Jack cursed himself for being so reckless. He had gone into that fight with the Los Muertos gang without considering civilians as a variable. It was a rookie mistake, and not one he would allow himself to make again. In the past he wouldn't have hesitated to save that girl in exchange for losing his tail on the gang. This time he had hesitated a fraction of a second.

The pain stemming from his abdomen was worsening by the minute. He couldn't simply go to a doctor, though, as he was still trying to remain under the radar. Angela Ziegler's location was currently unknown so she certainly couldn't help him. Therefore, he was on his way to the only person who could.

Morrison hissed as the bus hit another pothole, jostling its passengers. Bullet wounds he could deal with, knife wounds he could sew up. If he had broken ribs, damaged organs, or was bleeding internally that was another story. He had seen many wounds in the war, but he couldn't diagnose himself based on the stabbing pain in his chest alone.

With a grunt he administered another medical stim pack to keep himself stabilized and to help with the pain. It would be a long way to Portland. Almost three days if the bus schedule was right.

She was the first person he had tracked down after his fight with Reyes. After the world tore down everything he had helped build.

He hadn't expected her to settle down to a normal life. How could she? Almost as long as he had known her she had been a part of Overwatch. Then again, she wasn't a soldier like he was. This was his life. After a few days of waiting and watching her from a distance he decided it wasn't fair if he tried to bring her back into the fight.

Jack rested his head against the cool glass of the window, the rattling of the old bus was far different than the smooth hover cars that he had become used to. Taking an old bus line was much safer though, and he wasn't about to take any more risks by trying to get on a plane.

He looked at the time. It had been almost ten hours already, and he was beginning to feel drowsy.

Dammit, why did she have to settle down so far away?

As the bus rocked he slowly gave into the urge to close his eyes, if only for a minute. He wasn't sure if he was even ready to see her again. Things had been...complicated in the past. He couldn't help but remind himself that he was supposed to be dead. She was smart, though, and he had no doubt that she didn't believe all the rumors after his body never turned up.

Jack drifted off to sleep as he wondered what the hell he would say when he showed up on her doorstep.

It was two A.M. and three days later when he arrived in the city. By the time he located her apartment and made sure he wasn't being followed, it was nearly three.

The night air was cool on his face as he made his way up the old, rusted fire escape. Despite the chilly weather his skin felt like it was on fire, his jacket clinging to him uncomfortably, sticky with sweat. Jack grimaced as the rusted metal squealed under his weight. He hoped the whole neighborhood didn't hear it.

All of the lights in her apartment were off as he came to her window on the third floor. The lock was old, and it didn't take much to jimmy it open with his pocket knife.

Even in his injured state he was fairly quiet as he moved through the house, searching for her room. His head spun slightly as he slipped through a hallway, checking every corner. As the thought of her privacy crossed his mind he quickly dashed it away and reminded himself that this was an emergency.

Finally, he seemed to find the right door. He could barely make out a large bed with the little bit of light from the street that filtered in through the curtains. Jack forced himself to even his breathing and move slowly so as to not startle her.

He gritted his teeth together. God, his side hurt.

As he moved closer to the bed and his eyes adjusted to the darkness he found that it was empty. In the space of a second he heard a slight sound like the whispering of wind before the telltale click of a gun.

He turned his head to find the shadow of a figure on his left, aiming their handgun at his head. Jack rose his arms slowly in surrender.

"Wight? I see you haven't changed."

"I haven't heard that name in a while."

He watched her shadow quietly, waiting for her to lower her gun.

It was a few heartbeats before she spoke up again. "Is it really you, Jack?" Her tone spoke volumes of how unsure she was that he was really alive.

"It's me, V." He couldn't help the warmth that crept into his voice despite his pain. It was just so damn good to hear her voice again.

A moment passed before she flung herself into his arms. It hurt like all hell, and he couldn't help but push her away before she squeezed him. A small noise of discomfort escaped him as he grasped his side.

"Jack, are you okay?"

There was a slight sound of wind again before the bedroom lights flicked on, nearly blinding him with his visor set for night vision.

"Give me a little warning, would ya?" He grumbled as he shielded his eyes with a hand and adjusted his tactical visor accordingly.

"What did you get yourself into this time?" Her hands were already peeling off his jacket and moving him towards the bed.

He obliged, knowing that with her everything tended to be a flurry of words, thoughts, and movement. Her mind worked quickly, enhanced by an omnic parasite on her spine. It had made her a great agent, but she often had to slow herself down in a social setting.

Morrison laid back onto the bed, watching as Valor grabbed a hair tie and pulled back her white locks into a bun.

"You haven't aged a day," he commented more than a bit breathlessly. The room was slowly beginning to spin again. He had exerted himself far too much just trying to make it here.

"Yes, well, there has to be some upside to having an omnic parasite stuck on you," her tone was very matter of fact as she slid her freezing hands up his shirt and across his stomach.

His muscles tightened as her skin met his own burning flesh. Jack watched as she closed her eyes and concentrated, one hand slowly making its way up to his ribs.

"It doesn't feel good, Jack." Her touch was extremely light and barely hurt as she moved, eyes still closed. "You really got yourself into some deep shit this time, but you can tell me what happened later."

"'Preciate it, since you and I both know what comes next," he grumbled.

"Yeah, sorry." She opened her eyes, giving him a small half-smile. "Ready?"

He nodded. The sooner this was over the sooner he could rest and catch up with the first friend he had seen in years.

Morrison watched as Valor pressed her hand against his flesh and phased through it. Her eyes were closed again in concentration, and as the minutes passed he could see sweat forming on her brow.

The whole time there was an intense stabbing sensation in his chest as she fused her fast healing cells with his at a molecular level.

The process seemed to last forever, and yet took no time at all. As the pain faded he could see Valor panting and clutching at the base of her spine.

"It hasn't gotten any easier?" The question was rhetorical based on her reaction. He, however, felt wonderful. His whole body felt invigorated and there was absolutely no pain. He had only felt this once before.

"I'm going to bed before I collapse. We'll talk in the morning, Morrison." She didn't wait for a response before turning off the lights and nearly stumbling out of the room. Jack had no doubt that he would find her on the living room couch in the morning.

He felt a little bad about stealing her bed, even though it was the softest bed he had slept on in a while. Jack pulled off his mask, that Valor hadn't bothered with, and placed it on the bedside table. As he pulled the sheets over him he was almost immediately enveloped in her scent. The pillow smelled like her almond shampoo, a smell he thought he had forgotten.

Jack had to remind himself that Valor had used his surname, though, which meant he was definitely in a bit of trouble. He would certainly have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.

Morrison woke up after about six hours of sleep feeling completely refreshed. His old aches seemed to have disappeared overnight, no doubt due to Valor's healing. Too bad it never lasted.

Daylight streamed in through a crack in the curtains and illuminated the room he had barely seen last night. He walked through the musty apartment, dust particles floating downwards in the sunlight caught his eye. It looked like Valor had tried to spruce it up as best she could, but plaster still peeled in places and hairline cracks could be seen on the scuffed wood floors. He didn't mind, as the place was very clean and looked rustic and cozy.

Jack found the living room with ease, noting as he entered that Valor was still fast asleep on the couch. He had no doubt that she needed the rest and so he left her undisturbed.

He moved from the living room to the kitchen, the rooms separated only by an island table. Morrison busied himself with making a pot of coffee. Valor wouldn't mind if he made himself at home, after all, they had been very close before Overwatch was disbanded.

Morrison ran a hand through his short hair, glancing back at the couch where she slept as he waited. She still looked so young it was almost painful. Angela had predicted that she would age slower than most humans, but he had never imagined this. She was actually only a bit younger than him, but still, looking at her made him feel like an old man.

After a few minutes he had fixed his coffee to his taste and sat in the loveseat across from the couch. Seeing Valor again was like nostalgia had sucker punched him. There were many memories from his past that were fading, but the day he met Valor was not one of them.

He was already the commander and poster boy of overwatch, Reyes was still like a brother to him, and he was still filled with the naïve exuberance of youth.

One day a file had crossed his desk detailing the murder of several criminals in Long Beach, California. Reyes had been the one to present the information to him, telling him about how this could be a vigilante that Overwatch could use. There was only one drawback, their vigilante had made a bad name for them self when a bystander was caught in the crossfire.

The police were too afraid to do anything about it after rumors went around saying that the killer was actually a ghost of a woman seeking revenge on the evil. All of the front pages of the local newspapers further spread the rumors of the "Wight of Long Beach". Morrison didn't believe in all that, but he did believe that he had to do something about this "ghost" before things got further out of hand.

Jack had decided that he and Reyes would track her down covertly and offer her a place in Overwatch. If even half of the rumors were true she would be a valuable asset.

It had taken them nearly half a month to track her down to a warehouse where they cornered her.

"Can't believe how long this is taking," Jack grumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Reyes.

They were both battered and bruised from their very real and very alive opponent. Certainly she had some tricks that would make some people think she was a ghost, but then again walking through walls was not something most people could do. That had certainly startled them at first. Well, that and the crying.

The woman had bursted into tears the moment she spotted them and ran, yelling something about not wanting to hurt them as they gave chase. The game of cat and mouse had gone on for quite some time.

Now they were crouched behind some crates, listening to the woman sob as she collapsed in the middle of the room on the side opposite of them.

"I changed my mind; this is definitely too much trouble, Morrison." He watched as Reyes readied his shotguns. "Should just put the poor thing out of her misery and be done with it."

Jack sent his friend a disbelieving look, unable to tell if he was joking or not. It was the first time he had ever doubted whether or not he knew Reyes' true character.

"Not an option," Morrison passed Reyes his gun.

"What are you gonna do? Soothe her with lullaby? C'mon, Jack."

He ignored the comment and stood before slowly walking around the crates. Before him he could see that the white haired woman had collapsed on her knees, facing them. Her head was bowed and sobs still wracked her body.

Jack took a few steps forward before she noticed him. He put his hands in the air to show her that they were empty. "Look, I just want to talk."

"I... can't..." She was struggling to speak. One hand was against the floor holding her up while the other clutched at her lower back. Strangely enough he couldn't remember he or Reyes injuring her there.

"Please, we honestly just want to help." Jack was slowly edging closer to her, being careful to sense if she was about to lash out.

"You can't help," she sobbed. "God it hurts," the woman emphasized with a whine.

Morrison was barely a foot away from her now, close enough to where he could have reached out and touched her. Instead, he circled around her.

"Make it stop, please. Kill me if you have to," she pleaded as he knelt down and gently pushed her hand aside. The black dress she was wearing was ripped and torn in places, but one long rip exposed all of her back.

He didn't know what he had expected, but a huge chunk of metal that seemed to have imbedded itself into her lower back was not it. The metal branched out from the base and traveled up her spine, nearly reaching her neck.`

"What happened to you?" He was careful not to touch the metal as his fingers ghosted over it. The shining material seemed to be giving off a bit of heat.

"I don't know," she sobbed. "I was in the hospital and there was this omnic and," her speech dissolved into indecipherable babbling.

Morrison didn't know what to do; his training had never covered something like this. He didn't need training, though, he was compassionate and caring and had been made the commander of Overwatch for a reason.

"It's going to be okay," Jack put his gloved hand on her shoulder. "I can't help you, but I know a doctor who can."

He began helping her to her feet, catching her when she stumbled and began clutching at her back again. Up close he could make out the delicate features of her face. She would have been beautiful, but dark circles framed her eyes, like she hadn't slept in days. Her hair was an unnatural white color, but was dirtied and unwashed.

"My name is Jack Morrison, and I'm sure your name isn't really Wight." He started a conversation to keep her mind off of whatever agony she was in; it was a common tactic that often helped soldiers from going into shock.

"My name is Valor," her voice was still strained, but she had at least stopped crying.

"Valor, this is Gabriel Reyes," he introduced his friend as they approached. "You're going to be okay now."

"I gave her an injection to help her sleep."

Jack leaned against the wall outside of the room where Valor was being treated, arms crossed as he watched Angela approach. "You find out anything?"

"Well she's been through quite an ordeal. What I could get out of her is that she was in a hospital being treated when an omnic came to her room. That was the last thing she could remember before the metal was on her spine. She said that after that all she could feel was pain. I think that affected her ability to sleep and lowered her susceptibility to whatever the omnic put on her."

Jack could tell Angela was worried. It was obvious that they had never seen anything like this before.

"I'm going to have Winston help me in an hour or so. The more people we have on this the better." Angela looked away from him, seemingly deep in thought as she crossed her arms and chewed on her bottom lip.

"It's already midnight, don't you think you should wait?"

Her gaze returned to him, expression conveying her seriousness. "The metal is growing up her spine at an exponential rate. I don't know what will happen if we don't stop it."

It was two days of nearly nonstop work for Angela and Winston before they were any closer to an answer.

As far as they could tell, the metal was some sort of omnic-organic parasite. It was meant to enhance the human body's abilities, but it seemed more malicious than mutualistic.

It was incredibly frustrating for Jack to just sit there and do nothing. So he did what he could. He dug up everything he could find about Valor.

It took a day before a file of her information was delivered to him. Her family was from California. Her father was in the military and died in combat before she was born. Her mother raised her alone and never remarried or had any other children. Her mother died when she was twenty. She had a pharmaceutical degree and was working at a clinic.

The information was very basic, but told him enough to get a better idea of her life before now.

He examined the picture that had been included. A cheery smile graced the face of the copper-haired woman who was being photographed at the beach. She looked so different that the woman he had come across in the warehouse, alive and happy rather than looking half-dead.

Valor awoke to the soft hum of medical equipment. She panicked for a moment and shot up into a sitting position before the sight of the blonde doctor reminded her where she was.

Dr. Ziegler was facing away from her and seemed not to notice that she had woken up.

The medicine she had been given was good, of that she had no doubt. It knocked her out more often than not and got rid of most of her pain. The only problem was that it seemed to wear off far too fast.

Over the past few days she'd only been woken up to eat, bathe, and to turn onto her stomach so that the doctor and her colleague Winston could get a better look at her back.

They didn't tell her much, which was gradually becoming more frustrating. As far as she knew this thing was a parasite that some asshole omnic had put on her like she was some sort of science experiment. She wasn't so blind as to hate every omnic because of the actions of one, and Valor knew that humans were just as bad.

Something was wrong, though. She could see it in the small worried looks Angela would send her when she thought she wasn't looking. They were also spending far too many late nights here with her than would be normal for simply studying the parasite.

After about a week they told her they were going to try to surgically remove it.

The night before her surgery Jack visited her. It was the first time she had seen him since he basically rescued her from whatever sleep deprived and horrible existence she had been living out.

A small knock at her door startled her, as Angela had left not ten minutes ago. She didn't know what to expect as she called for whoever was on the other side to enter.

Much to her surprise a familiar blonde head poked in through the door. It was only familiar because the man in front of her was the one thing that stood out in her blurry memories of the day he rescued her.

"I was wondering when I'd finally get a visit from you," she sent him a small smile and beckoned him to come into the room. Her pain medication and sleep meds were just beginning to kick in so she wasn't feeling quite as cross as she had been.

"Been kinda busy being a commander and all," he sent her a cheeky smile back, one that could brighten up a room.

"Yes, I've heard. Dr. Zeigler and Winston speak highly of you, Commander Morrison."

He took a seat in the chair by her bedside, that had never been used until now. "I'm not your commander, so it's just Jack."

"Well 'just Jack' what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

He rolled his eyes at her joke, and she couldn't help but giggle. Her expression soured though, when she noticed that the charming smile had left his face.

"Listen, Valor, there's something we haven't told you," his voice was gruffer as he spoke, head down turned and eyes avoiding hers.

Her heart felt like it skipped a beat at his words. With everything that had happened to her she wasn't sure she could take any more bad news. Deep down she knew what it was, had known what it was ever since this thing had attached itself to her. Valor didn't want to hear it. Hearing it just solidified it even more, but that didn't stop the words from leaving Jack's mouth.

She was dying.

In that moment her composure cracked. Valor had been faking smiles for over a week now, pretending that nothing was wrong when she could literally feel the metal growing further up her back. Would she completely lose herself if it succeeded? She could feel the whisperings in the back of her mind; slowly growing louder as if the omnic parasite was slowly taking over her conscious.

"Will the surgery work?" She tried and failed at keeping her voice from cracking. Immediately she felt a warm hand envelop hers. It was a small comfort, and at that moment she felt extremely connected to someone who was basically a stranger.

He proceeded to tell her a story about an overwatch agent, Lena Oxton. Listening to him explain the sad story was enough to keep her own tears at bay.

"Angela and Winston can fix anything," he finished as he explained the chronal accelerator that had been invented to help Lena.

Her medication was really wearing on her now, but it wasn't hard to see how much faith Jack had in his colleagues. It was almost enough to make her believe everything was going to be okay.

"Thank you, Jack, for being here." Her eyes were beginning to close even as the words left her mouth. Through the slight numbness of the pain medication she could feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand. "Will you be here tomorrow? After they fix me?"

"Of course I'll be here, and afterwards you can go home."

As Jack paced outside her room he reminded himself that this was why the war needed to end. This was why they needed peace.