#also op that line you wrote for the supersoldier in your ask is metal as hell- I'm totally stealing that for one of my original projects

[overwatch-does-stuff]

I'm back with more talon-induced trauma for this weird supersoldier friend from that one request. This time around: They're in battle (they outright demanded that Overwatch let them help) and they casually get in the way of something utterly devastating (think Reaper or Doomfist's ultimate). Questioned? "Takes more than they've got to kill me, you're different." Feel free to do whoever have the most interesting reactions (Aka are the most horrified)

Hello again! So I got carried away and wrote a full mini-fic instead of the normal headcanons. Congratulations, you've just triggered Zenyatta's trauma! He has a really difficult time with people trying to die for him/his beliefs. This one also features Bastion because my hyperfixation never sleeps. Enjoy!

This wasn't the first time the Supersoldier taken the golden gleaming prosthetic to the face- but it was the first time they'd been hit with its "Meteor Strike" configuration, and, not going to lie. . . it was more painful than they had anticipated.

They'd caught the Talon leader as he fell from his orbit, absorbing the impact and then throwing him away from their friends. It'd ruined his entire game plan- the shocked look on his face (that they could catch between the spots swimming in their vision) as they stood their ground and grabbed him had been immensely satisfying.

Satisfying enough that when the darkness took them, they were okay with it. If this was it, then they'd gone out with a bang, and protecting the innocent, most importantly. That's all they ever wanted. Yes, they were okay with it.

That is why the Supersoldier was immensely surprised to wake up in the Overwatch medbay, greeted by the sounds of a heartrate monitor and gentle creole whispered under someone's breath. Their eyes fluttered opened.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Baptiste exclaimed. He came over by the bedside, his hands tracing a check-up in the air above them.

"Are they awake?"

"Bee dee, boop?"

Their vision was still hazy. Their senses honed, however, when a cool metallic hand took their own.

"Welcome back, friend. You gave us quite a scare." Zenyatta spoke quietly.

"Everyone. . . okay?" It was difficult to get words out, but they managed.

"Ana got a few scrapes," Baptiste reported, "D.va lost her mech but she's fine. And the Lindholm tells me that those two-"

He gestured, and the Supersoldier turned their head. Zenyatta, of course, stood alongside them, but behind him was Bastion.

"-are fine as well, thanks to you."

"Yes, what you did was very brave, but. . ." Zenyatta tensed his grasp around their wrist.

They'd been around the monk long enough to be able to pick up on the tension in the air. The smile that had been on their face disappeared, replaced by a thin line.

He sighed. "Friend, your life has just as much value and meaning as anyone else here. What you did was reckless."

And that was the kind of concern the Supersoldier had never gotten used to dealing with. In this moment it was almost irritating. Zenyatta was being gentle but they were still getting admonished for doing what they were built for.

"It worked." They replied simply.

"Yes, but now you are greatly injured. You could have been killed."

"Better me than you."

"Friend-"

"Takes more than they've got to kill me. You're different." They hissed.

They felt the gentle joints of the monk's hand in their grasp. If they tightened their grip harder they were almost certain they could bend those joints out of alignment, sheer metal off metal. Such a fragile thing their friend was. And he'd only been out there on the commander's insistence, to deal with any "emotional issues" that arose from being back on the field for the first time since their defection.

Yes, better them than him, they affirmed in their mind.

"Zen's got a point, my friend. That was dangerous, really dangerous. I'm pretty good at my job, but not that good. You can't make this a habit." Baptiste spoke.

They could hear the medic's casual demeanor cracking, and looking over to him revealed an agonized expression painted across his face. He was clenching his fists; the Supersoldier vaguely remembered the same expression being delivered in Mauga's direction once upon a time.

"Especially not for my sake." Zenyatta said.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Were they supposed to go back to Talon principle, treating everybody around them with the same callous discipline?

"No!" They snatched their hand out of Zenyatta's grasp. "I'll protect you all if it's the last thing I do! If I don't do that, then why am I even here!?"

Baptiste could only stutter a few syllables before turning away. Zenyatta paused. Then he spoke.

"You do not owe us anything, friend. You have inherent worth as a person, and I don't want you to sacrifice that on my behalf. I never want that, from any of my companions! Don't do it again!"

The indignation stung like a hot brand that their confusion only fueled. They'd saved his life, how could he be mad? Before they could respond, Bastion stepped forward and put their hand on his shoulder, whispering soft bits of Omnicode.

"Yes- I-I apologize. Please allow me to calm down."

Zenyatta's footsteps were almost inaudible against the tile floor, and the door swished shut behind him. Baptiste had turned around, pretending to clean off some tool or another with a rag. Only Bastion remained. Cautiously, they stepped to the bedside.

The Supersoldier hadn't know the Bastion unit that well before all this and given their continued unease around combat Omnics, they weren't planning on getting friendly after. But something glinted in that sky blue optic. Bastion actually moved around the bedside to a nearby table. They grabbed pen and paper, and with a practiced maneuver, using their gun barrel to steady the paper, began to write.

The note read, He's a civilian.

The honesty- the sterility -of the statement was like an ice pack to the Supersoldier's anger. They exhaled a hot breath before looking again to Bastion. The Omnic was right, right in an encompassing sort of way, like a broad metaphor, and nothing else needed to pass between them.

Eventually, though, they asked, "Do you get it?"

Bastion nodded.

"You'd die to protect everyone, too."

The curt nod communicated it precisely. Without hesitation.

A strange laugh escaped them. A laugh of empathy, recognition, whatever you wanted to call it- they didn't know. They didn't have Zenyatta's knowledge of those kinds of emotions. That didn't matter right now, though.

Baptiste gently cleared his throat, catching both of their attentions. "You know, there's a reason Ana isn't here right now. She's, uh, used to this kind of thing, too."

Soldiers. He hadn't needed to say it out loud.

"But she did give me this to give to you. Just don't tell Dr. Zeigler."

He dug through his pocket to produce the Supersoldier's favorite chocolate bar. They grinned as he opened the wrapper and broke a chunk off for them. They still weren't used to how sweet it was, how creamy it became in their mouth. They mumbled out a 'thanks' that was hardly comprehensible with their mouth full.

Bastion turned to him and gave an inquisitive chirp.

"Sorry, I don't have anything for you." He shrugged. "You're not the one who took a Doomfist to the face."

They gave an overdramatic whine, causing the Supersoldier to laugh, getting chocolate all over their chin. Soon everyone was laughing, Baptiste's giggles intermixing with Bastion's chortles.

The laughter eventually faded, however. Bastion moved to throw the note they had written on in the trash, before beeping and gesturing to the door.

"Gonna go check on Zen?" Baptiste guessed.

They nodded. They began to leave, tromping against the tile.

"Wait." The Supersoldier called after then.

They swung their torso back around to face them, and they continued.

"Tell him. . . tell him I'll try not to do it again."

The Omnic nodded, before opening the door and stepping out into the hall.