished projects.

Junkrat had known it wouldn't last. As deeply as he'd needed the chance to build, this was no escape. The longer he lingered here the more he risked being found by someone he didn't want to deal with and whatever conversation that might entail. With Symmetra gone the reality of the situation sunk in once more. The inevitability he was still trying so hard to run from...

When his agitation kept him from even sitting still he relented. Grabbing his notes and his weapons he left the workshop behind.

There was more to do. So much more, but he couldn't allow his own eagerness to leave him open, had to think on his feet. Nothing new to that, right?

His steps were slow, dragging behind him.

Changing his mind Junkrat spun around and went back the way he'd come. This time, when he exited the workshop he carried one of his unfinished projects and a collection of tools.


Three hours later he hammered on the door to Roadhog's room, casting fretful glances down the hallway.

"Oi, open up ya great lummock, what's takin' so long?"

The door was all but yanked off its hinges and Roadhog stood blocking the way, arms crossed.

"About time. Ya heard anythin' from Soldier or any of the other lot yet?"

Roadhog gave him a look.

"Oh, right, ya been asleep haven't ya?" He giggled, picking at the fabric of his glove. "My bad."

Junkrat was pretty sure Roadhog was rolling his eyes behind that mask. It was a feeling, more than anything, but he knew.

"Get in here," his bodyguard grumbled, stepping aside.

Junkrat scampered happily in, eyes darting about as he quickly mapped the space for anything new.

Roadhog left the door ajar by an inch or two, lumbering back. Immediately he went for the bed, and Junkrat was barely able to skip out the way as he collapsed onto it with a thump and a groan of protesting springs.

"Oi, ya ain't goin' back to sleep, up! Come on ya lazy bastard!"

Roadhog only grunted.

Scowling, Junkrat knelt next to the bed, poking him in the side with one bony finger. Roadhog swatted the hand away.

Huffing, Junkrat sat back on his haunches. "What's ya problem? What kinda bodyguard do ya think ya are?"

"It's seven in the morning. No one's looking for you."

"Ya don't know that!"

"I do. Shut up and take a nap."

"Fuckin' useless," Junkrat muttered, standing up with a crack of joints.

There wasn't much in the room, besides his collection of pachimaris Roadhog's possessions were purely practical – weapons or spare hogdrogen canisters, scrap for his gun, a second pair of boots. It was always disappointing to Junkrat who's scavenger instincts loved the chance to rifle through knick-knacks when the opportunity presented itself. He wasn't even allowed to touch the pachimaris after he'd got soot stains on them once.

Making a short circuit of the room he eventually ended up back where he had begun, sinking down to lean against the bedpost as he chewed on his nails.

It felt like time was running out. He had that little voice in the back of his head hissing at him to get a move on, but he was directionless again, floundering without solid work to focus himself with. His projects were largely completed and difficult to shift and he'd had no choice but to abandon them. The need to move overpowered his need to build, it was too risky to stay in one place too long, couldn't be found, couldn't be cornered, couldn't let them start this any sooner than they already would because he still didn't feel ready...

Would he ever?

Maybe it was better to end things soon. Then it would be over and he could figure out the next step.

Junkrat was used to worming his way out of confrontations he didn't want, and blasting his way through the rest of them, but maybe this time it was better to stand there and take it. There was only so much he could do without sabotaging himself after all.

He didn't even realized he'd been humming until the sound of Roadhog rolling over startled him out of it.

"Didn't sleep at all, did you," the giant said. A statement, not a question.

"Didn't need to," Junkrat told him, "been longer without any kip before, had stuff to do anyways."

"Least take your arm off, gets sore otherwise. Don't need you whinging."

"I'll deal with it later," he said with an offhand gesture. The leg was more of a problem if he was honest, but Junkrat wasn't about to admit how much it ached. An ever present itch still urged him to move, and leaving himself immobile was an unbearable thought, one not even Roadhog could soothe. Pain was nothing new, he'd weather it.

"This mean ya awake now?" Junkrat asked hopefully, craning his neck back to study his partner's bulk.

Roadhog promptly rolled to his other side. "No."

Scowling at his back for a moment, Junkrat slumped back down again. He contemplated the idea of attempting to sing out of pure spite, but a warning growl came from the bed.

"Don't you dare."

"I wasn't doin' nothin'!" he insisted. How Hog knew was uncanny sometimes.

With little else to do Junkrat fidgeted as time ticked on and Roadhog's wheezy breaths grew slow and steady. Maybe he should move elsewhere? Find a better spot to camp? There was a reason he'd been drawn here though – he'd just have to dredge up enough patience to last until the bastard was up.

Pulling out his notebook and a well chewed pencil he flicked to a blank page. The lead tapped against the paper as Junkrat shifted, attempting to get comfortable as he scoured his mind for something to draw. In the end he doodled a large pig in a comically small bed with z's pouring out its snout. Satisfied, he held the image aloft to compare it to his companion, giggling to himself. Damn good match if he dare say so.

Next he drew Soldier bursting into flames, taking particular joy in all the details right down to the furious expression on his face. Not that'd Junkrat had ever been much good at drawing people. Technical illustrations of his designs he wasn't bad at, if the shakiness of the lines could be forgiven, but people were weird and squishy and he mostly stuck to scratching out a few distinctive features on a vaguely head shaped blob. He'd never needed to learn to do more.

Running out of extra flames to add to his rendition of Soldier he found a blank spot on the page and stared at it as he waited for inspiration to strike.

Slowly, the pencil began to move.

He scribbled three figures posing together with a phone, one with stripy makeup, another with dreadlocks and the last sporting his own patchy shocks of hair. They were smiling.

Junkrat glared at the picture.

He tossed the notebook across the room. It hit the wall with a pathetic flump, dropping to the floor and lying open. Accusing. He tried to send his attention elsewhere but his eyes were always pulled back to it, magnetized despite his best efforts. Junkrat gnawed on the end of the pencil.

In a flash, he was up and across the room, stooping to gather up the notebook. His prosthetic fingers fumbled with the pages so he switched to his other hand, finding the drawing once more and staring at the figures. He wondered if Hana still had that photo.

Two minutes later Roadhog woke with a start to find Junkrat hunched down in the middle of the floor above a burning ball of paper. Junkrat's eyes darted up to him as the man swung himself out of bed.

"No need to fret, mate, just doin' a little tidyin' up, couldn't find the trash can and this is more fun anyways, didn't mean ta- Oi what was that for?!" His voice turned to a squark of alarm as Roadhog stomped out the small fire, sending embers flying.

Junkrat's arms hovered helplessly as if they still wanted to swoop in and save it.

"My room," Roadhog growled, twisting his heel over the mess. "No burning."

"Well that's just a stupid policy," Junkrat muttered. He waited till Roadhog moved, craning forward to see if there were any remaining sparks but found only ash. Sullenly he poked at it. "Guess ya up now at least. Sleep well?"

Roadhog didn't dignify that with a response.


Slinking around by himself was one thing, and slinking around with Hog was something else entirely. Bloke stood out, couldn't help it. It was the size more than anything. Junkrat might have been unusually tall in those few moments he bothered to straighten up, but Roadhog bordered on gargantuan. Coupled with his sheer bulk he was a crowd on his own. An army. Or, a one-man apocalypse as he so liked to say. People didn't miss a man like that.

What he lacked in stealth though he more than made up for in his sheer imposing nature. He was a mobile barricade behind which Junkrat could safely place himself, and all Hog needed to do was tense his muscles and send out a warning rumble and folk quickly found somewhere else to be.

If anyone looked like they were going to mention the previous night, or the possibility of this 'little talk', Roadhog would send them packing. The only two Junkrat doubted this would work on was Hana and Lucio, and he'd already formulated a plan B for that occurrence, namely turning around and booking it in the opposite direction.

It made breakfast remarkably easier.

While Junkrat had an emergency food stash secreted away in the most unlikely place he could think of, Roadhog didn't seem as enthusiastic about his hidden collection of crackers and peanut butter. Food was food to Junkrat's mind. Still, he had to admit that a cooked breakfast wasn't something to be sneered at.

With Tracer sent scurrying from the kitchen they had the place to themselves.

Junkrat sat at the counter, trying in vain not to salivate over the smell of scrambled egg sizzling away. And that was precisely when Athena politely informed them that they were required for a meeting.

Junkrat wasn't sure what he should feel most indignant about. The fact that this interrupted his breakfast. The fact that according to Roadhog it was still early, and he didn't need to be on guard yet. The fact that this ruined his brilliant plan of avoiding everyone for the next day, or possibly the next week depending on how long he could stretch it... or the fact that it was probably a good thing, because he needed this whole ordeal to be over as much as they did.

He wanted it to be done with. Yet he hated walking toward what felt like a trial. Judgement. The chance for them to tell him everything he did wrong, how he was such a fuckup.

That stuff had never seemed to matter in the past because he'd never given a shit what the world thought, but now it clung to him like grease stains under his fingernails.

"Gonna find that AI's circuits and fuckin' melt 'em," he grumbled, "ain't even a proper omnic so it'd probably just be property damage. What's one more crime, eh?"

Roadhog knew he wasn't serious though. There was no fire to his words, only bitter resignation as he scratched at a cut on the kitchen bench, eying the door without enthusiasm.

"Eat," the other man said simply, setting a plate in front of him, "they can wait."


They'd chosen the rooftop to gather at rather than the usual debriefing room. Junkrat didn't know why. To drag him back to the scene of the crime? Or maybe they just fancied a bit of sun, he couldn't say. All in all he found he preferred it though, the openness of the outdoors easily outshone the cluttered interior of the base. He was more at home under the open sky, here there was more room to maneuver, to scope out all dangers when there was nowhere for them to lurk. No place that they could cage him. And far, far more suitable for the more lethal parts of his arsenal.

Not that he intended to use them. But he liked the fact that he could...

Soldier, Ana and Winston all had deckchairs, and they must have anticipated Roadhog accompanying him because there were two empty chairs left out for them. Junkrat ignored the chairs in favor of standing, planting himself a few feet from the older agents and folding his arms. Roadhog mirrored the gesture, looming at his back.

"You're late," Soldier noted.

Junkrat snorted. "Didn't realize there was a time limit, shoulda said somethin'. I'm here now, ain't I?"

"And showing exactly as much discipline as I'd expected."

Junkrat's lip curled."Well if it's what ya expected then what's the fuckin' problem, eh?"

"Maybe I'd hoped you'd be taking this seriously, because this is a serious matter, Fawkes."

"I am serious!" he snapped, fighting the urge to slug Soldier across the face. With his metal hand, preferably. He shifted his weight, leaning forward and letting his arms loose to flap about in pantomime to his words. "Ain't my fault ya think bein' serious means actin' like some kinda suit, talkin' all proper and bendin' over backward to please ya! If I weren't serious I woulda found somethin' else to do! Probably would be miles away by now, drownin' in riches."

"Lets, ah... lets try to stay on task," Winston interjected before Soldier could retort, offering a placating gesture. "We're all here because we want to see this resolved, so let's just take a few deep breaths and, um... keep things civil?"

Junkrat scowled, but the monkey just smiled back with that stupidly hopeful expression and eventually Junkrat sagged. Probably wasn't smart to rise to Soldier's bait anyway, maybe the bloke was trying to egg him on, see if he could get him to fuck this up when he had everything on the line. That was it, wasn't it?

His heart was still beating fast, anxiety twisting his insides. It was so easy to yell at the bloke though, to let his resentment chase away those other feelings, to recall the fury of the previous night. The locked door. How some deep part of him knew this was all Soldier's fault even if he couldn't prove it…

But he had the worst footing here, a tenuous position that could be upended by a few simple words. They could tell him Overwatch was done with him. That he was too messed up for them to want to deal with. That they had the omnic now, an obedient pet that wouldn't cause all the trouble he did. That he was just a dirty criminal, a killer, a… disappointment.

"Are you feeling better dear?" Ana asked after the silence stretched on.

Junkrat shrugged, drawing his focus back to the present. He offered her a sharp toothed grin with none of its usual shine. "Well enough."

"That's good. If you change your mind you let me know, alright? The sooner this is dealt with the better, but I want you thinking clearly."

The old woman was probably his best bet here, she didn't take nonsense kindly but she'd shown sympathy for him in the past. Soldier was no good, and he couldn't make sense of the monkey's values, but her he could maybe work with... if only he could figure out what it was she wanted out of him.

This was not the sort of thing he'd learned to deal with. Oh, he knew how to read confrontations, to figure out if the enemy was preparing to fight or flee, to pick up on motives or emotions a Junker needed to be wary of, but this wasn't the same.

He knew she probably wanted him to not try to kill the bot anymore, but that didn't tell him what she wanted him to say... how he was supposed to respond to any of what they told him.

He took a deep breath. "Mind's sharp as a steel trap, got nothin' to worry about," he promised her lightly, despite the uncertain flicker inside his chest. He locked his grin in place, addressing the rest of them. "We gonna get on with this or what?"

Soldier sighed. "As far as I can see the answer is obvious, but before we go any further I have to ask plainly – did you attempt to murder Tekhartha Zenyatta?"

He looked as grim as he could while sitting in a deck chair under the sun.

Junkrat glanced at Ana, trying to determine anything from her expression.

Should he lie? Pretend this was all a big misunderstanding? There was a shrewdness to the woman's single eye though, and Soldier had already made it plain – the answer was already obvious.

His head twitched, gaze flickering quickly back to check Roadhog still stood behind him. He licked his dry lips. "Yeah, yeah I did."

"And you understand that murder, or even attempted murder, is not something we can tolerate?"

"Had a hunch ya might feel that way," he said, trailing off with a faint laugh.

Not that it was really murder as far as omnics were concerned, it was far more akin to smashing a computer. They weren't people, no souls in their metal bodies. He had enough sense to keep that thought to himself for the present. Overwatch were unlikely to agree.

Maybe... maybe the bot in question was an oddity as far as omnics were concerned. Didn't act right, always defending him despite his obvious disdain for it, never lashing out... and maybe, just maybe it didn't need so much destroying after all. But believing there was more than wires and coding behind its shiny exterior was too much for Junkrat to accept.

Maybe Symmetra had the right of it. A machine was a machine, you just had to understand what made it tick.

"Under normal circumstances you'd be immediately stripped of your position and handed over to the authorities," Soldier said without mercy.

Junkrat tensed, meeting the man's steely gaze.

"However," Soldier ground out at length, "Zenyatta has petitioned on your behalf for us to overlook this... incident. He claims that it's fear that motivated you, and you should be given the opportunity to overcome it. I might have called that blind optimism, but given your reaction shortly after, there might be some truth to what he says."

He drew a pause, looking at Junkrat carefully.

"I don't want you thinking any of this behavior is excusable. If it was only up to me I'd be tempted to discharge you here and now. I'm not the only one who gets to make a decision though, and there are other matters to consider. You have one more chance. Don't mess this up, Fawkes. If I even think you're considering pulling a stunt like your last one that's it. Is that clear to you? Can you swear, here and now, you're not a threat to Overwatch? Even omnics?"

Junkrat blinked back at him for one stunned moment before he collected himself.

"Sure thing!" He insisted, immediately regaining his animation. "Not gonna pretend I like it, but you can keep your tin can. Won't try to scrap it, ya got me word. Don't got any plans for the rest of ya either. Least, not unless ya fuck me over first, then me an' Hog might have a thing or two ta say."

Soldier didn't appear suitibly wowed by his enthusiastic agreement, but his forbidding expression softened an iota, tinged by exasperation. "I suppose that will have to do."

Junkrat was giddy enough that he thought he might just be willing to forgive him. If only a little. But he could stay, somehow he could stay and impossibly things were working out in his favour.

"I've talked to Athena," Winston told him hesitantly. "She's very sorry about all that happened yesterday. In the event of another lock down she'll try her best to make an, uh... exception for you, so long as it's safe."

"There's actually something else we wanted to ask you about, Jamison," Ana said, and Junkrat forced himself to sober enough to listen to what they were saying, "about the intruder. We already have our suspicions, but can you tell us if you recognize the person in this picture?"

She handed him a tablet, and Junkrat stepped forward to take it, brows furrowed as he examined the image displayed on it. There was some distortion around the figure, something he felt should be familiar. The figure itself was of a woman in a mix of purples, silver and blues, half her hair cut short while the other half swept down to her shoulders. Something clicked in his head.

"Oh, the purple lady! What's her name... Sombra, right?"

Ana nodded. "We thought as much."

"McCree recognized her as well," Soldier said grimly, "claimed he ran into her at a bar a year back. Possibly coincidence but I don't like it. If you did originally meet her in Dorado, she's had her eye on some of us before recall was even initiated, and now she's getting bold."

So he'd been right, they did need him, he was useful. It made sense. They knew he was an expert when it came to securing an area and that had been enough for them to let him stay. He'd been planning for just this.

Junkrat beamed. "So ya wanna catch her, right? No worries, I already thought about that. Was drawing up some plans. Here, hold up, where's the blasted..." He finally found his notebook, fishing it out and presenting it proudly. Ana accepted the battered book, glancing over the diagrams on the pages he'd left open. Soldier craned over to look with a great deal more wariness.

"Just early stuff, could do a lot better given the time but I figured you'd wanna have somethin' quick in case she's back soon," Junkrat babbled, hopping from foot to peg leg.

"Those look like they're meant to kill somebody..." Ana murmured.

"Course they are. But it's Talon, right, so that means it's okay," he said brightly. "Nothin' wrong about offin' those that'd stab ya right back given the chance."

"All the same, if we are able to capture Sombra I think we'd prefer if she were in a state to talk. There's a lot she could tell us," Ana said slowly.

Soldier pursed his lips, scrutinizing the diagrams in a way that made Junkrat want to snatch them back. It was like the bloke was just looking for something to criticize. Always was.

Junkrat threaded his fingers together to resist making any grabbing motions.

Soldier glanced up at him. "None of these contraptions look stable, they could be a danger to any of us as much as Talon. I can't authorize them."

"I know what I'm doin'," he insisted, "they're perfectly safe, ya just gotta know where to tread!"

"Absolutely not, Fawkes."

Junkrat glared. After a second's hesitation, he added, "I already built one."

"For the love of... tell me you didn't leave it in a corridor?"

"Nah. Was gonna have a proper unveiling. Thought the lot of you'd be pleased! Ya wanted to catch that Talon sneak, so I thought... I thought this was what ya wanted. I'm good at traps, I can get her for ya next time she sticks her neck out this way, promise! Ya just gotta give me a chance."

His eyes were wide, but none of them seemed pleased. Not in the way he wanted. In the way they were supposed to.

Ana gave him a sympathetic smile. "We appreciate your enthusiasm, dear, but why don't you have a talk with Torbjourn next time? There's no need to rush."

She closed the notebook and passed it back to him, and Junkrat stood thumbing the edges of the pages as he contemplated this.

"They did look very creative," Winston said, probably as some kind of consolation, but Junkrat was already trying to puzzle out where he'd gone wrong. Hadn't this been why they'd needed him? Why they were willing to let his mistakes go if not? What was their motivation in all this, the reason for their forgiveness?

"So what do ya want me to do?" he asked weakly, still fiddling with his notebook.

Soldier leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped. "She's made contact with you before, and expressed Talon's interest in your treasure. It's possible she might try again. If that's the case, you need to be ready,."

"Not sure she's gonna have much to say to me after last time," he said with a dry laugh, remembering their scrap down in the information bank. He'd sent her packing, that was for sure. Only regret he had was not being able to finish the job.

"We'll see. In any case, you're back on active duty."

Junkrat froze. "I'm what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. Athena's not sure if any of our data was stolen during Sombra's intrusion so I've already had to reallocate and plan upcoming missions rather than risk Talon knowing our next move. We could use more agents. Or would you rather have another weeks recovery?" Soldier raised an eyebrow.

"Hell no!," Junkrat burst out, rankled by the mere suggestion. "Blimey, just wasn't expectin' it is all..."

"Don't go thinking of this as a reward, now," Ana said sternly, "we just need more people to fill the places of those who were going to be in the field. Not to mention, you're the only one of us who's had direct contact with Sombra."

She paused, looking at Roadhog. "Possibly the only one," she corrected, evidently determining that any attempt at digging further wasn't likely to go anywhere.

Roadhog gave no indication either way.

"Angela will be wanting to check up on you to make sure you're in good enough shape, but otherwise we'll be expecting you at the revised mission briefings," the woman continued. "Stay out of trouble until then. And Jamison, that means behaving around Zenyatta. I know Australia's history makes things complicated, but he's had far more patience with you than most would. He deserves a little in return, don't you think?"

Junkrat shuffled his feet, eyes set on the ground. "Said I would leave him be, right?"

"I suppose manners would be a bit much to ask so soon..." she said with a shake of her head.

She looked up at Roadhog again. "Keep him in line, won't you?"

Roadhog grunted.

"Oi, I can manage meself just fine!"

"I'm sure you can," Ana humored him. "Call it a precaution."

"I'd, uh... watch yourself around Genji too for the moment, he's not very happy with either of you right now. He knows better than to start a fight, but please don't push him," Winston added.

Of course he knew better, any fight that cyborg started he'd lose, Junkrat wouldn't entertain any other outcome. "Ya got nothin' to worry about."

"Right," the monkey said, clearly unconvinced.

"Well, if we're all done here gentlemen, I have a cup of tea calling my name," Ana said, getting to her feet and folding her deck chair down with precision. "We'll sort out any mission details at the next briefing anyway. Enjoy the sunshine."

Winston sighed. "I suppose there's things to be done, Athena will need my help. Although, tea does sound nice..."

"Then hurry up and I'll put a pot on. Are you coming Jack?"

"I'll be down in a few minutes," the man said, making no move to follow.

"Suit yourself. You be good now, Jamison."

The old lady and the monkey made their way to the stairs, and Junkrat watched Soldier with an air of suspicion as the man stood up and dealt with his own deck chair. The motions were too slow, not the usual sharp, military movements he was used to from the commander.

"Need a hand?" he asked with a sneer, "age catching up to ya?"

"I wanted to have a word with you, Fawkes," he said, ignoring the jibe.

"Ya had plenty of words with me already, though that was the whole point of this. Or can't ya get enough of me charmin' self?"

Soldier finished folding the chair with a snap, and fixed Junkrat with a glare. Junkrat tittered, but refused to wilt under the weight of his gaze.

He still had Roadhog at his shoulder, and he'd just been put back on active duty. If the bloke was here to snarl out more warnings or blame him for everything then Junkrat was fully prepared to tell him where he could stick it.

Fucker always acted to high and mighty... as if respect and obedience was his due, not something to earn. As if it was Junkrat's fault when people didn't explain things right, or didn't listen to him.

Couldn't take a joke either.

And here he was, lingering around so he could chew Junkrat out and ruin the good mood his apparent forgiveness had left him in, to remind him of all his mistakes, his shortcomings...

He shouldn't have to put up with it, he shouldn't...

"I want to make sure you understand something, Fawkes," Soldier said, eying Roadhog as if trying to decide if he could get away with just ignoring his presence. "I know we don't always see... eye to eye-"

"Ya think?"

"But," Soldier growled out before Junkrat had the chance to say more, "I want to be sure... I want you to know that if you do feel I'm being unfair, or that my decisions don't take your... don't take you into account, you're allowed to talk to the other senior agents here."

Junkrat frowned.

"That does not mean you are allowed to disobey, or ignore orders, but you can dispute it with those with the authority to challenge me. And Ang- Doctor Ziegler can make a case on your behalf if she feels there are significant mental or medical reasons to do so. Is that clear?"

Junkrat just stared.

"Fawkes-"

"Yeah. Yeah I get it."

"Good." He scrutinized Junkrat a moment longer to be sure before tucking his deck chair under his arm and striding away. "Don't let this second chance go to waste."

Junkrat watched him go, expression uncertain what to do with itself. The door was long closed and the rooftop deserted before he turned to Roadhog.

His bodyguard was waiting patiently.

"Well what?" Junkrat demanded. "He's still a right tosser."

Roadhog grunted in agreement.

"Maybe..." Junkrat allowed, "maaaybe I'll leave his coffee alone for a while though. Got more important things to worry 'bout."

"The bot?"

"Still workin' on that one, but nah…" He grinned, eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight with a customary amber flame. "We got us a Talon spy to catch."


((So, I feel like this chapter could have done with more work, but I haven't been able to get a hold of my proof reader for the last week and a bit (which isn't their fault, given the season), and I get antsy sitting on things too long. It's also my longest chapter so far and I'm hoping it's not too convoluted or slow, but here we are, and it's done, and I'm just gonna keep moving forward.

Thanks to any of you that have left reviews, it means a lot to me.

And Happy New Year folks! Lets cross our fingers it's a good one for us all.))