He slams his metal fist into the back of the phantom, knows it won't be enough to move him. Feels like that damn kid Reyes dragged out of Deadlock's base, indignant and trying to hold onto himself as best he could. Marigolds. Incense. They make his gut roil and it feels like his stomach has bottomed out from guilt.

His eyes must be playing tricks, staring at the ghosts that follow him. In their dead and hollow eyes, in their shifting shadows and smoke, he swears he almost sees the faces of every regret he ever had. Ana. Gabe. Others from Blackwatch that had died in the field, that he knew had gotten hurt because-

"... Buried you, dammit. Can't bury you again... Can't bury you again..."