An entire day.
"You're so loud," Isabell complained. "How do you even manage that?"
"Why can't we just blow them up?" Jamison whined. "They'd even be cooked!"
"No," Isabell sighed. It was like taking care of a five-year-old. "They wouldn't. Now do you want food or not?"
An entire day. Nobody had come for Isabell. The sun was setting, and she was trying to snare some of the rabbits bounding about everywhere. But Jamie was being a pest and kept trying to use his explosives - even though he was still reconstructing his leg.
I--
Isabell sucked in a breath, and Jamie glanced at her. "Got the chills, mate?"
I-- I-I-I
Isabell banged a fist against the side of her goggles, where the auditory speakers where. The strange noise that sounded oddly voicelike cut out, and Isabell returned her gaze to the snares she'd set up haphazardly. "No. But if you don't be quiet, I'll leave your body out for what should have been your food to nibble on."
"Jeez, touchy much, mate?"
"Let's just sleep," Isabell snapped, frustrated. "We can check the snares in the morning."
Her stomach growled loudly in protest, and Jamison laughed. "Can't fool me. No Aussie goes a few hours without a meal."
"Alright, so I'm hungry," Isabell grumbled, walking back to the tiny clearing where the cinders of last night's fire were smoldering. Isabell had thought she would already be home by now, so she hadn't bothered to keep it burning.
It took her a moment to realize that she'd just called Overwatch Headquarters her home. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," Jamison told her, sitting in the crooked roots of a pine tree and clicking together his leg, piece by piece. He looked nearly done. "But I love pissing you off."
Isabell sighed and started feeding the fire with whatever bits and pieces of tinder she could find and slowly got a good blaze going. She'd never really done it before but it was pretty self-explanatory. She held her fingers over the fire as the temperature rapidly dropped, the sun having just dipped below the horizon. Isabell hadn't expected for it to be so warm during the day while the ground froze over during the night - but she was glad that it was.
After a few minutes of silence, Isabell tried again. "I need to set your leg."
"No," Junkrat said matter-of-factly. "You'll screw it all up."
"It'll heal like that and you'll have a screwed-up leg for the rest of your life. At least let me see if--"
"I said no."
Isabell growled. "You don't seriously expect me to--"
"How did a Junker," Jamison looked up at her, "turn out like this? How did someone, I wonder, who lost her entire family, end up actually caring whether anyone else lives?"
Isabell tried to speak, but Junkrat interrupted. "'Cause the rest of us sure don't. So what went wrong with you?"
"I," Isabell fumed, "decided to actually do something with my life, rather than let everyone else tell me what I was. I wanted to define myself and so I did. You're just a broken promise."
She snarled and sat down on the opposite end of the clearing to him, curling into the trees. "If you don't want my help, then fine. Lose your other leg, I don't care."
Isabell buried her head in her arms, trying to conserve warmth as the chill of the night crept into her bones. Snow slowly started to fall, and Isabell couldn't stop her teeth from chattering. This sort of cold, this didn't happen. This was unreal. Isabell had known that the world could get pretty damn cold, but she felt like she was in Russia in winter. But it was the middle of summer, she'd have to be in Antarcti--
Isabell swore violently under her breath. Northern-Southern hemisphere seasonal exchange. In other words, while it had been summer in Australia, it was smack-dab in the middle of winter in the northern hemisphere. For all she knew, it might be winter in Russia. No wonder she was cold.
Also, she probably should have checked where the plane was headed before she left the briefing room to try on her failed costume.
ccc--cc-cc-ccc--
Isabell growled and bashed her fist against the side of her head again, exposing her arm to the cold for a few moments, and the crackling cut out. The cold was interfering with her goggles.
The snow started really falling now, and Isabell was shivering no matter how hard she tried to stop it. She doubted Jamison could see, thank God, through the thick, constant blanket of snow that was falling between them. The fire was sputtering, but to move would be to lose the only kernel of warmth that Isabell had left.
Isabell had never learnt how to properly read or write. School wasn't really high on the agenda for Junkers in an irradiated outback. She knew words and things, but piecing together a coherent sentence with grammar and proper spelling was like asking her to write hieroglyphics. But right now, she was glad that she'd learned survival before spelling.
Not that it was helping her. It was twice as cold tonight as it had been last night, and the edges of her goggles were tipped with frost already. It was barely seven o'clock, but it had already dipped well below zero.
Isabell's chest tightened. She was going to die here. So cold.
Is-is-i-i-is--
Isabell didn't try to shut it out. She shook the layer of snow off her shoulders and hair and pressed harder into the tree, as if she could gather some measure of warmth from it.
She would give anything for heat right now. She'd throw away everything she owned, go back to the outback, anything, just to feel the scorching heat of the Australian sun.
Then, heat. Out of nowhere, something warm pressed up against her back and she sighed with sweet, sweet relief. It wasn't the Australian sun, but it was infinitely better than freezing.
She allowed Jamie to lift her onto his lap, too hypothermic to care. She curled into a ball, breathing softly, and - with frigid fingers - removed her goggles to let out her hair. It was really dark, perfect for absorbing heat, and some conscious part of her told her that she couldn't take it all for herself. She had to give something back.
So she started rubbing her hands together. Faster and faster. They hurt, the pain lancing through her like bullets. But she kept going even when they felt like they were bleeding.
Very, very, very slowly, her half-shattered circlets began to glow.
And very, very, very slowly, she started to heat up.
Her fingers were rubbed raw by now. But she kept going. Even if Jamie was a prick, he needed warmth even more than she did. His foot was probably frostbitten by now, since he was so tall, and had literally no protection against the cold.
So she kept going.
Win-win-win-ra-ra-ra-spi-spi-spi--
Isabell's head was fuzzy and her fingers were red. But the voice in her ear was getting clearer as she powered up her suit. She rubbed faster, even though it made her fingers scream with pain.
Winst-winst-on-on-radi-radi-tion-tion-spike-spike--
Isabell froze.
Winston. Radiation spike.
"They're coming," she breathed. "My suit. They've been trying to track my radiation, but that beam I shot, I must have left residue in the air. They've been looking over there."
Jamie said nothing. But she could feel that flame of hope, that they'd be rescued, echoed in his quickened breathing. He wasted no energy speaking. Isabell rubbed harder, and felt blood on the tips of her fingers. But she didn't stop.
I told you-- looking in the wrong place-- found her-- you're closest-- go--
Isabell's heart lifted. "They're here - they're looking for me." Her goggles must be picking up Tracer's voice from the holotable broadcasting any sounds from inside. They really were using everything at their disposal to find her.
Keep going-- almost there--
There it was. So faint. "Isabell!"
The voice of a certain scientist that Isabell knew all too well.
Winston.
"Winston!" Isabell yelled, her voice dry and hoarse with cold.
"Isabell!"
And then there was warmth. True warmth. Warm, fuzzy arms around her, around her bleeding fingers, and he was snarling. God, she was like an ice block neck to him. He held her in one arm, while snarled in rage at the Junker in the tree. Isabell could hear an engine overhead - the plane, or helicopter, or whatever they were using to get her home.
"No," Isabell told him. "Stop."
Winston paused in surprise.
"Well that's a fine how d'you do," Jamison said, but his voice was shivering with cold.
"He comes with us," Isabell told Winston. Bright lights trained on her and the trees whipped around them as wind seared around the tiny clearing, snuffing out the fire.
Winston growled. "No. Isabell, you're hypothermic. We have to get you inside now--"
"He. Comes. With. Us." Isabell growled, strength returning to her voice. "He's broken his leg and he's worse off than me. I don't care what he's done, what kind of criminal he is, I am not leaving him here to die. He comes. With us."
"Isabell--" Winston snarled, but Isabell - with great effort - actually dropped out of his arms back into the freezing cold, and walked backwards, in front of Jamison. "If he stays, then so do I."
Winston snarled, but Isabell turned around and pulled Jamison to his feet - well, foot. His mechanical one was the only one he could stand on. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and allowed him to lean his weight on her. He was freezing, beyond freezing.
And when Tracer Blinked down from the helicopter and Blinked her back up, just as Isabell had suspected she would, she took one extra person with her.
"You were taking too long," Tracer called down to Winston as he leapt into the plane. "She needs medica--"
Then she saw Jamie, and took on a fighting stance, both pistols aimed at his head. "Junkrat," she hissed.
"He stays," Isabell managed to say. "He stays until he's healed, and he doesn't leave until I say so."
But then the lights were too bright, and she fell.
Away into darkness.