Hi, guys!

Thank you again for all the support on the second chapter. Please give me your ideas. I would really appreciate it.

I was so surprised to see that I had viewers from around the world reading my story. Thank you so much.

A special thanks to anyone who took the time to follow my story. You guys are the best and I'll be sure to keep publishing chapters at least twice a week if I can for you to read.

I apologize for the last chapter being so short. I didn't realize the length of it until I saw the word count after it was posted.

I'll try to make this one longer. Anyway, without further ado...

Chapter 3

I arrive in the Dorado Town Square at eight. It's deserted except for a lone street sweeper who steals suspicious glances at me every few seconds as I sit on the side of the stone fountain. I'm not wearing my mask tonight but I am wearing my jacket under a white t-shirt even though it's warm out. I keep finding myself looking down the street, hopeful that she might come around the corner. After fifteen minutes, the street sweeper leaves, but glances at me one more time, eyes narrowed, as he walks away. I'm left waiting alone in the growing darkness, spacing out on a distant street corner. I get up to stretch and walk around a bit. I notice that streamers are hanging from thin wires all around the fountain. They're shaped like little rainbow monsters with big horns at the top of their heads, and stubby little legs. I punch one but overextend my elbow, leaving me wincing in pain.

I guess I'm not a young man anymore. Maybe that's why I prefer to hit with my gun during battle.

It's been thirty minutes now, and I'm starting to lose hope. I sit back down, tired. Why am I here, anyway? She hates me now.

But I stay. I don't know why I do; maybe I'm just feeling lucky tonight. This proves to be the right choice. Fifteen minutes later, at quarter to nine, a figure emerges from around the street corner. As the figure approaches me, I make out that it's Ziegler walking towards me, her blonde hair illuminated in the streetlights. I stand up to meet her, but as I see her come into the closest circle of light, I notice that her eyes are red and puffy. I know that this is my fault and that same dark cloud of guilt from earlier today rises up to my throat. I swallow it and approach her.

"Hey, Ziegler," I say, "Can we talk?"

"That is what i came here for," she says, slight annoyance ringing behind her voice.

"I just want to apologize," I say.

"For what?" she asks, "Embarrassing me or exploding?"

"I'm sorry for everything," I say, "I'm sorry for turning away from you when you tried to kiss me and for saying that shit to you and for being such an idiot. I'm sorry for-"

"Jack, stop," she interrupts, "I forgive you. As long as you know why you hurt me, I forgive you."

I nod and sit back down on the edge of the fountain. She comes over and sits next to me.

"Jack," she begins hesitantly, "do you have feelings for me?"

I answer with little hesitation.

"Yes, Ziegler," I say, "If I'm going to be honest with you, I've had feelings for you since the day I met you."

"Okay," she says, "Answer me this."

"I'm listening."

She hesitates again, looking down at her hands and then back up.

"What are you so afraid of, Jack?"

I knock on the door to our room, seeing my fist turning red with the force. I feel tears streaking down my cheeks, angry tears. I know he's in there, and I know he's ignoring me, and that's what bothers me most about it. That's what I hate in this moment.

"Reyes!" I yell, my voice filling the silent hallway, "Reyes, you let me in or I'll kill you! I swear to god I'll kill you!"

He opens the door and stares out at me with empty eyes, the same emptiness I saw in him the day he told me he was leaving. Now he stands here, a tall black man staring me down with scornful eyes, the fire of hatred burning behind his sallow cheeks.

"It's too late, Morrison. I'm leaving and that's the end of it," he says with his teeth gritted to keep the anger from erupting out of his throat.

He begins to close the door on me, but I hold out my palm, hitting it open again. I let myself in.

"Reyes, you can't leave!" I yell, "Not now, not after all we've been through."

"Morrison, it's all said and done," he says quietly.

"No, it's not!" I say, "You've been with Overwatch since the beginning! You can't go to Blackwatch! You can't do this to me!"

"Jack," Reyes starts; he's never called me by my first name and it sounds wrong on his tongue. It's all wrong, "There is no more Overwatch. It's done. We're done!"

"No, Reyes," I say, "No! You can't do this to me. You can't do this, please, no!"

But he's forcing me out, pushing me away. I recall the last thing he says to me so clearly.

"Morrison, this isn't for you. This is for me. I'm done playing your little games."

And he slams the door.

I look Mercy right in the eyes.

"I'm afraid of being hurt again. After Reyes. I just don't want to lose you too," I say.

"Jack," she says, "Reyes...he abandoned us. He made his own choice, a choice that I would never make. He was a terrible friend to you. To all of us."

"I cared about him, Ziegler," I say, tears in my eyes, "He was my best friend."

"He betrayed you, Jack," she answers, and I know that she's right, "I would never do that to you."

My hand rests on the edge of the fountain next to my lap and she picks it up, lacing her fingers through mine. I squeeze her hand and start to cry, slow tears coming out of my eyes.

"I miss him," I say, "I can't help but miss him."

I know that I should let go, but it's hard.

"Jack," she says, "he was never good to you, but I will be if you just let me-"

I kiss her instead. I just need to let go of Reyes, so I hold her face in my hands and press my lips to hers, as she brings her arms up to lace her fingers through my hair. I want to stay in this moment forever, kissing her, loving her. I stroke her soft cheeks and she holds on to me like she never wants to let go. We go back to the base because it's getting cold out and I lay her down on the couch in the living room. I lean down to kiss her face and she takes off my jacket. Next comes my shirt. I do the same to her, unbuttoning her blouse.

"Are you sure you want to?" I whisper.

"Yes," she gasps.

I wake up the next morning on the living room couch, sunlight streaming through the wide glass window in little streaks. I sit up and stretch, the blanket falling off of my lap. Mercy isn't here anymore. I assume she went to the gym to do her morning training. I'm still in a good mood from last night until I see Reinhardt come into the room from the adjacent kitchen. He eyes at me suspiciously, looking me up and down.

"Good morning," he says slowly, "You didn't come back to our room last night."

I try to come up with an excuse other than 'Oh, yeah. That's because I slept with Mercy on the living room couch.'

"I was training when everyone fell asleep," I say unconvincingly, "I didn't want to wake anyone up when I came in the room."

"Really...at midnight?" he asks.

"Yeah, midnight," I answer, "I lost track of the time."

He nods and lets the topic go, but still looks at me like he accuses me of something. A thought flashes across my mind. What if he saw? Or if he didn't, what would he do if he found out? I push the thought away and pick up my shirt off the floor. I pull it on over my head and put on my jeans next. I fold the blanket and put it over the back of the couch. I go to the kitchen and make coffee, drinking it quickly so I can get to the gym before ten. I go to the gym hoping Mercy's there, but see Tracer instead.

"Hey, Jack," says Tracer, a devious grin on her face, "If you were looking for Mercy, you just missed her."

"What's up with you this morning?" I ask, looking at her suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," she replies, waving me off, "In fact, it's been a great morning. I got up at four to get some water from the kitchen and you won't believe what I saw."

"What did you see?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"An owl!" says Tracer, "A big brown owl just sitting outside the window! I think it might have been watching you and Mercy sleep."

"Oh my god," I say, laughing in disbelief, "Does anyone else know?"

"I didn't tell anyone, if that's what you mean," she says.

"Good," I say.

"Would it really be that bad if anyone knew?" she asks.

"Well, Reinhardt would be against it," I say, sitting down on a rowing machine, "You know his rules."

"Right," she says, drawing the i out, "No relationships on zis team."

"Nice accent," I say, "You sound just like him."

"Oh, stop," she says sarcastically.

I start to row back and forth in silence, thinking over what a conversation with Reinhardt would be if he found out. I start to worry for real this time.