#.safety's off; it's a cruel world out there ; sol.dier 76.

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[dimensionalspades]

The item is small, but durable- he wouldn't have chucked it in her direction if it wasn't. It also wasn't particularly hard. It's soft wood, with a small shine to it.

"Think fast, Oxton." It's a wood carving, distinctly unprofessional in make with edges smoothed by a knife and the thin sheen of oil meant to seal it away from water damage. The figurine is of a rabbit, clear to see but not made by a particularly deft hand. "Don't ask about the ear. Call it creative freedom and not a tragic slip of the knife."

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"I know you're there." Owed not to his visor- the scans didn't pick up anything out of the ordinary- but to senses not dulled even through the years.

Whoever it was, however, knew how to be quiet. Were Jack not laser focused, he might have missed those quiet footsteps. Lucky him that his gun had jammed a few moments before, leaving him in need of a quiet moment.

"If you think you can get a lucky shot off, you already missed your window."

@tlacehualli liked for a starter!

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@amadaans said: “No, you can't die. Get up, damn you! / gabe to jack or reaper to soldier!

- bg3 || accepting -

. His breaths came in pathetic little wheezes, shallow but paced. Even as close to death as he felt, his body refused to give in. Blood still went where it needed, causing it to seep into the dirt beneath him. He resented its efficiency. The old soldier shuddered, his only working eye fixating on the foreboding black cloud that darkened his vision before Gabriel's cloaked form solidified.

He could only remember a comparable pain when pieces of headquarters had collapsed onto and around him. Then and now he really wished death didn't hurt so much.

Gabriel was fussing (for as much as his appearance indicated him as a harbinger of death, he was remarkably concerned for Jack's survival). Other than that, he couldn't tell much of anything, and he couldn't remember what'd happened after he'd been blown off a cliff. Instinct wanted to tell him to pipe down, let him sleep it off; this was just a scrape, he'd be up in no time. But when he tried to tell him as much, all that came out was a wet choking sound that he barely recognized was him. Instead, it was replaced by the desire to beg for his help.

Jack forced himself to take in a deeper breath, feeling broken ribs shift and send daggers of pain through his sides.

God, he was tired of the smell of copper.

He closed his eye, brows pinching together. He wanted to lay on his back but he was certain that the moment he did, he'd choke on his own blood. When Gabriel had gotten close enough, a shaking hand grasped Gabriel's sleeve, exhaustion making him want to curl into the man until he felt better, his body putting itself back together stitch by brutal stitch.

"Don't think..." blood leaked from his nose and lips, trailing off his chin in rivulets. "That's up... to me."

[dimensionalspades]

Practical, always practical for Jack. There was so little he could take with him these days, restricted down to the filthy duffle bag that he dragged around with him. Of course, there was always the home cooked meal, or the leftovers of it, whenever he stumbled in through the back door of the quiet flat that she shared with Emily. Something hot and home cooked and filling for the road ahead.

Lena did her shopping carefully, selecting a warm pair of gloves with a thick shell, protecting and warm and flexible enough to shoot with. Texting wouldn't be possible, but it usually wasn't even without the gloves.

His other gift was left quietly on top of his bag before he left, a wrapped package containing a single hard drive. It was filled with everything she could rip from the computers in the new bases, new and old, about Talon and the explosion, downloaded neatly and organized on the encrypted file. Some of it, she knew he likey discovered already, but other data included money transfers, shady promotions, active talon agents in overwatch, and others that the UN had finally allowed to slip. Maybe that would get him closer in his goals, and he can finally be at peace.

. Every year, he tells her to focus her gifts on Emily, Winston, and the others. Every year he's mentally begrudgingly grateful when she selects a gift that he so needs. He dislikes the thought of any of her money going to him, but he can't turn down good items. He needs them, and it's a gift from Lena. He wouldn't break her heart for something so stupid.

His old gloves were worn through to the barest threads along his fingers. These were insulated and padded.

The other gift nearly bowls him over with such a violent curiosity that he almost sits down and connects it to his tablet immediately, going so far as to search for the cables in his bag. But he reconsiders and sits quietly for some moments in the room Overwatch lets him use. Normally, he'd just finish up his gear check and get out. He didn't want to be caught by any holiday cheer from others that'd answered the recall.

But for once, he refuses the impulse, as well as the discomfort that sparks in his nerves when leaves the room and seeks Lena out. She's in the kitchen (thankfully alone for the moment) making herself tea when Jack strides over and takes her into his arms, a warm embrace reminiscent of the hugs he gave in older days when he could still stand to celebrate.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo." When he leans back, he ruffles her hair, smile still hidden behind his mask. "I'll bring you back something good from Morocco. Keep outta trouble, and give Emily my best, alright?"

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He felt bad about lying to all of them, but in his mind it really was for the greater good. If he revealed his identity and then went off and died, they would have gained nothing but perhaps a newfound rage towards him, or a new grief. It was also a selfish choice, for his own old heart.

It did make the few times he ran into and helped the new Overwatch agents a little awkward, trying to keep his identity a secret while checking in on them.

"What exactly do you do for fun?" he asked as he slung the pulse rifle back over his shoulder. For now, they needed to wait while the rest of the team snuck in and did the hard work. Jack and Reinhardt just had to keep the coast clear or nosey agents. "Can't imagine you're all playing scrabble in that base of yours."

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TAG DROP: Soldier: 76