Moira x Gabriel Rey's aka reaper

part1

"I don't have a lot of time left." Gabriel wasn't sure how he could make that more clear— she'd seen the results. The report was laid open right in front of her in a manila envelope. "Six months, if we're being optimistic." He was not very good at being optimistic.

Moira O'Deorain had been under his command for approximately two years. She carried a reputation over her shoulders, flowing like a battle flag dipped in blood.It was part of why he wanted to reach out to her to begin with, the reason he recruited her to Blackwatch. Traditional methods weren't working.

Back in the day he and Jack had been considered rebels. When the structure of the world fell apart, the only people who thrived were agents of chaos like them. Like McCree. Bringing himto heel had been easier than expected. Under all the turmoil McCree had a hunger in him for something none of them dared to name, though they all felt it keenly.

So Gabriel collected his misfits down in the dungeons of Blackwatch, trying to keep some of that old spark alive for when it was inevitably needed.

Even if no one wanted to admit it, there was always a need for people like them.

Her prolonged silence pulled him out of his own thoughts, and he was startled to see Moira staring at him intensely. The sheaves of paper rested under her spidery fingers, splayed out as though she would have fought him for them.

"Then give them to me." O'Deorain's expression was even, but her eyes wavered slightly, trying to drink him up without being too obvious about it. They burned like candle flames, shivering with that same hunger he saw in all of his Blackwatch recruits.

Not many things surprised him anymore. "What?"

"Your six months. What little life and time you have." Her palm was cold and dry, resting over his as she leaned forward, more earnest than he'd ever seen her.

"Give what's left to me."

Gabriel took his mother out of Los Angeles before the omnic fighting ever reached its fullest fury. Of course nowhere was truly safe, but the Northwest was slightly better protected. His father died six months into the crisis. Overexposure to Omnium radiation gave him cancer. One moment he was here, the next he was gone.

So he wasn't surprised to find out the same fate awaited him, down to the life expectancy. The only part that unsettled him was the sense that this had somehow been delayed. What had he done to escape it for over a decade? It hit so many other people right away. Who else among his squadron would wake up coughing blood and aching head to toe? Who else had been exposed, and when, and how long, and should he try to warn them?

In all likelihood, it was that serum they injected him and Jack with that kept the sickness at bay as long as it had.

While he was visiting his mother, O'Deorain caught up to him in the Pacific Northwest. She cut an unmistakable figure on the rocky coast, sharp shoulders and a sleek black profile. Still he didn't quite believe his eyes until she was in front of him, cheeks flushed with cold and a scowl on her face.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you," she said. Chiding, as though it was an error on his part that he'd been somewhere out of reach. Setting down her briefcase at their feet, she dropped to one knee and rummaged through it, humming and speaking conversationally. "Luckily I was able to finish this ahead of my projected timeline."

Straightening up to her full, impressive height, she looked down at him and took his hand. "Roll up your sleeve."

That second part was delivered dry and clipped, like they would talk on missions. Gabriel found himself reacting to it instinctively, because she was his medic and he knew better than to argue with her when she slowly pushed down the plunger of a needle, injecting him with God-Knows-What.