You were getting worse. The headaches, the whispers, the anger, it was all getting worse despite the treatment. But you'd gotten used to it by now, learned how to hide it better. You prayed no one knew. You didn't want to be weighed down by the drugs the doc wanted you to take.

Standing in the bathroom, you leaned over the sink, looking into Morrigan's eyes through the mirror, the boiling rage coursing through your veins only slightly mollified by the drugs you had taken just ten minutes before. Morrigan stared right back at you, eyes as dark and cruel as you remembered them being the first time you peered back into those muddled honey pits. She looked ragged, bruises and cuts littered her skin, her hair looked like someone had let a rabid squirrel loose on it.

"What happened to you?" you whispered, reaching up to cup your own cheek, not feeling any of the bruises you watched Morrigan's fingers trail over.

The woman in the mirror was silent, matching you step for step as you leaned forward to better examine her up close.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, tearing your gaze away from the mottled skin of her neck to look back up into her eyes, no, your eyes. Your own reflection was staring back at you, brows furrowed in concern.

"Máthair," the word whispered in your ear made your skin stand on end and your heart jump into your throat as you whirled around, knocking a few stray bottles of product off the bathroom sink. There was no one behind you, only the white tiled wall of your shower. Morrigan was gone.

You heard the door to your apartment open and you quickly hurried to scoop the bottles up, your hands shaking. Anger still roiled in your veins, quiet and waiting. "Athena," you whispered, hoping she would know enough to whisper her own response. "Who is it?"

"It's Commander Morrison," she whispered back, her answer making you jump and drop a few bottles onto the sink counter.

"Shit!"

"Miss Marsh?" Jack called, his boots thumping on the hardwood of your living room as he stepped closer to the bedroom door. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah! Just-Just doing a bit of cleaning!" you called back, already kicking yourself. You should have been in his office an hour ago, and yet here you were, talking to your reflection and poorly managing your emotions. "I'll-I'll be right out."

The commander was not happy with you, that was a given, but there was a worry hiding behind the sternness of those cornflower blue eyes. For a moment, the man standing before you wasn't the old, hard-ass commander, but a young, boy-scout of a soldier. Golden hair caught the lights shining down on him, a twinkle of a smile shone in a pair of eyes filled with mirth, scars were replaced with slightly flushed skin, evidence of being out in the sun for too long. You blinked and the illusion fell away, revealing the old soldier who stood before you, battered and scarred by years of war. The only thing that stayed the same was the familiar look of regret in his eyes when he looked at you. That look he haunted you with daily.

"Briallen?" he asked softly, the frown deepening, but not in anger.

"I'm okay," you insisted, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest. The vision of young Jack left you with goosebumps and you wondered where the image had come from. You'd personally never seen him looking at you so softly, had never truly seen him smile like that. How old had he been? How old had Morrigan been? Why couldn't you remember any of it?

Your wings quivered behind you and you bade them be still, turning away from the Commander to go get a glass of water. "Just tell me what my punishment is."

Jack's scowl burned into the back of your head as you reached into the cupboard and pulled out a cup, gripping it so tightly it was a miracle the glass didn't shatter. "I'm worried about you, kid."

You froze, a wave of anger washing over you, making your skin tingle and your eyes burn. 'Deep breaths Briallen, deep breaths.' Despite the control you tried to take over yourself, the anger boiled up into your throat, scorching your words as you spoke. "Don't call me kid." The words tasted bitter and felt like acid on your tongue, making your head reel; that wasn't your voice.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you took a few deep breaths, focusing on not shattering the cup in your grasp and trying to ignore the soft whispers in your head. You weren't about to let yourself fall prey to this, to her. This was your life, not hers anymore, and she couldn't take that from you.

Jack sighed, his heavy footfalls echoing in your ears as he came up to lean against the kitchenette counter. "Talk to me, Briallen."

You grit your teeth, still fighting against the anger pounding in your head. "I have nothing to say. If you're trying to make me feel guilty for saving that little girl, it won't work," you snapped, taking the cup to the sink to fill it up with water. "I did my fucking job, Jack, and I did it well. No casualties, remember?"

"You could have died," he pointed out, frowning. All the frustration had left him, all that remained in those blue pools was sadness, and it pissed you off. What the hell could he be so sad about? Was he pitying you? You weren't something that needed to be pitied.

"And so what if I did?" You turned to glare at him, Morrigan pushing at the edges of your consciousness, begging you to snap. "If I had died, I would have died doing one hell of a job, I would have died knowing I'd saved so many lives!"

Jack's eyes narrowed and he stood straight up, fixing you with a look. "And would that make up for it? Is that what you're trying to do, Briallen? Are you trying to make up for the things Morrigan did?"

In a second, your anger melted and you just gaped at him, dumbstruck. You weren't trying to do that, were you? No, you were just trying to do your job the best you could, to prove that you could, to save lives because it was the greatest thing you could do with your life. Because it was the opposite of what Morrigan had done.

Quietly, you set your cup down and looked down at your hands; they were shaking with residual rage. "Maybe I am," you murmured, looking back up to meet his gaze. "Morrigan did… So many terrible things, and I can't even remember a fraction of them. If I can save those lives…"

"It won't give back the ones that were taken, Briallen," Jack said softly, shaking his head. His voice was gentle, as if he had some inkling of the horrible thought process, of the struggle of living with this burden. Maybe he did, he had, after all, fought so much for Overwatch. Maybe he regretted some of the things he did.

But he didn't know your burden, and he had no right to comment on it.

You frowned and took a drink, hoping to banish the headache you could feel coming on. "I know," you said, looking away from him and over to the hamper where you'd discarded your soot-covered body suit the day before. You remembered the terrified look in Lizzie's eyes when you'd stepped into the room, how tightly she'd clung to you, her only chance at being saved, and all the people you'd helped that day, all the families that would continue to see loved ones everyday because you went that extra mile to save their lives. "But I'm still saving those lives, Jack, and that makes me an infinitely better person than Morrigan was. I won't apologise for what I've done, for the people I've saved, but I know you have to make an example of agents who don't listen. So, go ahead, what's my punishment? Where are you sending me?"

Jack sighed, eyeing you for a moment before he nodded. "Gibraltar. The base there hasn't been used in a while and we need to reestablish ourselves there. Reinhardt and Jesse will be going with you, along with a handful of low-level agents. You're there purely as a medic, Reinhardt has been given orders to keep you on the bench until further notice."

You nodded, taking another drink to drown your protests. You'd figured you were going to be benched, it was one of the only logical punishments. "I've seen pictures of the Gibraltar base, kind of cold, isn't it?"

"Only during the winter. You'll be fine," Jack said, running a hand through his hair. "Just make sure to pack some warm jackets. There's one more thing, Briallen."

The glass clinked softly against the granite as you set it down, raising an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"You've got to agree to an interview."

The soft moonlight played against Hanzo's sleeping features, caressing the angles of his face, cutting them sharp with shadows and the comforting darkness of night. In sleep, he looked so much more peaceful than he did during the day, the little crinkles around his eyes smoothed out and the edges of his lips turned up instead of down. The soft rhythm of his breath against your fingers was calming, soothing your worries as you soaked in the moment, trying to draw out every second for as long as you could. In only a few hours, he'd be on a plane to Paris, leaving you and Jesse behind. It would be another few days until you left for Gibraltar for who knows how long, whereas Hanzo would only be in Paris for about a week. You had no idea when you were going to see him again.

You reached up, gently brushing your fingers against his cheek, tracing that line between the light and the shadows, watching the small smile split his lips, the way his eyes flickered behind his eyelids. You frowned as he shifted, his brows furrowing as he let out a breath and reached up to gently grasp your wrist.

"Chōshi wa dō?" he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm, his skin warm from the sleep he'd been dragged from. His thumb dragged across the pulse point on your wrist, his dark eyes peeking up at you from beneath sleep-heavy hoods.

You shook your head, shushing him quietly as you brushed your thumb against his lips. "Go back to sleep, a mhuirnín," you whispered, sighing. "I didn't mean to wake you."

His gaze searched yours for a moment, flicking between your eyes before they closed, and he moved closer to you. "What time is it?"

The communicare on your wrist glowed softly when you lifted it to your face. "Five. You really should go back to sleep, Han, your flight is scheduled for nine."

"I can sleep on the plane," he said, shaking his head as he let go of your wrist, his fingers winding into your hair. "Come here."

With a soft, relenting sigh, you wiggled closer, pressing yourself against his chest. Sensing your movement, Jesse shifted in his sleep, closing the distance your wiggling had created. It was a little claustrophobic, but it was nice, and the last time you'd be squished like this in a while, so you closed your eyes and relished in it.

Hanzo chuckled, his pulse jumping with the sound beneath your fingers. "Even in his sleep, Jesse pines for you." He combed his fingers through your hair, his breath dancing across the top of your head. "I cannot think of anyone I'd trust more to keep you safe."

You snorted, tracing the coloured lines over his collar bone. "I can keep myself safe, thanks. Jesse's just there to take my spot on the roster. I'm being demoted to medic."

"As you should be. You need to take a break from being in the line of fire, Hachi. It is not good for the mind to be under such stress so often."

"You two do it," you murmured, flattening your hand against his chest, feeling his pulse in your palm.

"Because we don't have a choice. You have the ability to step back for a time, which you do not take enough advantage of, especially with your condition." When you did not respond, he was quiet, save for a soft hum that vibrated through his chest. "He doesn't know, does he?"

You bit your lip, pressing your forehead against his chest as if that could hide the thoughts.

"Hachi," Hanzo's voice was stern, despite the breathy whisper it came out in.

"No, he doesn't. I've been on the medication, I'm getting better, I-"

"Need to keep both of your partners in the loop, especially since I will not be there if you have another episode. You need to open up to him a bit more, I can promise he will not think badly of you. Did I?"

"Well, no, but you're different… I feel like you knew how fucked up I was when we went into this. Jesse… It's not the same," you admitted, sighing. "Jesse wouldn't understand."

"He would. Don't forget, Jesse has had a difficult past just like the two of us. It might not be as similar as ours is, but he understands. He also knows who you were better than I do, he knows what memories you have floating around in that beautiful mind of yours." He kissed the top of your head, making you chuckle. "Talk to him, Hachi, for me."

You pouted, rolling your eyes. "Okay… Can we go back to sleep now?"

He laughed softly, smoothing down your hair. "Of course, Hachi. Sleep well, love."