STTA 14: Masquerade

[moonshadows]

Predictably, once Reaper left the room it erupted into chaos. Everyone had an opinion or a theory, and they were determined to share it. Should they trust him, was it a trap, did he have an ulterior motive. Arguments and counter-arguments. Around and around until Jack was ready to put his visor back on and storm Talon by himself – or at least, storm out of the room. He wanted to get Ana alone and talk to her, see what she thought Gabriel was up to. He wanted to drag Angela out into the hall and ask what the hell had happened to Jesse.

He wanted to find his husband and hold him, reassure him that everything would be okay.

“You have been very quiet.” Reinhardt’s hand on Jack’s shoulder brought him back into the present. “Do you have any thoughts on Reaper’s defection that you wish to share?”

Not really, he thought. Out loud, he said, “Only that I believe he genuinely wants to take Talon down.”

The big Crusader gave him a sympathetic look. “I know it must be hard on you, carrying on the fight without Gabriel-”

Jack stood abruptly and stalked off, heading outside. He didn’t want to hear sympathy for Gabriel’s assumed death, but he didn’t want to explain how he knew that his husband was alive, either. The night was cool and clear, exactly the sort that would have seen him and Gabe leaning against a wall, fingers tangling together as they gazed up at the stars. He missed that, missed them with a sudden intensity that made his chest ache.

Footsteps approaching turned out to be Angela.

“Jesse McCree is resting comfortably,” she said, making some of the tension bleed out of him. “He sustained several gunshot wounds, but nothing vital was hit and Gabriel was able to perform first aid quickly enough to keep him from bleeding out.”

Jack sighed. “So you know, then.”

She lifted her chin slightly. “I was contacted by the hacker, Sombra, who sought my help in restoring Gabriel’s body. Jesse vouched for her, and between the two of us, we have been successful. Although he is still in a symbiotic relationship with his nanite swarm, Sombra has assured me that he can eat, sleep, and in all other ways function normally again.”

“In other words, you’ve done your part to fix him, and now it’s up to me to do mine.”

Angela tilted her head slightly. “Well…perhaps that can wait until after the mission. Are you going?”

“I thought he was dead,” Jack said, his voice a quiet rumble. “I have a second chance, a chance to stand by Gabe and prove that I have his back. That I trust him. I’m not going to waste it.”

“Then you should get some rest,” Angela pointed out gently. “Gabriel intends to leave very early in the morning.”

“And someone has to organize the mission. Fine, I’ll go to bed.”

Jack started to turn away, but stopped and hugged the surprised doctor instead.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Angela hugged him back. “You are very welcome.”

---

True to his word, Reaper was gone before anyone woke up the next morning. Jack went to the kitchen for coffee, only to discover that he was not the first to rise because Ana was there making tea.

“Angela says he’s…physically recovered,” Jack said quietly as he searched for a mug. “I’m going to talk to him after the mission.”

“Have you thought about what you are going to say?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

He grimaced. “Haven’t got a damn clue past I’m sorry being somewhere in there, and possibly I was an idiot and you were right.”

“All good choices.” She smiled at him, light and teasing. “I am certain you will do just fine.”

Jack grimaced again, remembering the beatings he’d suffered at his husband’s hands. “Well, that makes one of us.”

“Worried about the mission?” a chirpy voice asked from the doorway. Oxton, of course. “Reaper left a costume behind – the one his injured hacker was going to wear. I think I could fit into it.”

The coffee maker beeped; Jack poured his mug, then poured one for Oxton and offered it to her. “Worried more about after the mission,” he admitted.

Oxton took the mug and stared into it. “Commander-”

“Just Jack.”

“Jack…did Reaper seem…familiar to you?”

He sighed. “That’s the after-mission thing I’m worried about.”

“Oh.” Oxton’s cheeks flushed while Ana tied not to laugh. “I’ll…just…check that costume.”

She retreated from the kitchen, mug abandoned on the counter, while Ana patted his shoulder.

“Unless you plan on following Gabriel’s example,” she said, warm amusement infusing every word, “I suggest you embrace your rank.”

Jack leaned against the counter and took a long sip of his coffee. “Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll organize the mission.”

---

Winston excused himself from the mission planning; aside from the fact that it was much harder to disguise his involvement, someone had to stay behind to ensure the base remained secure and watch the two injured Talon agents, and there was every reason for that someone to be him. In the end, the planning was depressingly easy. Gabriel had done all the hard work for him, and he was right – all the people they had were overkill. But they had a chance to get Amélie back, and that justified the purely selfish desire to get involved solely for the opportunity to kick Talon in the balls. They planned, they rested, they raided the Watchpoint armory for firearms and light armor. They ate a hearty meal cobbled together out of rations and finally, piled into Angela’s little medical ship and a hijacked Talon dropship for the trip to Venice.

No one asked about the injured Talon agents. No one discussed whether or not Reaper’s growl had sounded the slightest bit familiar.

Oxton did fit into the costume Reaper had left, with room for her chronal harness, which meant she would be disabling security and making an easy mission even easier. She left the dropship first, zipping off to where Reaper had told them the security office was. Once her part was accomplished, she’d return to the ships and wait with Genji, who had calmly informed Jack that he would watch over the vehicles rather than play a more active role.

“I am too distinctive, even in a costume,” he’d said. “I will remain here, and ensure that your means of escape is not compromised. Should Talon come for their vessel, I will be more than capable of making them reconsider the idea.”

No one could really argue with that.

The rest of them knocked out revelers and stole their costumes, hiding themselves under masks and voluminous cloaks, leaving their unconscious victims in an alley. Ana and Angela vanished to find and retrieve Amélie, while the rest of them spread out to make their inconspicuous way towards their final goal.

Once, Jack thought he saw Reaper in the distance. Someone wearing all red, a figure the color of fresh blood moving through the crowds like a shark gliding through the shallows. But he didn’t stop to check.

They had a mission.

Getting inside was easy. Between Oxton having disabled security and the dead guards – bodies still warm – littering the hall, it was simple to cross the causeway and enter what should have been a heavily-fortified building. Instead, there was no one to even hear the echoes of their footsteps as they walked down a wide hall, passing statues of kings and emperors, and clustered on the other side of the tall wooden double doors at the end.

This was it. The heads of Talon were behind those doors. And so was his husband, who may or may not hate him.

I don’t know exactly how the room will be arranged, Reaper had said. Don’t hesitate to shoot everyone who moves, including me. I don’t die. Don’t let any of them escape because you’re trying to not hit me.

Jack nodded to Reinhardt. Reinhardt nodded back. The other dozen agents and Brigitte – who had smuggled her shield in somehow – melted back against the walls as the two big men backed up twenty feet.

“Three,” Jack said in a low voice. “Two. One.”

They charged the doors, human battering rams hurling all their weight against the wooden obstacles. The doors didn’t stand a chance. They exploded inwards, splinters flying, glass shattering, boards clattering to the stone floor while the other agents, as though pulled by their wake, flowed neatly into the room and spread out. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Jack drew the firearm he’d taken from the armory and shot the red-swathed man in the back.

His second shot took Akande Ogundimu in between the eyes.

It was hard to tell what happened after that. The Overwatch agents gunned down everyone but the omnic sitting at one end of the oval table while Brigitte and Reinhardt blocked the doorway with their bodies. Some of the Talon heads tried to run or reach for weapons, but they were outnumbered and outgunned and they never even got a shot off. Some didn’t even make it out of their chairs.

Once the echoes faded, Reaper growled, “If I move, is someone going to shoot me?”

Jack holstered his weapon. “No.”

The red-swathed figure that had been slumped face-down on the table stood up and turned to reveal a very realistic human skull mask instead of the stylized owl skull Jack had been expecting. “Good. Then it’s time for us to get out of here. Leave this mess for the Italian government to deal with. Maximilien?”

The omnic stood and straightened his suit. “I have my own transport waiting, thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

Reaper nodded to him as he slipped out a door in the back of the room, then turned back to the rest of them. “I’ll see you back at the Watchpoint.”

Jack almost called his name as he walked through them, agents parting like fish before a shark, Reinhardt and Brigitte stepping aside to let him pass, everyone’s expressions unreadable behind their masks. No one moved except to watch him walk down that hallway. Once he was out of sight, Jack nodded.

“Alright. Let’s move out.”

---

The dropship was untouched, Angela’s smaller craft already gone. Genji relayed that they had been successful in retrieving Amélie, but they would not be returning to the Watchpoint. They would see Oxton on her way back to London before bringing Amélie to Dr. Ziegler’s best medical facility, with Captain Amari accompanying them – both in case Amélie needed to be incapacitated, and because if retro-conditioning was successful, she would need a friend nearby to help her cope with the things that had been done to – and with – her body.

Although the flight back started off quiet, with everyone stripping stolen costumes and masks off, conversations soon sprang up regarding Reaper. No one wanted to come out and say who they suspected he was, and Genji refused to even speculate. Finally, Jack spoke up.

“When we get back to the Watchpoint, I’ll go talk to him. And the wounded Talon agents. The rest of you can tell Winston and Athena all about what happened, just let me talk to Reaper in private.”

That settled the speculation, but it gave him no room to chicken out. He still had no idea what to say to his husband, and Ana wasn’t there to ask.

Well, he did say he’d talk to the ex-Talon agents. McCree had been friendly enough after his first brush with Reaper; maybe he’d have some advice.

They landed, the door opened, and all eyes turned to him. Didn’t want to risk running into Reaper, he guessed. No one stirred as he stood with a sigh and walked inside.

“Athena?” he called once he was out of earshot of the dropship. “Where is Jesse McCree?”

The AI informed him which room McCree was in, as well as where Reaper, Sombra, and Winston were – which turned out to be a repair station. Jack headed to the cowboy’s room.

“C’mon in,” Jesse drawled when Jack knocked on the door.

The man was laying in bed, propped up with half a dozen pillows. Standard-issue blankets covered him from the waist down, and bandages peeked out from under his half-buttoned flannel shirt in more than one place. An IV setup Jack had never seen before seemed to be converting some brackish fluid into blood, which dripped down the tube into his arm.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Jesse asked wryly. “You shoulda seen the other guys.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Jack closed the door and sat in the chair beside the bed. “Gabe was…very worried about you.”

“Enough to call in the cavalry. Y’all kick Talon’s sandcastle over?”

He laughed briefly. “Something like that.”

“And now you’re off to talk to Dad, butcha don’t know what to say.” Jesse’s easy amusement was gone, replaced by something hard and wary.

Jack opened his mouth, but nothing came out so he closed it again.

“Angela said you tossed your cookies when you realized what Dad had done.”

Just remembering it was making guilt churn in his belly. “Yeah.”

“You want to make it right?”

He exhaled and braced himself. “Yes.”

For a long moment, Jesse weighed him with his eyes. Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out a gold chain with something – Jack couldn’t see what it was through the other man’s fingers – strung on it. Jesse tugged the chain up over his head and just held it in his fist for a long moment before gesturing for Jack’s hand. He pressed the bundle into Jack’s palm and curled his fingers around whatever-it-was, all the while holding his eyes with a stare that was somehow vulnerable and threatening at the same time.

“Don’t fuck it up,” Jesse said solemnly. “Be honest. You owe him that much.”

Jack nodded and stumbled out of the room, not checking to see what, exactly, he’d been entrusted with until he was out in the hallway with the door closed behind him. With no small amount of trepidation, he uncurled his fingers – and then fisted his trembling hand tightly around its precious contents again.

Jesse had given him their wedding rings.