"—as of tomorrow morning, the Petra Acts will go into effect, making any and all Overwatch activities, whether being carried by the organization as a whole or by independent agents, illegal in the eyes of the UN and all of its members."

From his spot on the bed, Jack grunted in annoyance. Ever since Zenyatta had turned on the TV, a scowl hadn't left Jack. Overwatch wasn't even dissolved yet and the United Nations were forced to bring it all to a halt as some agents had decided to take justice into their own hands, which was part of the problem. Last thing the world needed was a bunch of vigilantes running around with disregard of civilian lives. No matter how much people praised Reinhart for his noble deeds, it didn't make them any more legal.

"This marks the end to Overwatch's long history," the young reported commented, looking right to the camera as people, presumably politicians and military personnel from all over the world, walked in the background. "Talks of the disbandment will continue at the beginning of next week to give the Petra Acts enough time to go into effect—"

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Both Jack and Zenyatta immediately turned to the doorway, where a more than displeased Ana stood, growling. She was staring at Zenyatta, who did not flinch under her stare. Showing no hesitation, she walked in and turned off the TV, the picture of the reporter being replaced by the graying screen, before turning back to face Zenyatta. "What made you think it was a good idea to show him that? He's supposed to relax. He'll pull some stitches again if he stresses over something he shouldn't be worrying about."

"The quickest path to recovery is facing the past and learning from pain," Zenyatta answers without an ounce of doubt. By the way the two of them spoke, Jack could guess that they had similar conversations before, likely behind his back. While Ana was right—he did accidentally rip out some stitches when Zenyatta had shown him the progress of Overwatch's fall—the omnic had done nothing wrong. "The stitching was only a temporary setback. I made sure to leave an orb of harmony on Seventy-Six this time to keep him calm."

"That's not the point, Zen! You had no right—"

"Ana," Jack called out when he had enough. His voice felt raspy, reminding him just how difficult it still was to talk since the tube that went down his throat was removed a couple days back. His hands still looked for the datapad from time to time whenever he wanted to speak, but Ana took away from him when she learned that he'd been using it to look for information about the Swiss Headquarters and its fallout. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I was the one that asked Zenyatta to keep me updated on things."

Zenyatta remained silent, lowering its head slightly instead. A silent 'thank you' to him or an apology to Ana, he wasn't sure which one it was. Ana, for her part, let out a long and strenuous sigh as she shook her head and rubbed at her temples with her free hand. "Don't do this to yourself, Jack," she said under her breath. "You are lucky you survived through everything that happened. It would be…"

He could see that it was hard for her to get the words out, just like it'd always been in the past when they talked about their personal lives. She rarely shared much, especially when it came to what was on her mind. Even as days became months and months years, she remained the same, and that Jack did not like, but he understood her enough not to pry. He would make it easier on her then. He nodded and pointed as best he could towards what she was carrying. "I'm no expert, but that doesn't look like a mirror to me."

Her jaw hung down just so and she stared at him with her one good eye before she smirked. They'd both known each other long enough to know what he was trying to do for sure. Nonverbal communication had always been what the two excelled at, especially with one another; it was their thing. Even the slightest twitch gave the other a good idea of what they wanted to say even before the other started speaking. It was good to see that even after years apart, they could still do it.

"Don't do that. It doesn't suit you at all," she said when she took the spot to his left, showing him the device she'd been carrying. It definitely was no mirror. "Reminds you of old times, doesn't it? Liao used to carry one just like it all around the place back in the day."

"Always taking pictures of anyone that was willing… or unwilling," Jack filled in with a half broken smile. Liao had been too young to be put through everything she had. The omnic war was no place for a kid. She shouldn't have been part of Overwatch, and technically she wasn't. Nonetheless, she had been a valuable part of the team. "It's too bad she never took a picture with anyone. I still have... had some of the pictures she took in my office. Always carried the one with Reyes, you, and I too and that other one with us all and Fareeha… Good times… Better times."

As if waiting for him to mention the picture, Ana placed two polaroids on his lap while he kept busy examining the camera. He looked up at her for a second before taking a good look at the pictures. They were the same photo, with a '⅓' and '⅔' written on a corner of them respectively. The first one was Ana's. It turned a bit yellow after years (it was hard to keep track of time during the Omnic Crisis) of it being exposed to the light, but the image itself was perfectly clear. A much younger Jack stood in the middle, with Reyes to his right and Ana to his left, the three smiling at the camera. The second one was his. It was singed at the edges and stained with blood, but there was still enough detail there for him to see the same image of the three of them. A bad memory staining a good one.

"A picture will do instead of a mirror," Ana said, snapping Jack out of the dark spiral he was headed. Today was the day they would be removing all the bandages from his face. Jack was glad for it. He was never a fan of being wrapped up in bandages, which was why he would often seek out Dr. Ziegler to do her magic, even if it meant getting an earful and being reminded to be more cautious again. But back then they had top of the edge technology that had been developed by the best minds in the world to heal a wound. Jack doubted the same could be said about the Shambali after what they'd done to his eyes. "We can finally see if we can call you Ass-Face instead of Seventy-Six."

"I must remind you that there was no need for skin-grafting," said Zenyatta and Jack was glad for that. He would never hear the end of it otherwise. The term 'kiss my ass' would be ruined, knowing Ana. "Removing skin from one's buttocks to implement somewhere else on their person is a practice that has fazed out for the most part."

"Now you are just ruining the fun. Make yourself useful and hold this while I get the bandages off of him." She passed the camera to Zenyatta, who then went to stand, or, in his case, float at the foot end of the bed. Meanwhile, she leaned a bit towards Jack, gingerly setting her hands on both sides of his head. She removed the small tube-respirator he'd been using to get accustomed to the high altitude of the Himalayas. With that out of the way, it was down to the bandages. He didn't know what to expect, really. He'd only felt rather than seen his face when he was trapped; half of it was practically hanging off at one point, courtesy of one Gabriel Reyes. But while Gabriel had done that damage, Jack had paid him back in full.

By the way Ana looked and took her time unwrapping him, Jack could tell she was nervous. And why wouldn't she be? It was her and Mondatta who'd seen the full extent of Jack's injuries back then. She tried to keep her face stoic, but the little ticks he'd come to understand where showing. She also avoided looking at him directly in the eye as she worked. For all her joking around, Jack could tell that she didn't want him to look like an ass-face either...figuratively speaking. As for Jack, all he wanted was to see his reflection, or picture, and know it was still him looking back. He had not time to gage her reaction when she was done, as a sudden flash of light blinded him.

Memories flood Jack's mind. Flashbangs and grenades exploding left and right. Bullets flying past him as he ran down a corridor, Gabriel chasing after him. Then him standing over his oldest friend, handgun gripped tightly on his hand as he tried to stop the blood seeping out of his face. No time. He left Gabriel there. The bomb would go off any second. Would she make it out on time? He had to close the blast doors—

"—ey! Hey! Stay with me, Jack!" If not her voice, Ana's constant shaking of Jack brought him back to the present. He couldn't remember when he'd shut his eyes or when he'd gone ahead and grabbed his head. In an instant, his body was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat, his breathing was ragged, and he was doing his best to fight the throbbing pain in his head and keeping himself from throwing up. He felt her fingers combing through his hair, as she said in a soothing voice, "you're safe."

"I'm okay," Jack said, though even he knew that he didn't sound that convincing. His breathing began to even out slowly until he was finally able to lay back down on the pillows that propped him up. Taking one last deep breath, he knew it was over. He wasn't back in Switzerland. He was in Nepal. With the Shambali. With Ana Amari. "I'm sorry… I don't know what happened."

"It is not uncommon for someone to suffer posttraumatic stress disorder after surviving something like you have done, Seventy-Six," said Zenyatta as he fiddled with the camera in its hands. The polaroid at the front was pulled out and it extended the piece to both Jack and Ana. "My apologies. I did not realize the flash was active. I've disabled it for the time being."

"You had no way of knowing, Zenyatta," Jack quickly said, knowing that if he hadn't, Ana would likely reprimand the poor omnic for something that it didn't have any control over. "It's fine."

The humming from the omnic made it sound unconvinced, but it did not pry further, instead nodding at him. Ana eventually went ahead and grabbed the polaroid along with the camera when Zenyatta extended it to her. "I believe it would be good if the two of you talked. In the meantime, I will search for a hoverchair we can use for Seventy-Six."

Neither of them moved until they were convinced there Zenyatta was far enough from the door. Ana went ahead and closed it, turning back and giving Jack a look of melancholy and worry. She walked back to his side, but instead of standing besides the bed like she usually did, she sat on the edge, facing his way. She took a quick glance at the picture before she handed it to Jack.

The man on the picture definitely was Jack Morrison, but the differences from the one shown on there and the one that had fought in Switzerland were striking. He looked much thinner than before, which was to be expected considering how long he'd gone without food. He would be back to normal in that aspect in no time, especially because of the changes his body had gone through during the Soldier Enhancement Program.

"A little thin, but you needed to lose some weight anyways," Ana jested.

During his whole military career, Jack made sure to be clean shaven and have a military-approved haircut; something practical and short that did not take much to style, but just long enough that it would help people recognize him. Shaving had become part of his morning ritual to the point that skipping a single day put him off for the rest of the day. The last time he'd grown a beard or his hair out was when the war was at full swing. Back then he had little choice as he would be deployed in the field for weeks or even months at a time. So, after years of seeing himself clean shaven and with short hair, the beard and longer hair that he now had felt strange.

"It suits you. It helps hide who you are too. May need a little trim, though," Ana said.

His eyes used to be icy blue, a color he shared with both his parents, but that was no longer the case. His eyes had been too damaged, or so Mondatta told Jack. They had been replaced with pre-Omnic Crisis bionic optics. Though not as good as Ana's own optic eye, which she no longer had, they allowed him to see three times better than his old eyes. But it also came at the cost of having two, electric-blue eyes that lit up, literally and all pun intended. He could see the soft glow of them in the picture. It made Jack uneasy, but he knew that he would grow used to them and the feeling would disappear in time.

"No need for glasses or flashlights in your future," Ana said.

Next were the two, very obvious scars that marred his face; one started close to his hairline, on the left side of his forehead, just over his nose—there was a small bump further down his nose, probably because it'd been broken—and ended on his right cheek, well below his eye, and the other followed the same direction, starting on his left cheek, going across his lips, and ending in the middle of his chin.

"They've always said men with scars are more attractive," Ana said once more.

Last but not least was his hair. For years the blonde hair had been slowly fading to white and silver. Jack didn't mind it, despite being a public figure. A few people had suggested for him to dye it, but Jack ignored them. But looking at the picture now, it seemed that more like years had passed instead of months. At least half of the blonde had turned gray.

"You are looking more like an old, battle-worn veteran every time I see you," Ana said again, which finally had its intended effect as Jack cracked a smile and chuckled.

"Last I checked, I was older than you only by a couple of years," he reminded her as he looked up at her. It was her turn to chuckle. "You've always dominated the looks department though. If it wasn't for your hair, I would accuse you of sharing Oxton's abilities."

"I stuck to the shadows while you were always in the sun," she said with a shrug. She raised the camera up and, without giving him a second to mentally prepare, she took another picture. Thankfully Zenyatta wasn't joking about turning off the flash. The only thing that came from the camera was the sound of the photo being taken and then the polaroid coming out. Ana took hold of the new polaroid, checking her work. "Always looked better smiling. You had all the women swooning when you smiled at them like that."

Except the one that really mattered, he thought.

He was getting swept by her pace again, he knew. Whatever happened in that room while he was lost in his mind when the first picture was taken alerted her of something that she did not want to share. She was dancing around the subject, and he was letting her. That's why when she moved to sit besides him, their cheeks touching, and she raised the camera, he let her. His hand twitched with temptation to move to her waist, but he restrained himself, opting to smile at the camera instead.

She took two pictures this time. They now had a small pile of them, all gathered in Jack's hands. She fanned them out in her hand, resting the camera on the nightstand. She took two of them out, his old picture stained in blood and the last one she took and offered them to him. "A replacement for now."

With those new eyes it would be hard for someone to tell if he was genuinely smiling as there was no real shine to them. But looking at Ana, she was the complete opposite, a wide, toothy smile across her lips, her single eye conveying more happiness than Jack's whole expression. "It's a good picture," he told her.

There was no need for her to respond. They stayed like that, Ana leaning on him—only slight as to not cause him any pain—as they looked at the pictures Jack held. This time, he did wrap an arm loosely around her. She didn't shy away, instead resting a hand on his forearm. It reminded him of those times when they would sit around on the lounge, knowing there was no one else around. They wouldn't say much back then either. It wasn't necessary. Just knowing they were there for each other always felt like it was enough. They would separate only when one of them had to leave or when someone could be heard heading their way. Sometimes it would be Fareeha, returning from a day at school, eager to speak to her mother or wanting them to tell her a story of the past or even to teach her this or that. Sometimes, Ana stopped her. Others, she didn't.

Just like back then, the moment they heard a knock at the door, Ana moved away from him. Old habits die hard, Jack thought as she walked over to the door. Zenyatta walked in pushing a wheelchair that had to be even older than anyone in that room. It creaked and squeaked as it was moved. Jack made a note to grease the thing in the future, though he didn't want to think he would be using it for too long. His physical therapy would begin soon. He would be walking in no time.

"The temple is very old, abandoned for a long time," said Zenyatta as it noticed the way Ana and Jack stared at the chair. "We are not equipped to house someone as injured as Seventy-Six. I will bring up the topic of getting more medical supplies to Mondatta. In the meantime, I assure you that it will do what it was designed for. I've inspected its structural capacity."

"Just bring it over here and let's get this over with," said Jack, breaking the awkward silence the three shared. Once Jack sat on the chair, with a lot of help from Ana and Zenyatta, they left the room with Ana pushing the chair and Zenyatta floating in front of them, acting as a sort of guide.

The brightness of the outside world made him narrow his eyes, but once he grew accustomed to it, he took in every last detail he could to make up for all the time he'd been confined to bed. The sky was as blue as it could get, a few clouds flying above, providing much needed shade. There were a few statues of omnics being built—sculpting tools laid at the base of each one—which felt out of place when contrasted with the antique architecture. Then again, this was a sort of sanctuary for omnics.

Speaking of architecture, Jack was amazed at the size of everything around him. The buildings and temple were insignificant when compared to modern buildings, but these were built with ancient techniques and had withstood centuries without much of it showing on the foundations. Even the floor made of smooth cobblestone that was leveled perfectly was something you wouldn't see anywhere else. It was a bizarre and almost alien world he found himself in.

They walked past a garden, where a few humans and omnics worked together, hand in hand, to keep the flora blooming; a challenge on itself, as the low temperatures and high altitude made it difficult for anything to survive other than trees. Those that noticed them passing stopped their work and smiled at them. Jack even saw one of the omnics wave while a man clung to its arm. You don't see that everyday.

But if he was surprised by that small group, he was even more taken aback by the crowd that had gathered together in what he guessed was the temples dining hall. Dozens of humans and omnics sat together, shoulder to shoulder, as they ate, drank, and shared stories with each other. The humans wore everything from casual clothing to business suits, and some omnics, like Mondatta and Zenyatta, wore some clothes too. Though the omnics did not eat, they did not look out of place. Even their postures seemed natural, as they leaned in on the tables like humans did when engrossed in a story, or leaned back on their chair to look more relaxed. They even laughed and made jokes of their own.

Once again, as they passed by, there were a good share of strangers that greeted them with smiles and waves. Jack tried his best to respond in kind, but he was a little too overwhelmed by everything he was seeing. It was one thing to read reports about everything the Shambali were doing, it was a completely different thing to witness it.

They ended up taking one of the few unoccupied tables left, a circular one, with Ana sitting to Jack left and Zenyatta to his right. Almost instantly, an omnic and a young girl in her mid twenties came over and placed a plate of food in front of Ana and Jack as well as a cup of tea.

"They finally let you out of your cage, huh?" A remark that one would expect from a human was said by the omnic in such a natural way that it didn't seem strange in Jack's mind until it lingered there for too long.

"Sush, Yera," said the girl, giving the omnic a scowl and a pout. "The guy's still getting used to everything, don't go acting so familiar with him right off the bat."

"I'm just saying…" Yera tilted its head towards Jack.

The girl gave out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, Mr. Seventy-Six. Yera gets too excited when new people come here. We'll leave you to your meal, don't worry. I won't let him bother you."

Jack kept an eye on the couple as the girl dragged away the omnic, who clearly wanted to ask more questions. When they were out of earshot, Jack turned to his companions. "Is this place always so… lively?"

"You won't find this many people gathered during a normal lunch, no," Zenyatta answered with a chuckle. "I believe they are excited to meet you, Seventy-Six. Or at the very least, see you. Many of them saw you when you were brought in. The fact that you are alive is something they all want to celebrate."

"Same thing happened when I first came," Ana said as she set down her spoon. "After a while, you stop seeing the omnics as robots and instead you see them as...one of the bunch. One more of the group."

"The best and fastest way for omnics and humans to bridge their differences is by interacting with each other and forming real bonds," Zenyatta continued. "Though we may not eat, sharing a table is of utmost importance. A great deal of human interaction happen during meal times; Humans lower their defenses and are more approachable. It is important that we, as omnics, show we mean no harm by bonding with humans. Speaking of peace between our kind and yours spreads the message, Seventy-Six. But if no one is willing to set an example, those words hold no meaning."

That was strange. Was Zenyatta taking a shot at Mondatta? Despite the message Mondatta was trying to spread, the leader had never been seen with many humans, or omnics for that mattered, outside the temple of the Shambali, that seemed more personal. But then again, Mondatta had been visiting Jack and speaking with him since he woke up. But I'm in the temple now.

"You disagree with Mondatta's teachings?" Jack asked, taking the chance to get some food in him. Too bad that instead of the meaty stew that Ana was eating, he'd been given a rice soup instead. Then again, this would be his first solid meal in a while. He couldn't give a shock to his system by having a more balanced meal of meat, grain, and vegetables off the start.

"Mondatta means well," said the monk after a while of pondering about it. "His message has brought a lot of omnics and humans closer, as you can see around us. He will likely have a bigger impact in the next few years, as he is becomes more notorious. However, it is his methodology I do not agree with. If we bring all those that agree with his words here, there will be no one left out there to show the rest of the world that it is possible for humans and omnics to coexist as equals."

"Telling people omnics have a soul is one thing," Ana filled in. "Showing it is another."

It seemed that, despite appearances, the Shambali weren't as unified as Jack first thought.