[76 didn't answer right away, sitting on his knees and instead act as if he wasn't going to.
Rather, he watched Reaper remove the shirt- the fact the mask came off was also a surprise, letting his gaze linger briefly. Didn't look bad, honestly. White hair looked good on the bastard. Even if he probably didn't always look like that, if Ana's reaction was anything to go by, but still.
The look fit.
He only spoke once he started the bandaging, wrapping to protect the stitching and allow the not so deep cuts to heal]
Last one remember- [Implying it might not have been the first.] Water my lungs after burning for air. I couldn't get to the surface because I'd been knocked under water and swarmed by too many things to fight off alone. Bleeding and attracting more.
I don't know how long it lasted. [Drowning was horrible, and he'd clearly been aware the entire time. Could imagine what was being left unsaid as he looped some under Reaper's opposite arm before returning to help anchor it in place.]
Gave me something to do, when not in the fighting ring.
[He felt the weight of 76's gaze on him, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. Depending on how damaged he was or what bad state he was in because of the decay cycle, he knew he could look like right shit. He had been taking care of himself lately, keeping on top of the hunger so he was a bit more put together. The burn scars were obvious, but Maul had never shied from them. A reality of his fall to death, he supposed.
Both of them bore the scars of Overwatch on their bodies.
He listened to the description, and he kept his arm jutted out to help with the bandaging. He knew what drowning was like, the struggle to hold one's breath before they just had to, only to be met with the burn of water where water shouldn't be. Desperation to breathe turned to panic to not have relief and choking it down before the oxygen deprivation just quieted everything.]
Not as long as you think it did once you inhaled water. After that... it's just the death throes...
[On that they could level with each other, which was... odd. They hadn't actually had this kind of civil conversation in a very long time. Maybe when he had met Jack's undead form from the graveyard, but it had been different.
He reached over his shoulder and pulled his long white hair up and out of the way, not needing it tangled in the bandaging.]
You always did need to keep busy. Never sat still for long on anything.
[There was no judgement, and no shying away. Fingers brushed scars and burn alike in the movements of steady and firm hands in his task. Smoothing a hand over bandage and skin alike to make sure it would lay in place correctly as possible. Some scars he'd already known, and the new ones with the burns were no surprise.
He carried the same.
Hands slid under some bandaging to make sure nothing twisted, and it wasn't being wrapped too tightly. Brought palms and fingers over burns, scars, and otherwise bare skin, movement slow and showing more the appearance didn't deter him, didn't hurry to get it over with but rather wanted to take the time to make sure the job was done right.]
Brain makes it all seem longer, slow motion even as it goes black. Feeling every burn and ache, and teeth digging in to skin. [He'd been attacked the entirety of it. Losing blood, losing strength, even as he drowned. Being ripped at, torn in to, making it not just a simple drowning.
Point was? It still clung to him, enough he remembered details, the feeling. He knew, he understood.
76 breathed a quiet thanks at Reaper moving hair out of the way as he worked, having made sure his hand passed under it, but it kept falling back in the way.]
There was too much down time, and hunting it an occasional spar did little. So I fought a lot of orcs, assholes the lot of them were. Satisfying fights, at least. Hit heavier than Reinhardt.
[This might have been the most peace that they had experienced together in a very long time, and it felt odd to him to feel the brush of familiar calloused fingers on his skin and faintly over his scars where there was nerve damage. The bandaging slid over his skin easily, and it was the close proximity that they had to keep which he was far more aware of.
There was an old scarred up and damaged layer of trust that he had for 76, improved thanks to the time that he spent in Deerington.]
Death takes longer for us as well. [They were enhanced to resist death after all, their bodies making a greater effort to keep going until the damage overtook their regeneration.] By what method did you return to living?
[Fighting to live was one thing, fighting then losing then returning after experiencing death brought a whole knew set of traumas. First time was probably the worst, he imagined. At this point, he was personally resigned to it.]
You always needed physical action to calm your mind when stressed. [Usually was sparring too.] Reinhardt would challenge you over that....
Reformed on a beach, dry. Gasping for air, and covered in healing wounds. Happened quickly because it was within a story specific world. [He had simply reformed, body having vanished within the water itself after a bit. Still remembering he had died, and left with the proof of it even if-] Lungs still burning.
[He tugged at bandaging then, making sure everything was in place and moving wouldn't cause it all to slip. Not too tight, getting a hand under what looked around Reaper's other side as well. Fingers gliding back to the shoulder to be sure there was enough 'padding' for the stitched and unstitched wounds themselves before he let his hands fall away.
Should be enough movement allowance there as well.]
He might. They were as big as him, too. [He never did well being made to keep to one place, having too much time on his hands, and so he did whatever he could to fill it.]
And which story was that? [While it wasn't outrageous to believe, he still was parsing through some of the details of story mash-ups creating missions to find a corrupting force known as the Story Eater from destroying worlds.] How long did it take you to come back from the dead? Even now your lungs burn?
[He continued to tolerate the brief fussing with the bandage, aware that doing it now meant that he wouldn't have to worry as much later when he was more active. It seemed that this space was compromised since 76 had been here, and now he needed a new bolt hole to settle in for a day or two.]
He always valued a good fight, even if it was a losing one. [Stupid Reinhardt sometimes. Guy had learned some tactics, but it was mostly a drop in and break shit kind even to the end.]
Peter Pan. Story Eater had disguised itself as Peter Pan. [A reason he'd made a point in his own message speaking of Erasers and the like, at least to some, that it wasn't just story villains it would disguise as; bring Erasers right along with it-] I don't know, the battle was still going. Like a phantom pain, my brain remembers more than my body does.
[76 had already ditched his own space that Reaper had basically forced him to show, and didn't expect him to use this one again either. They'd keep this up until they ran out of places.
He sat back on his knees, letting Reaper do his own inspection since 76 had finished.]
Always will, unfortunately for him. [Man wasn't getting any younger, and he'd already had one devastation after another when it was out of Morrison's hands to stop the forced retirement. After Ana's "death" in the field.
There was some low growl under his breath, but more at himself when he realized finishing up meant- well. Keeping his side of their little agreement. At last he could get fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the compressive material upwards and over his head. Letting it fall where he'd dropped his own jacket and mask, hands rubbing along forearms idly.
Of course his own body was littered with scars, some far older than others. Burn scars covered his torso as well, large and gone mostly untreated; most were on his back, a few wrapped around one side near a hip. Pants hid the rest of them still.
There was, however, uneven stitches on one side holding together a wound that nearly looked fresh if it wasn't for the necrotic skin there. Branching lines, going from the small of his back and over the side to his stomach. Right where the asshole in front of him shot him.]
Peter Pan was never a safe story anyway. [That made sense then, especially given how he could think about the hazards of Neverland. It probably wasn't the most unexpected one to die on.] Fair enough, and the memory is vivid enough that you still have good recollection of it happening.
[He grunted in agreement, aware that there had been many things that even he and Morrison hadn't been able to get a good handle on before it happened. The upper brass of Overwatch was definitely filled with people who had wanted to live and die on the ship, and many of them actually had.
He shook his head a little, dropping his hair back down to rest against his spine as he picked at his compression shirt and examined it for the stitching he had already put in to hold it together. He didn't see that it required any improvements for the time being, but he was also distracted from his assessment when 76 pulled off a similar compression shirt without any fight between them.
His red eyes flicked to 76's bare side, noting the corruption. He leaned forward to examine the younger man's chest and then lean backwards to assess 76's back. His eyes landed on the old necrotic wound that he had put into the younger man, and the fact it hadn't healed was indication how rotten he was. Not even 76's advanced healing could overcome his condition.
He issued a low hum in his throat and abandoned putting his own shirt back on for the moment.]
Hard to tell which is corruption and which is this... [His blackened fingers reached out to trace over the sutures.] Does it hurt?
Hook figured it out, and actually came to help fight it despite having already tussled with the thing. [Of course 76 had ended up dressed as a pirate for the mot obvious of reasons, given the story. At some point in a mess of confusion it had nearly been Aspect against Aspect, but- well. Things had gone in their favor with the Story Eater having to pull a last ditch effort and rip a hole in reality.] Yeah.
[The corruption was definitely on more than just arms and face, his shoulders completely blackened the same as arms and hands, it spiderwebbing it's way across his chest and neck. There was a solid line of it going down along his spine, vanishing up to his hairline where it went up along the back of his neck.
It traced his ribs, curved over hips and vanished where it clearly went underneath his pants line. Those were not coming off, he'd only agreed to the shirt for obvious reasons.
There was still a bit of a hiss, the only indication that that wound still hurt even after all this time.] Ana did her best there, and Zeigler couldn't even get it to heal.
So, let me guess... you dressed as a pirate at least once? [He drawled that, thinking he was right because it sounded like a lot of these stories were about blending in and sniffing out clues and some such.
He used his hands to nudge and urge 76 to sit forward a few inches so that he could shift more in behind the younger man. He was, of course, keying in to the corruption but also how it blended in with the peppered necrosis of his bullet. Scatter shot like that was always messy, and lesser men would have died from it, let alone carried on.
For him, it had been nearly three years since he had inflicted this injury, so it had mostly passed out of his mind. Now that he was seeing it again and focusing on it, he was keenly aware of the fight. If he closed his eyes, he could feel 76's flesh around the fragments. They weren't metal after all; they were pieces of himself, trapped in the spaces around cells, draining life to maintain themselves.
Oh what he could do with this...]
Ana never did have the fine hands for suturing. [He was pulling out a knife and set to work removing the sutures. They weren't helpful.] Stay still. These are only pulling these days.
[He paused mid-motion over one suture.] I can heal this where Ziegler failed....
I didn't have much of a choice. [That was a yes, at the very least. At least he didn't have to talk about the times where he had even less clothing on when running around as a centaur, among other things. Peter Pan was the safe bet.
There was some grumbling under 76's breath, but he was moving with every nudge and urging, even if his shoulders tensed at having Reaper behind him like this. Other than that he complied, makin no fuss or fight. He had agreed to letting the bastard get a look and, well.
This was part of that, wasn't it? An agreement in the compromise that let him look over and patch up wounds.
Been a few years since 76 actually had to deal with the injury, as if it had been slapped back in to place completely once here. Had felt it tugging, the pain it did cause him and he just carried on despite it. Still bled as the sutures were cut, the crooked stitches about the only thing that had been keeping it closed.]
She did her best. [Was keeping still.
Teeth grit slightly, 76 remaining still and silent for a moment. No anger, but that was still-] You offering?
Did you speak in pirate talk? Or just growl at everyone? [Now he was going to needle 76 about the whole thing, amused at the idea of the well-dressed Jack Morrison dressed like a filthy pirate. He knew they did what they had to, but this was an opportunity for needling and who was he to resist?
Especially with all the grumping and tension at letting him behind. He knew it was a risk for them both for this, a quick elbow to the face could knock him out and he could materialize a shotgun at any moment. They had mustered enough quiet trust for this moment that he didn't think either of them were eager to break it just yet.
He removed the sutures that held it together, noticing that the damage necrotic flesh was already pulling open. He set a hand over it, feeling the warm blood that welled up from where it was starting to open again. He could feel the wound, where the bits of himself remained imbedded.
No wonder he was able to hunt 76 down with better easy than usual.] They held well enough... [He walked his blackened fingers from his other hand up 76's spine.] Perhaps. Do you want me to...? Or is this a memento you cherish enough to keep?
I always growl. [As much as he was willing to entertain that needling, and perhaps unnoticed some of that tensing did relax. Would rather keep this temporary peace between them, even if Reaper was going to be an absolute asshole about it.
76 was still sitting on his knees, but urged in to a position where that weigh was partly on his own calves as well; sitting on folded legs, more or less. Very aware of where Reaper's hands were, where he was, but making no moves to stop him. Keeping still with that knife cutting stitching away that probably needed to be removed by now with how long they'd been there.
It burned, some deep ache there, but at least the blood wasn't old; no infection growing there despite how necrotic the flesh was. Edges eating away at every bit that tried to heal, a constant repetition of healing and dying all along it. If it had been any other man they would be long dead, but here 76 was moving and carrying on as if he didn't have that eating him alive.
The work Ana had done was the only thing that had stopped the bleeding, and without that blood flowed freely.
Couldn't help the slight shiver, the way his back arched slightly from Reaper walking a few fingers—] If you can, may as well do it. I can keep going either way.
Probably all that building dust and smoke damage. [No, he expected it was just that 76 was a surly and bitter. He growled because of damaged throat and lungs, and it stood to reason that 76 suffered some of the ways that he did given their close proximity to each other when Overwatch fell.
He wasn't going to force 76 to sit down, and if crouching was comfortable then so be it. It gave him better access to the area in question anyway, and he was curious how much of 76's lower back was rot from his bullet or corruption. There was only one way to find out, not that he would be wholly helpful and not a touch selfish on the matter.
Slowly, he rested his palm against the greatest portion of necrotic area, feeling the strong pulse of himself in the area.]
I believe that I can...
[It should bring relief honestly. He pressed his palm harder to the area and began to mentally draw himself out of the wound. He did so carefully so as not to create more damage by doing so, but he extracted himself at the deepest portion of 76's body. It was like calling himself home, taking back the missing parts of himself.
He also took his time, letting the heat of 76's back warm his hand.]
Didn't help. [His voice had always sounded a certain way, but after dragging himself out of the rubble there was something that much worse. The damage had been done from all o the dust and smoke, the intense heat and everything else he had been breathing in while fighting to dig through the rubble.
The amount of time he had spent digging and looking for someone—
There was a moment where pain was felt, that wound had been one of the most persistent things in his life. The pulse of ache, the constant burning. Feeling that pulling away, even slowly? If 76 wasn't already on his knees he'd be brought to them, the noise he made muffled, sinking further on his knees to the point his thighs spread further apart.
Only thing keeping him leaned forwards to any degree was Reaper's hand being where it was. Stopping the trickle of blood only to a point that it still seeped between those blackened fingers and over his hand.
It was bringing a sort of relief, slowly as Reaper was going. 76's skin as warm as it ever was, warming further as his own body was kicking in to heal a bit behind the removal. To fight the necrosis in a way it hadn't been able to.]
[He was keenly aware of 76's sinking further down in the crouch, and his hand followed to keep contact. His eyes were closed at this point, concentrating on what he was doing as he withdrew himself, and the feel of hot blood over his hand the longer that he worked. Of course, he knew without his bullet fragments that the wound would heal on its own.
He pulled more of himself free, sighing softly. Yet, at the very end of removing all the fragments, he left just small traces of himself behind, so tiny that 76's body shouldn't react as it had before.
That finished and smoothed his hand over what had been the necrotic wound. The skin would look healthier, reddened by blood flow to the area but little, if any, visible traces of black.]
[No real reply other than some low noise in his throat.
76 was dealing with the odd relief he was feeling from a wound that had been a constant pain. The itch of healing that was coming with it the only real discomfort that was following. Hell of an experience, even if it could be seen as something so small- but it wasn't.
Hands pressed to the floor, keeping himself up as he sat heavily on his knees. Fuck's sake. It was weird. Skin bloodied, but that could be washed and wiped away.
Let out a shuddering breath, pushing himself up a little.]
Other than the usual healing itch? Yeah. [The only black that remained on his skin was from the corruption at least. The wound would heal, likely be another new scar, but that was fine.]
[He withdrew his hand once it seemed that 76 would settle forward, and he looked at his blood-coated hand. It had been a long time since he had had his hands dirty, and he looked over and picked up his shirt to wipe off the blood.
He watched the healing injury, and he expected that it would be fine now. Soon enough it would be nothing more than another scar in the sea of many of them. He would say that 76 owed him for that, but honestly, the younger man had done good work on his arm so they were probably even.]
That should go away in a day or two with your healing factor.
[Of course, he had a much better look at the corruption, and it was still rather extensive. At least 76 was stable and not lashing out.]
[One of the more oddly shaped scars, but another amongst many nonetheless. Wiped away what blood remained that he could feel on his own skin, debating if he needed to wrap it for the sake of letting it heal with some protection from the elements or not. Probably wouldn't hurt, and reason he was reaching for his bag for the roll of bandaging he'd tucked away.]
Give or take.
[Already working on the bandaging, wrapping it around his own waist as an easy enough task after all. Sitting on his knees-]
[He watched 76 for a moment when the younger man apparently decided to wrap himself, and he snorted at the very sight. Yeah, yeah doing it all himself was the way that things were done, but honestly, 76 was doing a poor job of it given where the injury was.
He shoved 76 on the shoulder.]
Give me that. You don't even have an absorbent pad for the blood.
[He pulled his pack closer to grab the item and gestured for 76 to sit back so he could take over. It would not be pleasant if he had to fight for it.]
It does because you still look like garbage and the corruption is all over you.
[There was a curl of lips at the shove, enough to show the tips of teeth, but 76 shook his head and noticeably slumped, the bandaging being forked over. Not on edge, snappy perhaps, but he didn't have the energy to even entertain that enough to actually snap.
Actually sat down, finally, as well. Not just on his knees, but a full settling.]
Fine, only because you let me do your shoulder and hand both.
[He could give that much, scrubbing a little at his beard with the heel of a hand before those claws smoothed it back out.]
I always look like garbage, and I doubt sleep will help with that.
[He took the bandaging and lightly knocked 76 on the back of the neck with his knuckles as the younger man settled in to allow him to do some work. It was only fair after all that he had sat through and that he had allowed 76 to come here without shots being fired. So, the peace seemed like it would remain for the time being.]
So glad we remain at the tit-for-tat level of allowing basic human decency to happen between us.
[It was cutting a bit too close to the sensation of 'old times' even briefly, and he expected that both of them were aware of it and wary about it. There was too much history there.
No matter, not right now. He pressed the absorbent cotton pad up against 76's back to cover the worst of the wound. Then he nudged 76's arms up a touch so he could being to wrap the pad in place, keeping things snug. He was keenly aware of the sound of claws in facial hair, something he did when not wearing his mask.]
It won't hurt, you know. Maybe you'll work out some of this corruption.
[There was the light swat at Reaper's hand from the knuckle knocking, but there was no real weigh behind it. Aware of it of course, and the tit-for-tat worked; an easy excuse to not just think about the fact they were still willing to... well.
76 lifted his arms and sat as straight as he needed to in order to allow Reaper To have easier access and not cause his work to end up being too loose. Mindful of hand movements and just where the older man was. Keeping his eyes forward all the same.]
Maybe it'll make it that much worse, too.
[It was grumbled, but that was about as much as 76 could manage. Of course this close it could be noticed there was a slight pointing of his ears—]
Don't feel like chancing some random wandering in to a nightmare.
[So no, he wasn't complaining about it yet. If anything, he saw no reason to complain when the fact that they did better when working together was apparent. After all, his arm wouldn't have been sewn up and bandaged if not for 76, and the younger man wouldn't have an old festering wound heal if not for him. It was as close to working together as they would manage.
He worked the bandage to where it needed to be, wrapping it tighter at the top to prevent slipping. That done, he ran his hands over it from ribs down and then back to front to check for bulging or missed areas. In his own way, he was also checking for signs of pain in other areas while he was gently smoothing his hands over areas.]
What if... we slept next to each other?
[He knew what he was suggesting. If they did, it could equal good rest, an opportunity to have their revenge on each other, or it could mean entering one or the other's nightmare.]
[76 grunted, because- well, Reaper wasn't wrong. The asshole could always find something to complain about with little to no effort just for the hell of it, and he doubted that had ever changed even now.
Still, he was keeping as still as he could. 76 even had a hand rested on top of his head, just to help remember he needed to keep arms up and out of the way. Claws still idly fussing over his facial hair, picking out bits of dried blood and smoothing it down. Probably needed to trim the damn thing again soon. Only reason he had in the first place was because it was getting caught in his mask and that was irritating—
There was a bit of a hiss as hands moved over a place at his ribs, probably telling there was still bruising there. An ugly sort of yellow and purple on skin hidden under the blackened skin where corruption decorated along ribs on both sides. 76 had not been resting properly for them to heal, as if at every turn there was something preventing it.
His head tilted just enough he could look back at Reaper from the corner of an eye.]
That damned cornfield is the nicest thing my head has to offer.
[A warning? Perhaps, if only because he knew exactly what Reaper was offering.]
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no subject
Rather, he watched Reaper remove the shirt- the fact the mask came off was also a surprise, letting his gaze linger briefly. Didn't look bad, honestly. White hair looked good on the bastard. Even if he probably didn't always look like that, if Ana's reaction was anything to go by, but still.
The look fit.
He only spoke once he started the bandaging, wrapping to protect the stitching and allow the not so deep cuts to heal]
Last one remember- [Implying it might not have been the first.] Water my lungs after burning for air. I couldn't get to the surface because I'd been knocked under water and swarmed by too many things to fight off alone. Bleeding and attracting more.
I don't know how long it lasted. [Drowning was horrible, and he'd clearly been aware the entire time. Could imagine what was being left unsaid as he looped some under Reaper's opposite arm before returning to help anchor it in place.]
Gave me something to do, when not in the fighting ring.
[Amongst other hobbies he took up.]
no subject
Both of them bore the scars of Overwatch on their bodies.
He listened to the description, and he kept his arm jutted out to help with the bandaging. He knew what drowning was like, the struggle to hold one's breath before they just had to, only to be met with the burn of water where water shouldn't be. Desperation to breathe turned to panic to not have relief and choking it down before the oxygen deprivation just quieted everything.]
Not as long as you think it did once you inhaled water. After that... it's just the death throes...
[On that they could level with each other, which was... odd. They hadn't actually had this kind of civil conversation in a very long time. Maybe when he had met Jack's undead form from the graveyard, but it had been different.
He reached over his shoulder and pulled his long white hair up and out of the way, not needing it tangled in the bandaging.]
You always did need to keep busy. Never sat still for long on anything.
no subject
He carried the same.
Hands slid under some bandaging to make sure nothing twisted, and it wasn't being wrapped too tightly. Brought palms and fingers over burns, scars, and otherwise bare skin, movement slow and showing more the appearance didn't deter him, didn't hurry to get it over with but rather wanted to take the time to make sure the job was done right.]
Brain makes it all seem longer, slow motion even as it goes black. Feeling every burn and ache, and teeth digging in to skin. [He'd been attacked the entirety of it. Losing blood, losing strength, even as he drowned. Being ripped at, torn in to, making it not just a simple drowning.
Point was? It still clung to him, enough he remembered details, the feeling. He knew, he understood.
76 breathed a quiet thanks at Reaper moving hair out of the way as he worked, having made sure his hand passed under it, but it kept falling back in the way.]
There was too much down time, and hunting it an occasional spar did little. So I fought a lot of orcs, assholes the lot of them were. Satisfying fights, at least. Hit heavier than Reinhardt.
no subject
There was an old scarred up and damaged layer of trust that he had for 76, improved thanks to the time that he spent in Deerington.]
Death takes longer for us as well. [They were enhanced to resist death after all, their bodies making a greater effort to keep going until the damage overtook their regeneration.] By what method did you return to living?
[Fighting to live was one thing, fighting then losing then returning after experiencing death brought a whole knew set of traumas. First time was probably the worst, he imagined. At this point, he was personally resigned to it.]
You always needed physical action to calm your mind when stressed. [Usually was sparring too.] Reinhardt would challenge you over that....
no subject
[He tugged at bandaging then, making sure everything was in place and moving wouldn't cause it all to slip. Not too tight, getting a hand under what looked around Reaper's other side as well. Fingers gliding back to the shoulder to be sure there was enough 'padding' for the stitched and unstitched wounds themselves before he let his hands fall away.
Should be enough movement allowance there as well.]
He might. They were as big as him, too. [He never did well being made to keep to one place, having too much time on his hands, and so he did whatever he could to fill it.]
no subject
[He continued to tolerate the brief fussing with the bandage, aware that doing it now meant that he wouldn't have to worry as much later when he was more active. It seemed that this space was compromised since 76 had been here, and now he needed a new bolt hole to settle in for a day or two.]
He always valued a good fight, even if it was a losing one. [Stupid Reinhardt sometimes. Guy had learned some tactics, but it was mostly a drop in and break shit kind even to the end.]
no subject
[76 had already ditched his own space that Reaper had basically forced him to show, and didn't expect him to use this one again either. They'd keep this up until they ran out of places.
He sat back on his knees, letting Reaper do his own inspection since 76 had finished.]
Always will, unfortunately for him. [Man wasn't getting any younger, and he'd already had one devastation after another when it was out of Morrison's hands to stop the forced retirement. After Ana's "death" in the field.
There was some low growl under his breath, but more at himself when he realized finishing up meant- well. Keeping his side of their little agreement. At last he could get fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the compressive material upwards and over his head. Letting it fall where he'd dropped his own jacket and mask, hands rubbing along forearms idly.
Of course his own body was littered with scars, some far older than others. Burn scars covered his torso as well, large and gone mostly untreated; most were on his back, a few wrapped around one side near a hip. Pants hid the rest of them still.
There was, however, uneven stitches on one side holding together a wound that nearly looked fresh if it wasn't for the necrotic skin there. Branching lines, going from the small of his back and over the side to his stomach. Right where the asshole in front of him shot him.]
no subject
[He grunted in agreement, aware that there had been many things that even he and Morrison hadn't been able to get a good handle on before it happened. The upper brass of Overwatch was definitely filled with people who had wanted to live and die on the ship, and many of them actually had.
He shook his head a little, dropping his hair back down to rest against his spine as he picked at his compression shirt and examined it for the stitching he had already put in to hold it together. He didn't see that it required any improvements for the time being, but he was also distracted from his assessment when 76 pulled off a similar compression shirt without any fight between them.
His red eyes flicked to 76's bare side, noting the corruption. He leaned forward to examine the younger man's chest and then lean backwards to assess 76's back. His eyes landed on the old necrotic wound that he had put into the younger man, and the fact it hadn't healed was indication how rotten he was. Not even 76's advanced healing could overcome his condition.
He issued a low hum in his throat and abandoned putting his own shirt back on for the moment.]
Hard to tell which is corruption and which is this... [His blackened fingers reached out to trace over the sutures.] Does it hurt?
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[The corruption was definitely on more than just arms and face, his shoulders completely blackened the same as arms and hands, it spiderwebbing it's way across his chest and neck. There was a solid line of it going down along his spine, vanishing up to his hairline where it went up along the back of his neck.
It traced his ribs, curved over hips and vanished where it clearly went underneath his pants line. Those were not coming off, he'd only agreed to the shirt for obvious reasons.
There was still a bit of a hiss, the only indication that that wound still hurt even after all this time.] Ana did her best there, and Zeigler couldn't even get it to heal.
[Guess who had dragged him there.]
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He used his hands to nudge and urge 76 to sit forward a few inches so that he could shift more in behind the younger man. He was, of course, keying in to the corruption but also how it blended in with the peppered necrosis of his bullet. Scatter shot like that was always messy, and lesser men would have died from it, let alone carried on.
For him, it had been nearly three years since he had inflicted this injury, so it had mostly passed out of his mind. Now that he was seeing it again and focusing on it, he was keenly aware of the fight. If he closed his eyes, he could feel 76's flesh around the fragments. They weren't metal after all; they were pieces of himself, trapped in the spaces around cells, draining life to maintain themselves.
Oh what he could do with this...]
Ana never did have the fine hands for suturing. [He was pulling out a knife and set to work removing the sutures. They weren't helpful.] Stay still. These are only pulling these days.
[He paused mid-motion over one suture.] I can heal this where Ziegler failed....
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There was some grumbling under 76's breath, but he was moving with every nudge and urging, even if his shoulders tensed at having Reaper behind him like this. Other than that he complied, makin no fuss or fight. He had agreed to letting the bastard get a look and, well.
This was part of that, wasn't it? An agreement in the compromise that let him look over and patch up wounds.
Been a few years since 76 actually had to deal with the injury, as if it had been slapped back in to place completely once here. Had felt it tugging, the pain it did cause him and he just carried on despite it. Still bled as the sutures were cut, the crooked stitches about the only thing that had been keeping it closed.]
She did her best. [Was keeping still.
Teeth grit slightly, 76 remaining still and silent for a moment. No anger, but that was still-] You offering?
[Didn't quite believe that.]
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Especially with all the grumping and tension at letting him behind. He knew it was a risk for them both for this, a quick elbow to the face could knock him out and he could materialize a shotgun at any moment. They had mustered enough quiet trust for this moment that he didn't think either of them were eager to break it just yet.
He removed the sutures that held it together, noticing that the damage necrotic flesh was already pulling open. He set a hand over it, feeling the warm blood that welled up from where it was starting to open again. He could feel the wound, where the bits of himself remained imbedded.
No wonder he was able to hunt 76 down with better easy than usual.] They held well enough... [He walked his blackened fingers from his other hand up 76's spine.] Perhaps. Do you want me to...? Or is this a memento you cherish enough to keep?
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76 was still sitting on his knees, but urged in to a position where that weigh was partly on his own calves as well; sitting on folded legs, more or less. Very aware of where Reaper's hands were, where he was, but making no moves to stop him. Keeping still with that knife cutting stitching away that probably needed to be removed by now with how long they'd been there.
It burned, some deep ache there, but at least the blood wasn't old; no infection growing there despite how necrotic the flesh was. Edges eating away at every bit that tried to heal, a constant repetition of healing and dying all along it. If it had been any other man they would be long dead, but here 76 was moving and carrying on as if he didn't have that eating him alive.
The work Ana had done was the only thing that had stopped the bleeding, and without that blood flowed freely.
Couldn't help the slight shiver, the way his back arched slightly from Reaper walking a few fingers—] If you can, may as well do it. I can keep going either way.
[He already had been, after all.]
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He wasn't going to force 76 to sit down, and if crouching was comfortable then so be it. It gave him better access to the area in question anyway, and he was curious how much of 76's lower back was rot from his bullet or corruption. There was only one way to find out, not that he would be wholly helpful and not a touch selfish on the matter.
Slowly, he rested his palm against the greatest portion of necrotic area, feeling the strong pulse of himself in the area.]
I believe that I can...
[It should bring relief honestly. He pressed his palm harder to the area and began to mentally draw himself out of the wound. He did so carefully so as not to create more damage by doing so, but he extracted himself at the deepest portion of 76's body. It was like calling himself home, taking back the missing parts of himself.
He also took his time, letting the heat of 76's back warm his hand.]
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The amount of time he had spent digging and looking for someone—
There was a moment where pain was felt, that wound had been one of the most persistent things in his life. The pulse of ache, the constant burning. Feeling that pulling away, even slowly? If 76 wasn't already on his knees he'd be brought to them, the noise he made muffled, sinking further on his knees to the point his thighs spread further apart.
Only thing keeping him leaned forwards to any degree was Reaper's hand being where it was. Stopping the trickle of blood only to a point that it still seeped between those blackened fingers and over his hand.
It was bringing a sort of relief, slowly as Reaper was going. 76's skin as warm as it ever was, warming further as his own body was kicking in to heal a bit behind the removal. To fight the necrosis in a way it hadn't been able to.]
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[He was keenly aware of 76's sinking further down in the crouch, and his hand followed to keep contact. His eyes were closed at this point, concentrating on what he was doing as he withdrew himself, and the feel of hot blood over his hand the longer that he worked. Of course, he knew without his bullet fragments that the wound would heal on its own.
He pulled more of himself free, sighing softly. Yet, at the very end of removing all the fragments, he left just small traces of himself behind, so tiny that 76's body shouldn't react as it had before.
That finished and smoothed his hand over what had been the necrotic wound. The skin would look healthier, reddened by blood flow to the area but little, if any, visible traces of black.]
There. I assume that feel better?
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76 was dealing with the odd relief he was feeling from a wound that had been a constant pain. The itch of healing that was coming with it the only real discomfort that was following. Hell of an experience, even if it could be seen as something so small- but it wasn't.
Hands pressed to the floor, keeping himself up as he sat heavily on his knees. Fuck's sake. It was weird. Skin bloodied, but that could be washed and wiped away.
Let out a shuddering breath, pushing himself up a little.]
Other than the usual healing itch? Yeah. [The only black that remained on his skin was from the corruption at least. The wound would heal, likely be another new scar, but that was fine.]
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He watched the healing injury, and he expected that it would be fine now. Soon enough it would be nothing more than another scar in the sea of many of them. He would say that 76 owed him for that, but honestly, the younger man had done good work on his arm so they were probably even.]
That should go away in a day or two with your healing factor.
[Of course, he had a much better look at the corruption, and it was still rather extensive. At least 76 was stable and not lashing out.]
When was the last time you slept?
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Give or take.
[Already working on the bandaging, wrapping it around his own waist as an easy enough task after all. Sitting on his knees-]
Does that matter?
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He shoved 76 on the shoulder.]
Give me that. You don't even have an absorbent pad for the blood.
[He pulled his pack closer to grab the item and gestured for 76 to sit back so he could take over. It would not be pleasant if he had to fight for it.]
It does because you still look like garbage and the corruption is all over you.
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Actually sat down, finally, as well. Not just on his knees, but a full settling.]
Fine, only because you let me do your shoulder and hand both.
[He could give that much, scrubbing a little at his beard with the heel of a hand before those claws smoothed it back out.]
I always look like garbage, and I doubt sleep will help with that.
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So glad we remain at the tit-for-tat level of allowing basic human decency to happen between us.
[It was cutting a bit too close to the sensation of 'old times' even briefly, and he expected that both of them were aware of it and wary about it. There was too much history there.
No matter, not right now. He pressed the absorbent cotton pad up against 76's back to cover the worst of the wound. Then he nudged 76's arms up a touch so he could being to wrap the pad in place, keeping things snug. He was keenly aware of the sound of claws in facial hair, something he did when not wearing his mask.]
It won't hurt, you know. Maybe you'll work out some of this corruption.
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[There was the light swat at Reaper's hand from the knuckle knocking, but there was no real weigh behind it. Aware of it of course, and the tit-for-tat worked; an easy excuse to not just think about the fact they were still willing to... well.
76 lifted his arms and sat as straight as he needed to in order to allow Reaper To have easier access and not cause his work to end up being too loose. Mindful of hand movements and just where the older man was. Keeping his eyes forward all the same.]
Maybe it'll make it that much worse, too.
[It was grumbled, but that was about as much as 76 could manage. Of course this close it could be noticed there was a slight pointing of his ears—]
Don't feel like chancing some random wandering in to a nightmare.
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[So no, he wasn't complaining about it yet. If anything, he saw no reason to complain when the fact that they did better when working together was apparent. After all, his arm wouldn't have been sewn up and bandaged if not for 76, and the younger man wouldn't have an old festering wound heal if not for him. It was as close to working together as they would manage.
He worked the bandage to where it needed to be, wrapping it tighter at the top to prevent slipping. That done, he ran his hands over it from ribs down and then back to front to check for bulging or missed areas. In his own way, he was also checking for signs of pain in other areas while he was gently smoothing his hands over areas.]
What if... we slept next to each other?
[He knew what he was suggesting. If they did, it could equal good rest, an opportunity to have their revenge on each other, or it could mean entering one or the other's nightmare.]
There's always your bloody corn field, I guess.
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Still, he was keeping as still as he could. 76 even had a hand rested on top of his head, just to help remember he needed to keep arms up and out of the way. Claws still idly fussing over his facial hair, picking out bits of dried blood and smoothing it down. Probably needed to trim the damn thing again soon. Only reason he had in the first place was because it was getting caught in his mask and that was irritating—
There was a bit of a hiss as hands moved over a place at his ribs, probably telling there was still bruising there. An ugly sort of yellow and purple on skin hidden under the blackened skin where corruption decorated along ribs on both sides. 76 had not been resting properly for them to heal, as if at every turn there was something preventing it.
His head tilted just enough he could look back at Reaper from the corner of an eye.]
That damned cornfield is the nicest thing my head has to offer.
[A warning? Perhaps, if only because he knew exactly what Reaper was offering.]
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