#but i also don’t want to be a plague rat for a packed high holiday service | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlekatleaf · 4 years

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Buried in a burning flame is love and its decisive flame (part 6)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Something was buzzing right in his ear. Almost like a chainsaw but not quite. On the other side, hair tickled his cheek. What dragged him back to full awareness, though, was the flayed feeling of being watched. Junkrat shifted and opened his eyes. The room was empty, but a door clicked shut down the hall. Waking up sandwiched between two people was odd. More so that neither was Roadhog. Most odd, though, was how comfortable he felt. Despite the congestion and headache, his body was relaxed, warm. Sleep had been dreamless and deep. Untangled himself from the blanket, from Hana and Lucio’s arms, carefully so he didn’t wake them.

Least the floor felt solid under him again. Maybe getting better. Step-tapped down the hall, listening to see who might be awake in the not-yet dawn. Nothing from Mei and Satya’s room or Lena and Emily. Also silence from his own room, which could only mean Roadhog was awake. Otherwise the snoring’d be enough to deafen. He stood in front of the closed door for a long minute. Knock? Just go in? That idea felt weird. Wished it didn’t - didn’t used to. What had changed? Maybe should go back to the couch and pretend like everything was fine. Would be easiest - he considered it with longing. Now that he’d been up a minute realized was still a little dizzy. Unfortunately, though Hana and Lucio were cozy he didn’t want to give them whatever plague he had.

Raised a hand to knock. Hesitated. Maybe Roadie’d just got up for the bathroom. No reason to interrupt him, demanding an explanation for something he hadn’t done. Dropped his hand. Stepped back.

He turned and detoured to the kitchen - maybe another drink’d knock him out. Give Roadhog enough time to fall asleep too; then he could crash in the cot with no one the wiser. He’d just put the kettle on to boil when the house sat comm beeped.

Jumped to reach it before the sound woke someone. “Yeah?”

“Fawkes - it’s Morrison.” As if it’d be anyone else on the other end of the comm at the ass crack of dawn on Christmas.

“Hey old man.” Serve him right, callin’ him Fawkes. Ain’t no one called him that.

The disapproval practically radiated from the link through the silence, then “Where’s Lena?”

“Still sleepin’, her ‘n everyone else. Ain’t even daybreak here, mate.”

Another heavy silence. Wondered whether Morrison’d call him out for insubordination. Or at least being annoying. Grinned as Morrison contented himself with a deep sigh. “There’s been further intel. Null Sector was sent to retrieve a device that was supposed to be under guard in the settlement attacked yesterday morning. Our source says they weren’t successful. It’s unclear whether the device was left behind or taken when the settlement was vacated. We need to send in a recon team to ascertain whether the device is still in play.”

Junkrat considered asking whether he remembered it was a holiday, but figured he did. Maybe it was just another day for Morrison, too. “Suppose this needs to happen asap, yeah?”

“If we don’t get in there, they will. I hope I don’t need to explain how problematic that would be.”

“Nah. Got it.”

“I’m sending schematics. Have Lena look them over before she goes, then delete. Can’t have anyone else getting hold of them. And tell her to report immediately upon her return.”

“Always does, don’t she?” For all her tendency to lighthearted fun, Lena was conscientious and responsible and it grated to think Morrison didn’t recognize that.

Course Morrison didn’t bother to respond, just cut the connection.

“Dipstick,” Junkrat muttered. The question was, what to do now? Not a question, really. Wake Tracer, interrupt her holiday, and give her Morrison’s assignment. After all, who else could do it? The whispered tone was sly. Had a point though - why did Lena need to have her holiday morning interrupted for a simple recon mission? Seemed like something one person could do alone. Why drag anyone else out into the cold. Oh Jamison. You think you could be trusted with this? Laughter scraped his thoughts. He scowled. Course - why else would Morrison tell me. A small, considering hum. Perhaps… a chance to prove yourself somewhat useful. Yes; exactly. He’d take care of it - be back before anyone else got up. Prove it wasn’t just Roadhog they needed.

The kettle whistled shrill and he startled, yanked it off the burner. Fortunately still heard Hana snoring from the living room. Dumped boiling water over two teabags, Roadie’s opinion be damned. No time for ‘real’ tea. Needed to get moving before someone caught him. He checked the files Morrison had sent - straightforward enough. A small case, with something inside that looked very much like a bomb - one big enough to take out several city blocks. He memorized the look of the case, the details of the bomb - tried not to imagine what the explosion would look like… would feel like. Then deleted the files. Gonna do what he was supposed to this time. Gonna follow orders. Not gonna take the device for himself and disappear. Not this time.

Are you quite certain you are capable? The illness, the fever… you are likely not up to it. Perhaps you should wake Tracer. He clenched his jaw. ‘M fine. Can do this on me own; told the voice. Told himself. Not weak. Not pathetic. Almost like his own body rebelled his decision, a sudden urge to sneeze had him scrambling to keep from spilling his tea as he stifled the fit. Just a cold. She’ll be right.

In case, though… in case he wasn’t capable…and maybe to see… see whether it was the money, the treasure… Junkrat found a piece of paper and scribbled a handful of words and a set of coordinates. Not the words he really needed to say, but the question he needed answered. In case, and to see. He slipped the paper under Roadhog’s door - usual snoring now - and headed out. Be back before anyone realized he was gone - but if not, the note would tell Roadhog what he’d need to know.

Night was cold - though supposed that went without sayin’. Always cold, here. Not sure he was gonna ever get warm. Be a bit of a hike, without the ute… but didn’t want to risk disturbing Lena to get the keys. Didn’t mind a walk now and then. The tea was still warm, the caffeine lending him a measure of energy. Somehow, his body felt a little floaty. Make the walk easier, maybe. The snow had stopped, sky gone clear and dotted with stars that shimmered like diamonds scattered on deep indigo velvet. The moon was high and full, reflecting light over the snow covered fire road.

Junkrat walked, following the tire tracks from earlier in the day, just barely visible. Good thing, too - not sure he’d remember the way otherwise. His breath puffed clouds. The depth of the quiet was unexpected - birds still sleeping, too cold for crickets. Snow creaked under his steps, ice-covered tree branches snapped. Then, somewhere in the mountains above the high, mournful cry of a coyote. Raised the hair at his nape, a chill of goose flesh over his arms. An answering yip, off to his right. Another farther ahead. Hunting. Wondered who was prey? Another howl, then a high scream, and more barking howls. The pack had caught something, likely a rabbit, and the sounds made him shiver. Rubbed a hand over his forehead, kept walking as the sun rose over the mountains.

As he drew closer to the settlement even through the congestion, he caught the lingering scent of explosives, of charred metal and burned wood. Fortunately, still seemed just as deserted as it had before. Bots no more than twists of metal and scrap. Listened carefully for any signs of life, of movement but there was nothing. A breeze kicked up, rustling tree branches and sending skirls of snow swirling around his foot. He shivered suddenly, coughed. Right. Check the cabins fast, in and out and no meandering.

Former inhabitants must’ve cleared out in a hurry - one of the cabins had the remnants of an unfinished meal scattered over the table. A spilled mug, puddle of coffee frozen. Stove unlit, the place was no warmer than outside. Clothes, books, toiletries all left behind. First cabin clear - no case. Second and third cabins much the same. Was downright eerie.

Junkrat was entering the last cabin when he caught the unmistakable crunch of footsteps from somewhere behind the building. His heart tripped, double-timed. Fuck. No chance it was any of the Overwatch crew - they’d have taken the ute and hadn’t heard it. Not bots, either, steps too light and quick for a mech. Looked around the cabin - hide or fight? Hadn’t brought much in the way of weapons. Couple of grenades and that was it. Perhaps you didn’t think this one through, yes? What will you do now, with no bodyguard to protect you?

Junkrat pushed the thoughts away. Fuck that. He’d lived most of his life on his own. Didn’t need Roadie. Exactly. He’d figure this out. The cabin was all one room, not offering much in the way of hiding places. Under the bed would only be a trap. Maybe if he closed the door quick and quiet the lock would hold… Was just about to do so when a small black case caught his eye. Someone had shoved it under the bed, but not far enough. The case or the door?

Kicked the case farther into the darkness under the bed and lurched for the door as a shadow fell across the entrance. Click of bootheel on the threshold. A sense of foreboding washed over him like nausea. Junkrat squinted in the dim light of dawn and the figure lifted her head, revealing a shock of red hair and suddenly his entire body went numb.

“Well, well, well. Jamison Fawkes.” Her face was still in shadows but he knew that voice, the Irish lilt. Hearing it outside his head made the world tilt and he almost staggered. “There were rumors that Overwatch had taken in a Hog and its pet Rat.” She glanced around the room, as though Roadhog might be hiding somewhere. “You’ve come alone?” Her tone was one of delight.

“Ain’t alone. Me body guard’s just in the other cabin.” Lies came easily, and though his voice was hoarse, it was steady. He lifted his chin. “An’ I ain’t a kid no more, neither.”

“It has been some time. Indeed, you are no longer a child.” Felt her gaze taking in every inch of his body. A shiver he couldn’t suppress climbed up the back of his neck. She stepped toward him and he resisted the urge to move back. She reached out and placed her right hand on his chest. Her fingers were like white spider legs, and her nails were dagger sharp and still painted purple. His heart stuttered under her palm. “You feel hot - are you ill?”

“Just your hands are cold,” he tried, but even as he said it, he knew he was going to sneeze. Fucking always. He ducked away from her as his body convulsed. “AhRissshah! Issh! HaRiiissh-uh!”

As he tried to catch his breath, she backed away from him. Didn’t realize she was moving toward the bed until it was too late. She leaned down and with one swift motion pulled the case free. “Overwatch should have sent someone else. Not a boy...weak… ill.” Her teeth flashed in a grin. “I would love to stay, to see how you have been after all this time, but I must deliver this. Perhaps I will return, and perhaps you will still be here.”

Knew he should run, but he had no energy left. Reached into his pocket for a grenade instead- maybe it’d take him out, but she wouldn’t have the bomb. Could see exactly how a real explosion felt. He yanked free the explosive, she raised her right hand and a stream of purple and gold energy flew from her palm. Everything went white, then black.

#oversnez #snezfic #rat what is you doin #constitutionally incapable of writing shortfic

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