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She hopes he still likes his tea the same way.
Carefully she removed the black tea bag, watching the dark liquid swirl around in the small ceramic cup. She reached over for the milk and dropped one little splash into the dark depths - she rememberd he'll complain if there's too much in there, despite always adding it.
Freja grabbed her own mug and ambled out of the tiny kitchen towards the main space of their underground hideout. After settling in and running security for the first few hours, it felt like it was time to relax a little. Not that she ever truly relaxed, but the specific radar wave they were sent to investigate could take literal days to appear. No sense waiting on tenterhooks the entire time and patience was her strong suit.
The metal door in front of her automatically opened into the dusty, yellowed main room. It showed its age from the flickering light-bulb on the ceiling to the dusty, scratched leather couch of which one ex-Overwatch member was currently sprawled out on.
"Here" she said softly, placing the mug in his hands.
He looked up with a quizzical smile, sniffing the brew.
"Ah, cheers Frej. Smells just how I like it" he murmured, taking a small sip.
She smirked as he let out an appreciative hum, taking a larger gulp of the tea.
"Good to know some things haven't changed" she chuckled, nursing her own drink.
She expected him to start their usual banter, but something about her words had caused a curious expression to appear on his face. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
"I've been meaning to ask..." he started, voice low and Freja's gut clenched with the knowledge that he was about to start a serious conversation.
"How... similar do I seem to you? Do I seem like the Emre you knew? Because some days, when the voices are quiet and I'm left to myself I feel just fine. And others..." his voice finished in a growl, the implication obvious.
Freja mulled over the question, biting her lip.
"In truth, you're much the man I remember. Even despite your current predicament, you try to keep your good humour up. You're still a great shot, and decent company to boot. Could use a shave, though" she quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckled at that, relief washing over his face.
"You like my beard just fine. But... thanks, Frej. You're decent company too" he teased.
"I'll say cheers to that" she said dryly and they clinked their old ceramic mugs together. It echoed strangely in the bunker.
His whole body was shaking.
She was trying to get him to run, desperately pulling at arms and yelling into his ear that the police were coming. Perhaps they didn't even need to worry about the police with the fire billowing around them, fiery red tendrils from the explosion that had just taken place. She jostled him again, yelling in his ear - he remained kneeling, pale-faced and trembling in the ashes. Desperately, she tried to think of the words to pull him out of his trance as the tips of her hair started to singe. The smell of burning bodies around them was revolting.
"Emre! I NEED YOU to get up!"
She wasn't sure whether it was the words or the desperate, scared edge to her voice but somehow it seemed to work. He jolted up, unsteady on his feet but finally looking cognizant of his surroundings.
"This way!" she coughed, darting in out of the flaming debris towards the hole in the wall - the very hole his gun had cratered into the building.
She no longer looked behind, heart pounding and hoping desperately that Emre was right on her heels. Her lungs were burning, eyes watering as she shouldered her way through a smoking metal door, hissing at the pain. She managed to avoid tripping over a charred corpse on the floor and jumped outside, gasping in the air.
Finally, she chanced a glance behind and with relief saw he wasn't far behind her. Words were failing her, so she simply jabbed her finger in the direction of the bunker while smothering coughs into her hands.
Into the hazy red night, they ran.
They collapsed onto the couch, coughing and wheezing into the stale hideout air. The stench of smoke was acrid - she realized with vague annoyance that the room would likely smell of it forevermore.
"Water" she croaked out and Emre rolled himself off the side of the armrest, grunting as he hit the floor. She could hear various Turkish swears emerging from the kitchen until he re-emerged with a massive jug of water. It was too tantalizing to ration properly so they took turns gulping it down like the nectar of life, their coughing slowly subsiding.
"Think I got a stray health pack in here, somewhere..." he groaned, opening the cupboard on unsteady feet.
He pulled it out and they let the golden, healing technology wash over them. Finally, her racing heartbeat began to calm. Dread replaced anxiety.
"We failed the mission. Damn it" she sighed.
It wasn't the failing of the investigation that bothered her, not truly. It would be a pain to deal with Talon over it and she was sure Vendetta would send them on some awful grunt work as punishment. Nothing she hasn't dealt with before, though.
Watching Emre, principled good-humoured Emre, suddenly go rigid and his eyes turn red was as horrifying as it was the first time she'd seen it. He'd slaughtered dozens without even flinching. They'd gone from subtle investigation to a flaming hole in the side of the building and charred corpses laying on the metal floor around them.
It was hard to reconcile that... thing with the warm, tired man sprawled out next to her. She was no innocent, but gods above she at least tried to practice restraint. He was a walking time bomb.
They made eye contact. Freja blinked slowly, eyes stinging despite the low light. Tension hung in the air as his tired expression morphed into a broken smile.
"Still think I'm the same old Emre, Frej?" he whispered, voice cracked.
She was startled to see his eyes watering - without a further thought she brought him into her arms, wrapping her limbs around his tired form. He went ramrod straight, tense and eerily still. She could feel his racing heartbeat against her, jackhammering out of rhythm.
Then, the dam finally broke. His tired, burnt body trembled beneath her as small, wet cries escaped him. The sound cleaved her heart in two, but she refused to cry, blinking back misty eyes as she heard her dearest friend break into pieces. With every sob, his body shook against hers in the smoky air. He burrowed further into her warm arms, nuzzling into her uncharacteristic closeness.
"I must really look pathetic if you of all people are giving me a hug" he murmured, gently resting his head against her collarbone.
Exhaustion lined every part of his face. She had a brief, thankful thought that his parents hadn't seen him like this yet.
"Just this once. You tell anyone I hugged you, you're a dead man" she huffed, a wry smile twisting onto her face at his tired laughter.
He's still Emre. That's what she's going to keep telling herself as the pile of corpses grow larger.