Overwatch: Jinxed

Chapter 16: Home, Sweet Home

It was midnight by the time the doors were closed.

Isabell had brought in everything that the shack needed that it didn't already have - Lucio and Reinhardt had to run off to assist Tobjorn in a mission that had gone awry and Mercy was exhausted from flying the plane all night. Genji had disappeared, headed for wherever he slept or whatever was his equivalent, and Winston was probably still furious with her.

Mei had hugged her and burst into tears when she saw her alive, and Isabel had been smothered under a thick fur coat until she couldn't breathe. But she had managed to shove Mei off to get Jamison to the shack, where he was now. Tracer was hanging by her legs upside-down from the balcony, fiddling around with the mechanics of one of her pistols.

"I'm going to take off the blindfold now," Isabell said slowly. Jamie was reclining on a barrel, and Winston had only just left, growling, after boarding up the only exit from the the shack.

"I feel naked without me bombs," Jamison complained. "Can't I have just one?"

Isabell smiled wryly, carefully tapping the code into the back of the goggle-like contraption over his eyes. "Yeah, no."

Tracer looked up. "...What?"

Isabell frowned, clicking off one of the latches. "What?"

"I mean, what's 'yeah no'? Is it yes or is it no?"

"That's not a thing everywhere else?" Isabell stared. "That's just Australia? I could swear that was a Western thing too."

"Nope," Jamie yawned, as Isabell finished and the goggles hissed open with a clack and fell to the floor. He blinked, looking around. "That's just us. Nobody else can handle the sheer power of the 'yeah nah'."

Isabell grinned and watched Jamie look around, surveying his home. The weapons rack had been replaced with a bed and a fridge, and the left side had been converted into a bathroom with a microwave. He was instantly there, and ripped open the side panel, and then sagged.

"You seriously thought we wouldn't think of that, love?" Tracer said nonchalantly, whirling her pistols into her belt. She Blinked up onto the railing, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge. "Sorry, but we're taking no chances."

Jamie grumbled and stuck the panel back on haphazardly. His leg was braced with some kind of metal contraption that allowed him to walk without using the broken part of his foreleg. He'd proclaimed that he liked it - but it was too flashy for him. "I'd take car parts and rusted oven pieces over this thing any day," he'd declared.

Tracer put two fingers to her comm device, listening. She sighed, and looked at Isabell. "Poor Winston. He thinks he's been making all the wrong decisions. He thinks he's been doing it all wrong. I think he's considering disbanding Overwatch again, just to keep us safe. I wouldn't put it past him."

"It's my fault," Isabell sighed. "Should I talk to him?"

"If anything it's my fault, Isabell," Tracer told her. "I was the one who convinced him to do all this stuff, and he's used to being right. He's used to knowing exactly how everything is going to work, and knowing everyone on the team inside out. Normally he'd have sent you back to Australia. But I think he thought that you were just like him, and you are. But I think he's wishing that he'd looked beyond that and asked more questions, love. That he'd known."

"I actually get that," Isabell answered, tucking away the blindfold, "I'm the same to a degree - if I hadn't have known so much about Overwatch, I might have even gone back to Australia. He took your word for it and he hates himself for not double-checking, and now he has a radioactive nineteen-year-old and an injured pyromaniac on a campus that hasn't seen anyone new in years."