Chapter Text
Overwatch was home; an amalgamation of wild cards, misfits and jack-of-all-trades with only a few of the original members remaining, some alive in memory and some lost to the darkness of the world.
Many held on to hope of meeting them one day while others moved on, all carrying a promise to make the world a better place in their honor.
However, it seems that some ghosts of the past have no problem returning to haunt them.
It was a warm sunny day when your department had received a strange and unexpected delivery, your routine tinkering time interrupted by the sound of heavy boots stomping through the sliding doors of the Engineering wing.
Cole had rushed through the doors, ignoring Torbjorn’s annoyed barks as he carried what looked to be a man in his arms. It was unusual to see him so distressed, the cowboy’s face twisted with worry and glistening with sweat.
Brig had stopped working on Fika’s jetpack, watching the scene rapidly unfold.
“It’s urgent.” he drawled as he gave Torbjorn a knowing look, the room going quiet as his jaw went slack after he gave the stranger an up-down.
Brig and yourself were met with an augmented man lying unconscious on the communal work table. The armor on his torso was shattered, able to see a muscular chest beneath broken metal pieces. Wounds of all sizes covered his flesh while broken wires sparked wildly through crater–size holes. Chunks of him were missing, most notably his left arm and a chunk of his thigh, the sight making both you and Brig shiver.
He looked like he had gone through all nine circles of hell twice over, yet the only thing remaining almost untouched was his wild hair.
The cowboy booted up a holopad and showcased his file to share with both you and Brig.
Emre Sarıoğlu: One of the first members to integrate into the early stages of the Overwatch strike team. Was well known for incredible mercenary skills and tactical mind. Also played a critical role during the Omnic Crisis, Operation White Dome and Australian Liberation Front.
You were amazed as you continued to read his accomplishments, practically a decorated soldier at such a young age, only for his data entry to suddenly be cut off, reading three letters that were written after Overwatch's downfall: MIA
It was blank afterward, with no one able to pinpoint his location or even give any sort of description to his whereabouts.
The summary was eerie.
It was during Cole’s most recent mission that he was found unresponsive in an rusty and abandoned Overwatch laboratory in South America with no recollection of where he was or how long he’d been there for, even momentarily forgetting his identity when he woke up.
He had reached out for the cowboy, his voice otherworldly as there was a glimpse of recognition in his eyes before he slipped back into darkness.
It didn’t go unnoticed how oddly silent the Swede was throughout his ordeal, simply stuck staring at the man in his arms.
If Emre had been part of the original team while Torb was one of the founders, then it must’ve felt like seeing someone you have mourned for years returned to life — Decades worth of scars fully reopened.
An executive order had been put into effect on his behalf: treat his physical condition and repair his cybernetics, attempt every which way to bring him back to a livable state – essentially performing a miracle.
His body was moved to the other side of the room, now hooked up to multiple monitors to begin preparations to make the impossible happen.
There was no issue when it came to tinkering with pure machinery, but working on a human whose body was infused with trillions of neuro-wires and complicated cybernetics was considered such a sophisticated task that required at least a team of eight to run as operational as it can be – but all you had was 3 engineers and a handful of medics on standby.
One wrong move and his life would disappear in a flash.
You and Brig sighed as you both understood that this meant diving into a procedure that could take as long as a whole month to accomplish, but you all knew that you had a sworn duty to help others – especially one of your own – no matter the cost.
During your first rotation Dr. Ziegler brought her small team of Niran and Satya while your team began processing the non-human parts. Conducting diagnostics on his prosthetics was the easiest bit, able to see which bit of wiring needed the most attention all while making a mental list of parts you needed to order.
You also might have pre-emptively placed some deliveries ahead of schedule for two boxes worth of coffee bags, energy drinks and some cat food in the meanwhile.
Angela smiled as the heart monitor she set up beeped to life, finding a glimpse of hope as there was an extremely weak but steady pulse found.
Step one of the miracle is complete.
For weeks you all worked together, conducting hundreds of experiments and using one another’s specialized skills in incremented shifts to achieve the mission, slowly and meticulously putting him back together all the while confining yourselves to the large warehouse.
Torb ensured you both earned some rest and food whenever he took over, using Reinhardt to help move equipment around, Cole to prepare and deliver meals and Bastion for moral and technical support.
Jack and Ana came often to look over paperwork, and even though they didn't speak much about the ongoing situation in the garage, their silence as they lingered in the room an watched intently spoke volumes; it was hard seeing one of their own in such a state.
By the fourth week you were all exhausted, on the brink of hallucinating as there seemed to be no end in sight.
A fresh batch of coffee sat in the pot as it was just you and Brig that evening.
She opted to step in for your rotation since you had lost quite a handful of sleep in the last few days, earning yourself a small nap before you’d jump back into the work while the medical team would be back in the morning.
It was as soon as you began drifting to sleep that you were woken up by a loud clang of metal. The wrench that was once in Brig’s hand had clattered to the ground as a scream ripped from the man's throat, startling you both.
Emre groaned through gritted teeth and thrashed like a wild animal in a desperate attempt to break free from his restraints.
In your half-shaken state you went into autopilot mode, telling Brig to call her father while rushing over and stumbling, acting quickly to ensure he couldn’t escape and hurt anyone.
Your fingers latched onto his head, thumbs on his temple as you concentrated and quickly sent soothing magnetic pulses into him through the neurological wires in your body, influencing his body, mind and spirit to calm down.
It would’ve been much easier to use your kit to achieve the goal, but it was still under repairs after being severely damaged, plus it was much more effective when it was done with direct contact, however, there was always a setback in doing so.
Since the connection was so deep, everything he felt you did as well: his fear, his confusion and the utter agony of loneliness and despair. The negative feelings were overwhelming, fighting to snuff out your help as it felt like his darkness began to wrap around your throat and heart.
He unconsciously tried to drag you down with him, squeezing the air from your lungs and the life from your heart to join him in his pit of nothingness.
He was scared, afraid of what was causing him to react in such a way while remaining powerless — unable to reclaim his mind.
It was worrying how powerful the inferno in his spirit was, but you pushed back, forcing yourself to remain steady all while ignoring the wild beeping from the machines as Torbjorn and Reinhardt had now made their way into the room, ready to be your shield should anything go wrong.
It was a struggle; sleep deprivation and exhaustion meant your power was barely above a flicker of energy, but you were so close – you just needed to reach in a bit further.
In one final move of desperation you placed your forehead on his, strengthening the connection and using every ounce of energy of overpower him. A sharp exhale leaves you as the grasp on your soul and mind loosened, able to feel him answer your call.
The room grew quiet, everything awaiting with bated breath as you remained steady, breathing harsh and jaw tight.
The thumping in his heart slowed to a steady rhythm, the blurriness from his vision now beginning to fade away as the voices in his head went quiet.
That familiar pressure around his skull faded away into nothingness, able to regain full control of himself once again, only to mentally beat himself up.
It happened again.
His consciousness had finally come back, that overfamiliar wave of nausea and confusion washing over him.
What happened now? Where the hell was he?
He was met with bright fluorescent lights that were harsh on his sensitive eyes, forcing him to turn away to avoid being blinded.
He couldn’t move his arms, able to feel some mechanisms trapped on his wrists, yet his body was seeped of any energy.
Even if he wanted to run, he didn’t have the strength to break free and fight through any more people.
His vision adjusted, and it was then that he saw you for the first time: sweat beading down your forehead with visible darkness beneath your eyes, a curtain of uncertainty on your features accentuated with the furrow of your brows.
You were breathtaking.
He watched your mouth move, as if speaking yet he couldn’t hear a single word as you spoke.
Suddenly he felt a presence in his head, a blanket of warmth wrapping him up and hugging him tight.
“You’re okay, you’re safe now.”
It was that familiar voice he heard in his head while he was fighting to wake up, but it was different — it was warm, inviting.
It was you.
His dull ruby eyes now shimmered as he realized you were his savior, the light haloing above your head making you look like an angel.
His heart skipped a beat as you gave him a small smile, the gesture sending another wave of tenderness through his entire spirit.
Was he in heaven?
He gave you a lopsided grin.
“Thank you, beautiful.”
He slurred his words, the compliment making you blink and let out a small huff, rolling your eyes as he shot you a wink.
His chest swelled with pride.
Still got it.
“‘Bout time you woke up.”
The Swede frowned at Emre, scolding him and showing his annoyance at how much trouble he had caused for everyone.
You released his head as he turned over to the sound of a familiar voice, watching the heartwarming exchange between comrades with a tired grin.
You couldn’t wait to have a long hot bubble bath after this.
Emre squinted at Torb as he smirked.
“You’re a bit taller than I remembered–ach!”
Torbjorn smacked him upside the head, earning a small chuckle from Brig and Rein.
“You idiot, got everyone worried sick as a dog!” He lifted a finger and pointed right at him. “Ana has some words to share with you when you’re out of here.”
Ana.
Oh how he’s never been happier to hear her name, even if it meant being given a scorching scolding.
He wondered who else had stayed behind.
“I know, I know.”
Torb huffed as Reinhardt placed a hand on his shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Welcome home, Emre.”