Chapter Text
Before I died, the last thing I remembered was… Him. We had been arguing, and then there had been an explosion… And I died. Which meant that I shouldn’t be here.
My name is Gabriel Reyes, and I was the head of the Blackwatch. We were a covert operation ran by Overwatch to clean up any messes created during the main battle. I basically sat on the side lines, watching perfect little Boy Scout Jack Morrison be the hero, only to swoop in at the end and sort out the shit he’d left behind. It was a real fun job, trust me.
Looking back at it all, I’m not filled with anger. Instead, I’m filled with some sort of… Well, I suppose it’s called nostalgia. That odd, fuzzy feeling of warmth in the centre of your chest? It’s the only word that seems to fit. In fact, I feel sad that everything has changed… It’s when I look at the present do I get mad. I hate that I’ve been painted as a bad guy. I hate that I’ve been pushed into that light, when what I was doing wasn’t bad. If anyone had actually paid attention to what Overwatch did, they would have come to the same conclusion as me. They stopped war, but they didn’t stop famine, or disease. In fact, they were just a pretty picture to slap on top of all the bad in the world, to try and cover it up. They needed to be tore down to show everyone what was really going on.
So tear them down I did. Yes, I caused all of that controversy, and I’m proud of it. No, it wasn’t jealously that drove me to it, but rather the need for a false idol to be removed and the truth to be let out. I wasn’t jealous of Jack… I admired him, and sometimes I wished I was him… But I wasn’t jealous.
Thinking of him makes my stomach hurt. We used to be so close, before I was shoved into the Blackwatch. After that, we hardly talked, because he was so busy. I didn’t hate him for the extra responsibility, but sometimes I wondered what it would be like if the roles had been swapped. He would have been too good, too morally correct, to have done what I did. That’s what made him a better leader, in the end…
I’m not alone in my pursuits anymore, at least. I have two loyal agents, agents who I would die for.
…
Again.
It’s strange, to reminisce over my death, and re-birth. I’m not alive anymore, I know that much. I don’t have to eat, I don’t even have to breathe, but it’s become a habit so it happens naturally. I feel pain though, but I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I know that I should feel something, rather than a disorientating numbness. While I’m not bothered about feeling physical pain, I do sometimes wish to turn off the emotional feelings, the more… Human part of me. That’s the part of me that I hate.
I don’t like the nightmares either. Or the dreams. Just the entire sleep thing can go. It’s a shame that was a part of my mortality I can’t shake. They’re the same, and yet… They’re not. In my nightmares, I keep going back to that fateful day, when I fell into the darkness. Those tendrils crept around me, choking me and forcing their way up my nose, in my mouth, drowning me and filling me with cold. It was this cold that I woke to, the cold and a disfigured appearance. I was more ghost than man; I hate Angela for bringing me back. I’d have preferred death to this, real death rather than this walking hell.
My dreams are a fraction better. In them, I get to be with him again… With my perfect little Boy Scout, Jack Morrison. I said we were close, didn’t I? Shame that didn’t last… At least, didn’t last past this rift I’ve created.
I knew that he hadn’t died in the bomb attack either. No, I hadn’t planned that. I didn’t want to hurt anyone… Not then. Now though, things are different. I knew he’d come back, just like I did, but I must admit, he’s looking better than I am. He has that rugged, old veteran aura to him, and I can tell that even with the mask on, he still has those pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires when he laughed… I’m getting ahead of myself.
I wonder if he’s thinking about me, the way I still think about him. I know I shouldn’t, considering he’s technically my enemy now, but it’s hard to stop. He’s like my drug, and thinking that I can never hold him in my arms again… It’s enough to make me want to rip out my blackened heart and crumble it beneath my fingers. I don’t need it anyway.
And to think, I could halt all of this fighting, with just a single word. With one breath I could stop my troops in their tracks, and in another I could be at his side again, apologising between fevered kisses to his lips, cheeks, neck… And yet while that was tempting, oh-so tempting, stopping now would prove fruitless. What if he doesn’t even feel the same anymore? What if he’s moved on, rather than staying in the past like I have? That queasy feeling is back again.
So it’s decided. I will step into the portrait that Overwatch has painted for me. I will be the evil overlord they want me to be, and they’ll have to move heaven and earth to shut down what I have planned. When the world finally realises that it’s tainted, and we’re only trying to solve the problem, I’ll have my little Boy Scout back, by my side where he belongs.
…
Don’t worry, Jack. Everything will be like it was soon enough, I promise.