Chapter Text
My name is Harper Nolan. I am twenty-eight years of age, and a single mother of a beautiful young boy named Grayson. I'm still unsure why I'm writing this, and even more uncertain of who will read it. I was told that writing out my experiences might help still my mind, though I have my doubts. I've never been much of a writer; but, I guess I'll give it a shot. Anything to help forget the appalling things I've seen- the horrendous things I've felt over the last five years.
I won't bore you with every tedious detail of my life story. Perhaps I should briefly summarize what's happened since my son was conceived, to give you an idea of how all of this began. After a brief three-year association with a criminal outfit in Denver, I met my son's father, Cooper. I pushed drugs through the city's borders; aiding in distribution and a bit of book keeping here and there. Cooper rescued me during an explosive race riot that had broken out between omnics and humans in the heart of the city. It was grizzly, and I thank my lucky stars that he managed to find me beneath the rubble that had accumulated over days of mayhem. Following the riots, we fell in love with one another during my recovery. Standard love story stuff, I suppose.
Oh, and this is a critical part of the tale: during the riots, a massive C-4 explosion had not only left me trapped beneath smoldering wreckage, but had claimed my left arm and shoulder, leaving me disfigured. Following these events, I was understandably shaken. You witness these things happen to others, but never really imagine just how hard it would be, were it to actually happen to you. On the other hand (get it? Other hand?), it was infinitely better than death in my book.
After designing and installing a baseline civilian prosthetic, Cooper nursed me back to health. He moved in with me during that time, and five months later, I became pregnant. Quick-moving relationship, I know. However, the pregnancy was unintentional. I was so scared. I didn't want to keep the child, out of fear that I wouldn't be a capable mother, that I wasn't good enough- but, Cooper insisted that he would ensure we had everything we needed. He loved me, and I was crazy about him. He was always there for me. As you already know, we named our little ray of sunshine Grayson. Looking back now, after recent events, I sometimes wonder if keeping Grayson was a mistake. Don't get me wrong, I love my boy with everything in me, and I always will; but I will never stop feeling this gnawing guilt over what I have put him through. I didn't ask for any of this.
Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Cooper worked as a contractor for the U.S. Armed Forces. He received an offer on my behalf from one of the companies he had previously done work for- a newly designed prosthetic arm. A prototype. Not only was it more functional and fluid than my previously-installed appendage, it also possessed unique capabilities that would ensure I could defend my son in the case that Cooper was not present to protect us. I reluctantly agreed. I feared that it may not function correctly, being a brand-new model, but I also liked the idea that I could be self-sufficient in dire circumstances. Cooper assured me that he was knowledgeable when it came to military-designed prosthetics, and that he ran over the details and schematics at least a dozen times. He insisted that this company produced only the highest quality technology. I genuinely valued his opinion on something so personal to me. And so, that's how I came upon my new "assets".
Years later, after Grayson's fourth birthday, Cooper proposed, and we moved to the nearby town of Mesa (no, for the love of God, not Mesa, Arizona). Cooper's reasoning was one I had disagreed with: he feared the increasing omnic population in Denver. Regardless of the fact that I had literally lost a piece of myself during the local rebellion, I harbored no ill-will towards synthetics. I felt that his discrimination was unwarranted, his logic flawed. Even then, I turned a blind eye towards his blatant racism when all was said and done. This is because I had agreed that raising Grayson in a more peaceful, slow-paced environment would be best for the time-being.
One night- and it hurts me to my core to recall this- Cooper was gone. That's it, he simply disappeared. Vanished. There was no note, no signs of struggle, not even a goodbye. At first, I thought he had been called in for an emergency contract and simply had no time to explain why, that perhaps he was under orders not to disclose a single word regarding his whereabouts. Days passed, weeks, months. I alerted the authorities on more than one occasion. They searched and searched. Cooper's superiors in the military finally visited me in person, and seeing them approach my home undid me. They had no leads, and with their sincerest condolences, they informed me that the search for my fiancé was to be abandoned. They didn't word it like that, but it's all I could really hear. For the first time in my life, I was truly in shambles. Depressed. All alone, I cared for my son in our new home. It felt so empty without Cooper, and my heart cracked more and more every time Grayson asked me when daddy would be coming home. I couldn't tell him what I really suspected: his father was likely dead. I know this is a brutal line of thinking, but it seemed the logical conclusion. Why else wouldn't he have reached out to me by now? Our relationship had no problems; we never really fought over anything significant in the years we spent together. He had no shady associations, past or present, with undesirables. Aside from his feelings towards omnics, we were always on the same page; he would never abandon me, let alone our child, whom he loved very dearly. But, who would ever murder Cooper?
A month after the search for my fiancé was concluded, I knew I needed to distract myself from my broken heart. I took up self-defense classes. Real self-defense classes. Cooper had at least left a sizeable sum in the form of his bank accounts, including his investments in the company that had designed my prosthetic. I wanted to be fully capable of protecting our tiny family. I took many courses, under many instructors. I learned how to better manage my arm's equipped abilities, and along with my new combat training, I was essentially a walking weapon of sorts. Sometimes I wondered if this made me some kind of freakish aberration in the eyes of the other parents. Regardless, being labeled an oddity was absolutely worth the peace of mind in knowing that Grayson would be safe with me.
I didn't have many friends, and I preferred it that way. It wasn't due to any sort of dislike for others; I simply never required much social stimulation one gains through maintaining relationships. Perhaps losing Grayson's father made me somewhat jaded, but I like to think that's not necessarily the case. I enjoy the company of others from time to time, but being a mother has truly been the most rewarding relationship I've ever experienced, even if I didn't picture that for myself before my son's existence. Although, I always made sure Grayson had ample social interaction with other children. I didn't want to push my lonely lifestyle onto him; I wanted him to grow into a well-rounded young man.
Well, enough of all that. We can delve further into my personal past later on. Now that you're caught-up with the general details, we'll fast-forward to the day after Grayson's fifth birthday party. It was June, and the air outside our house was mild, the sun blanketing the surrounding valley in a warm dusk glow. Summers in Mesa County were arid, but lacked severe heat. Our house was a small, but semi-luxurious, contemporary prairie-style design. The outside walls were painted a brilliant azure, white pillars placed around the car port and front-deck where I presently sat, gently rocking in one of a matching set of orange chairs. Cradling a mug of fresh honeydew bubble tea against my chest, I twirled one blonde dreadlock gently betwixt metallic fingers as I watched Grayson playing in the yard. The corner my mouth lifted in a small smile as he squealed, arm whipped into the air, clutching one of the action figures a school-mate had gifted him for his birthday. He brought the figure back down, simulating an attack against another toy that I couldn't quite see.
"Stop toying with your hair, Harper. And you wonder why your dreads have become so messy."
Blinking and resting my hand in my lap, I glanced over at Amira, who sat in an adjacent seat to my right. Her metallic face-plate gleamed in the evening sun as glowing blue eyes peered in my direction. If she were able to express facial countenance, I imagine it would be a teasing smirk.
"I don't know that I've ever wondered that, thanks very much. Plus, I thought you said- and I quote- that 'my fuzzies were endearing' ", I quipped, smiling easily.
Amira chuckled. "I think all humans look adorable with those fluffy...things on your head, darling."
"In that case, what do you think of Grayson's haircut? I did it myself yesterday", I turned my attention back to the small, giggling form before us. "I hate having to drive into town and spend so much for something so simple. Maybe that's selfish of me, but- hair is hair, right?"
Amira looked at back at Grayson, tilting her head slightly. "I'm no cosmetologist, but I think you did splendidly. It suits him."
There was a brief moment of silence between us as we watched him, amused by the 'pew-pew-pew!'s and various sound-effects he'd exclaim to himself, wrapped up in his own little world. He was so well-behaved and self-sufficient for his age. I couldn't be more proud.
While I was currently unemployed for the time being, with considerable free-time between fighting classes and errands, Amira had been invaluable when it came to emotional support. I had met the snarky omnic four months prior, in a shopping center located in Denver, while buying new clothes for Grayson. He had been running in circles as we checked out, laughing and playing, not unlike he did now. Suddenly, he ran right into Amira's legs, causing her to drop her bags. Clothing scattered across the floor and I hurried over, embarrassed and apologetic as I helped her gather her things. Grayson stood still, wide-eyed as Amira repeatedly assured me that it was okay. He had not met many omnics in his short life, as they were few and far between in Mesa. Omnics and humans lived in relative peace within major cities, but the advanced race of robots tended to avoid less-populated areas, for fear of isolation amongst narrow-minded racial tensions. His little mind was astounded by the blue and gold plates that were her head and arms, a flowy pink pant-suit clinging to her slender frame. She was amused by his fascination, and I was pleased to see her get along with him so well. She had no children, omnic or otherwise, and yet she knew exactly what to say to make his face light up. We hit it off immediately, spending time around one another more and more. After learning of Cooper's mysterious disappearance weeks into our new friendship, she began spending more time in our home. She cared, and I felt blessed to have someone like her.
"He's beginning to look just like him."
I swiveled my head back toward Amira, her voice drawing me back to the present. Amira had seen countless photos of Cooper and I. She rocked slowly, focused on Grayson. I turned my attention back to him, contemplating silently.
My voice came out quietly. "He is. His father had the same eyes, same nose."
Amira held a loose fist to where her mouth would be and cleared her throat. More for effect, as it wasn't necessary for omnics. "Same...haircut?"
I laughed, head tilting back. "Got me there, Sherlock", I admitted. "I suppose I'd be lying if I hadn't glanced at some pictures before cutting it."
Grinning, I took a sip of tea as Grayson approached, his little legs pushing him up the porch steps. He stopped in front of Amira, offering his action-figure to her. "Look, 'Mira! Jeremy gave me a birthday present! He lights up, isn't it so awesome?!"
Amira leaned forward, taking the figure from the boy's outstretched hand, turning it around in her fingers. Indeed, the small visor over the toy's face had a soft blue glow emitting from it.
"I see!" Amira responded, warmly. "He is very awesome. What's his name?"
Grayson balled his fists into the front of his shirt, excited that she had taken an interest. "Jeremy said his name is Jack, and he's a real-life hero!"
"Jack, huh?" Amira said. She seemed to focus on the figure intently, studying it.
After a few silent moments passed, she gave the toy back to the boy and rested a cool hand against his hair, smoothing it back, affectionately. I smiled to myself, watching them, and then looked at the action-figure he clutched to his chest. He peered down at it proudly, beaming from ear-to-ear. He had already shown it to me three times since the party last night, but I hadn't thought to ask its name. Jack. Vague recognition rested on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't place what memories the figure stirred.
"Sounds familiar, in a way", I commented, still gazing at the action-figure. "The name, the face."
"Mm." Amira hummed, looking back out at the setting sun. "Strike-Commander Jack Morrison."
My eyes rested on the omnic, her comment catching my attention. "Jack Morrison?"
She was silent for a moment, her chair emitting the faintest creak as she pulled a leg up to rest on the seat. Then she spoke slowly, and I assumed she was remembering the forgotten reference. "You remember Project Overwatch? They put a halt to the first Omnic Crisis, years ago. Disbanded a few years back."
I blinked, and then a flood of distant memories from my earlier years bombarded my mind. My gaze drifted to the white floor-boards beneath where Amira sat, staring absently as I nodded, hazily recollecting what I was taught years ago.
"Yeah...yeah, I do. I mean, I don't really remember he crisis, of course. It was when I was pretty young- but, I remember my parents watching the news a lot. They were some sort of task-force, if memory serves me?"
Grayson walked over to me and I pulled him up into my lap as Amira spoke. "Yes, I suppose it has been some time", her head turn slightly, flashing a look my way, her voice amused. "I forget how old you make me feel sometimes.
"I do remember most of the whole ordeal. I was...manufactured only a few years prior to the God Virus outbreak. I wasn't infected. If I remember correctly, Morrison was one of the founding members of Overwatch. The poster-child, if you will. People loved him. He was legendary. Not surprising he's been immortalized in the form of a child's toy. I'd say many kids looked up to him as some kind of patriotic superhero."
My eyes moved from Amira's faceplate, down to the figurine in Grayson's hands. He stared at it, small thumb moving in gentle circles over its shoulder. He didn't appear to be listening to us, likely growing sleepy as he sat curled against me. Peaceful.
Amira's voice lowered. "Years after the crisis, their main headquarters was leveled. I don't think they ever recovered him."
I inhaled quietly, a faint twinge of sympathy lodging in my chest as I tilted my head to get a better look at the figure. "Now that you mention it, I think I do remember hearing about the explosion. That's...unfortunate. I think the world could use more heroes like that."
"I agree."
We sat silently, watching the sun sink beyond the distant hills, crickets singing softly around the property. The skyline dipped and rose gently in the distance, edging against the dimming orange backdrop in a gradual, sloping manner. No clouds graced the sky today, as was common in our region. Goosebumps lightly rose on my skin as I realized the temperature was beginning to drop. I gazed down at Grayson's now sleeping form, his blonde hair mussed slightly as it rested against my chest. The toy was cradled lovingly in his small fingers.
Another ache of sorrow pinged beneath my ribs as I watched my boy, my sweet pea. He admired a man he would never meet, a hero, not unlike the admiration I saw in his large green eyes many times when he looked upon his father. A man he would likely never see again. Two heroes fallen, taken from the world viciously. I grieved for my son, since he was not yet capable of understanding the devastation of death. It wasn't fair- to him, or to the rest of us who lost a piece of ourselves. I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing at the dull pain of Cooper's absence. It was getting easier to forget, but I had a feeling the emptiness that accompanied it may never go away.
"We should get him to bed."
Amira's quiet statement nudged me from my thoughts and I glanced over at her, attempting a faint smile. "Yeah. Getting tired, myself."
Slowly scooping Grayson from my lap, I stood and we made our way into the house. Amira offered to take him from me while I went to get myself changed and cleaned up for bed. After she was gingerly cradling him, I rested a hand on her shoulder affectionately, offering to let her stay over. She agreed with a smile in her voice and took him to his bedroom upstairs. The second floor consisted of Grayson's room, with an accompanying bathroom, as well as Cooper's old study.
I walked through the kitchen, which laid to the right of the foyer, and back into my bedroom. I headed straight to the bathroom after grabbing my nightgown. Turning to peer at myself in the mirror, I reached up to stroke my hair for a few moments.
"Hmm. Doesn't look fuzzy to me", I murmured to myself.
I took out the large white hairband that held the top portion of my dreads in place, letting them sprawl loosely around my shoulders. It had been around five years since I'd chosen this hairstyle, and they had finally reached my waist. I smiled, tilting my head up proudly at my reflection. I then changed into my gown and washed my face. After brushing my teeth, I entered the bedroom and Amira was there, pulling a grey pair of pajama bottoms on. I watched her for a moment, wordlessly, a grin slowly stretching across my face.
"Maybe it's a little insensitive of me, but you know a nude omnic isn't really offensive to humans- like, at all."
She spun around, startled. Holding her shirt in her hands, she looked down at it briefly before focusing back on me. "But it's inappropriate!"
I rolled my eyes, "If you say so. Just letting you know, silly-ass."
I moved to my side of the bed, peeling back the covers as Amira glanced once more at the shirt. Either way, she still put it on, to my amusement. However, I made no further comment. I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. She slid into bed beside me, turning the lamp on the nightstand out before laying on her side, facing me, covers pulled up over her shoulders. I mirrored her position, curling up with the blanket and scooting a bit closer, so that our faces were less than a foot apart. The cerulean glow from her eyes dimmed, so as not to blind me in the darkness. I hummed, closing my eyes momentarily before looking up back up at her.
"Amira, you know you don't have to do this."
"Do what?"
The corner of my mouth twitched upward. "This", my eyebrows pulled up, slightly. "I know you don't actually need to sleep."
"I know", one of her hands slipped up from the covers and a cool metal knuckle lightly grazed the side of my chin. "I do it because I want to, Harper. I don't want you to be alone. Plus- we both know you need a nightlight."
We both giggled. My jaw then clenched behind my smile, attempting to calm the lump that formed in my throat at her selfless words. A warm appreciation bloomed in my chest, spreading to my stomach and my extremities. Again, I cannot describe what a comfort Amira had been over the last few months. We had many nights like these, laying opposite one another, sometimes talking for hours into the night. There was nothing inherently sexual between us, as we weren't attracted to one another in that way. Human-omnic physical relationships were absolutely a thing, but it had never been my cup of tea, personally. I think Amira felt similarly.
With that said, I sometimes wondered if I still had...I don't know...romantic feelings for my omnic friend. There was no arousal, true, but there was certainly an air of affection that transcended mere friendship. On bad days, where I struggled not to think of what Grayson and I had been through, we would embrace one another. She allowed me to- quite literally- cry on her shoulder. She would stroke my hair wordlessly, sometimes threading her fingers between my locks to lightly scratch my scalp as I hiccupped and sobbed against her hard frame. On lazy days, she would watch TV with Grayson and I, our hands clasped together. There was no doubt that we adored one another. Hell, I loved her. She got me, she always sensed when I was uncomfortable, when I was feeling depressed, when I was brimming with happiness, and she always knew how to make me laugh with her quick-witted, smart-ass comments. God, she was so smart, with infinitely more wisdom than I could ever hope to have.
I would never understand the schism of hate that still existed between humans and omnics. Both races still fought, ruthlessly, in certain parts of the world; but for the most part, we lived harmoniously, and they posed no threat to us. They were people, too. They just wanted acceptance, like us. It seemed as though where racial tensions involving ethnicity had mostly faded into history, something had to take its place. Perhaps we as a species were doomed to constantly seek out flaws in others, a lightning rod to absorb the hatred at any given time. I inhaled deeply, quelling my roaming thoughts, and exhaled, closing my eyes once more.
"I love you, Amira. Thank you for being here."
"You don't need to thank me. I'll be right here." She caressed the side of my face once more, before withdrawing her hand. "Sleep tight, Harper."
"Goodnight."
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Later that night...
I awoke with a start, eyes popping open, blearily. After blinking a few times, my gaze slid around the room. Amira was no longer lying next to me, but this wasn't worrisome. She often stayed with me until I dozed off, then went out into the living room to watch television, or upstairs in the study to work on case files for work. If I had dreamed, I didn't remember it, but wouldn't be surprised at all if that's what had caused my waking. I sighed, cursing myself as I rested my eyes once more.
For a moment, I thought I heard footsteps. I listened for what I assumed to be Amira (given that Grayson should still be asleep). After a moment, I heard feet on the stairs. Oh shit, she had probably woken him. Cracking my eyes open, I groaned. It was going to take a century to get him back to bed. I waited for his little voice, laced with sleep.
Instead, I heard Amira's voice coming from the staircase, and her question made me freeze, a chill running up my spine. "Who the fuck are you?" There was an unmistakable waver in her words, an uneasiness.
Before I even had time to think, I heard my door creak open. Rising slowly, heart beginning to pound, I attempted to make out whoever stood in the doorway. It was too dark. Then, they flicked the light on and I couldn't help but twist my eyes closed, cringing back from the bright light. Attempting to peer up through squinted lids, my heart dropped into my stomach at the sight. My breath hitched in my throat in pure, unfiltered terror and my brown eyes widened. Another tremor wracked through my body as I heard Amira scream my name from the next room.
Before me stood an absolute monster of a man, a black cloak wrapped around his well-built form, his face concealed by a bone-chilling white mask that seemed almost owl-like. His shoulders were broad, biceps peeking through just above his gauntlets, offering a glimpse of washed-out skin with the complexion of a corpse. However, the most terrifying aspect of his appearance was the hellish black smoke that radiated from beneath where he stood, tendrils creeping up the comforter as he stood at the foot of the bed, drilling holes into me with his gaze. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, stricken with fear. Two shotguns hung on each side of him, and I managed to swallow instinctively, throat completely dried. Where was Grayson?
He slowly lifted one firearm towards me, letting it hover point blank in front of my face. His voice dripped with malevolence- he didn't even sound human.
"Time to wake up."