My first instinct is to bolt.
After all, when has the great Sombra not run from a fight? But he's way too close, and even though his arms are folded and not on his guns, I know he could easily kill me where I stand. He hasn't though. Instead, he's tapping his foot like he's my dad catching me after curfew instead of my coworker catching me stealing his best friend.
At the thought I turn and look behind me. Widowmaker is still there, leaning against a stone wall and completely nonchalant. She's not even blocking the path really—her foot is tucked casually behind her other ankle and she could be knocked over by a breath of wind. But the effect is the same as though she were standing firm: I'm boxed in.
"I'm waiting," Reaper emphasizes.
He sure is. I think that maybe if I close my eyes and open them, this will all turn out to be a bad dream. I try it. It doesn't work. Damn.
"Gaaabee…" I say tossing open my arms invitingly. "Long time no see."
"Don't. Try. It." Each word is through gritted teeth, and the walls of the alleyway seem to lean in even closer.
I swallow. "Try what? I'm just happy to see you." A bold-faced lie. Happy he's alive, yes. But happy to see him, I am not.
But then again, he's not attacking. Doesn't seem to be out of touch with his anger. "You're in a lot of fucking trouble, and if I don't like what I hear in the next five minutes, you're going to be in a lot more."
"Pssh," I bat my hand at him nonchalantly. "You're overreacting."
"Overreacting?" Oh now I've fucking done it. "Overreacting? If anything I am under reacting! I have been looking for you two for a week, I didn't even know you were alive until last night!"
"Well that sounds like your pr-" oh. That was…not at all what I was expecting. Does he really not know? That's impossible, he has to have some idea of what's going, why Widow's with me and not dead. I look behind me again. Widow just shrugs.
"You going to finish that?" Reaper demands, regarding my half-hanging sentence.
I don't know what to say anymore, but my eyes have stopped darting for a way to translocate out of the alley every half-second. The tension goes out of my shoulders. Fractionally.
Reaper sighs, and I guess that's good enough. "Come on, we can discuss this somewhere else."
And just like that my urge to flee goes down the drain. I know it's not the way out of this one, and leaving will actually make things worse, at least until I get all of this sorted out. I follow Reaper in a daze, at least until he stops abruptly.
"And take those off of her," he orders, pointing roughly at Widowmaker. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
Sheepishly—because somehow Reaper's made me feel embarrassed about this whole fucking thing—I step over to Widow. She puts up her wrists for my convenience, and I quickly tap open the layers on the digital lock.
She smirks, the first time I've seen her do so in weeks. "Merci." As soon as her hands are free she palmheels me directly in my jaw.
We follow Reaper through the streets, me nursing my sore mouth and Widow trailing casually behind me. It's a lot of twists and turns until we arrive at where Reaper's been holing himself up, a passage through the city that will be impossible to retrace. Something about his refuge itches the back of my mind, and the irritation persists until I finally remember there used to be an old Talon compound in the area. Heh. So close to the belly of the beast, and I hadn't even realized.
Of course the beast's belly is now empty and cramping, the dozen or so soldiers that were supposed to occupy it nowhere to be found.
He leads us in, an open room that looks briefly lived in. Maps coat the walls, and Talon's signature decorating style is seeped everywhere in the furniture. And by signature decorating style I mean black, metal, and uncomfortable.
Reaper kicks a chair out towards me. "Have a seat."
"Don't mind if I do," I say, sweeping it up with as much bravado as I can manage. He stands across from me, gloves pressed to the table. Widow lurks away.
"Now that you're…comfortable," he enunciates, watching as I prop my feet up on the table, "start from the beginning."
I don't actually know how. Not when I'm still unsure what Reaper already knows, or what exact story he believes. I start, "well, it all began in a little town outside of Dorado—we couldn't afford to have the birth at the hospital you see-"
Reaper's fist slams on the table, cutting me off with a jolt. I pull my legs back.
"Dammit Sombra." And he sounds…in pain. "Never a goddamned straight answer. What the hell is wrong with you? When exactly were you planning to contact me?"
My mouth hangs open at that, and my expression must tell the whole story.
If I could see his face, I know his eyes would flicker. "…You weren't were you? God fucking…"
"She was afraid you'd kill her," Widow says, the first words she's spoken since I took her cuffs off.
I turn and glare. "Hey! I said he might kill me."
"Or you might kill him," Widow finishes.
"…Alright, yeah. Fine."
Tension coils in Reaper's shoulders, and for once I feel a prickle of fear I usually reserve for Widow. Sure they're both equally dangerous, but somehow knowing Reaper's past makes his shadow not stretch as long, at least in my eyes. That's why calling him Gabe has such an appeal; it forces the monster out into the light.
But now I'm not so sure it was a good idea to fool myself so wholly. The Reaper in front of me still has his claws.
"You want me to start from the beginning?" I say suddenly, because I know I'm running out of options. If I give my truths, they're more likely to give theirs. "Fine. I'll start from the beginning. For the past two years I've been designing a program to take down Talon's security. I blew up headquarters by hijacking the self-destruct systems-"
Reaper waves his hand dismissively. "I know headquarters was you. Widow told me all that in the call."
"Well if you already knew that then-" Then his words hit me. "…Wait. She called you?" I whip my head around to the assassin behind me. "How? I had a scrambler on you! Your hands were tied! How did you call him?"
Widowmaker shrugs. "Payphone."
I think I would prefer the whole getting stabbed with a pen. "P-payphone?" I sputter.
"There was one in the Seven Eleven we stopped at."
"Dios mío." A fucking landline? That's how she'd evaded my security? "I am…so ready to hit something."
It would be funny except for the fact that it's not funny. Not in any conceivable away. I put my head in my hands and let my nails sink into my scalp.
"…I think I have broken her," Widow said simply.
"Mmmph," I reply.
My miniature breakdown allows me a small amount of sympathy from my interrogators. That's good, since I really, really need it. For once in my life I don't have a single idea of what to do—no blooming schemes, no half formed plans. All my contingencies allowed for unforeseen complications, not mistake after mistake of my own doing.
I think I've reached the point where I've run out of ways to improvise.
"Sombra," Reaper says, and is it my imagination or is his voice slightly softer than before? "I want to know what's going on."
I sigh, and drag my nails through my hair. "…What, exactly did Widow tell you on…'the call'?" I use some self-control not to glare at her while I say it. After all, I don't blame her for getting around me. In fact, it would be admirable if the way she accomplished it weren't so damn stupid.
Widow glares right back at me. Her cuffs are now retracted into a portable cube, which she casually tosses up and down while watching the interrogation.
Reaper pushes himself off the table a bit. "Well first, she let me know you were alive. Second, she said you'd kidnapped her, and that you were the one responsible for the attack."
"True and true," I allow. It surprises me a bit that he cares that much about our wellbeing. Well, maybe he cares about Widow's wellbeing. Those two have always been close. "Though let's clear something up. I never meant to bring Widow with me, or to have you off base at the time. It was all a couple of weird-ass coincidences. That's why we're out of funds in the middle of Egypt—I'm at the end of my rope."
"Just a coincidence?" Reaper asks, sounding like he's raising an eyebrow. "Didn't know you believed in that shit."
I suddenly feel Widow's eyes boring into the back of my neck. It's uncomfortable to be me, especially when an ever-growing part of me is glad I didn't let her die. Still, it wouldn't be good to let either of them know that.
"Hey," I shrug. "After this week, I'm willing to be a believer." Reaper looks at me in a way that makes it clear he isn't. I change the subject. "From the fact that we're having a friendly chat and not a showdown, I'm guessing no hard feelings about Talon? Sorry for the trouble then, I needed them out of the way and I thought you buenos amigos would be a bit more upset."
There's a split second chill in the room, and Widow and Reaper share a LookTM. I don't know what it's about before it's over, and Reaper's talking to me again.
"Explain later. For now, I still need your whole story, so if you're done wondering if you can trust us, spill."
Rubbing my temples, I ask, "Can't Widow give you the rundown? She certainly was a fountain of knowledge last night."
"It should be from your mouth, Sombra," she says, but I don't look at her. Her voice is surprisingly gentle, like she totally didn't smack me in the face an hour ago. "Go on. Tell him what you told me."
I swallow. I know where this is heading. But if I don't then she will, so for only the second time in my life, I begin to explain Iris. Reaper pulls himself up a chair halfway through, and it doesn't take an expert to see he's sucked in. I'm not as steady this time, what with double the audience, but I work through.
If you had asked me last month this is what I'd be doing, I'd have slapped your ass and called you a liar. But by some fucking miracle, Widow and Reaper aren't with Talon anymore, and neither am I, and in a bizarre fucking way it's just too good to be true. If I'd known they'd give it up I…well, things would be a lot different.
"And there you have it," I say, flicking off the holograms. "Pretty reasonable, right?"
"If giving up your entire life to go hunt down the illuminati is reasonable, then sure." Reaper rolls his shoulders. "Perfectly fucking understandable."
"You don't believe me," I say drily. Of course. Now I remember the other reason I've chosen not to tell people.
He shrugs. "I don't know what to believe. But if anyone is going to find, 'Iris', then it's going to be you. Assuming they exist."
My teeth grind together, and I feel a stab childlike annoyance. The sudden pang is surprising, even to me. I hadn't realized that was a sore spot.
"Bueno, eso es bueno. Just great. Glad we're all friends again." I smile with all my teeth.
Reaper looks like he's trying to decide if I'm being sarcastic or not. (Hint: I usually am.) Widow finally leaves her spot in the shadows to stand next to him, and I'm hit with a strange feeling of déjà vu, remembering a glossy image of introductions. I shake it off and continue to smile.
"Hmmm," Reaper says eventually. "…It's time we took a break." He looks over at Widow. "You need to recover from your 'whirlwind tour'."
"Hey, what about me?" I put in with fake indignation. "I was traveling just as much as her."
"Yeah. Because it was your tour."
That's the end of the discussion, and within minutes we're all finding places in the compound to be as far away from each other as possible. Well, I am. When I leave the room, Widow and Reaper are huddled together, speaking quietly. I don't know if it's just my imagination, but their hushed whispers sound tender, almost affectionate, and I catch a glimpse of Reaper gently touching Widow's elbow before I'm out the door.
I miscalculated. I miscalculated but I can't even take the energy to blame myself for it anymore. Too much too soon, all falling apart.
It's okay, I can work through this, I lie, and then find an abandoned bunk room and collapse.
I only barely fight off a panic attack. This sucks, sucks, double sucks, the walls closing in at me like I'm at the bottom of a trash compactor. You thought I was bad when I was on the run? Being hunted is nothing compared to the panic of having a five-kilo bowling ball chained to your leg.
It's with those thoughts that I jerk awake, not remembering when I hauled myself into one of the bunks.
There's blood on my hand from where I've chewed my nails until they bled. I slip my glove back on and take stock of the past day, trying to plot my next move. I try, but the claustrophobia is overpowering, and I end up sitting on the bed, holding my knees and realizing that every minute here is another chance for Talon to regroup and stop me. I stand.
I need to get away from them. I can't kill them, and I can't use them, so I need to leave. Now.
I'm wretched and crusty from a week without a wash, but I guess I just don't know how to stop running. There's nothing to pack, and within minutes I've made out of the bunks and toward freedom. Maybe I could see how stupid I am if I had a clear head, but that just so beyond my reach at this point it's laughable.
So it's a good thing Reaper's there to point it out for me.
"Out for a little walk in the moonlight?" he seethes, smoke disappearing off him. He's stone still, standing between me and where I want to go.
"….no….?"
He makes a very audible uh-huh sound.
Damn him for being as silent as a ghost. I'm nowhere near the exit to the compound—he's caught me before I've even begun.
"…Gabe? Can I ask you something?" I take his silence as permission. "Why aren't you trying to kill me?"
The noise he makes can only be described as a snort. "If you think I'm blindly loyal to Talon, you are sorely mistaken."
The equipment, the vendetta against Overwatch, the high-ranking leadership position…that should have been everything. Enough to get a clear understanding of how The Reaper ticks. There's something I've missed, something I've overlooked…
"It's her, isn't it?" I mutter. "The only reason you're not being a right bastard to me is because she asked you not to."
There's a brief moment of silence before Reaper bursts into that dark laughter he always does.
"What? What's so funny?" I demand.
The masks leers at me, condescendingly, like he's considering explaining to me but thinking I'd be to dumb to understand. "It's just nice to remember that sometimes you're just as human as the rest of us."
I don't know what he means but it can't be flattering. I say under my breath, "you're one to talk."
It doesn't dissuade him. "Let me ask you a question, Sombra. Why didn't you leave Widowmaker?"
"Logistics," I say instantly, the thing I've been telling myself for so long, ready at the tip of my tongue. "She might have been recovered by you or other Talon remnants. Made me easier to find."
There's a soft grumble. "Fine. Reasonable even. But why did you save her?"
And I hesitate. I've already come clean though I hadn't intended to but Reaper isn't prickling for revenge. Faced with it so bluntly, I have no answer.
He nods at my silence. "You know, if I thought Talon was a danger to Widow, I would have moved her. But they weren't. They didn't care that she'd regained her memories, they only cared if she suddenly had an emotional attachment to them."
The statement makes sense but for some reason…it blindsides me. And I suddenly realize why: Widow isn't the key because she asked, Widow's the key because he cares about her more than he cares about Talon.
I blink. He shrugs.
"Talon wasn't a threat to her. You aren't either. That's why I'm not being 'a right bastard' to you."
I shake my head. "That's it? You were…planning to leave Talon all along?"
"Planning is a strong word." He cocks his head, clearly enjoying having one up on me. "We have a line. One we agreed to use in case we both needed to go AWOL. Widow called and explained that you're a nosy little bitch, but that you're alright." I swear I can see something twinkle behind the mask. "But I already knew that."
"I don't…" Don't what? Don't understand? Don't know what to do? All of the above. "How'd it all get like this, Reaper?"
He shrugs again. "Fuck if I know. But I know I can only afford to be Vindictively Angry about so many things at one time." He begins to walk away, leaving me standing in the desert night. He looks back. "Sombra?"
"Yeah?" I ask weakly.
"Do you really need to find these people?"
Iris. He means Iris. "…More than anything."
"…Widow wants to help you. And I go where she goes. So maybe put that through your self-inflated ego next time you try to do it alone." And then he's gone, ready to go hang upside-down and get some shut-eye.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I should learn how to stop running.
