Don't be stupid. [Don't get involved. Don't play hero.] He's not interested in you unless you get in his way.
[Why waste time with the rest of them when Jack and Ana are right here? The rest aren't important to Reaper, and terrorizing them will be more trouble than it's worth, he's sure that Gabriel knows that.
He can't deny it's a dangerous situation, but he's not particularly worried as long as everyone keeps themselves out of the line of fire.]
It is, because it's already happened. Maybe he doesn't care anymore, true, but to stand there and tell me it's my fault? [She bristles, leaning one hand against the table as she looks him dead on,]
He left me for dead, Jack, and if what you're telling me is true, he's not the only one I should be worried about. Maybe he's the only one who's here now, and maybe he's lost interest, but -- how dare you act like this hasn't effected me in any way. How - dare - you chastise me for trying to ensure something like that doesn't happen again in the future, or to someone who doesn't deserve it. I survived because I had help.
What do you want me to say, Fareeha? Yes. You've won me over. Welcome aboard. It's a suicide mission and we start tomorrow.
[Jack doesn't stand, staying right in his chair and matching her gaze with an icy stare of his own. He might be rejecting ownership of Overwatch, but it seems he can still turn a sort of stern coldness reserved for situations where compromise is not an option.
Again, she makes it all about herself and her worth as a soldier when it's all so, so much bigger than that. She's so desperate to prove herself to him that she doesn't think about what he's really trying to do, and what that would mean in the end.
She's so young, still.]
There's nothing I want you to do here but stay out of it.
I was dragged into it; neither of us have the courtesy of making that decision anymore.
[There was just something about getting in front of these people - of him, of her mother, of Reinhardt - that made her acutely aware of her faults and limitations. She burned with pride. She stands up straight and reaches up to rub her temples, taking a moment to compose herself. She knew she wasn't the only one Reaper had targeted, but she didn't get where Jack was claiming this was his fight when there were so many other people involved.]
We don't always get what we want.
[It's not something she wants, not like this, but it's something she feels inexplicably part of ow whether he cares to admit it or not.]
[He'll give her credit--it takes some real guts to tell Jack Morrison of all people that he can't always get what he wants, like he hasn't spent his entire adult life sacrificing every last part of himself for the greater good. He leans back in his chair and laughs, but it's probably not the sound she remembers--it's something altogether more exasperated and bitter.]
This is not about you, Fareeha. [It never was.] It ain't gonna be about you just because that's what you decided so you could feel sorry about yourself.
I think you don't know what to actually do so you pushed people away.
[That laugh. It reminds her, almost, in a sickening way, of the last time she'd talked to Reaper; about how he'd laughed at her mention of family in a similar fashion. That alone left a sour taste in her mouth, but Jack goes on to insult her personally, and she stiffens. Her voice drops to that dangerously low and tight register.]
No, it's not about me. It's about making this world - any world - we live in, a better place. And if I have personal experience to pull from to help me, I will.
[She stands up straight, looking drained; this was supposed to have been a moment of healing and understanding. She did get an understanding, but it wasn't at all what she'd been expecting.] The only person I feel sorry for here is you. You're not any different than Reaper, you just strike with words instead of fists.
[What she even wants from him. She hasn't changed his mind. She hasn't even proven that she grasps the situation at all--it keeps coming back to something so unrelated that he wonders why he's even trying. It's clear she's written her own narrative, and anything he says to her will bounce right off because it doesn't fit neatly into her self-centered misconceptions.
Jack is old, and tired. He put too much of himself into Overwatch and now there's very little left--certainly not enough to be at all affected by her words and not enough to continue going around in circles when she'd rather put her fingers in her ears. She needs someone to blame for her own insecurities (though he's not sure why she has them in the first place--she's a thirty-three year old adult with a career; she'd made her own way even before Overwatch fell). Fine.
Maybe one day she'll learn. He just wishes it didn't have to be the hard way.]
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[Why waste time with the rest of them when Jack and Ana are right here? The rest aren't important to Reaper, and terrorizing them will be more trouble than it's worth, he's sure that Gabriel knows that.
He can't deny it's a dangerous situation, but he's not particularly worried as long as everyone keeps themselves out of the line of fire.]
This is not up for discussion.
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He left me for dead, Jack, and if what you're telling me is true, he's not the only one I should be worried about. Maybe he's the only one who's here now, and maybe he's lost interest, but -- how dare you act like this hasn't effected me in any way. How - dare - you chastise me for trying to ensure something like that doesn't happen again in the future, or to someone who doesn't deserve it. I survived because I had help.
Because people help each other, Jack.
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[Jack doesn't stand, staying right in his chair and matching her gaze with an icy stare of his own. He might be rejecting ownership of Overwatch, but it seems he can still turn a sort of stern coldness reserved for situations where compromise is not an option.
Again, she makes it all about herself and her worth as a soldier when it's all so, so much bigger than that. She's so desperate to prove herself to him that she doesn't think about what he's really trying to do, and what that would mean in the end.
She's so young, still.]
There's nothing I want you to do here but stay out of it.
no subject
[There was just something about getting in front of these people - of him, of her mother, of Reinhardt - that made her acutely aware of her faults and limitations. She burned with pride. She stands up straight and reaches up to rub her temples, taking a moment to compose herself. She knew she wasn't the only one Reaper had targeted, but she didn't get where Jack was claiming this was his fight when there were so many other people involved.]
We don't always get what we want.
[It's not something she wants, not like this, but it's something she feels inexplicably part of ow whether he cares to admit it or not.]
no subject
[He'll give her credit--it takes some real guts to tell Jack Morrison of all people that he can't always get what he wants, like he hasn't spent his entire adult life sacrificing every last part of himself for the greater good. He leans back in his chair and laughs, but it's probably not the sound she remembers--it's something altogether more exasperated and bitter.]
This is not about you, Fareeha. [It never was.] It ain't gonna be about you just because that's what you decided so you could feel sorry about yourself.
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[That laugh. It reminds her, almost, in a sickening way, of the last time she'd talked to Reaper; about how he'd laughed at her mention of family in a similar fashion. That alone left a sour taste in her mouth, but Jack goes on to insult her personally, and she stiffens. Her voice drops to that dangerously low and tight register.]
No, it's not about me. It's about making this world - any world - we live in, a better place. And if I have personal experience to pull from to help me, I will.
[She stands up straight, looking drained; this was supposed to have been a moment of healing and understanding. She did get an understanding, but it wasn't at all what she'd been expecting.] The only person I feel sorry for here is you. You're not any different than Reaper, you just strike with words instead of fists.
[And it hurts a hell of a lot more.]
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[What she even wants from him. She hasn't changed his mind. She hasn't even proven that she grasps the situation at all--it keeps coming back to something so unrelated that he wonders why he's even trying. It's clear she's written her own narrative, and anything he says to her will bounce right off because it doesn't fit neatly into her self-centered misconceptions.
Jack is old, and tired. He put too much of himself into Overwatch and now there's very little left--certainly not enough to be at all affected by her words and not enough to continue going around in circles when she'd rather put her fingers in her ears. She needs someone to blame for her own insecurities (though he's not sure why she has them in the first place--she's a thirty-three year old adult with a career; she'd made her own way even before Overwatch fell). Fine.
Maybe one day she'll learn. He just wishes it didn't have to be the hard way.]
I think maybe you should go.