I'm the Man [Soldier 76 x Reader]

Over

They say that the most painful memories surface only when something triggers it. It was a mark of PTSD- a mark of survival that would often be viewed as the highest mark of pride that you lived through the toughest time. You were littered with scars that showed just that, and as timed seemed to slow down, a lot of those memories came flooding back. Your jaws were parting as pure anger crossed your features and you were striking the monster hunting you down. The moment you both locked eyes, you saw those scared blue eyes.

That same look that reminded you of everything you've gone through. From when you were little to now.

You could hear distant echoes of cruel voices, of each flaming pain that traced over your skin as your scars throbbed gently in their remembrance. However, there was one more fresh memory. The one where you fell asleep exhausted in Jack's arms underneath the tree in the garden. His warmth and build was comforting and nearly swallowed you up whole. His old spice scent having stained the roof of your mouth, and filled up your lungs with the fresh smell. The gentle whines of his stressed leather jacket filling your ears when he had gently plucked you up and carried you to your room. It was the first time you would dare to openly admit what happened to you.

Why you were so desperate to win against Hanzo. All for a family- a family that was now waiting for you to bring him home.

You dared to slowly turn your head, eyes now looking at the red stained blonde on the ground. Her white suit was brazen with that crimson liquid, her eyes closed and she was still as a statue. Just as slowly as you turned your head, you found your eyes locking gazes with Jack once again and gritted your teeth. Tears were rolling down your face- like heavy, fat, raindrops that were warm and salty. They were angry tears, ones that marked your frustration.

A loud snarl of pain tore through your vocals, hands shoving at the weapon Jack held in his hands and felt the sharp blades cut across your servos. Sparks flew through the air, and you were swinging a good left hook. You hit his jaw, his mask shuddering as you now swung from the other side. As you struck from the right, the mask shuddered, a tiny chip forming along the edge.

Jack retaliated, now gripping your servo and giving it a twist. A sharp yelp of pain rang through the air, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritting. You felt the metal beginning its stress, being twisted the wrong way. Your leg raised up, striking his knee and causing him to fall. He brought you with him, your heads hitting and both of you hissed in shared pain.

You both then writhed, his body overtaking yours. Blood coated your teeth, gurgling and spilling past your lips as you stared down that blue gaze. He was busy pinning you down with one hand, reaching to the other side for his weapon. You had to struggle- you had to move! Fear kicked your adrenaline in once again, using a servo and striking his chin and forced his body off to the side. His mask chipped once again, finding a weak spot and cracking across the bridge of the nose and up the forehead. Tiny pieces fell like dust showering from above, and you could see dirtied flesh below.

You need to get that mask off. The longer you worked and fought, the more you begun to realize that was the only thing that was keeping him on that hunter minded track. The two of you danced around, like those sparring times you both held back at the Overwatch base. It was bringing back muscle memory, body swaying on your feet with ease as you let your subconscious take over. Your head ducked, missing a hook and you jabbed his abdomen. He bent forward, using this to distract you.

As you launched upwards, you left your whole torso exposed and you latched onto his mask. Only it was a second too late. Warm blood spilt over the edges of your lips, eyes wide as the warmth of your abdomen spread further up your torso and ran down your hips and legs. The mask had snapped in half just then, blue eyes wide with fear as you collapsed onto your knees right then and there.

The sound of clattering framework was heard, the mask now to the side and forgotten as you forced yourself to remain upright as long as possible. Your arms shook, Jack immediately grabbing onto you and pulling you into his arms as an anguished cry tore his vocals.

Off to the side, Reaper watched. His dark gaze shifted below his mask, his companions beside him. Moira looked pleased, Widowmaker with nothing expressed, Sombra in shock and Reaper... No one could tell what he was feeling. His head tilted slightly, soon disappearing into a void of black at his feet. Rose petals fluttered along the breeze from where he stood, owl feathers adorned with them.

When he resurfaced, he was standing over Jack and your limp figure. All Jack could do was turn up a death glare, tears having streaked down his face and fresh tracks trailing his chin as he clutched you close to his chest. Reaper said nothing except pull out a single red vile. Sharp claws gripped the lid of it, and gently settled it into the crevasse of your chest. Silence further surrounded the group, the man vanishing into the ground once again and rose petals and owl feathers gently swirling around your bodies. Some lightly entangled into your hair, a rose petal over your lips and feathers tickling the skin at your chest.

It was a beautiful look- if you weren't gone that is.

The news of your passing filled the entire base silent. You had bruised Jack up well, and when he revealed your mostly red figure- it caused everyone to go into shock. You had promised them all that you would bring him home no matter what it took.

It took this.

Angela didn't want to accept your death, in fact stealing your body as soon as they all landed back to the medbay. Despite her wounds, she was focused on you and that red vile that was given by Reaper. You were on a medical table, the white sheets scattered with streaks of red and hand prints; your hair was a mess and your skin just as dirty as a grimy floor. The doctor had to quickly examine the vile, unsure of whether you drink it or-

No you couldn't drink it. You were dead.

Unless...

Angela looked at her staff in the corner of the room, where it was tucked away against a cabinet and safely away. She grabbed it, the very top now twisting and twirling as it lit to life. Slowly, she removed the lid of the red vile and poured the contents across the final blow that was across your abdomen. Did she have that ability still? Could she still do it? Angela was nervous, sweat curling down her spine and her pupils blown wide with fear.

Her staff whirred to life, her palm outstretched and arching her back as her hand raised. Slowly, her head tilted back and throughout the base her voice rang out:

"Heroes never die."

In which, the most appropriate response to such three words was a gasp from your writhing form. The red vile closed up the wound along your stomach, and shot up through your veins. Your eyes opened, coughing as you dared to inhale air like a newborn child and it was then- it was then you allowed yourself to give a sob of joy.