A Bond Can be Defiant
“I’ll bring him back, my Queen,” Your voice projects over the crowded room of junkers all vying for the Queen of Junkertown’s attention, the bunch muttering under their breaths over the silver spoon in your mouth from receiving backing from the queen herself for your next assignment. Oh, it was nothing too serious. You were given the task of locating two previously removed patrons of the town, one Jamison Fawkes, or “Junkrat” and the other, Mako Rutledge, called “Roadhog,” extracting their secrets, and getting rid of them. Having you be her enforcer on the job appealed greatly to her because of your background with the subjects in question. As Jamison’s Bonded predating the Omnium fusion core crisis, you knew him before the radiation altered his thinking and you’d studied him now down to his new ticks. No one besides the Queen knew of your ties to the pyromaniac, and you saw to it that no one else had any ideas about it.
Following Jamison is easy because he’s loud, uninhibited, and downright sloppy. He leaves a trace wherever he goes and mayhem in his wake, and with the amount of news coverage on his destruction, it’s an easy feat to find him once he’s relocated. Following him all over the world to watch him botch robbery attempts is actually quite a respite from your usual missions that start and end much sooner. Before long, you realize that you are enjoying this, following him and Mako around from afar but close enough to see small bits and pieces of the old Jamison, the old Junkrat you used to know and love before the crisis ruined your lives. It had been a long time ago, the memories of Jamison and you working on creations from the junk collected around the area. You had been the creator whereas he had this fascination with bombs that you couldn’t put to rest.
You were there when the explosion took his leg, screaming at all that blood loss and flesh half incinerated all over, but the loss of his eye was after your time together, you can tell by the glimmer in the fake iris. You could only fathom or imagine what foolhardy thing Jamison did to lose it- shaking your head, you peer through your tactical visor and aim your sniper rifle just above his head because you have no need to shoot right now. He’s being messy again, blowing up a block of street with Mako on his heels, always quiet in the wake of Jamison’s foolishness.
They’re an odd pair; you had a feeling that Mako was much smarter between the two but too sensitive to lead the team. Still, getting him out of the way wouldn’t be easy, especially with his healing ability and the chain hook he used to draw people in before snapping them like twigs or using his scrap gun. You’d studied its schematics closely and knew how to avoid being drawn in but it didn’t stop the fact that his size is a problem. Jamison is still thin and outrageously fit, but you could take him as long as you avoided his frag launcher and rip tire.
The steel traps are messily placed around their hideout and when you realize that they are done wreaking havoc for the day and there is really nothing holding you back from, well, doing your assignment, you slip out of your hiding place. Your sleek, black catsuit sticks to your body like a glove as you launch yourself from the tower adjacent to the hideout entrance. You try to be detached from the reality of it as you overstep traps and slip through onto the other side. The hideout is packed with pieces of stolen products here and there, gold splashed against the floor in small waves off to the side and more useless heirlooms you’d seen in magazines a long time ago all piled together. They sure have been busy, haven’t they? Your visor is decked out with night, heat, and energy vision and your senses tell you to dodge to the left the moment a bomb lands in the very spot you occupied moments earlier.
You roll away from the blast, quickly attaching your rifle to the lock in your back and pulling out a customized blaster full of shock bullets and a second round of plasma bullets. Your sniper rifle would not come in handy from this vantage point and you could tell that Jamison had to have set up another trap, invisible this time, to make up for his sloppy work outside. Or it was Mako who took care of it as an extra precaution because Jamison couldn’t exactly be trusted with their protection. Dodging behind a pile of gold, you extend an arm to slap away an incoming bomb, you suit’s protective layer making it easy to avoid the second explosion. Jamison’s manic laughter is heard echoing throughout the hideout which is more of a cavern the more you quickly take in your surroundings to find the best vantage point.
“Ya think you can stop us!? Never!” He screeched, his voice breaking out into a laugh that you know, one that you can recall from the back of your mind. He’d always laughed so much before, especially while going through the junkyard looking for scraps to work on new projects. His bombs were always his love and at one point, you’d helped him make the steel traps he set up outside. God, what had happened for this to happen right here and now? The Queen of Junkertown wanted his head on a pike to set outside of the town’s border and you had willingly accepted the task knowing what it meant. You knew that you would have to kill him, to kill the only person in this fucked up universe that you had ever loved, the only man who had his name scratched onto your skin, but it’s finally setting in.
“What do ya want! My treasure? My head? Well~ You can’t have it!” He teased, his voice projecting from behind another pile of stolen treasure (probably belonging to the Queen). You try not to roll your eyes behind the visor because in the midst of attacking you.. He’s basically destroying his stolen goods. He’d never been good at planning either, especially when it came to your lives.
You never wanted to spend the rest of your life in the Astralian Omnium; you had dreams of developing for Volskaya Industries and their anti-omnic security force in the wake of the omnic crisis in order to decrease the amount of skirmishes between the omnics and the humans. And after the war, you wanted to work for Lijiang Tower’s Lucheng Interstellar because it was something you’d always talked over with Jamison- of course he had never taken those dreams seriously. He’d been too busy in the lab putting together another foolhardy bomb with you by his side trying to make sure he didn’t do something foolish (which he did countless times).
Maybe he’d just never wanted to listen because you were the only person in his life that was constant. No one else had ever truly given him a chance to be the person you knew he could be and towards the end, he’d been getting better. Less manic, less crazed, and he’d wanted your dreams to come true, he truly did. Your tattoo had been feeling and warm leading up to the explosion but in the aftermath, he hadn’t been the only one who changed.
You changed as well.
“So ya finally decided to show yourself, eh, mate? It’s the end for you!” He hollered once you dash out into the open, gun equipped with plasma bullets. You fire off two rounds at the pile of gold he’s hiding behind as well as the large shadow behind him, managing to hit Mako and leaving him unable to raise his hook. The plasma is sticky in formula and quickly solidified to fetter the hook to his hand. The shot that hit the gold stuck them together and pushed them back into Jamison, knocking him over. For all his skill, the loss of his leg made him weaker, slower too. You slip your gun into it’s holster on your hip before reaching back to quickly reaching for your sniper.
You can see Mako beginning to fight the plasma and with his size, it wouldn’t be long before he broke free and that hook would again be an issue. Sighing, you aim your rifle at the pile of gold and begin to shoot, only for a bomb to go off too close to your position, the smoke momentarily blinding you and forcing you to dive for a pile of jewels. There’s that laugh again and you want to hate it, but you can’t quite bring yourself to.
Before you can take aim through another blast, a rouge Jamison appears, jumping through the smoke and tackling you to the cavern floor littered with gold and jewels that dig into your suit. You cough upon impact, keeping a tight grip on your rifle and trying to use it to push him off of you, but he grabs for it. It’s a fight of who has a stronger death grip as he pushes you against the ground, slamming your back and visor; the impact momentarily stunned you and the visor is no longer helpful with how your vision blurs even more. You kick your legs out land a hit against his plank leg, catching him off guard and giving you leverage to knock him over. You hear Mako behind you fighting against the hardened plasma and quickly lurched on top of Jamison. Despite the feeble contact, your tattoo flares up and you fight the sensation as you press the side of your rifle into Jamison’s throat and press down enough to get him to stop fighting it.
“I come with greetings from the Queen,” You finally speak, using your free hand to reach up and press the retraction on your visor. It raises up and uncovers your face, stopping to form a band around your head as your (h/l), (h/c) fell free, your (e/c) eyes full to the brim with unleashed emotion that you can’t hold back anymore. If Jamison weren’t already undeniably crazy, the look in his eyes, that look of realization, only fueled more manic behavior.
“You-” Before he can say anything, you hear Mako approaching and glance back, glaring heavily. You’d met him before, at a bar in Junkertown after he’d teamed up with Jamison to do something stupid around town. He knew who you were and knew that this was probably some stupid lover’s quarrel and well- he didn’t really want to be a part of that. Turning back to stare down your prey, you press the rifle down harder. He looks different, all covered in soot, eyes wide as he stared up at you. Your grip on the weapon weakens as you maintain your stare, eyes hard and mouth set in a line.
Fuck, what did you expect to see when you decided to take on this job? Him groveling at your feet? Begging you to come back? No, he’s just staring at you and all of the adrenaline has vanished now that you aren’t actively dodging bullets and trying to shoot him in the face. Your figure remained motionless, even when he managed to shove the rifle away and eventually out of your grasp. He tossed it aside before uncerimoniously rolling you over onto your bruised back. Your flesh is scathing now, fingers trembling as you clutch at his shoulders to try and keep him away.
This isn’t how you saw this going. You pictured yourself loud and proud, kicking through the door and putting a bullet between his honey glazed eyes and getting some frivolous reward from the Queen but you can’t even fathom it at this moment. It’s like every ounce of fight in you has deteriorated since getting tackled to the ground and your Bond had decided then was the perfect opportunity to fuck you over. His eyes get more clarity and you feel it in your bones when his side of the dormant Bond shifts to ensnare your own. His side had always been stronger, and maybe that had been the reason you stayed so long. He had a way of reeling you back in so easily, so quickly, and despite the time apart, this time was no different. Despite the smoke and smudge and sweat and how dirty his clothes are and how grimy your latex has become, you practically initiate what comes next.
His mouth tastes like soot and regret, anxious and rough against your chapped lips. It’s not sweet or gentle and doesn’t leave you with butterflies in your stomach. There’s a sensation of aching need that overwhelms you instead as your trembling fingers clutched at him to pull him closer, your head pushing closer to taste more. Underneath the smell of singed clothing and soot, you can almost taste him on your tongue, a groan escaping into his open mouth as you clutch on ever tighter. It has been a long time since you’ve been in such a compromising position. After the two of you parted ways from inconceivable differences, you never let someone close to you like this again. You didn’t think about the part of you that yearned for someone else’s touch or felt the need to be held in the middle of the night. You gave your services to those who paid top dollar and never considered the target’s feelings or how much life they had left to live. You could care less; asassination became an escape.
The spell is seemingly broken when Jamison’s mouth slip away, his heavy breathing loud in the silence of the cave, your chest painfully expanding and collapsing under the weight of what you’ve done. The Queen had given an order and it was one you previously felt the need to execute because this Junkrat had caused mayhem and spread panic all over the world while there were bigger things happening, bigger issues at hand and he didn’t care. The radiation had stole most of his sense away and maybe putting him out of his misery would- no. Even now, you knew that it had all been a lie.
“Why did you come?” He asked and you try to wrack your brain for an answer when your thoughts are jumbled and mixing together. You wanted to see him, wanted to be with him again in some way. No, you wanted to complete your mission-
“Because- the Queen wants your head.” The lie spills from your lips but from the small smile on his mouth, you know that he can tell you’re lying. Your left eyebrow is twitching, a dead giveaway that even he can recall from the past. He’d always been able to catch you in a false truth whenever he peeked at your eyebrow movement. You thought he’d forgotten that and you.
“You’re still a terrible liar, (y/n).” The snort leaves your nose before you can hold it back and he merely laughs as he shifts himself back enough for you to sit up and look around. Mako is nowhere to be found, probably escaping far enough away from the both of you and what might potentially happen. It’s not like you wanted to kiss him again or anything like that.
Your left eyebrow twitched.
“And you’re still an idiot running around with a death wish,” You hiss in kind, tone finally free of your intense feelings. Your Bond is warm to the touch underneath your bodysuit and you pay no mind to the heat as you try to find reason again, “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused?”
“And why should I worry about it? Mako and I have been sticking it to those suits. What’s a little mayhem on the way to complete genius!?” He’s getting worked up again and he doesn’t listen to reason when he’s like that. But had he ever? He had always been so easily worked up over anything he felt strongly about and the Omnic Crisis only made things worse.
“Because people like the Queen hire people like me to hunt you down. Do you know how easy it was to find you? To find this place? You’re sloppy and I knew where you were without even needing to feel our-” The words die down in your clenched mouth before you can finish, feeling his eyes on you instantly. You never meant to mention it.
“You didn’t.. get rid of it?” He’s talking about the tattoo that Bonds you to him for the rest of your life unless you paid absolute top dollar to have it removed and even then, there was a possibility for it to come back. Back then, you’d threatened to get it cut out of your skin after the argument that finally pushed you to the edge. Yet you hadn’t. His shitty handwriting still wrapped around your shoulder, warmth humming against the latex. You look away from his gaze, not wanting to have this conversation but here it is. You could lie and put that bullet between his eyes or own up to the emotions that have been coursing through you for years.
“Why would I? Just because we weren’t together didn’t mean I wanted to get rid of it. It would be the same as cutting out a part of myself that I loved,” you admit with a sigh, peering up at the craggy ceiling, “You and I were in love once and I didn’t want to forget that time.” Before you went crazy. Before you broke my heart and tore my life apart.
Jamison is quiet for a moment, perhaps to ponder over your admission or to decide whether or not you’d resume your battle for his life. You aren’t sure if either thought is in that empty space between his ears but with a sudden jolt he’s own his foot and peg and pacing quickly.
“I have a plan! A masterplan!” He nodded fervently more so to himself before looking down at you with a grin, “You can just stay here with us. Join our team. Be with me?” He makes it sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Abandoning your mission could tarnish your reputation or put you on the Queen’s bad side and it would be almost impossible to return to Junkertown if you ever went back. If you ever went back.. But did you really have to? This isn’t the way you thought the mission would go and you’re still pissed as hell at Jamison for what happened that day but from a logical point of view, you’re sitting in an overgrown cave full to the brim with gold with the man whose name is branded on your skin. Whether you were here or there, he would always be connected to you through your True Bond. Would turning your back on the Queen be such a good idea? And what about Mako? He was part of the problematic duo and his decision did hold weight. He could turn on you at any minute. Jamison could abandon you again.
“Even if I stayed with you, the thought of being with you is repulsive.”
“You didn’t seem to feel that way when you were sucking my face off.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, you little junkrat. That was the Bond. Not me. If I had any control over it, I would’ve already killed you.” The nickname you gave him sounds more like a term of endearment instead of a scathing insult. Lie and truth are starting to get closer together for you and you huff indignantly.
“Is it a bad thing that I’m happy you have no control? You were always so worrisome and now you’re angry and cute.” Your glare makes him pause mid-pace and take a step back, nervously laughing off the half-compliment, half-diss. It’s true that back in the day, you had a tendency to worry over him and his obsession with bombs, always making sure he took proper care when it came to the bomb components and manufacturing. But how could he hold that against you! Of course you’re mad! You’re fucking angry at this asshole for up and abandoning you after the crisis when you needed him the most.
“Do you know why I’m angry, Jamison? Do you remember the last time we spoke?” You don’t give him a chance to respond, “I suppose not. You made it clear that you would never come back and that we were over. So don’t try to ask me to throw everything away for you now when you couldn’t even stay for me.” You turn to reach for your rifle, strength renewed and fresh anger in mind. He at least deserved a plasma bullet to the chest. He’d survive.
“What in the hell are you talking about, (y/n)? I don’t think we were having the same conversation that day. I told you I wouldn’t come back until I could give you what you needed.. And sure, that may have been vague.. Not the best or brightest or… uh… a time limit, but I did mean it, honest! Why do you think I’ve been gathering all of this?” He gestures towards the piles of gold, jewels, and various trinkets stolen from around the world.
“Because you’re a thief.” You bluntly reply, hand now resting on the rifle. You were honestly considering that plasma shot if he didn’t make his thoughts coherent.
“To help you! In the Outback, we had nothing. Those omnics destroyed our lives and it was hard to find anything of worth. The radiation made me worse and I couldn’t stay there with you knowing I could do something more to get you to where you deserved to be. Volskaya Industries. Lijiang Tower. You’re amazing.. But you would’ve needed money.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve been making a mess to help me?”
His laugh is nervous again as you push yourself up to a standing position, murder in your (e/c) eyes and your rifle in one hand. His words didn’t match up with his actions. He enjoyed the chase, enjoyed wreaking havoc and destroying things. He had to be lying.
“(y/n), listen, we can talk about this- I promise I- (y/n)!” Despite having plenty of usable weapons on hand, Jamison makes no move to attack you, instead squeezing his eyes closed when you stalk towards him, reminding him of a feral cat. But you don’t take that easy shot or walk right past him and out of that entrance to the cave. You don’t abandon the mission because now, this is no longer professional and instead completely personal. Reaching out, you clutch onto the front of Jamison’s shirt, dragging him closer. He opens up his right eye to look back at you, blinking when no harm comes to him.
“I’m going to spare you this time, Jamison. And I’ll even stick around here. But if I find out you’re lying?” You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chapped lips, your voice dropping an octave, “I’ll kill you.” Releasing him, you stalk past him to try and clear your head, your Bond out of sync with your emotions. It’s trying to get you to turn back and run into his arms, begging for more contact that you refuse to give. Even if you can’t stop the Bond, you’d be damned if you gave in so easily even if you admit defeat at not being able to complete your mission.
Behind you, Jamison feels his knee grow weak, almost losing his balance as his side of the Bond instinctively reaches out towards her. Even with his master control, he can’t help it, not when he’s been holding back ever since he left her side the first time.
“God, I missed her.” He breathed, limbs feeling weak, chest tightening, his brain going to mush at the mere act of being bullied by her instead of fear that she was going to shoot him. Of course, she did bring up his faults to a t. Hadn’t he mentioned why he needed money? Hadn’t he told her his master plan for them and that for it to work he needed to leave? Huh.. could’ve sworn I said something.. (he hadn’t).