Archive of Our Own

Fate tended to be cruel more often than not.  Punctuating your inadequacies with one cruel joke after another, offering little in terms of respite from difficult days made even more insufferable by each struggle a day brought with it.  Sometimes that struggle had the common decency to be simple– a tool box left too close to the edge of a counter tumbling to the ground, sending its contents scattered across the floor and under every piece of heavy machinery in sight like roaches scattered under the dim basement light.  Some struggles proved more dire or deadly... A disgruntled customer here and there was easy enough to deal with, but the human protestors that took issue with your body shop still catering to Omnics during the Null Sector invasion were far from peaceful.

A shop destroyed, a future you worked so hard for literally burned to the ground over bigotry, and an arm broken in the ensuing fight...  Worst yet, you couldn't bring yourself to hate them.  They may not have known how close you were to the cause of their worry, but you knew.  Perhaps your dreams smashed to pieces before your eyes was your karmic punishment for helping Ramattra so many times over.  Your punishment for letting yourself feel more than duty to someone in need for the man.

After all, you were still alive.  That had to count for something, right?  Even if it was too dangerous to leave your home, you could rebuild after the struggle was over.  Assuming there would even be a place for you... Thinking for too long on that topic left you with far too many pains– not only in your aching bones, but your heart.  What would the struggle ending even mean?  Would Omnics finally have their freedom and be fully recognized as the people they were?  Would they be more persecuted and prosecuted than ever before?  Would the Omnic so often on your mind even exist after all was said and done.

You had not seen him since the two of you shared that rather... Intimate evening together.

One day you're experiencing pure ecstasy at the hand of a terrorist, then the next you find yourself being assaulted by citizens scared of the exact man they had no idea was in the very building they razed to the ground just one night prior...

Fate was cruel like that.

You had to wonder– did he even know?  Had he tried showing up to your workshop in the week after it was destroyed?  What thoughts would race through his mind? Would he even care to find that you were no longer there...  It was strange the way, without fail, whenever you thought of the possibilities your chest grew tighter and the corners of your eyes stung.  All you knew was that the city you once worked in was attacked soon after, leaving many injured and without a place to call home.

Fate was cruel... But sometimes, things happened for a reason.

News of your shop's fate spread quickly between your clientele, eventually landing in a certain monk's lap.  You never took Zenyatta to be a bleeding heart; he was kind to a fault and always willing to offer a second hand, but never one to do something without reason.  So, when he appeared at your door with other Overwatch operatives in tow, your first thought was that your relationship to the Null Sector leader had been discovered.  Perhaps the organization wanted to use you for leverage– something even you knew would never work.  Maybe some of the higher ranking members wanted to torture you for whatever information you had on the Ravager!  Though you were not sure in what way the wires that could make him orgasm the fastest would be useful...

Every spiraling worry ultimately left you in stunned silence when instead of being detained, you were offered a proposition...  Zenyatta's word evidently carried with it more weight than you expected, resulting in a rather appealing job offer.  Work as a mechanic for Overwatch during the fight– fix armor, weapons, teammates, and even come up with new weapons to use against the Null Sector forces in exchange for a rebuilt workshop and greater resources later down the line.

With your current state?  Unable to leave your apartment for fear of your own neighbors and without work to continue paying rent... How could you refuse?  It was not as though you could cite your... friend as a reason not to work alongside the saviors of the world.  Your lingering feelings and situationship would have to be cast aside... Just as they had been so many times before.

Fate enjoyed its cruelty, you decided.

Transitioning to living at their base was not easy by any stretch of the imagination.  Far too many people in far too small of a space with far too much going on...  Having your own room was a wonder just from the sheer number of faces you saw around the base every day!  It was overstimulating to the point of making you melt down for the first time in years.  The stress from everything you'd been through certainly did not help, and while the reassurance you received from who you now knew as Sloan was nice, you could not help but feel mortified.  You were not fragile... You were a grown adult capable of acting like one!  But one bad day just caused everything to get worse...  your workshop was the only place you could truly find solace.  The whrr of servo and the blinking of a charge indicator could never look at you with pity, after all.

Days faded into weeks.  You warmed up to some of your new coworkers– Lindholm’s daughter was friendly and skilled enough with her equipment to not need your help when her shield broke, and chatting with her did grant you some rather interesting insights as to where Ramattra got that deep gash in his armor the night you met, but she aired on the side of too energetic for you to keep up with.  That protege of Zenyatta's seemed especially kind to you whenever he stopped by, though you were unsure if it was genuine or out of a sense of duty to the person who continued to fix his master each time he returned from a fight.  Fights which happened far too often for your liking...  Every day seemed cyclical: wake up, eat, hold sparse conversation with whichever eclectic agent needed a weapon fixed or a prosthetic limb tuned up, and watch them all clamber into their dropship whenever the alarms sounded.  Of course you hoped they would all return safely... but you could not keep your mind from wandering.  Would he be their opponent?  Was he doing alright?  What state of disrepair must he have been in without you...

You would always shake off the thought as soon as it would emerge.  Ramattra had made it just fine without knowing you.  It was bad to over assume your place in another's life...

Fate, you knew for certain, enjoyed toying with your mind.

The morning routine began like any other.  Eating, chatting, working... You barely had time to finish mending the sights on Vivian's railgun before she ripped it from your hands, rushing from your workshop with a quick 'thanks' as the emergency alarm blared.   Another day, another fight.  Whatever team scrambled together would no doubt return in the evening, worn but in fair spirits after surmounting whatever obstacle they found in their way.  Someone who stayed behind would cook, Soldier would prattle on about how much more serious things were back in 'his day', the younger operatives would snicker and whisper amongst themselves, and you would hide away in your workshop until dawn.  Perhaps Sloan or Kamori would invite you to their conversation, but even then you worried about being left embarrassed after oversharing in your love of machinery.  It would be the same as every day before, just somehow more draining.  That was what you believed, in any case.

The drop ship did not return that night.

Nor did it reappear the next morning.  You wanted to ask the others what was going on– to see if anyone working observation for the mission had any information to share!  Each time you got close to the command center, though... you hesitated.  The sound of hurried voices and barked commands– the fear you could hear masked behind an assertive tone and cure?  It frightened you.

You were not a fighter.  You had no training and no understanding of the code words yelled into the intercoms.  All you understood was that the battle had taken a turn– people were hurt, and there would be a great deal of equipment for you to mend alongside Lindholm when he and the others returned.

If.  If they all returned.

As the hours drew on, the fear in your chest hardened into a knot that would not allow itself to be unraveled.  Night came and went, dawn approached, and you still did your best to be useful.  Nervously working on any and every piece of equipment left to you before they left, making sure fresh coffee was always available for anyone who needed it– anything you could think of to be useful.  You were not the only one feeling the effects of every stressful second that passed; everyone you spoke with had your same winding tension, waiting to snap like a clock spring.

It would not be until the evening of the third unplanned day that it would finally snap.  Fate...  you wondered why it seemed like you were fate's favorite to toy with.  As the base intercoms blared with the announcement of the team's return, even you could not resist the urge to rush out in search of everyone.

You wanted to welcome them back with a smile.  You wanted to quickly attend to any broken equipment or prosthesis in need of repair.  You wanted to show your appreciation for all the hard work everyone put in...

However, as you stood in the landing bay, your hand clamped firm over your mouth... You could not speak.  Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as each of them disembarked one by one.  Each sound around you was muffled beyond comprehension- Brigitte welcomed her father back and Amari scolded Vivian for her recklessness in the field, but your eyes remained glued to the final figure remaining on the ship.  Rather... what he was carrying.

You took a hesitant step forward, ignoring the questions asked about backup weaponry you were assigned to finish tuning while they were gone.  The words did not even enter your mind...  Blood rumbled in your ears loud enough to be deafening as you took another step.  Your hand moved from your parted lips, clutching the fabric of your tank top so tight that your hand shook.  As the armored crusader emerged from the dropship, there was no mistaking the figure slung limp over his shoulder.

Broken...  That was the only word that came to mind.  You believed seeing detached limbs was terrible, but to have them missing altogether- to see such a strong figure shattered at the center, his wires that you knew better than anyone were far too sensitive exposed to the air?  The edges of your vision grew dark.

" Ramattra? "

“Good eye!” The German's booming laughter broke through your stupor, “I am surprised!  It barely looks like itself anymore.”

The Ravager’s ‘hair’ sounded like dull windchimes as Reinhardt hoisted him further on his shoulder.  You bit back the desire to shout at him– that he wasn’t an it and that he deserved more respect than this!  He was a warrior like the crusader… shouldn’t that mean something ?  Your body moved on its own as Wilhelm drew closer, your hand trembling as you reached out to touch his limp body.

“ What do you think you’re doing?!”  Your wrist was yanked away from the Omnic mere centimeters before you could touch him.  You did not even turn to look at the source of the voice… Soldier’s harsh tone was impossible to mistake, after all.  There was no answer you could even give him– in truth, you didn’t know what you were doing, “That thing is a killing machine!  Even if it’s on standby, it might hurt you .”

Your ears perked up slightly.  It was possible that you misunderstood him... Your mind was truly not all together at the moment in any case.  But even so... standby ?  If that was true then–

"He's not dead?"

Rein laughed once more, grandfatherly and far too caring for a man holding the corpse of someone you cared about over his shoulder.  His large hand entirely encompassed your scalp as he ruffled your hair, "No no!  Damaged enough to turn off."

"Not through any lack of trying..."  You shook his hand off of you in time to feel a different one placed on your shoulder.  Amari, now having returned with her arm in a sling much like yours still healing from the fight at your workshop, stood behind you.  With Soldier still holding you in place, you thought you might actually bite the next person who touched you, "He fought until his systems couldn't keep up."

At least she sounded respectful when she spoke... Even if it was the tone of someone dreading the memory of an enemy they faced, it was better than the others.  It was better than the way Wilhelm mocked Ramattra, imitating his voice to say I will break before I yield ...  It grew harder to bite your tongue.

Your hand shook against Soldier's grasp, still trying to reach out to the Ravager.  You didn't care about their hierarchies or command system– you barely cared about most of the people around you just from how they treated and spoke about Omnics!

"Morrison, stop." Vivian called from the back of the loading bay, "You're hurting them."

Truthfully, you didn't really notice how tightly the man held you.  You'd felt worse recently... But as you slowly turned your head to face Soldier's mask, he seemed to hesitate.  You didn't know when you started crying, and by then?  You did not care.  The look you gave the man was not a pleading one.  If anything, you wished your eyes alone could stab through that dumb reflective face shielding.  How fortunate for the both of you that looks could not kill– surely he was looking back at you with the same amount of animosity from behind that visor, just watching as a tear silently rolled down your cheek.

He huffed, practically throwing you away from himself and Reinhardt before finally releasing your wrist, "You'll have plenty of time to examine it later."

"What?" Your voice came far softer than you wanted, though you supposed it was all you could manage.

"Why do you think we brought that thing back here?" The American snarled in your direction before being pushed aside by Lindholm.  The shorter came to your side, giving you a reassuring pat on the hip.  Amazingly, you refrained from biting.

"What he means is that we need information." His thick accent somehow was comforting, but the words struck your heart, "It'll be up to us to get him fixed enough to talk."

" Or extract the information directly from its hardware ." 

You chose to entirely ignore Soldier– that was not an option.  The surge of adrenaline at the very least offered momentary clarity; there was no time to be in shock.  Ramattra was alive and...  Ramattra needed you.  Of course Lindholm was talented– anyone could see that!  But there was no way he knew as much about a Ravager's build as you... There was barely even a choice to make.  

Nodding emphatically, you put your working hand deep into your pocket, "Gotcha!"  You had to play it off– a strange fascination you had with him and not thoughts about what ways were best to get him out of his enemy's grasp.  Right now, you needed to focus on repairs.

"Bring him to the workshop." You plastered on a small smile, making sure your earlier tears were nowhere in sight as you motioned for the crusader to follow, "I can get right to it, no sweat!"

The looks you received in return were ones of skepticism at best...  You would not let it dissuade you.  Ana chucked, shaking her head, "Eager to get your hands on something new?  You children never have any patience."

The way she nudged Rein's side, drawing a laugh from the man... It was far too casual.  How could they all be so relaxed ?  A quiet grumble rumbled in your chest as your hidden fist shook.  They won.  They were proud of their victory against Null sector, and you could understand riding that kind of high after literal days out on the field!  But… Why couldn't they understand that the Ravager wasn't a toy or trophy?  You bit your lip, only returning your gaze to the older operatives when Ana approached.

"It's late...  He can wait for one night–"

"No." You interrupted, taking a step back, "The sooner I get to work, the less likely his memory will be damaged..."

Ana and the man beside you shared a look.  It was one you recognized from your childhood– one that your own parents shared time and time again when you insisted on reading just a little while more instead of going to bed, or when you would ramble for hours on end about machinery and the various ins and outs of a nuclear engine.  It was patronizing ... The assumption that they knew better, but would relent to your childish fantasies.

"I guess I can stay up a little longer- "

"No–" You bit your tongue, correcting your frustrated tone before further addressing Torbjorn, " Thank you , but you need to rest?  I can handle this."

His brows furrowed, "Ravagers are well known to be... deadly ... Don't you think it's risky to work on one alone?"

A smile flashed over your lips.  Maybe it was the difference in tone, but his warnings felt all the more earnest than the others.  Or perhaps it was his paternal side not wanting someone his daughter's age in danger... Either way, you had no time or desire to humor him.

You shook your head, "I'll be fine.  You guys said he's resting..." Your gaze wandered back to Wilhelm, forcing a curt smile and nod in his direction, "I've studied Omnics of all kinds for years!  They were a huge portion of my clientele before, uh–  you know ..."  You trailed off for a moment before giving your head a shake.  Stay on track...  "I might have better luck actually fixing him than anyone else.”

Gulping down the anger and apprehension as you put on your best facade was all you could do.  There would be time to rant and scream later...  What you needed was a mask for them to believe– a lie you showed to customers time after time, only instead of trying to convince a potential client that you weren't weird , you needed to assuage their worries enough to let you get your way.  You knew he would never hurt you, even if he did wake up!  Or... at the very least you hoped. 

Convincing the others to leave you to your work took only a bit more convincing.  Promises that you'd keep an earpiece in and call for help if it was needed, pleading that you just wanted to earn your place in Overwatch– no matter all you'd done so far to aid them.  An act for the duty focused elders... One that somehow worked.

Soon enough, it was just the two of you.  Lindholm finally left to sleep... and you were alone with your thoughts and the incapacitated Ravager, tossed so carelessly on top of your new workbench by Rein.  It felt bad... But you were beginning to hate the crusader– no matter how sweetly he spoke to you or how good his intentions seemed.

A shaking hand pressed against Ramattra's faceplate.  It was broken nearly in half, allowing his exposed optics to stare blankly into the ceiling.  You caressed his cheek with your thumb before trailing your hand down his throat.  A chunk was torn from his chest– metal melted at the wound's edges from the sheer force of whatever tore him open.  His wires laid strewn over the table in a vision of electronic viscera that made you sick to your stomach...  Your vision grew blurry, but you continued your examination.

The feeling was far too familiar.  A twisted, sick bastardization of your last encounter.  Tears fell from your face as you reached his legs– one entirely missing below the knee, one snapped off mid thigh.  Your eyes trailed lower, drawn to the sound of liquid dripping.  Hydraulic fluid still leaked from him... Red and viscous, almost a mockery of blood from his grotesque wounds.  Wounds celebrated over by your alleged comrades.

He was so... hurt.  Would you even be able to repair him?  You could feel your chest buzzing with anxiety over the seemingly insurmountable task.  Honestly, you wanted nothing more than to flip his kill-switch back and hear his voice– to reassure him that everything would be alright and that he would be alright... But you willed yourself to refrain.  It was a bad idea.  One that actually might kill him between the shock and his numerous broken circuits.

You had to hope.  You had to work.

You may have only had one functional arm yourself, but you knew you could take care of him.  You had no other choice.  Wiping your eyes on your tank top strap, you nodded to yourself.

"Ok big guy... Hang in there."

You mumbled notes to yourself as you set about finding a starting point.  Screws, solder, new plating... Wires and couplings that would need splicing and replacing in their entirety.  At some point, you stopped bothering to wipe the tears that occasionally welled in your eyes.  It took too much time that you did not have.  Instead, you whispered reassurances to him as you worked.  Part of you hoped that he could hear what you said– unreasonable as it may be while powered down, maybe your words would be able to reach him.  To encourage him to hold on.  Deep down, you understood they were reassurances to yourself as much as to him.

It would be a few hours before Torbjorn returned to check on you– an annoyance at best.  You knew you shouldn't be upset with him, but you could not help your terse answers to each of his questions. You couldn't help but bark at him to stop when he commented on how red your eyes were, telling you that you looked exhausted.  You couldn't reasonably explain that you were in your current state from crying and not from a lack of rest.  

Ultimately you had to force yourself to pause, pinching the bridge of your nose with your good hand, a screwdriver clinched awkwardly in the fingers protruding from your cast.

"I'm fine." 

You lied. 

"Look how much progress I've made!" 

A reassurance of your skills.

"I work better on my own." 

The truth.

Even as you slapped his hand away when he tried touching one of Ramattra's wires overflowing from the top of the table, shouting at him to never touch the Omnic, you only felt a little remorse.  You had to apologize... You hated lying and telling half truths, but... you could not trust him with the truth.  Lindholm was a nice man, but a man who lost far too much to the first Omnic Crisis to sympathize.  You doubted his heart was soft enough to understand whatever your situationship to the Ravager was– not when you did not even fully understand it.

A special interest in Ravagers.  That was the closest you could come to telling him the truth. 

It was a dream come true to work on Ramattra.  To mend him, see his inner workings, find out what made him tick...  Even if you already knew all of that full well.  You could stand being seen as a freak more than risking the Omnic come to harm under a truly exploratory touch.

He eventually relented, though made you promise to take a break soon... You felt lucky that soon was an intangible measure of time.  

The base did not have the parts to fully mend his legs...  It felt wrong leaving him with stumps, but the few materials you did have could be better utilized in more vital areas.  The hours from there passes in an incomprehensible flash; you could not tell the difference between a quick 6 hour period of nipping, capping, and reconnecting wires, and an agonizing 30 minutes spent trying to re-align his spinal joints.  Trying to fix his jaw and mend that stoic face of his...

Whenever you felt yourself slowing, you forced yourself through the grogginess.  You could only allow yourself the fastest respite when your body was at its limits– it had proven impossible to trust the others not to sneak into the workshop and ruin something... Curious eyes having to be locked out, vindictive past opponents wanting to gawk and gloat over the incapacitated man.  They had no tact... Once again, you found yourself confused and disgusted by the people you shared a species with.  

Each time you felt the red-hot anger boiling up inside of you, though, you had to remind yourself that they did not know Ramattra the way you did, and you had never had a front row seat to the harm he caused others.

" I never claimed to be good ..."

His words echoed in your head as you returned to the workshop, drying your hands with a paper towel after a much needed bio break.  He was not a good man... You were not a good person either.  Lying and deceiving the others for selfish reasons, taking the thanks and praise they gave you for working so hard whenever you emerged from the workshop for just a minute...

Opening the door, you immediately knew you were not alone.  The droning silence of the workshop imprinted itself on your brain over the past hours you spent alone with yourself and your empty whispered reassurances.  You huffed, closing the door behind you as the auto-dimmed lights returned to their full brightness.

"He is looking... better..." The monk's sad tone pulled at your heart.  You nodded, ordering Athena to lock the door as you came to stand beside him. 

"I'm doing my best." Even you could recognize how tired you sounded, "He should be able to power back on... I just don't know what's keeping him asleep."

"Asleep..." Zenyatta laughed that beautiful, airy, giggle you'd come to adore, "I suppose that is one way to put it."

You shifted on your feet.  It would be wrong to just get back to repairs with the Omnic right there... "How uh... How're you holding up?" You nudged him with your casted elbow.

Even after all the time you'd known Zenyatta, you never learned the whole history between them.  They lived at the same monastery, so you knew they must have been close... But the way Zenyatta looked down at his resting companion was so tender .  It was likely that you looked at him the same way.

"I believe that question would be more appropriate for me to ask.  You have been working without fault for–"

" A long time , I know," You rolled your eyes, "But it's not the first time I've pulled an all-nighter!  I just... I need to help him."

You swallowed back bile as your head ached in anxiety, shaking your head quickly, "I mean– I need to help them .  We need to talk to him, ya know?"

Zenyatta did not humor your awkward laughs with a reply, instead staring directly through you.  He was not stupid... He was probably able to figure you out before you even understood how you felt!  It was his insight that let you know what Ramattra was doing each time he came to you for repairs, after all...  It was him that basically set the two of you up, if you really thought about it!  But he was kind enough to give you a place to stay when your world came crashing down...  That had to count for something, right?  There was no way he would rat you out and–

"Days."

"...Huh?"

"It has not been an all nighter," He turned his faceplate back to the Ravager, "You have been in here for nearly thirty-seven hours."

The room fell silent once more, the only sound an occasional drip from hastily cleaned hydraulic fluid and the low hum from Zenyatta's ventilation.  There were no windows in the workshop, so you supposed that made time not matter.  You were already well aware of your penchant for losing time when absorbed in your work... It made sense, though– the way your hands shook and the ache building in your stomach.  You thought it was simple anxiety, though now you understood it was likely hunger...

This is stupid.

The thought struck your mind hard enough to make you sigh a faint chuckle. Then, you began to giggle.  From there it was a cackle hard enough to hurt your lungs.  Then, it was a cry that you could not keep walled away.

Zenyatta said nothing as you cried, bracing yourself against the table as breath became more and more scarce.  Your knees slowly buckled out from under you, leaving you little more than a heap on the floor.  You could not think– you could not even breathe between each wracking sob coursing through your body.  It was impossible– all of it.  Your shop, joining Overwatch, fixing the Ravager when he was so shattered beyond belief... Everything continued to pile up and you simply could not contain it anymore.  You wanted to be good– desperately so!  Good at your job, good at being a person, good enough – yet fate still seemed dead-set on proving the opposite.  

You could not burden anyone with this– you had nobody to burden with it.  The closest person you had to a friend was floating beside you, watching you have one of the worst meltdowns of your adult life!  Zenyatta didn't deserve to have that put on him– not when he was already worried for his brother!

"I jus–" You croaked between sobs, "Is it my fault ?  That he wo-ound up like this??"

"Oh, no..."  The monk placed a soft hand on your back, "He is... troubled.  Brother Mondatta hoped he would be able to see past it, but..."  The Omnic hummed as you continued to cry.

"Bu-ut my shop–" A hiccup, "If I'd been there I could've–"

"You had no choice in what happened.  It was unsafe..." 

He spoke so plainly... It would have been reassuring if your brain were not already in a downward spiral, "But if I wa-aited–"

"You may have been killed by the same humans that broke your arm.  Their fear of what they did not understand..." He sighed, continuing to stroke your back as steadily as he could, "Ramattra made his choices of his own volition.  It is not your fault that he made them."

You understood what he was saying... but could not help but feel he was wrong.  You could not stop yourself from feeling responsible!  Even if he was at war before the two of you met, or if this would have been his fate whether he met you or not!  In your heart, you believed that you had a hand in this.  Especially being that you worked with Overwatch when he was beaten. Harder sobs ripped through your body as the thought of your mended equipment dealing the finishing blow to the Omnic you cared so much for truly sunk in.  

Zenyatta lowered himself to the ground and wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to cry into his chest.  All of the stress and exhaustion finally caught up to you as you teetered past your breaking point.

"I just– He has to be okay?" You blubbered, "I HAVE to be able to fix him or else- I can't think about if I can't!"

The Omnic hummed, petting your hair, "I am glad he was able to make a friend that cared about him to this degree... I worried he may never be able to let anyone in."

His reassurances fell on mostly deaf ears. You wanted to believe him– to put your faith in someone who knew Ramattra better than you did… However, no matter how you tried, the tears would not stop.  

In truth, you were not sure how long you sat on the floor sobbing into the Omnic’s chest plating.  Long enough for your feet to go numb, at the very least.  You didn’t not notice the red glow coming from behind you.  You didn’t even hear the sound of freshly mended and newly installed fans spinning to life.  The only thing that brought you out of your meltdown was a voice…

A voice that you had never once heard utter your name before then, even though you reminded its owner so many times that your name was not human or mechanic .  Your cries stopped mid sob, ears finally tuned back in, praying that it was not your imagination.

As a groggy groan followed swiftly by the sound of metal moving on metal came from behind you, your heart skipped a beat.  You stood faster than you thought possible on numb legs, nearly knocking Zenyatta over in the process.  You neglected to notice his soft laughter as you rushed to Ramattra’s side.

“Have I… died?” The Ravager sounded tired, but earnest.

You made a terrible sound– something between a sob and a laugh as you grasped his hand tightly between your own.  You had no idea how well his sensors would work after all he’d been through… but you still wanted him to feel you

“Just about!” You sniffled, wiping your face on your shoulder.

The Omnic stared up at you from his still broken faceplate.  It was easier to see how his optics moved this way– how they pinned and flitted over your features.  Only then did you realize how much of a mess you must have looked.  Tears still streamed down your face, your nose probably oozing, your cheeks flushed from the sheer experience of crying for so long.  The wave of embarrassment that washed over you was immense!  You wanted to excuse yourself for a moment to get cleaned up; a cold towel on the back of your neck and a tissue to blow your nose with would do you wonders… but as his hand shook in your own, you could only try and will yourself to look more put together.

Was it due to your hasty repairs, or was it pain that made him tremble in your touch?  The man flexed his hand out of your grasp before raising it to your cheek, pressing his palm against your face.  His thumb twitched as it brushed away the streaks of tear stains painting your skin.

“Your clinic…”

You turned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment.  Your mouth pressed against his tattered sensory pads before you retreated slightly, returning your own tired gaze to him, “...It’s gone.  Some people came by and…” You trailed off, wincing as you thought back to that night, “It’s all burned down.”

The Ravager hummed, his hand not leaving your cheek, “But you didn’t burn with it.”

Shock painted over your face for a moment.  He was worried about you...?  The Omnic seemed to already know about the fate of your workshop, so did that mean he had already seen the wreckage?  Did he... truly believe you to be dead the entire time you were separated?  It did feel silly to think of your meetings like that, but how else were you supposed to put it?  Your chest warmed, not entirely certain how to respond.  You smiled against his palm in lieu of a real answer...  Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could have sworn you felt his fingers twitch.

"How do you feel?" You finally spoke as you returned his hand to rest over his stomach, "Are you in any pain?"

You placed a palm to his half-lit facial array and watched as his optics flicked up to follow your hand.  After a moment, they turned back to your face, "...I do not feel pain the same way you do.  I feel... incomplete?" He huffed, flexing his hand, "It's uncomfortable, but bearable."

Hair fell into your face as you gave a nod, making a mental note.  Was that why he always told you to stop asking if he was hurting when you worked on him?  Surely his missing limbs added to his discomfort... but you had to wonder if he was even fully aware of his current state.

"I'll take care of it.  I promise."

Though your oath came before you could truly think it through, you entirely meant it.  Ramattra turned his broken face away from you, a sigh leaving his voice box as he stared into the ceiling once more.  Finding a way to offer him comfort was at the forefront of your mind... What could you even do for him, though?  Still calming your own breaths and trying to scrub away whatever remnants of your breakdown remained on your face surely could not be that comforting... Though, as you listened to his own fans calm to a hushed murmur of mechanical breathing, you wondered if your presence was enough to offer him solace.  

That peace was, unfortunately, doomed not to last. 

"Where... are we?" He spoke after a stretch of silence, his voice hushed as if whispering a secret, "My memories are... corrupted from before my systems failed..."

It was a reasonable question, yet you still hesitated to answer.  You chewed your lip nervously– how were you supposed to tell him?  What were you supposed to say?  Nothing that was even close to the truth would help the man feel secure, but you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him either.  Especially not when any lie you told would be shattered as soon as word of his consciousness left the room...

Zenyatta noticed your hesitation, moving close enough for Ramattra to finally take notice.  He snapped to look at the monk in an instant, the motion fast enough to cause his body to visibly strain.  You might have mistaken his shock for excitement if you did not know the Ravager any better... But then again, how well did you know him?

"Hello, brother..."

The Null Sector leader's head shook slightly, " Brother...?  What are you..."

He trailed off as the two stared into each others' optics.  Silence filled the space between the three of you– suffocating and heavy enough to slice through.  You could not stop yourself from taking in each microscopic movement he made; his hand shaking for a moment before clenching into a fist, the way his optics pinned to a needle point's width, the way his fans stuttered...  Was it guilt or shame that welled within your chest?

You reached out to take his hand, but the Ravager wrenched away from your touch.  Almost as though you were diseased... You could not hide the hurt on your brows, but he did not falter.  Slowly, the Omnic moved to prop himself up on his elbows until he was in a half-sitting position.  Until he could meet your eye level...

Ramattra's voice shook with anger as he spoke, the sound still just above a whisper, "What are you doing here.  With them ."  

The question was poignantly aimed at you, immediately informing you that you had done wrong.  His sharp tone hurt your heart– it was a dagger in your chest pushed just an iota deeper.  Your words failed you once again, but as you glanced at the Omnic to your side, you could only see Zenyatta watching expectantly.  He would not come to your rescue this time...

"I–" A hard swallow, "My workshop was destroyed so–"

" So you turned to the enemy?! "  The disappointment in his tone did very little for the shaking of your voice.  

The enemy ...  Was that even accurate?  Did he count you as on his side?  You didn't agree with his methods, but you did help him on more than one occasion knowing fully well who he was and what he did.  Was he even wrong to assume you were on his side...?

"It's not like that!" You shook your head, "I didn't have anywhere to go– Zen said I'd be useful!"

He scoffed.  The Omnic refused to even look at you...  The knife twisted deeper.

"I just wanted to help..."

"You could have helped –" Ramattra cut himself off, fingers digging into the table below him, "No... I shouldn't have expected more."

"Ram..."  Your eyes stung.  No– you couldn't cry again.  Not here, not over this.  It was valid for him to feel betrayed in a way, no matter how much it hurt.  No matter how much you wanted to hear him finish his initial thought... 

The monk's voice broke the heavy silence after a moment, "Is it not lucky, then, that they were  here and able to aid you in a dire time of need?"

Another hiss from the Ravager, " Lucky?   I suppose I should find myself lucky that your human pets just nearly killed me , then?!"

"I–" You bit your lip harder, feeling the skin give way under your canine.  The taste of blood flooded your tongue, but you could not truly even register it, "I'm sorry."

Panic flooded your brain.  You couldn't think straight– not with your brain as full of dread as it was!  Truthfully you felt lightheaded enough to pass out, though you weren't entirely sure if it was due to panic or your sleep deprived state.  You were so glad he was awake again– that he seemed like he would be fine... But Ramattra was so furious .  Moments ago he was so tender, but now?  Now you worried he may despise you.  

How could you fix this?  Was there even a way to fix things?  You always prided yourself on your ability to mend anything, but now you may have found yourself in a situation where that was impossible.  Your eyes would not stay focused as your own hands shook.  Could you live with it? If you went to so much trouble for someone you...   Another hefty gulp.  If someone you liked so much hated you, what were you supposed to do?  It was not uncommon to be irrationally despised by others– it was a common occurrence in your youth because of how infatuated you were with machines!  As your eyes dared to flick toward Ramattra's broken faceplate, though...  You felt smaller than you ever had in your childhood.

The monk to your side looked from you to the Ravager before giving a soft sigh, "The others will wish to know that you have awoken.  I... may be able to keep them preoccupied for a while, but try not to dawdle."

He turned without letting either of you respond, making his way to the door.  You watched as he left the room and, subsequently, the two of you alone...  It would be a bad idea to ask Athena to lock the door– you would be lucky if she hadn't already caught on to the conversation you and the Ravager were already having!  Drawing her directly to you would leave you no room to talk whatsoever... If there even was anything left to talk about .  

A sigh shuddered through your body as you picked at your thumb nail with your index finger, unsure of what to say.  Ramattra still staunchly refused to look at you...

After another moment however, the man sighed and laid back on the workbench.  He brought his forearm up to lay over his shattered face, "Will you continue repairing me?"

You flinched as he spoke.  His words did not sound kind in the slightest...  They were still skeptical... disappointed.  

"Of course." Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

He chuffed, "Do not make it sound like a given ... I have a right to my doubts."

Your brows furrowed as you swallowed down the taste of blood still trickling into your mouth.  Looking over your aching, cast covered arm... you took in a breath, "I've... Ramattra, I'm always gonna try and help someone if they need it." A hesitant step closer to the Ravager, "I'll always try fixing you."

His optics pinned once again, though his gaze remained on the ceiling, "You cannot honestly think I can believe that while you're working under those... barbarians ."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

Your defensive tone was higher pitched than you would have liked.  The man turned his head ever so slightly in your direction, pausing before he spoke, " One such occasion does come to mind..."  His tone was incredulous, but held the faintest tint of playfulness.

"That!!" Your face grew hot, "That doesn't count!!  You lied first..."

Ramattra did not reply.  His optics remained on you for a long moment, moving here and there as he explored your features before turning his face back to the ceiling.  The silence stretched on, awkwardness filling each second.  You could hear his fans occasionally speed up before returning to a normal rate... but you were unsure if that meant he was thinking, or if your repairs were simply inadequate.  An Omnic's ventilation systems were as important as a human's lungs... What if you failed at your repairs?  What if you installed the incorrect model of replacement?  You pondered over reasonings and explanations to the point of tuning out the world around you.  It was a bad habit to be in... especially when it made you fail to notice the Omnic removing his arm from his face, holding his hand out toward you.

"Did they do that to you?" His words were steady enough to comfort you even without comprehending them.  It took you a moment to snap back into reality, confusion spread across your face.  Then, as your eyes trailed to where he extended his arm, you understood.

You maneuvered your cast into his hand, obeying his silent request, "The guys who destroyed my shop, yeah... They got me pretty good."

" Oh? "

A chuckle came from your chest– an obviously forced sound.  An attempt at bravado, "You should've seen me right after!  All bruises and black eyes and stuff... I think I held my own pretty good, though."

" Obviously not if you were left in such a state."

He actually chuckled as he spoke, and that should have made you happy…  But you grew silent.  Your eyes turned downcast, looking over his fingers as they held your cast.  He was right.. You didn't do well.  You weren't good...

"Maybe," A joyless giggle, "but I'll be better soon."

All grew quiet once more.  There was no time to be so awkward .  How long had Zen been gone?  How long could he hold off the prying eyes and listening ears of every other Overwatch operative?  You owed the monk big time for putting up with all this.  You took a deep breath, though it stuttered in an embarrassing way.

"We've gotta get you ready for when they come in..." Morrison would no doubt storm in at any minute.  You needed to make sure things looked at least presentable– believable for every scrutinizing eye that would no doubt flood the room...

"They are going to kill me, you know."  Ramattra did not even sound disappointed anymore... He sounded nearly resigned.

"They won't–"

"They will ."

"Why would they let me fix you if they wanted you dead?!"

He scoffed, "To use me.  Once they have what they want, your dear Overwatch will have no use for me." He huffed, tilting his face to look at you once again, "For a mechanic, you are incredibly foolish..."

Your fists clenched as you pulled your cast from his hand.  Not just from his insult, but the idea as a whole... He was probably right– they did say they wanted information from him, so what would happen after that?  Would they kill him outright?  Or would they leave him in a cell to rot until some sort of court justice could be served?  Without trying, your mind wandered back to the way Reinhardt spoke about the Ravager... How Soldier and the others did too. 

He was their enemy...  And Overwatch had never been known for acting "by the books" in terms of justice...  The full realization finally hit you like a truck.  You could feel your body trembling- not only from nerves, but fear.  Your mind reeled with flashed of what the others might do to him– dismantling, experimentation, and far worse...  What would stop them from being cruel if they didn't actually see him as a person ?

A strange, sharp, sound caught your ear enough to pull you from your gruesome thoughts.  Soft and fast, the sound of dripping on the hard flooring was unmistakable.  Your eyes immediately snapped to his leg in search of more hydraulic fluid seepage– you thought that you had properly disconnected the canister already!  There shouldn't have been any fluid left in the pipes to spill out.  Maybe it was the heat his now awakened body produced?  As your eyes scanned the perfectly dry table, however, your assumption was proven wrong.

"Ah..." Ramattra's voice drew you back to his face.  Everything was blurry again... You really needed to sleep!  It was almost as though you were looking through a filter–

Oh.  Lips pursed, you frantically rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand.  No , you were done crying!  You had no right to weep for a future that you contributed to!  Yet... even as you fully understood that, you could not keep the now angry tears at bay.  

This sucks .

The phrase repeated time and time again in your brain, only winding your chest tighter.  A clock spring ready to snap, you stamped your foot.  You could practically feel the pity oozing from the Ravager's optics!

"Sorry–" You blurted out, tone more angry than saddened.

It wasn't fair.  Life wasn't, and fate surely wasn't.  It was unfair that you and he had to meet under the circumstances you did that first night.  It was unfair that the people you worked for and tentatively called comrades were so callous.  It was unfair of you to put your emotional burden on someone practically on death row...

Yet.

Giving up was also out of the question.

You might not have any rank to speak of within the organization, but Zenyatta would surely take your side!  The other operatives around your age could likely be swayed, too...  You just needed to make it harder for those prejudiced against Omnics to not see him as a person!

" UGH !" You exclaimed, slapping your cheek hard enough for it to redden.

The man looked at you, head cocked to the side after your outburst.

"They won't."

"... Pardon? "

"Kill you!" A huff, "I won't let them..."

The Ravager chuckled– humorless and dry, "I do not believe you have much say–"

" Shut up ." You interrupted, voice not quite as forceful as you would have liked, "Just- stop talking like that!  Not yet, anyway..."

Your eyes finally returned to Ramattra's optics.  He watched you silently... skeptically.  Of course he wouldn't believe you... You'd given him no reason to!

"I'll figure something out!  And if they don't listen to reason..."What if nobody would hear you out?  Would you be able to break him out of the base?  There was no question about whether he would return to his operation of Null Sector... To hurting people Omnic and human alike.  Your eyes narrowed, a small sigh passing your lips, "I dunno... but. I promise."

Your hand reached out, taking the Omnic's in spite of his reluctance, "I promise ."

Ramattra stared into your eyes for a long moment.  In truth, you did not know how much time passed between you.  No words were spoken... but his hand slowly wrapped around yours as the hushed tone of his fans grew louder.  His hand flexed and you loosened your grasp, but his did not retreat.  Fingers laced between yours as his faceplate tilted downward– a contemplative expression you'd come to recognize.  

Just as soon as he took your hand in his own, though, he retreated from your grasp.  You wanted to speak up– to give him one more reassurance, but your time was up.

Soon enough a small crowd was gathered in your workshop.  From operatives you'd never met to the original Overwatch agents who pushed you back and out of the way, scolding you for forgetting to call for them through your ear piece.  The Ravager was immediately flooded with questions and gloating remarks, whereas you received congratulations on your hard work.  Commendations you felt entirely undeserving of...

A glance back at the Ravager to ease your worries as you were guided out of the room could not hurt... At least, you hoped.  The Omnic barely returned your glance before returning to the Overwatch commander's questioning, responding to each inquiry with that snark you'd come to enjoy.

There was no questioning it... You were resolute– you would have to make them see what you saw.  They would have to understand why they couldn't simply throw the man away after the organization had what they wanted from him!  

If he ever gave anything up, that is...

An uphill battle awaited you– it was clear as day for anyone to see.  You were only a mechanic, after all.  Morrison spared no opportunity to remind you of such at every turn.  In a sense, it seemed as though they were trying to save you from a silver-tongued serpent trying to lure you from Eden.  Guilt gnawed at you– they were not speaking to the naive and impressionable Eve they came to know you as, but instead the jaded and opinionated Lilith already cast out by those who knew the evil within.  Nevertheless... Serpent or not, you could not allow Lucifer to die on an operating table.  Not after you promised to be his salvation.

If he was destined for Hell no matter what you tried... Then you would do your best to make it a Hell that everyone shared. 

Maybe fate finally took pity on you.

Hearing of Talon's recent attacks should not have been a sigh of relief.  Many countries were left damaged and with dwindled defenses after Null Sector's attacks, and with the news of Ramattra's capture spreading so quickly?  Some government leaders were foolish enough to let their guard down.  Committing resources to rebuilding meant borders and government facilities were left exposed...  It seemed to you that Talon's leader despised that soft underbelly.  

A new crisis formed; a new enemy to war against even as the vestiges of Ramattra's forces still caused trouble autonomously.  Far too much happening at a global level for anyone to properly combat... Even Overwatch.

How lucky, then, was it that you had one of the world's strongest and smartest Omnics at your organization's disposal?  No matter how much you hated it, using wording your superiors could understand was the only way you could start to break through to them.

It was a temporary truce.  Only long enough to tide the world over until Talon was beaten back.  Truly a win-win for all parties!  Overwatch could save the day once again, and Ramattra could get revenge on those who used him as a marionette, killing Mondatta to incite his fury and the Neo-Null Sector uprising...  Everyone's goals aligned for the moment, meaning the prideful Ravager could cooperate for the time being.

Meaning he wouldn't be thrown away.

Of course nothing returned to normal – there was no normal to return to!  It hurt when he would barely acknowledge you– that he pretended not to even know you.  Ramattra would occasionally acknowledge you as the mechanic who mended him shoddily , but never anything past that.  Sometimes you did worry that none of it was an act... That something happened and his memories of you were taken or deleted!

Other times, if you had the exceedingly rare chance to catch him between meetings or combat training or whatever augmentations Torbjorn insisted on performing before he was allowed out on the battlefield...?

A quick pat on the head did not mean much.  A greeting to you as his mechanic did not either... But they filled your heart with warmth, and the hope that one day you might be able to grow closer once more.