Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The heat was beyond oppressive. The air felt like it had shifted from a gas directly to a solid, to a force. Hanzo felt like a piece of roasted meat sizzling beneath the sun on his sniper lookout. He checked his wristwatch. Half an hour left on their surveillance shift, and then four other poor souls would take over and observe the activities in the ruins until sunset.

It had been a long, enervating week, between the heat and the lack of real activity. The team was there strictly to keep tabs on Talon’s artifact appropriation operation. Nobody on the Overwatch side had quite yet figured out what was going on with regards to Talon’s interest in archaeology, which led to the need for this intensive information-gathering. Spying was not Hanzo’s favorite activity, but he disliked what he knew of Talon more, and if lying on a hot rock for three hours twice a day would help thwart their drive for world chaos, he would do it.

At least he wasn’t killing anyone.

The comm crackled in his ear. “Okay team, shift change in ten. Maintain your stealth protocols and meet back at the mobilization point. Don’t forget to watch out for your partners.” Jesse was leading this team, and co-leading the op, and Hanzo felt a strange tingle inside as he regarded the professionalism that Jesse exhibited when he was in charge. Was that pride? The faintest wisp of a smile crossed his lips as he acknowledged the order.

A few minutes later Hanzo saw the flicker of light that would be his only warning that his replacement was approaching. He still didn’t quite understand the temporal issue that Tracer had to deal with, but he was eternally impressed at how she took it and used it to her advantage. He crept into the narrow shade of a crumbling pillar to greet her and point out the places where he had seen activity during his watch. She nodded and bid him farewell with her usual cheeky grin, taking a different perch from his own as he folded his bow into its case and slipped away down towards where he would meet up with Jesse.

Hanzo was glad that most of his skills of covert operation were so ingrained as to be automatic. He felt so flattened he wasn't sure he could have managed otherwise. Still, he consciously checked corners, sliding silently through the shadows and around the scraggly shrubbery that drooped along the edges of some of the pathways. There was one good thing about the intensity of the sunlight: it made for equally intense shade. At last, he came around the final crook of the path and there was Jesse, leaning serenely against a partially-intact wall, watching him approach with that cocky half-grin on his face.

Then his face changed, his lit cigarillo shifted on his lip, and he redistributed his weight into a stance that Hanzo recognized all too well. Too late, he heard the footsteps behind him. He felt the blood drain from his face and a coldness flood his gut. Time slowed to a glacial pace. Jesse lifted his gun, pointing it directly at Hanzo. He lifted an eyebrow, and without hesitating, Hanzo leapt in that direction.

As Hanzo crashed into the bushes, he heard a loud bang and then two gunshots in rapid succession. Before he could even begin to extricate himself from the shrubbery, Jesse was at his side, breathing as rapidly as if he’d just run up a flight of stairs.

“Hanzo! Are you okay?” Jesse's hands were all over him, looking for injuries. “Hanzo?”

“I am fine. Tangled, scratched, nothing more.” With a crunching of branches, he had his feet under him once more, and as he dusted himself off, he stepped back out onto the footpath.

Two men lay there, their blood already drying on the hot stones, their handguns kicked away from their hands as if Jesse didn't believe a bullet to the skull would render them completely dead. Jesse slipped past him as Hanzo stood frozen, staring at the blank faces.

“I don't recognize these guys from the Talon files we have,” Jesse said as he bent over the bodies, searching for any identifying objects, knowing full well that any spy worth his salt was unlikely to carry anything useful on his person. “And I don't know how they got past our perimeter, unless somehow we had a gap during the switch.” He straightened back up, his search yielding nothing of any use. Something he saw in Hanzo's face made his eyes widen in alarm.

“Hanzo? What is it?”

At that moment, Ana’s gravelly voice announced her presence at Jesse’s side. “What's happened?” she asked, her tone somewhere between concern and gentle scolding.

“These are not Talon agents,” said Hanzo. His mouth was so dry, his voice hoarse. He couldn't seem to find the air, but somehow he croaked out the words. “They are Shimada.” Then the scene began to spin before his eyes, and blackness crashed down upon him.

*

Hanzo still felt the residual tingling of Ana’s biotic grenade as he sat in the kitchen of the Ilios safe house, waiting for Lúcio to finish taking Jesse’s vitals. It was done before he realized it, and then Lúcio’s gentle fingers were feeling for the pulse in his own wrist. He knew it was flying, shallow, that his blood pressure was not going to give a well-received reading. Every time he looked at Jesse his heart leapt into his throat and any bit of progress he’d made towards calming down was gone.

“It was the heat,” he said, his voice not as strong as he’d have liked it to sound. “It is not the first time they have tried to kill me. I doubt it will be the last.” His gut knotted at the thought. Now the attempts on his life would be extended to Jesse as well, either as a way to break him or merely in retribution for the two dead Shimada clan members who had fallen in the ruins.

An echo of a long-unheard voice rang in his mind. “Do not let them see your weakness. Do not show your vulnerabilities.” His father. How many times had he repeated those words as he taught his sons the arts of the assassin? How many times had Hanzo repeated them to himself? His eyes roamed around the room, trying to find something to focus on that would allow him to recover at least a fraction of his equilibrium. The whitewashed walls, the olivewood cabinetry, everything was still just a bit too much of a blur. He gave up, instead centering himself on his hands, calling on years of training and practice. Whatever else surrounded him, his hands must remain steady. And they did.

The outward control masking the inner chaos did not escape the healer’s attention, however. Lúcio did not remark on it directly, but he made a note of it when he recorded Hanzo’s vital signs. “Looks like you will both be with us a while longer,” he commented mildly as he rummaged around in his aid kit. He pulled out two bottles of tablets and some glossy envelopes, and dispensed a few of the tablets into different envelopes before packing the bottles away again.

“Here,” said Lúcio as he handed one packet to Hanzo and one to Jesse. “A muscle relaxer for you, Agent McCree, in case you tense up after the adrenaline wears off. Your record indicates that’s been a recurring problem for you after an event like we had today. And Agent Shimada, one pill for your blood pressure, which I want you to take, and a muscle relaxer, which you may take if you need. I don’t have any powerful meds in my kit, but those will at least help you fall asleep. Oh, and I want both of you to make sure you’re hydrated…” He reached into the kitchen’s tiny refrigerator and pulled out two electrolyte drinks and handed them over. “Let me know if you need anything else. Once we get back to Germany tomorrow, Dr. Ziegler will do her full work-up, and you’ll both go through the usual shooting debriefings.”

Hanzo heard Jesse sigh next to him. Lúcio grinned. “I know, you’ve done it a million times, but you know we gotta keep your head together. There’s just a few of us against a limitless army of bad actors, and we all have to stay on our game.” He secured his aid kit and hefted the strap onto his shoulder. “Take it easy, now. I’ll be upstairs in my bunk if you need me.”

Then it was just the two of them in the kitchen, with the evening breeze sending its fingers probing through the cracks in the shutters. Hanzo looked at the objects in his hands, and they seemed foreign. His mind was stuck on something Lúcio had said. “He called me an agent.”

Jesse had already cracked his drink open and was making a fair dent in the contents, but at this he paused and looked at Hanzo. “You have a place on the team, Han. You know we’re not official, so the title doesn’t carry much weight. But you’re part of the organization, and that’s enough to grant you the status of ‘agent’.” He watched Hanzo carefully. Was it really just the heat that had gotten to him? He felt his protective instincts ratchet up, and his voice came out even softer than before. “Come on, sugarplum. Let’s get cleaned up and get an early night. It’s been a rough day.” Jesse stood, screwing the cap back onto his bottle, and reached out to touch his lover’s shoulder.

Hanzo looked up at the gentle contact, acknowledging Jesse’s words with a faint nod before following him up to the tiny room that looked out over the sea.

*

He was in Shimada Castle, and the halls were empty, huge and echoing around him. He felt an urgency, a panic. Jesse was here somewhere, and he had to find him before it was too late. But the passages twisted and turned on him, and every threshold he crossed took him further from where he wanted to go, leading him back onto himself, sending him in circles. At one point, Hanzo stopped in the middle of the dojo and cried out, a wordless declaration of anguish and frustration. Finally he found his way outside and climbed up onto the wall, hoping to get a view that would show him where Jesse could be found, and give Hanzo a chance to save him from the unspeakable fate that loomed over them both.

He looked down and discovered that he carried his shattered bow in his hands, its jagged shards now useless. He cast the fragments away and as they fell, they drew his eye to where someone had laid out their washing to dry on the stones far below, near the base of the cliff upon which the castle was built. Something about it seemed familiar and he squinted, trying to see more clearly. But the physics of his dream were unforgiving and as he peered downward, he slid off the tiles that topped the wall and began an endless, unstoppable plunge to the distant rocks. The terror of falling was suffocating him, and when he realized that the debris below him was not just fabric, but a person who had fallen before him, and that the body on the stones must be Jesse, he could take no more. Hanzo pushed through the dream, coming up into wakefulness like a diver rocketing out of the depths into the free air.

The night was still and warm, and Hanzo gulped down a few breaths as he found his bearings. He sat up and slid over to rest his back against the cool and comfortingly solid wall, crossing his legs carefully to keep from waking Jesse, who was still rumbling softly, stretched out on his back. The moonlight found even the tiniest of the cracks in the window shutter, and through them traced a silvery pattern on the opposite wall of the tiny room, giving Hanzo just enough light to see his lover’s profile and his golden chest rising and falling as he slept. Hanzo had taken the pills Lúcio had given him and they had relaxed and calmed his body, but his soul still ached. The nightmare was proof of that.

So Hanzo sat with the roughness of the wall pressing into his skin, watching Jesse as he slept, listening to the far-off sounds of the sea. He contemplated the strange turnings that had led him to feel safe with this man, to the point where he only drew breath now because Jesse had been there to see to it. It was an odd feeling after so long alone, to have this faith in another person. There was a danger in it, though, and not at all the one he’d expected. Because now Jesse’s life was as forfeit as his own in the eyes of the Shimada clan. And if they killed Jesse McCree, Hanzo may as well have done it himself.

Chapter Text

“Obviously, you’ll both stay here for now, where we can ensure your safety.” Winston flicked his fingers across his tablet, dismissing one document and bringing up another. “As soon as we received your report yesterday, we contacted Genji. He should be in the Seattle area by now, on his way to clear Hanzo's apartment and the surrounding neighborhood. He'll bring us back any intel he can.”

Jesse looked from Winston to Jack and back to Winston. “We’re perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. At the very least, I can run a solid protection op.” He ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. If anyone on the crew knew how to lay low and ride out a disturbance…

“We need to know what we're dealing with before we let you loose, Jesse.” Jack was as gruff as ever. “The clan hasn't made an attempt on Hanzo's life in several years. We have to try and determine why they have now, and what the implications are.”

“Until then,” Winston finished for him, repeating his earlier statement, “you will both stay here. End of discussion. You still have the Ilios intelligence to review and the analysis to prepare, anyway.”

Jesse let loose an almighty sigh. “Fine. But you’d better keep me in the loop. It’s my life you’re handling too, and I damn well intend to be in charge of it.”

*

“I understand you had a bit of a reaction to events yesterday.” Angela was cool and understated, as usual. Hanzo had been a little apprehensive about the check-up, worried that he would give away more about the trouble he was having than he meant to. But the doctor was a professional, skilled at handling fighters who were all too often unwilling to let their guards down, and she gave absolutely no indication that she was taking in all the minute details of his appearance and behavior. She took his temperature, his pulse, his blood pressure, calmly doing all the things she did regularly to make sure the crew was in fighting shape. “How have you been feeling since then? It’s been, what? Thirty hours?”

“Fine,” he managed to answer with the tongue depressor being shoved in his mouth. He said the requisite “aaaaah” so she could inspect his throat.

“Mhmm.” Angela recorded her observations. “And how did you sleep last night? Nightmares? Any panic attacks?”

Hanzo hesitated just a fraction of a second before replying, and the pause did not go unremarked. “I have noticed no change,” he said. “I do not care for hot weather.”

Her blue eyes took in the shadows in his face, the lines that she didn’t remember seeing the last time she had examined him, and the way he first evaded her gaze and then defiantly met it. “I see. Well, some time here in a cooler climate should help,” she said, as she turned and unlocked the medicine cabinet and began to prepare a packet for him. He had given Angela all the information she needed to decide on a course of treatment, whether he’d meant to or not.

“Your blood pressure seems to have returned to normal levels, compared with what Lúcio recorded, so that’s good. Keep drinking plenty of fluids, eat a good dinner, and get as much rest as you can. I’ve scheduled you an appointment tomorrow morning at ten for some post-incident counseling, as is standard practice for all members of our team.” She handed him the envelope. “These are anti-anxiety tablets. If you do experience any symptoms of uncontrollable panic or have nightmares that set your pulse racing and disturb your sleep, take half a tablet. If your symptoms have not abated in thirty minutes, you may safely take another half tablet, but no more than one full tablet in four hours, alright?” When he nodded, she finished, “I will see you tomorrow, and we can reassess then. Take care, Agent Shimada.” Angela patted him gently on the shoulder and he slipped off the end of the exam table.

“Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.” Hanzo slipped the medicine into his pocket and left the tiny exam room.

She watched him go, thinking about the likelihood the packet would be empty by morning. If he had any sense, he would take the pills.

*

It was after two a.m. when Jesse turned down the corridor to his quarters. Normally he’d have gone to Hanzo’s slightly nicer, definitely cleaner quarters, but he didn’t want to disturb or startle his lover, aware that Hanzo’s emotional state was a little precarious. And after spending far too many hours poring over the Ilios intel and digging into what files he could access on the Shimada empire, Jesse was feeling downright cross-eyed himself, and looked forward to the oblivion of sleep, even if it was alone. He was then briefly startled when he opened his door to see his candle lantern burning with a guttering flame, at least until he noticed the shining black hair on his pillow.

Jesse smiled. He wasn't going to complain about a warm bed. Ilios may have been scorching hot, but here underground in Germany it was always about 45 degrees. He quickly stripped down to his shorts and undershirt, and slid under the covers next to a sleeping Hanzo. Too late he remembered the candle, but if it was already flickering so wildly, it would be out soon on its own. It was safe enough, anyway, in the lantern.

Snuggling up against the warm, clean-smelling softness of his boyfriend, Jesse nuzzled into the spot where Hanzo's grown-out undercut curled around his earlobes. He slipped his right hand gently around Hanzo's waist. Hanzo stirred then, leaning back into Jesse's embrace. Something between a sigh and a moan escaped him, a wordless sound from the edges of slumber, and he pulled Jesse’s arm tighter around him.

Jesse’s body was automatically responding to the close contact with his lover, but he pushed the idea away. Hanzo was still mostly asleep and Jesse knew he needed the rest. They both did. He relaxed into the warmth and satisfied himself with the sense that Hanzo needed him and the comfort he could provide, and it wasn’t just about sex.

There was a brief unintelligible vocalization from Hanzo, and then the candle died and the room was still but for the sound of their breathing.

Jesse had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he gradually returned to awareness, only to find that he was perched precariously on the edge of the narrow bed. He attempted to shift himself back over towards the wall but found himself blocked by an immovable object. Hanzo was curled up in the fetal position, and once Jesse was awake enough to recognize this, he also was able to tell that Hanzo was trembling.

“Shhhh, baby,” he whispered. “It's okay. I'm with ya.” Jesse resumed his earlier position snug against Hanzo's back. He wrapped his arm around where Hanzo's were folded tight, his fists curled inwards, and gently stroked Hanzo's shoulder. As he tried to focus his foggy brain on what else he could do to ease Hanzo's distress, he remembered the details of the scene that had greeted him when he’d entered the room. Hanzo’s clothes neatly draped over the one chair. The bottle of water on the floor next to the chair. The lit candle on the footlocker by the bed. The glassine envelope beside the candle. He’d had envelopes like that before. Usually on nights like Hanzo was having tonight.

“Han? Did Angie give you some meds?” Jesse rubbed his cheek against Hanzo's hair. He felt the head shift beneath him with brief, sharp movements. Nods. “Okay, honey, I am going to get up and get you some. I'm right here. It’s gonna be okay.” Moving with slow, careful movements, he disentangled himself from Hanzo and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling in the blackness for the pills and the water bottle. He didn't know if he was doing what Hanzo needed him to do, but it was what he knew he’d want in the same situation, and it had worked before with other traumatized folks. Granted, he’d not been so intimate with the others.

“Okay, love, I have a tablet for you, and your water. Can you sit up for for me?” Jesse rubbed Hanzo’s back as he awkwardly tried to shift himself without leaving his defensive position. Jesse felt for his hands in the darkness, and when he found them, he curled Hanzo's fingers around the small pill and touched the bottle against Hanzo's leg until he felt it taken from his grasp. A moment later it was pushed back against him, and he took it and set it back on the floor.

Jesse laid back down and pulled the blankets up, and almost before his head touched the pillow Hanzo was pressed against him, his head on Jesse's shoulder and his arm across Jesse's chest. Jesse’s prosthetic arm, which he’d been too lazy to remove before bed, was around behind Hanzo, and he wanted to hold him with it, but he hesitated. He didn't consider it a part of him like he would a more integral cyberization, but he still suspected that Hanzo was not really a fan. In the end, the desire to hold his lover close won out over his fear of displeasing him.

They lay together there in the dark, and Jesse fought to stay awake until he could feel Hanzo relax against him, and could hear his breathing smooth out as he drifted into slumber. When he was sure of it, he let sleep reclaim him, too.

Jesse woke again a couple of hours later, this time discovering he was alone in bed. A muted glow lit his room as Hanzo dressed by the light of his phone.

“Hanzo?” he asked.

Hanzo looked up to see Jesse watching him. “It is early. Go back to sleep.” There was no tenderness in his voice, but Jesse knew him well enough already that he did not expect much in the way of tenderness until the sun was quite high in the sky, especially when life was serious, as it was right now. Hanzo pulled his hoodie over his head and ran his fingers through his new, shorter hair. He’d be glad when it grew long again.

“How are you?” Jesse couldn’t get more specific than that, between still being half-asleep and not wanting to say the wrong thing.

Hanzo snorted softly. “I will be much better once I am home again.” He sat down to tie his shoes.

Now Jesse was fully awake, his body tingling with apprehension. He hadn’t told Hanzo about his meeting with Winston and Jack Morrison. This wasn’t going to go over well.

“Uhh, about that…” he began. Hanzo looked up at him sharply, his eyebrows drawing together, obvious even in the dim light.

“What?”

“Well, we’re both under orders to remain at the compound until further notice.” Jesse waited for the bomb to detonate. He could take it. He knew it wasn’t his fault, exactly, although he did feel a bit guilty for not making it a priority to find Hanzo earlier the previous evening to let him know.

Hanzo felt his face tighten. “I cannot be held prisoner here. I am not under Overwatch jurisdiction.” He did not raise his voice. If anything, it got quieter, and more intense.

“I know, pumpkin. But you are under our protection, for the moment at least. Just until we determine what’s going on.” Jesse could tell Hanzo was still glowering at him. He sighed and fidgeted with the blankets. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Just give it a couple of days. We’d be here that long anyway.” He knew his rationalization was unconvincing, because he hadn’t even managed to convince himself. He was just too tired to be fired up about it.

Hanzo stood up and picked up his phone. “Hmph,” he said, and then he was gone, leaving Jesse in darkness once more.

Jesse sighed again, then reached for his own phone to see what time it was. Five forty-three. He chucked the device onto the footlocker and rolled back over, pulling the covers over his head. Nothing to be done this early.

*

Hanzo’s first order of business was a hot shower, and as the steam rose around him, so too did the rage rise within him. How dare they insert themselves into his personal, private business? He had dealt single-handedly with the aftermath of the Shimada Empire implosion for all these years. He didn’t need Overwatch clumsily pawing around, with their overwhelmingly Western ideas about justice and honor. They would just make a bigger mess.

Why did Jesse even have to get involved? He should have assessed the situation and let Hanzo take the lead. Even if it meant that Hanzo would have fallen that day in Ilios, it would have been better to keep Jesse clear. Damn everything. Hanzo slammed his palm into the tile of the shower stall, then shut the water off and yanked the curtain back rather more forcefully than necessary. He dried his body and swiftly gathered his various grooming accessories, tossing them haphazardly into his travel kit. The anxiety meds were wearing off, and any patience Hanzo had with the world was rapidly dissolving.

Back in his quarters, all he could feel was the pressure of the tons of earth that weighed down on the curved ceiling of the tiny chamber. He couldn’t breathe in here; he couldn’t move. Hanzo stormed back out into the passageway, only the automatic closure device keeping the heavy door from slamming shut behind him. The corridors were no longer completely empty. The Overwatch day had begun, and folks were moving about.

Hanzo found himself outside the wide open door of the canteen. Winston was sitting at a table inside, eating a piece of toast thickly spread with peanut butter and sliced bananas. In an instant, Hanzo was there, leaning over him, palms spread flat on the table.

“You cannot keep me here,” he said. “You have no right.”

Winston pushed his glasses a little higher on his gorilla nose as he looked up at Hanzo. “We’re just assessing the situation to make sure it is safe to let you return home,” he said, unperturbed.

“What happens between me and my family is not your business.” Hanzo’s eyes were blazing, his nostrils flaring. “You cannot hold me prisoner as a result of their actions.”

“When it collides with the operations of this organization, it is our business. We have to consider the safety of every team member, protect our mission, and still manage to operate under the radar of official agencies that would shut us down in a heartbeat.” Winston remained steady in the face of Hanzo’s rage. He kept his voice calm and quiet. The few other early risers were trying not to watch, but he knew they were listening. “And you are not a prisoner. You have full access to all the facilities that every Overwatch agent has: the gym, the practice range, the canteen, the lounge. We have an extensive library of videos, music, and digital books. I realize this is all small comfort, but I assure you that we will hold you here no longer than necessary. You could look at it as being assigned to base.”

Hanzo snorted softly. “A gilded cage is still a cage. And I maintain that I am at no greater risk at home than I am here, and bring more risk to others while penned up with them. I have not failed to notice that you have not even bothered to discuss the situation with me before handing down your decree.”

“As a matter of fact, I was hoping to arrange a meeting with you later today. I knew you would be under orders for rest and recuperation when you arrived yesterday evening, and figured that the doctor would overrule any request for an interview until she felt you were ready.” Winston had seen Dr. Ziegler collecting her morning coffee and roll, and she sat down beside him just as he finished speaking.

“He’s quite right,” she said simply.

Hanzo pushed off the table. He was not appeased, but he knew when it was useless to argue. His brow was set in a hard line.

“Shall we say one o’clock in the small conference room? I’ll have all the relevant parties there.” Winston toyed with his remaining peanut butter toast, obviously wishing he could be eating it.

Hanzo lifted his chin in a sharp movement that was the closest he was going to get to acknowledging the proposal. Then he turned and strode out of the room.

“About what one could expect,” Angela said. Winston nodded, and returned to his breakfast.

*

There were still hours to kill before Hanzo was due for his post-incident session with the doctor. And there was still rage burning in his chest. He headed for his quarters to pick up his bow and then followed the map to the dead end tunnel that had been converted into a practice range.

The far right lane was designed for projectiles other than bullets, and Hanzo wondered fleetingly if his brother had been involved with its design, since he, too, preferred silent weapons to guns. The targets were not as high tech as Hanzo had seen elsewhere, merely stuffed dummies that moved on an irregular track. Overwatch, as it stood, was on a budget. But it was enough. He just wanted the satisfaction of the sound of his arrows sinking into the stuffing.

He stood with his bow drawn for a moment, watching the pattern that the target dummy traced before loosing his first shot. It snicked past the dummy’s head, then bounced off the back wall and clattered to the floor. Hanzo swore under his breath and nocked another arrow. He tried to center on his hands as he had done for so many years, but the jerky movement of the dummy made him twitch, and the second arrow stuck in the dummy’s upper arm.

Several more arrows rapidly sliced through the air, none of them delivering what would be a killing blow. Hanzo had no cool left to lose. He carefully laid his bow down in front of him and looked at his shaking hands. He took a deep breath, concentrating on feeling everything about them. As he connected himself to the ligaments and tendons, to the sensitive finger pads and the heat of his palms, he regained some of his composure, and the jittery feeling decreased, though the pounding in his head remained.

Hanzo picked up his weapon again and prepared another shot without looking at the target. He listened to the creaking of the device as it trundled around its track. When he felt ready, he lifted his bow and his head together and released the arrow as soon as he saw movement.

The arrow connected. For a split second, Hanzo did not see the target dummy. It was Jesse staggering across the floor instead, the shaft of Hanzo's arrow sprouting from his chest. Hanzo's bow fell from his hands. His breath caught in his throat. Then his vision resolved and it was just a simple, featureless canvas dummy again.

Hanzo leaned over against the wall and retched. Nothing came up, but he heaved again, twice, three times, until he was trembling and shivering with cold sweat, slumped on the stone floor. The rage had fled, for now. He slammed his hand on the switch that operated the target dummy, returning the room to silence. Carefully, he got back to his feet and began to retrieve his arrows. His final shot had buried itself so far in the dummy that it would not budge. Hanzo could not pull it out nor push it through, so he gave up and snapped the shaft off at the point of entrance. He deconstructed his bow and secured everything in its case before slinging the strap over his shoulder and heading back to his room.

*

“Hey! Good to see you again.” Lúcio Correia dos Santos was as warm and open a person as Hanzo had met since his life had intersected with Overwatch, even more so than Jesse. He almost bounced as he moved. Hanzo shook the hand that Lúcio offered in greeting. “Please, sit wherever you feel comfortable.”

Hanzo had assessed the room as soon as he’d stepped through the door. There was a desk in one corner, a small sofa, two different chairs, and a low table in the center. The area was softly lit, in contrast to most of the base, with a thick rug and quiet colors. The walls were wooden, strangely, apparently insulated against the damp stone, and the vault of the main tunnel structure was intersected by a short cross tunnel, giving the chamber a suggestion of Western religious architecture. It was peaceful, and Hanzo felt like he could breathe easier here than anywhere else in this forsaken installation beneath the earth. He sat on one end of the sofa, leaning back, but not relaxed.

“I bet you expected some more of the clinical Dr. Ziegler this morning. But this is my part of the job.” Lúcio smiled. “We’re working on a project together, developing a treatment approach that can be used in urgent situations where someone is suffering emotionally but the facilities aren’t available for standard therapeutic interventions. I’d like to explain it to you and see if you’d be willing to help us test it out. We’ll have to do a little bit of the standard stuff, like going through a short list of questions to see how you’re feeling about what’s been happening, and of course, you’re free to discuss anything you’d like at any time.” He paused for a minute to see how Hanzo reacted. Hanzo sat with his hands on his thighs, his eyes mostly on Lúcio, but flickering as they constantly checked the room around him. When he realized that his input was required, he inclined his head slightly to agree to continue, once again reluctant to give anything away.

This may be the best subject we could have asked for , thought Lúcio. He’s suffering but doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. Maybe he doesn’t even realize he needs help.   He smiled again encouragingly and arranged the pages of the questionnaire on his clipboard, the ones he’d already adjusted three times before Hanzo had arrived. “So first, we’ll do the questions. Before I start, I’d like to ask what you would prefer that I call you. I know that in Japan name usage is different than it is where I’m from, and I don’t want to insult you by accident by being too intimate or too formal.”

Hanzo was disarmed. No one had bothered to ask him this since he’d left Hanamura. He’d adjusted to the way the Europeans and Americans addressed him and each other, but it was definitely nice to be consulted first. It made him feel more receptive to Lúcio in general. “You may call me Hanzo,” he said. “I do not mind.”

The younger man brightened visibly, and Hanzo was surprised to see that he had not already been at his most cheerful. “Great! Now, Hanzo, Dr. Ziegler told me that she prescribed you some anti-anxiety medication to get you over any difficult moments between last night and this morning. Did you need to use it?”

Hanzo thought of the empty packet in his bedroom. He’d taken the last tablet after the incident in the training range. “Yes,” he admitted, and volunteered no more.

“That’s fine. That’s good, even, that you can recognize when you need a little help. Now, do you have any left?”

He felt a little like he was a boy again, and had done something he knew would disappoint his father, like losing a schoolbook or damaging his bow. “I...no. I took them all.”

Lúcio saw his face change and his eyes move as he recalled a memory. “That’s okay. You were given them so you could use them. What we will do is set you up with a few more and reassess tomorrow. Dr. Ziegler doesn’t like to give out a lot of them at once, because they can be addictive, but when someone needs them, she doesn’t have any issues prescribing them. Hopefully the program we’ll begin today will help reduce your need for pharmaceutical assistance. And if it doesn’t, we can look into other options. Okay?” Hanzo made eye contact again, and nodded. Lúcio made a brief note and looked at the next question.

“Have you had nightmares since the incident the other day?” he asked.

Hanzo answered with far less hesitation than he had with the doctor, and truthfully this time. “Yes.”

“Different dreams or the same one?”

“The same one. Twice.” Hanzo folded his lips in and bit down on them. He was actually quite glad the last tablet hadn’t worn off yet. It was making this a lot easier.

Lúcio made another note. He looked up, his dark eyes thoughtful, his pencil poised over the clipboard. “We can talk about it later if you like, but let’s get the questions done first. And if you don’t want to tell me about it, that’s okay too.” He glanced down at the next question. “Have you had any panic attacks or hallucinations? Overwhelming fear when there was no danger or seeing things that weren’t there?” He tried to keep his voice gentle, because sometimes just asking the question could get people upset as they relived the experiences.

“I…” Hanzo swallowed. “Yes.” He felt the sudden pressure to explain himself, even though Lúcio was already preparing the next question. “I have never experienced exactly this before,” he said. “I have survived several assassination attempts, and I have been doing this work for decades, and not once have I...whatever this is.”

Lúcio laid the pencil down. “It’s okay, Hanzo. Sometimes a particular element of an event reminds a person of something deeply buried. It can bring up a lot of feelings and reactions and it’s not always easy to identify their origin.” He studied Hanzo’s face. “Look, the rest of the questions can wait. Let me tell you about what we’re going to do, because it’s really cool and I think you will like it.” He reached down into the box next to his chair and pulled out a set of headphones and a digital tablet.

“You’re probably familiar with my history as a musician,” he began. “I got into performing because I really believe that music can lift the spirit and make people feel better. There’s a living essence in music that can heal if it’s used correctly. And music has been used therapeutically for centuries, so it’s no surprise that as technology evolves, the way we can use it also changes.” Lúcio set the headset and tablet onto the table. “I came across some research about how using particular sorts of soundwaves triggered certain kinds of activity in the brain, and combining that with some other work, including some of Angela’s, about what kinds of brain activity happens after traumatic experiences, we think we have a plan for an intermediate treatment that will be really useful in the field when regular solutions aren’t available or advisable.”

Hanzo thought he was getting the idea. This was going to involve music, apparently, as medicine.

“So yeah,” said Lúcio. “Basically, you just have to listen to a half an hour of music that I have programmed for you. The first session is the basis for the treatment, and you will listen to it here today, and then again every day for a week. Every other day we’ll also have a session together, and I will give you something different to listen to that will take you down a different pathway, and I’ll be here with you to monitor your journey.”

“It will alter my brain?” Hanzo asked. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be averse to that at this point.

“No, it won’t change anything you don’t wish to change.” Lúcio smiled. “It’s more like exercise or a massage for your brain cells. The most prominent result among our volunteers so far is that they feel calmer, and they say they can think more clearly. And they sleep better. It’s not brainwashing by any stretch of the imagination. If you want to make a significant change, unfortunately you’ll still have to do the work the old-fashioned way.”

Hanzo nodded. “Okay. I will try it.”

Lúcio handed him the headphones. “Now, just relax, get comfortable, let the music lead you. You’re safe here, there’s no demands on you to do anything but listen. If you fall asleep, that’s okay too. I’ll wake you up when the time is up. There’s a volume adjustment there on the left side...yeah that’s it. Once the music starts, make sure it’s loud enough to fill your head, but comfortable. Okay, are you ready?”

Hanzo made some adjustments, tucking his hair back and settling the soft cups on his ears better. Then he nodded. It couldn’t be any worse than the last two days had been. He watched as Lúcio started the program on the tablet. The sound reached his ears, and he fine-tuned the volume setting. Once he was sure Hanzo was good to go, Lúcio got up and moved over to the small desk in the corner. Hanzo closed his eyes and let the music lead the way.

He wasn’t sure quite what he was expecting, perhaps something scientific and clinical, but it started off with something that sounded like a modified human voice singing sustained tones with some low-pitched strings providing a harmonic underpinning. This went on for a few minutes and then a delicate harp line came in, and immediately Hanzo was back in the garden at Hanamura, making paper airplanes while his mother practiced the koto in the gazebo. He must have been only about four or five years old, because Genji was still too small to chase him around, and an auntie was keeping him occupied on a blanket. He remembered finally getting a paper craft folded well enough that it actually flew for more than a couple of feet before it crashed. Surely it had only gone a few yards, but looking back now, it seemed like it had soared for miles...and then the music shifted. The memory faded, and he let it go, but seeing it again had touched him.

For the rest of the session Hanzo had no further recollections. He released his mind to the sound in his ears, and let it fill his head, and it was a bit hypnotic like Lúcio had said it might be. It finished, and he waited, eyes still shut, expecting it to continue. There was a soft touch on his arm and he opened his eyes.

“That’s all for today,” said Lúcio, standing beside him. “How do you feel?”

Hanzo pulled the headphones off his ears, and thought about it for a second. “More relaxed,” he answered. “Thank you.”

Lúcio grinned in the charming way he had. “Great! Take the headset with you, and I’ll show you here…” He lifted the tablet and showed Hanzo how to access the program. “The tablet has access to all the media Overwatch has on its servers, so you can use this for all of that too. I’ll see you back here at the same time, day after tomorrow, okay? I’ll have a new program for you then. Don’t forget to listen to this one again tomorrow. And if you want to listen to it more often, you’re welcome to.”

Hanzo nodded. “I will return.”

“Is there anything you'd like to talk about before you go? Whatever you say in this room will stay here.”

Lúcio’s face was inviting, and his concern for Hanzo seemed genuine. But Hanzo just didn't have the words yet. He shook his head. No.

“Okay. I sent Angela a message, so stop by her office and she will set you up with some more meds.” Lúcio looked at him with kindness. “I think this’ll work out for you, you’ll see.”

Hanzo gathered up his new equipment and moved to the door before pausing and turning back. “I...thank you. This was less, ah, intrusive than I anticipated.”

Lúcio barely had time to say “You’re welcome,” and Hanzo was gone. He shook his head and grinned. “These ninja assassins. Think they’re so sneaky.”

The doctor’s office was a few tunnels down on the same level. Hanzo stopped outside the door and squared his shoulders. He didn’t have to get the medication if he didn’t want to. He felt fine. He didn’t need it.

Then he remembered he was still on it. He looked at the headset and tablet Lúcio had given him. This music thing was supposed to help, wasn’t it? He’d be okay with just that as long as…

The door opened and Hanzo’s heart stopped.

“Hey, sugar, I was just about to come lookin’ for you.” Jesse grinned. “I’m all checked out with the doc. You need to see her?”

Hanzo’s mouth opened but it was a second or two before sound came out. “Yes.” It was all he could manage. His pulse was pounding in his ears. Dammit, he had to get this under control. If he kept having this sort of reaction to Jesse, what would it mean for their relationship?

Jesse stepped out of his way. “I’ll wait out here, ‘kay? Then maybe we can grab some lunch. I’m starving.”

Hanzo managed a nod. “Okay.” Then he tapped on the door and entered the doctor’s office.

When Hanzo returned to the hallway, a new packet of pills in his pocket, Jesse was leaning against the wall, thumbs hooked on his belt. He pushed off and turned to walk with Hanzo towards the canteen.

“Hey, I’m sorry I can't spend more time with you while we're stuck here. They seem to think I should be getting work done.” Jesse looked over at the man beside him. Hanzo looked tired, his eyes fixed at a point on the floor a couple of yards in front of his feet.

“I understand. Do not worry about me.” He sounded tired, too. What Jesse couldn’t hear was the relief that Hanzo felt, hoping that with time spent apart, he might get some mental distance from whatever was upsetting him.

Chapter Text

“Is this an interrogation?” Hanzo asked, acutely aware of the fact that only he and Winston were sitting at the table, and the other few people in the room were standing against the walls.

Winston looked around the utilitarian cubicle that was the “small” conference room. “No, of course not. Tactical debriefing.” He fixed a look on Jack Morrison, indicating with a glance that he should join them at the table. When Jack pulled up a chair, so did Ana and Jesse. Once they were all settled, and Winston had pulled up the information he wanted on his tablet, he cleared his throat. “So, let’s begin. Why don’t we start with what happened in Ilios? Take us through what you remember, especially any details that stand out to you.”

Hanzo took a deep breath and tried to assemble his thoughts. “It was very hot, and very quiet. Agent McCree had called the shift change, and Agent Oxton had come to replace me at my lookout, and I was on my way to meet up with Agent McCree to return with him to the drop point. There were only two paths between my lookout and Jesse’s...Agent McCree’s...that offered any cover, and I was taking the second one, which was slightly longer. I did not notice anything out of the ordinary on my way. I turned the last corner and saw Jesse…” He paused, but resigned himself to automatically using Jesse’s first name. “...standing in the shadows about 15 meters in front of me.” Hanzo shivered as he remembered the scene, and his pulse picked up its pace. “Jesse drew his weapon, and there was a sound behind me. I am not sure which happened first. Then I dove into the bushes and heard gunfire. A flashbang and two gunshots.”

Apparently nothing was news to anyone so far. Whatever Winston had on the screen before him must have agreed with Hanzo’s narrative, because he nodded every time he looked at it. It dawned on Hanzo that it was probably Jesse’s account.

“When I stepped back out onto the path, two men lay dead. I recognized one of them from my...previous life.” He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he had to fight to keep his voice steady. “I remember nothing else until I regained consciousness inside one of the ruined buildings with a shattered bio-grenade at my side.” He nodded at Agent Amari in recognition of her contribution to his well-being.

“Was there any indication during your watch that anyone other than Talon was operating in the ruins?” Winston asked.

“No,” Hanzo replied, realizing suddenly that he had not even reported on his last watch. “I only saw one of the previously identified Talon agents and our own team that day.”

Jack spoke, his scratchy voice a distinct counterpoint to Winston’s warm baritone. “Is there any reason you can think of that the Shimada Clan would come after you now, or why they would choose Greece?”

“It has been some time since they made an attempt on my life.” Hanzo thought about it, counting back. “Four years. I do not know why they chose to attack now, and Greece has no special significance to them as far as I am aware. It has none for me.” At least, it did not before this, he thought.

“Do they always send two operatives to assassinate a high value target?” Ana asked this, her own experience as a sniper sensitizing her to issues the others may have overlooked.

“Three,” Hanzo corrected automatically. “If we saw two, there were three.” Then it was like a bolt of lightning struck him as he realized the implication of what he was saying. He should have been dead, but the third assassin, the sniper, had not taken his shot. He scrambled to explain, not caring that he revealed proprietary strategy. It was no longer his to protect, after all. “The standard procedure is one sniper. The first escalation, for more difficult or specialized targets, is one assassin on the ground and one in the sky. The second escalation is two on the ground and one in the sky. Obviously there are situations where a different team is called for, often multiple snipers and fewer or no operatives on the ground. But if there are two at close range, there is always at least one at long range.” His throat was so dry. It felt like it was closing on him.

“So there was another operative there we didn’t see?” Jesse didn’t sound surprised as much as concerned.

Hanzo tried to clear his throat. “At minimum.” His heart hurt as he looked at his lover. “I don’t know why they didn’t take their shot.” He tried valiantly to remember if he’d felt anything like an insect brushing past him or a sudden breeze from the wrong direction, but came up with nothing.

“Your dive to the side may have disrupted their line of sight,” offered Ana.

Hanzo gave a short bark of a wry laugh. “You underestimate Shimada snipers. They would have prepared for that possibility.” Ana’s lips curled into a slight smile. She would have prepared for it, too.

The room was silent for a moment, then Winston spoke again. “What we’re working with here, then, is that for some undetermined reason, the Shimada Clan has made an attempt on your life during an Overwatch operation, and the likelihood that the attempt and its subsequent failure was witnessed by a Shimada agent is very high. We have to assume that they saw everything that happened on the ground, and everyone who was involved.” He glanced at Jesse before returning his gaze to Hanzo. “I still think it would be best if you and Agent McCree continued within the boundaries of this installation for the time being, at least until Agent Shimada...ah, Genji, that is...returns with more information. Agent Amari, you should be clear for the upcoming Egypt operation, but if things change, we’ll reevaluate.”

“I understand,” Ana replied.

Jesse had his eye on Hanzo, expecting his face to turn dark with anger. What he saw was more akin to Hanzo shuttering himself inside, a combination of resignation and withdrawal. It made him sad, and he realized he would have preferred to see the fire of Hanzo’s anger. This was cold smoke, if anything. The short meeting broke up without incident, with Winston reiterating Hanzo’s freedom to access any of the available amenities, and letting him know that he would be notified the moment there were any developments.

In the corridor, Jesse touched Hanzo’s arm, pulling him out of whatever deep thought process he was engaged in. “Hey, I have another meeting and some work to do, but I’ll find you later, ‘kay? Get some rest, you look done in.”

Hanzo nodded. Then, suddenly afraid to see Jesse walk away, he reached up and pulled his lover’s face in for a swift kiss before he turned and headed for the residence wing without looking back. Jesse didn’t move as he watched Hanzo’s back disappear around a corner. He was still standing there, feeling the echo of lips against his, trying to understand, when Jack popped out of a doorway down the corridor.

“Hey McCree, you coming?” he called.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

*

“So how have you been since we met the other day?” Lúcio sat cross-legged in his chair, casually at home in the strange underground world Overwatch currently inhabited.

Hanzo considered his answer. He wasn’t really sure how he was anymore. Everything had fallen apart inside him, but around him life continued on. The constant progression of time seemed to rub his nerves raw, and all he wanted was stillness and quiet. “I have been sleeping,” he said, then ventured a more descriptive confession. “I have spent a significant amount of time sleeping.”

“Okay, that’s not totally unusual. You’ve suffered some major stress, and your mind and body need rest to repair, to recover from the overload.” Lúcio waited to see if Hanzo would volunteer anything more. Hanzo was thinking about the last forty-eight hours, and how much time he’d spent with the headphones on, listening to the calming music Lúcio had given him. He’d slept in the lounge during the day when his quarters had felt like they would suffocate him, strangely unconcerned about being exposed to observation. He’d spent the nights in Jesse’s bed, desperate to convince himself that Jesse was alive and safe.

Lúcio brought him back to the present with another question. “How are things with Jesse?”

“Fine,” Hanzo replied automatically, then immediately contradicted himself with a truthful answer. “No, it is not good. I am not comfortable near him or away from him.”

A concerned expression wrinkled Lúcio’s friendly face. “What is it, do you think, that is making you uncomfortable?” He was worried that Hanzo was fearful for his own safety with McCree around, but he knew better than to ask a leading question.

Hanzo looked at his hands like they were unfamiliar objects that had found their way into his lap. Without looking up, he answered. “I am afraid.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a great rush. “I fear that what I am, who I am, has brought him to his end.”

Lúcio waited.

“I am afraid that the assassins that come for me, that is, my family, will come for him.” Hanzo suddenly felt electrified, as though struck by lightning, and he was nineteen again, and his father was explaining how his up-to-now secret boyfriend had come to Shimada castle threatening blackmail, speaking of photographic proof of Hanzo engaging in compromising situations. Sojiro had told him that his lover had been sent away where he could do no harm, but Hanzo had always known better. It was not the Shimada way to send a dangerous witness into exile. The clan was ruthless to its adversaries.

But it had never occurred to him to doubt that his father told the truth regarding the betrayal. Until now, until he had another lover who had captured his heart in a profound way. Another man whose life was in the crosshairs because of his association with Hanzo. He was living the same scenario again, at least inside his head. And he didn’t believe Jesse would betray him any more than he’d ever imagined that first boyfriend would have. He was stunned as the pieces fell into place, and his body and mind seemed to turn to stone as he sat there, unable to believe what the puzzle revealed. Hanzo wished he could put on the headphones again and just go back to sleep, but Lúcio was there, expecting him to participate in the session for at least a little while longer.

Lúcio rubbed his chin idly as he watched Hanzo retreat into himself. He’d been close to something; perhaps he’d found it and been unprepared to handle it. Lúcio didn’t want to push it, didn’t want to cause any damage himself by trying to force the older man to reveal anything he wasn’t ready to share. So when Hanzo did not speak, he tactfully wrapped up the topic in preparation for the next subject.

“That’s a lot to cope with,” he confirmed. “Hopefully staying here for a while will give you the space to confront your fear and adjust your expectations.”

Hanzo looked up, blinking slowly. He remained silent, even as he made eye contact.

“I’d like to have you listen to another music session that I have prepared. A lot of folks in our profession have a tendency to wall off our emotions, to bury them for a more appropriate time. We can’t really be effective on the battlefield if we get too overwhelmed, right? So I have a couple of playlists that are designed to act as a proxy for those situations, to stimulate certain emotions in order that we can process those feelings in a safe place, in a more controllable way.” Lúcio paused, and untucked his feet from beneath his body. Leaning forward slightly, he continued. “I had prepared one for today that deals with sadness and grief. If you’re not comfortable with that right now, we can postpone it, but I think you will feel better afterwards if you can manage it today.” He watched Hanzo closely as he let the information sink in, his face as serious as it got.

Hanzo did not shirk from Lúcio’s gaze. Sadness and grief? He was definitely close to that right now, and the thought of wrapping himself up in sad music was actually quite appealing. He nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was faint, rough. “I would listen to it.”

Lúcio reached for the tablet Hanzo had placed on the low coffee table in front of him. “Good,” he said as he synced the device with his own and cued up the list. “Same rules apply as last time. If you feel too distressed, you’re welcome to turn it off. Any physical reaction you have will remain confidential. If, for some reason, your reaction threatens your health, I’ll contact Dr. Ziegler, but aside from that, it will remain private.” This was how he carefully skirted around the issue of crying. Soldiers in particular tended to be shy about shedding tears in front of another person. Hanzo was no soldier, but neither was he an openly emotional person, more like a soldier than unlike. Lúcio had already casually left a box of tissues on the coffee table in case there was a need.

Hanzo lifted his headphones from where they’d taken up residence around his neck and placed them over his ears, leaning back and closing his eyes as Lúcio hit play. The first pieces were bittersweet, but after about ten minutes, it began to feel as though someone was reaching into him and squeezing his heart, and his eyes and nose burned with the fire of long-suppressed tears. The chord progression and the harmonies of the strings were somehow wrenching and before he knew it, his face was wet, though he had not moved, nor opened his eyes. He was there in the darkness of himself, surrounded by a sonic barrier, one that flooded into his soul and probed delicately with soft tendrils, turning over the leaves of all the loss and despair he’d ever suffered. He didn't fight it. He let it pull him into pieces. Then, gradually, it withdrew, and the next selection took him gently and began to lead him back upward to the light.

The half hour drew to a close, and Hanzo opened his eyes. The tears had dried on his face and neck, and he felt drained but quiet, and in some ways at peace. Lúcio offered him the tissues and he took one, blowing his nose with it and then tucking it away in a pocket.

“How do you feel?” Lúcio asked.

Hanzo shifted slightly on the couch as he tried to determine how he felt. “Not terrible,” he answered, truthfully.

Lúcio grinned, fully aware that this was an improvement. “Good! Now don't forget to listen to your original program today and tomorrow, and I will see you the day after that, same time. Okay?”

“I will be here,” came Hanzo's reply as he stood up to go. He paused in the doorway and turned back before leaving. “Thank you.”

*

“What’s up?” Jesse shut the door to Winston’s office and collapsed casually into a chair next to Jack.

Winston and Jack traded glances. “We’ve gotten a preliminary report from Genji,” Winston replied. “He is due to arrive back in base any time now.”

“Oh yeah? Should Hanzo be here for this too?”

Jack answered before Winston could. “We thought we should brief you first. You’ve got a different perspective.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed. He already didn’t like where this was going. He wondered if he was imagining that feeling that the Overwatch regulars didn’t quite trust Hanzo yet. Lord knew it took long enough for them to trust the Blackwatch crew members that stuck around, even though it was pretty much just him and Genji. Ana’s support had gone a long way to get them accepted. He wondered if he could pull any favors to get her to back Hanzo too, assuming that whatever they were about to show him wasn’t somehow incriminating.

Winston handed Jesse his tablet. There were two pictures displayed on the screen. One was a wide shot of a dagger stuck into the center of a bed, and the second was a close up of the dagger pulled out of the mattress next to two playing cards with holes in the center. Knife-shaped holes. Jesse mentally catalogued the details: the bed, the bits of the room that could be seen around the edges of the photo, the artistically wrought hilt of the dagger, the playing cards. The king of diamonds and the jack of spades.

“This is Hanzo’s apartment, isn’t it? Is there some significance to these items beyond a vague threat?” Jesse looked back up at Winston.

“Ah, swipe to the next screen,” Winston instructed.

Jesse did so, and nearly dropped the tablet. The next photograph showed the back side of the playing cards. They were from the Panorama Diner gift shop. He’d had a pack once...it had been years since he’d seen it last. He went pale beneath his tan. “This was left after the attack? So they know who I am. They must have gone to some lengths to get those cards.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Or someone gave the Shimadas the cards.”

Jesse snapped his head in Jack’s direction. “What do you mean?”

“I have a feeling that there’s something more to all this than just another attempt to remove Hanzo. We can’t rule out another player, one that may have a grudge against you or the organization. It’s not like we haven’t made enemies.” Jack sighed. He knew all too well how many enemies they’d made over the years.

Winston continued the line of thought. “It isn’t an unreasonable idea, really. Taking out a core player of our team would definitely cause some chaos, at least in the short term, and distract us from our focus.” He accepted the tablet back from Jesse. “With that in mind, we can’t let any of our upcoming ops be postponed, or relax our vigilance.”

“Hmm,” was Jesse’s reply. He was very serious. “You need to show those to Hanzo. He shouldn’t be kept in the dark.”

Jack barely had time to say, “If you can find him,” before Jesse was out the door like a shot.

*

Jesse looked everywhere. He cursed under his breath at the unavailability of wireless personal communication underground. And it failed to occur to him to check the surveillance cameras until he had already run from the office wing to the residence wing to the training wing to the canteen and turned up, a little more out of breath than he wanted to admit, outside the lounge. It was the last place he expected to find Hanzo, knowing how private of a person he was, but it was also the last place to look before he started a deep dive into the unused corners of the installation.

The scene that greeted him when he entered the room almost knocked him out of his boots. Hanzo was stretched out on the couch, headphones askew, apparently fast asleep with a massively fluffy white cat sprawled across his body. Jesse grinned despite himself, simultaneously hating himself for having to disturb such a peaceful scene.

He knelt beside Hanzo’s head and gently shifted the closest earpiece so he could plant a small kiss where Hanzo’s ear met his jaw. Hanzo twitched and automatically batted at the tickle of Jesse’s whiskers. The cat, disturbed, leapt down and immediately took up residence in a nearby chair. The combination of disruptions brought the sleeping man into wakefulness. His eyes opened and fastened on Jesse as they regained focus.

“What?” he asked.

“Sorry to wake you, love, but we’ve got news. You should come see.”

Groaning and working the blood back into his limbs, Hanzo swung his feet onto the floor and sat up. He scrubbed at his face with one hand as he pulled his boots on with his other. He pushed the headphones down around his neck and tried to fix the damage that sleeping had done to his hair. Then he nodded at Jesse, a resigned look on his face.

By the time they made it back to Winston’s office, Genji was there already. Hanzo looked wary, still not comfortable in his brother’s presence.

Before anyone else could speak, Genji said, softly, “I am sorry, brother.”

“For what?” came Hanzo's dry reply, but then his attention turned to the items now resting on Winston’s desk. He stepped closer, reaching out a finger to stroke the platinum hilt of the dagger Genji had recovered from his apartment. “The Kingslayer…” he breathed, the very weapon his family claimed to have used generations ago to remove an heir to the throne of Japan. He felt strangely detached from reality, even as he was aware of every eye in the room watching him.

“They left it for you, brother. A warning, or a threat.”

Hanzo snorted with contempt. “I am no king,” he said. “I aspire to no throne.” Then he noticed the playing cards with dagger holes through the center. He picked each of them up, turning them over and looking at them carefully before replacing them next to the dagger. “It was said at one time that I was made of diamond. That I was cold and hard, and unyielding. If they would call me king, the heir to the Shimada empire, then I assume this card represents me. But the jack of spades?” He turned to Jesse. “Is this you?”

“I expect so.” Something tugged at Jesse’s memory. “It was my code name on an op once.” Then he remembered, like a swift punch to the gut, what op it was, and where, and who was involved. His eyes met Jack’s. Jack nodded ever so slightly, and Jesse took it as an indication that he wasn't the only one following that line of thought.

He remembered that last poker game a few days before they went in hard. He’d wrapped up his last shift at the restaurant on the canal, and brought back a couple of bottles of wine, the ones with the longest Italian names, chosen entirely because he liked trying to pronounce them. It was just the three of them: him and Gabe and Genji. Moira had been delayed and wouldn't arrive until the next day. They’d played into the wee hours, until the wine was gone and Jesse had won a heap of tiny foil-wrapped candies.

That had been the last time he saw his pack of cards. Not that these cards were definitely his; it would only take someone who knew his history to go find their own deck.  But if it was his personal deck, then the list of people who might have had possession of it was very short.

Hanzo was still fingering the cards, turning them over and over, touching the holes, the significance of the photographs that decorated the backs missing him completely. His mind was in Hanamura. That he continued to exist outside the enclave was bad enough in his family's eyes; that he dared to associate with someone not of his background and standing was apparently a capital offense, for both of them. He felt his soul shrink as he realized what he would have to do to protect Jesse from his family.

The other three were talking around them, discussing Genji’s observations and the best way forward. “So we can’t relax our vigilance, and can’t postpone any upcoming ops.” Winston pushed his glasses up his nose.

“I agree,” added Jack. “And I think Jesse and Hanzo should stay here until Ana’s team has returned from Egypt. Just to be safe.”

“How long is that?” Hanzo asked. More than ever, he wanted to go home, to get away from this hole in the ground, to lead the trail away from Jesse.

“Another week. They leave tomorrow for six days.” Jack answered, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, I know you’re at loose ends here. I’m sure we’ll have an answer for your continued safety soon.”

Then there was talk of safe houses in Scandinavia, modes of travel, and other logistical challenges, but Hanzo’s attention had returned to the items on the corner of Winston’s desk. He felt like the dagger had already been driven through his heart, the way he ached. As the impromptu meeting wound down around him, he thought of the packet of pills in his pocket, unopened since Dr. Ziegler had sealed it and handed it to him. He needed one now.

*

Jesse waited for Hanzo at dinner, but he didn’t appear. There was only silence when he tapped on Hanzo’s door afterwards. So he sat in the lounge for a while, staring at the video screen and half-listening to Brigitte and Lena planning a shopping trip. Jesse waited an hour, hoping Hanzo would appear, but the only newcomer to the group was Brigitte’s fuzzy white cat, Mitzi. Mitzi accepted some affection from her human but was apparently not finding what she wanted in the room, either, and sidled back out. Jesse sighed and headed off to his quarters, hoping beyond hope that Hanzo would be there before him.

He couldn’t deny the feeling that things had changed since Ilios. If it was because he’d killed those Shimada agents, well, there wasn’t much he could do about that now. They’d both be dead if he hadn’t. He could see where it might cause a conflict in Hanzo’s mind. He sighed as he opened his door to an empty room. Empty of people, at least. He’d wrangled a second bunk in and pushed it up against the original one to make a bed large enough for two grown men to share. It didn’t leave much room for anything else.

A white blur flashed in past his legs and he jumped, startled. “Well, hey there, Mitzi,” Jesse said, chuckling softly. The cat hopped delicately up onto the corner of the bed and mewed plaintively.

“I don’t know where he is, love. If I did, well…” he trailed off. He didn’t know what he’d do. He had a bad feeling about where things were going and he just didn’t want to think about it. He held out his hand and Mitzi pushed her face against it. She accepted some scritches and then hopped down and slipped out the still-ajar door. Jesse closed it behind her and sat down on the bed to pull his boots off.

*

He was in the middle of a really pleasant dream, and then without warning, Jesse was awake. There was movement next to him. The blankets shifted and fingers tentatively stroked his chest and abdomen. He knew the touch, recognized the soft sigh near his ear. Jesse turned his face to the intruder and found the searching mouth with his own. Hanzo’s hands slipped under Jesse’s t-shirt, stroking and kneading, as they consumed each other.

They were both out of breath when Hanzo broke away to allow space to pull Jesse’s shirt off, but the kissing swiftly resumed. Jesse had taken off his prosthetic to sleep and was lying on his good arm, only able to thread it under Hanzo’s neck and awkwardly stroke his head, while his lover’s caresses grew more desperate. It was affecting him; the need was contagious. He groaned as Hanzo slid his hand down the back of his shorts and squeezed his ass. Jesse nudged his knee between Hanzo’s thighs and shivered as Hanzo ground his erection into the soft inside corner of Jesse’s hip. He was about to disengage to yank his shorts down, but Hanzo beat him to it, leaving them low enough that Jesse could kick them the rest of the way off to be lost in the blankets at their feet.

Hanzo trailed his fingers delicately up the inside of Jesse’s thigh, eliciting another moan. He went in for Jesse’s exposed throat with his mouth, the stubble there scraping lips already raw and tender from the fierce kisses. He felt so hungry, and the only thing that could stop the hunger was the man in his arms and the open flame of his desire. His hand reached the thicker fuzz of Jesse’s crotch and applied more pressure, knowing exactly how Jesse would react to the manipulation of his balls.

Jesse’s fingers curled into Hanzo’s hair, his back arching as he pushed himself into Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo humored him, and captured Jesse’s testicles between his thumb and palm, every squeeze making his cock dance between them. It hit him like a lightning strike when Jesse felt those strong fingers wrap around his dick, stroking it light and fast a few times before pulling it in to rub it against Hanzo’s own. With his arm still pinned, he was at his lover’s mercy. He surrendered easily to the offerings of pleasure he was given, and together they rode the currents as the waves of ecstasy grew stronger.

Every response, every quiver and moan from Jesse fed Hanzo’s fire, obscuring the emptiness within him. As his arousal was tied intimately to his partner’s, so too was the intensity of his release. Sweaty, muscles straining to maintain a steady and even grip, all it took was Jesse’s lips on his neck and a ragged, filthy groan to drive Hanzo over the brink. He kept pumping through it, his hand now wet and sloppy with his come, his body jerking with the sensitivity. He brushed his thumb across Jesse’s slit as he stroked, and the extra pressure added when he changed directions was the final trigger for his lover’s explosion.

At last, at last Hanzo felt warm, inside and out. In the back of his mind, he knew it was temporary. Even as he pressed his slippery wet body against Jesse’s, he knew that what he had to do hadn’t changed. But he could ignore it for a little while longer, perhaps.

Hanzo found Jesse’s discarded t-shirt and used it to clean up their mess before they stuck together. Jesse let Hanzo wipe him down, not minding if some traces of their lovemaking were left on his body. The reminders always pleased him. Hanzo nudged him over onto his left side and curled around him, his cheek against Jesse’s neck. Jesse enclosed his partner’s hand in his own and held it over his heart, and they drifted off to sleep in the afterglow.

Chapter Text

Jesse woke to an empty bed, and though he tried to deny it hurt him, his day began muted and gray. He showered, then gathered his coffee from the canteen and trudged over to the offices to get some work done on the next offensive. Burying himself in the maps and tactical details almost distracted him from the feeling that Hanzo was pulling away from him. Almost. He lit his cigarillo in the empty room, silently daring anyone to tell him he couldn’t smoke inside.

Hanzo had gone straight to the gym after leaving Jesse’s quarters, using the pre-dawn hours to work out alone, to blunt the edges of his mind with fatigue. In a way, he almost felt normal again. Things were not happy, but he had a course of action to take and was mostly in control of what was within his ability to control. He was returning to the narrow, contained world he knew.

He visited the practice range for the first time since his hallucination. This time he felt nothing as he stared at the practice dummy. He could still see where his arrow was snapped off, and he sank several more close enough to it that he could hear the grating of the arrowheads against the shaft fragment. When he’d assured himself that he hadn’t lost his touch, he cleaned up and headed towards his room.

He slept for a couple of hours, without dreams, without the walls feeling like they would crush him, and he woke easily enough into the silence. Hanzo rolled onto his back and stared into the darkness. He had to do it. He should do it now, while he felt this peaceful numbness. Maybe they would let him go home once it was done. His fate had already been written in blood, regardless of his involvement with Overwatch. Jesse was the one they should be looking after, not him.

He got up and dressed, then gathered all his dignity and went to the office wing looking for Jesse. Hanzo found him more easily than he expected, the office door open and the scent of tobacco smoke drifting out into the passageway. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching Jesse work as though he could memorize the man, burn the image in his brain to remember forever. The loose shaggy waves of brown hair that framed his face, the perfect point of his nose that balanced the angle of his jaw, the straight brow that shaded those enigmatic grey eyes...Hanzo never wanted to forget any of it.

“Gonna come in or just lurk in the hallway?” Jesse said, his eyes still on the notes in front of him. When Hanzo failed to answer, Jesse looked up. He sat back, his shoulders dropping slightly, when he saw Hanzo’s expression. He threw down his pen. “What the hell, it’s time for a break anyway.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, picking up his hat. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, and Hanzo fell into step beside him as he turned into the passageway.

Jesse led the way up the stairs to the hilltop exit from the underground tunnel system, the one obscured by shrubs and trees, and only guarded by remote surveillance.

“Are we allowed outside?” Hanzo asked quietly.

“Who cares? We’re still on the compound. If they don’t like it, they can come get us and drag us back inside.” Jesse pulled out another smoke and lit it. “It’s the middle of the day, in the middle of the countryside, in the middle of Germany, in the middle of an Overwatch installation. Let ‘em try to kill us.” He took a drag and blew the smoke out away from them as he avoided looking at the man beside him.

They were silent for a while. At last, Jesse grew tired of waiting for Hanzo to speak. “Say what you came to say, Hanzo.” The expectation of disappointment was there in his voice, dry and crackling.

Hanzo looked at Jesse’s face, then down at the ground. “I came to tell you that we could not continue on together.”

“That explains the look on your face,” answered Jesse.

“What look?”

“That one when you were standin’ in the doorway, lookin’ like you were fixin’ to carve your heart out with a spoon.” His accent got thicker as he fought back the emotions that threatened to close his throat.

He tried to swallow it clear, then sucked on his cigarillo like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver.

“Ah.” Hanzo shoved his hands in his pockets and scanned the horizon absently. “I cannot do it.”

“Well. If you can’t do it, then I s’pose that’s it.”

“Jesse.” Hanzo almost laughed. “I mean, I cannot say that to you. I do not know how we will go forward, but I know I will not go forward without you.”

Jesse turned to look at him, not quite believing what he was hearing. “Quit fucking with me, Hanzo.”

Hanzo met his gaze, honestly and openly. “I am being truthful.”

Jesse stubbed out his cigarillo on the stone wall before returning the stub to his mouth to chew on. “Let’s walk,” he said, leading his way out through the underbrush towards the perimeter fence, where there was a clear path wide enough for two.

When they reached it, Hanzo surprised him by taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I thought to protect you, I must leave you. I do not want to leave you. This one thing does not solve everything, but it has been a good thing. I do not wish to walk away from it. From you.”

“Hanzo, you gotta realize, I’ve been dealing with people trying to kill me for thirty years. I’ve made it this far alive, I reckon I can manage a while longer. How about a little credit, here?” He was smiling now as he spoke. Hanzo’s confession seemed like it turned everything golden, from the sunlight filtering through the beech trees to the soft sounds of their feet on the dirt path. The summer breeze that tickled his face was nearly as good as his lover’s kisses. He would damn well make sure to make it a few more years, if Hanzo was at his side. Jesse adjusted his hat on his head, tipping it forward slightly to shade his eyes better.

“But you do not know…” Hanzo began before Jesse stopped him with a quick kiss.

“Yeah, I know, sugarlump,” Jesse said. “They’re Shimadas. They’re different.” He couldn’t help but grin. “They know how you were trained, love, but they don’t know jack about me. I’m unpredictable. Besides, with you next to me, I’ll have everything I need to counter them.” He shrugged, and squeezed Hanzo’s hand. “And if they manage to best me, well, I reckon they earned it. Ain’t your fault. Never has been, never will be.”

Now a smile even played around Hanzo’s lips. He was amused at Jesse’s bravado, and comforted by his confidence. He had a point, even. The two of them together could be more difficult to take down than either of them on their own. They walked on down the shaded perimeter trail as the fence line led them around the edge of the Overwatch compound.

“So, this is your cowboy. I did not think I would get to see him up close. And alive.” The heavily accented voice came from the undergrowth beside them. They turned as one, and then Hanzo was in front of Jesse, blocking his body with his own. A lithe, elegant man stood there, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Hanzo,” Jesse said softly. “Let go of my hand.”

Hanzo ignored him, and retained his hold. “You will not kill him,” he said in a dark voice. It wasn’t entirely clear to Jesse whether the statement was directed at the stranger or himself.

The intruder merely smiled. He was Japanese, and there was a certain resemblance, something in the way he moved, that signaled to Jesse that he, too, was a Shimada. “And I see you have cut your hair. It looks much like it did before you left us.” He gave Hanzo an obvious once-over. “You are not so well dressed.”

Hanzo’s chin raised in defiance, his nostrils flaring. But he said nothing.

The man flicked his fingers in a gesture entirely designed to show how relaxed and in control he was. “Rumor has it,” he began, “that you have found your...ahem...queen...and are making powerful allies in preparation for claiming your inheritance. I have come to advise you against it.”

“What?” Hanzo snorted. “Ridiculous. I have no desire for such a thing.”

“There will be a price on your head until you prove it.” The stranger shrugged.

“And how do you expect me to prove a negative?”

The man’s gaze turned to Jesse once more. “There is always the option of the blood bargain.”

“Since when does a Shimada bargain? What sort of cut-rate establishment is Uncle running these days?”

“You know how it works. Sign, or your life is forfeit.” He sounded so sure of himself, so certain that Hanzo would accept his demand. Jesse was about to ask what a blood bargain entailed exactly, when Hanzo squeezed his hand.

“I would sooner die than make that sort of deal,” countered Hanzo.

“Hmm, perhaps you have truly found your queen.” Even through the accent, he sounded as though he was mocking them. “Very well, I shall return home with the sad news.”

“You will tell them in no uncertain terms that I have no desire to return to the clan. Hanamura is my home no longer.” Hanzo moved back slightly, almost leaning into Jesse for support. Jesse rubbed his thumb across Hanzo’s index finger to let him know he was completely with him.

Then, before the stranger had time to turn and disappear into the forest, another voice spoke from the trees.

“You have my word that he speaks the truth.” Genji landed as if on cat’s feet on the path next to Hanzo and Jesse.

The intruder’s face went very pale. “Genji?” he breathed.

“Isamu. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Genji had no weapon drawn, but his hand was poised to act if necessary.

“I thought you were dead.” Isamu had lost his cool. “There were rumors, but they were so improbable…” His eyes went back and forth between Genji and Hanzo, and then his act completely disintegrated. “Genji, I am so glad to see you still breathe.”

“Tell the family that I speak for my brother. If he says he does not wish to return, I believe him. Offer my name as his blood bargain.” Genji’s hand relaxed.

“Genji! No!” Hanzo started, but Genji held out his hand to stop him.

“I have already died once, brother. Another death would be no great trial. And I trust you.” A crooked smile lifted one corner of his scarred mouth. “If I can help to free you from your chains, no price is too great.”

Jesse felt like there was something he was missing here, but also realized he had no voice in the matter, and stayed silent. Hanzo lowered his head in submission to his brother’s gift. “Thank you, brother,” he said. “I do not deserve this sacrifice, but I accept it.”

Everyone turned to look at Isamu, the intruder. He still looked perplexed by the turn of events. “I will carry this news to the clan,” he confirmed. “I shall not forget this day.”

“Thank you, cousin,” said Genji.

Hanzo nodded in agreement. “Thank you, cousin.”

Isamu bowed his head, then turned and disappeared behind the tree next to him. Jesse waited to see him appear on the other side, but he never did.

“Okay, it’d be nice if y’all would explain what just happened.” Jesse looked at Genji, and slipped his mechanical hand along Hanzo’s hip.

Hanzo sighed, releasing some of the tension that had built up during the encounter. “He wanted me to sign a document that offered your life as collateral for my promise that I would not try to reclaim my position at the head of the Shimada clan. I refused. Even with such a document, even if I did not fail in my promise, they can refuse to honor the agreement at any time. No one’s life is an object to trade or gamble with.” Especially not yours, he continued silently.

“So what did Genji just offer?”

“I offered my name as assurance. I can handle them.” He made eye contact with his brother, and it was as though they reached some sort of understanding without speaking.

“He has clearly had his brain replaced along with his other damaged body parts,” snarked Hanzo. “Or should have done.”

Genji laughed, and Jesse couldn’t help but smile. “Come,” said the younger Shimada. “I will make sure you return safely, since you are so wrapped up in yourselves an assassin can step right in front of you before you notice.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, but followed his brother without comment, pulling Jesse along with him.

*

The lounge was quiet in the later hours of the afternoon, but Hanzo was awake for once, reading one of the Japanese novels he’d found on the Overwatch media server. Mitzi had found him almost as soon as he’d sat down on the couch, jumping up beside him and pawing at his arm until he stroked her fur and scritched around her ears and chin. He continued to do so idly, his attention focused more on his tablet, until she curled up next to his hip and purred herself to sleep.

He looked up when the door opened. Three young women swept into the room, carrying various bags and packages, which they piled on the table. The cat next to Hanzo jumped up and trotted over to rub against Brigitte’s legs before leaping onto the table to inspect the prizes the girls had brought in.

“Mitzi! You don’t belong up here!” Brigitte scolded, and moved her cat to the floor. Lena laughed, and Hana bent over to pet an unrepentant Mitzi.

Hanzo wondered if he should remove himself and allow the newcomers free rein of the lounge, but just as he swiped his tablet to save his place in the book, Brigitte spoke to him.

“Agent Shimada! I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled, earnest and friendly as she always seemed to be, and set a large bag in front of him on the low coffee table. “I know you’re stuck here with us, and haven’t got any of your things...so we picked up a couple of presents for you. To make you feel more at home.”

Hanzo looked up at the young Swedish woman, frankly shocked that she would even be thinking of him, much less that she and her friends would bring him gifts. “I am honored,” he said.

Lena collapsed in one of the easy chairs opposite. “Go on,” she said. “Look inside!”

He leaned forward and peered over the edge of the bag. It was full of small packages, so he took them out one at a time to see what they were. The girls were watching him like he was a small child at Christmas. There was a nice pair of chopsticks, and three different types of noodles, and a pretty little glazed bowl.

“We didn’t know what kind of noodles you liked best, so we got a bunch,” contributed Hana.

“Thank you,” he said, and continued to pull things out of the bag. He had to smile. It was a bit like a tourist had gone shopping and bought a bunch of things just because they were Japanese. He added green tea candy and a small stuffed toy to the growing assortment on the table. Then he found the sake.

“Ah! Excellent,” he said. Two bottles of sake, one strong and clear and the other unfiltered and, “Strawberry? I have not had strawberry nigori for…” Hanzo tried to remember the last time he’d had any flavored sake. “It has been many years.”

“If you don’t like it, I can take care of it for you,” Lena volunteered. “I picked it out.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps we can share it?” he offered tentatively. He was gratified to see how pleased she was at the suggestion.

He pulled a small, unlabeled green box out of the bag. He looked at each of the girls before opening it.

“Go on!” urged Hana.

Hanzo lifted off the lid. It was a sake set, the flask and two cups ornamented with white cats. Brigitte was smiling uncontrollably. “As soon as I saw that, I thought of how Mitzi likes you better than anyone else here. It’s perfect!”

He smiled and nodded as he set the box down. “When I was much younger,” he began, wanting to share even though he still felt quite shy about revealing anything personal, “there was a stray cat who lived in the garden of my home.” He paused again briefly, but he had begun the story, so he must finish it. “I was not allowed a pet of my own. But the stray cat was my friend for a time, and I would save food for him from my own meals, and he would permit me to pet him.”

“That explains it then,” Brigitte said. “Mitzi can sense these things.”

“Keep going,” Lena urged. “There’s one more.”

Hanzo pulled out another box, large and square and flat. He pulled off the lid, and inside was a calligraphy set. It was a beginner’s set, nothing fancy, but the fact that someone knew about his hobby and would want to provide the tools for it...he blinked rapidly, trying to chase off the tears that threatened to fall.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for everything. I do not deserve such kindness.”

“Aww, sure you do,” Lena replied.

Brigitte added, “You’re a part of the family, too!”

“You were sad,” said Hana. “We wanted to cheer you up.”

Hanzo tried to smile as he carefully put everything back in the bag to take back to his quarters. He could not help but be baffled that they would have gone out of their way like this, or even thought of him at all. They were young enough to be daughters to him. He looked at the bottle of strawberry-flavored sake again, before handing it to Lena.

“Find a place to chill this, and we will open it after dinner,” he instructed.

She accepted the bottle. “Right-o!”

He stood and picked up the bag of gifts. “I will take these things to my quarters. Thank you for thinking of me.” Hanzo tried to escape as gracefully as he could, leaving the girls to sort out their other purchases.

*

“Hey, Hanzo! Come in, sit down!” Lúcio jumped up to shake his hand as he entered the room. “You’re looking better. Feeling better?”

Hanzo inclined his head. “Yes,” he confirmed. Not a lot had changed, really. The future still seemed dangerous, his relationships with the people around him still felt precarious, but somewhere, something small had shifted within him. He sat down in his accustomed spot.

Lúcio picked up his clipboard as he took his chair. “So just real quick, I have to follow up on some things I asked in our first session.” He paused as he adjusted the worksheet on his clipboard.

“Okay,” Hanzo said.

He was rewarded with a smile as Lúcio looked back up at him. “Okay, so...You were having nightmares before. Are they still bothering you?”

There was a quiet moment as Hanzo considered the question. Some of his dreams had been decidedly uneasy, but they were not heart-stopping like the ones he’d had immediately after the shooting. “Not the same one,” he answered. “I have dreams, but they are not as powerful. I am not sure I would have desired to sleep as much as I have this week otherwise.”

“Fair enough,” Lúcio said. “How about panic attacks? Are you using the meds?”

Hanzo almost smiled as he thought of how that packet of pills had gone everywhere with him, as a sort of security blanket. “I have had no more panic attacks.” Then he immediately retracted his statement. “There was one, and I took one tablet. There were no others and I have the rest of the tablets here.” He reached into his pocket to pull the envelope out but Lúcio waved at him to stop.

“Nah, that’s fine. They’re yours. Keep them for a while longer, just in case. Sometimes the anxiety will sneak up on you and pounce suddenly.” There was a scratching sound as Lúcio made some notes. “How about the hallucinations?”

“No more,” Hanzo was able to say definitely.

“Good! I expect catching up on your sleep helped a lot with that. Any other difficulties with overpowering emotions? Anger, or despair, or anything else that seems out of the ordinary?”

Again, Hanzo had to review his behavior over the previous days. At various times he’d been angry, he’d been on the precipice of despair, but then all in one moment, with one decision, it had changed. He shrugged. He was unsure how to answer. “No more than usual?”

“One more question, okay?” Lúcio wasn’t worried that he would decline to answer, but he checked anyway. “How are your relationships?”

Hanzo knew he meant Jesse specifically, but it occurred to him that almost all his interactions with the people around him seemed different. Had the people around him changed or had he? “Better. Jesse has been patient with me. Everyone has.” He thought of the kindnesses of people he barely knew, and of how his brother had stepped in to guarantee his freedom. His brother, the one he’d tried to kill. It still was not quite real. Things simply did not ever go in his favor, so he couldn’t quite figure out how to handle it when they did.

Lúcio was about to move on when Hanzo opened his mouth to speak again, so he waited.

“I think...I must learn how to live. For myself. My family’s rules, my father’s, no longer govern me. They have only brought me pain and loss for as long as I can remember. If I am to move forward, I must do so on my own terms.” Hanzo’s brow furrowed as he considered the deeper implications of what he had just said.

“You’re at the point that a lot of us reach at one time or another, if we have any self-awareness at all,” Lúcio said, his voice kind. “Easy enough to see it objectively, but to really feel it inside, to make the changes in perspective that are necessary...it can be a challenge.” He paused. “This is our final session for the purposes of the experiment, but I’m always available to talk. Well, unless I’m on stage or on an op.”

Hanzo acknowledged the offer with a nod.

“So I have one more music program for you to listen to. It sounds a lot like the others, and again we’ve specifically chosen certain harmonic frequencies that trigger particular responses.” He reached for Hanzo’s tablet as he held it out, and began to sync it to his own device. “Unlike the last selection, however,” here he looked up at Hanzo, “I’m not going to tell you how we’ve tuned this one. Otherwise, the same rules apply. Stop if you need to stop.” He handed the tablet back.

The headphones went on, and Hanzo pushed the play button. He got goosebumps as soon as the music started, and felt like he could cry within the first thirty seconds. It wasn’t because the music was unhappy. It was because it was Japanese. Not quite the strictly classical Japanese music his mother had favored in his childhood, but those instruments and those melodic styles combined with the synthesizers and other western trappings that got Lúcio the harmonic qualities he needed for his therapeutic treatment. Hanzo slid down into it like warm bathwater and let himself float away.

He was reminded how he’d sworn to never return to Hanamura, and how Genji had promised his life as bond. If he hadn’t had the music pouring over him, through him, he would have quickly become morose and fallen back into the pattern of self-shame and regret that had been his usual response for decades. But something, some note of hope in his ears, turned him away from that. He’d abandoned Hanamura, sure, but not the entirety of Japan. Perhaps he and Jesse could visit as tourists one day…

It was over too quickly. Hanzo’s eyes opened immediately upon realizing there was no more music. He wanted more of it, more of its light and beauty to fill him with inspiration. He pushed his headphones back, ready to protest.

“So what was the feeling you got from that?” Lúcio cocked his head slightly, his pencil at the ready, as he waited to see what his patient got from the musical offering.

“I…” Hanzo stopped. He thought about it, seeking for the right words to describe what he’d experienced. “Home,” he said. “Hope? Like I had when I was young and the world was full of wonder.” He watched as Lúcio wrote down what he said.

Lúcio nodded, and smiled, obviously pleased. “That’s awesome. I tailored this one just for you, and it was a little challenging to find pieces that did what I wanted. If you liked it, there’s more from those artists on the media server.” He set the clipboard aside. “We wouldn’t have the time in the field to make up fresh playlists for everyone, obviously, but having a varied collection of programs ready to go is one of our priorities. Anyway, I’d like to thank you for letting us practice on you. Dr. Z wants to see you after this, just to ask a couple more questions and check your vitals again for comparison purposes.” Lúcio stood up, hand extended. Hanzo stood too, and shook Lúcio’s hand.

“Do you want these back?” he asked, indicating the headset and tablet.

“Oh, no, those have been assigned to you as an Overwatch asset. I don’t know if you can take them with you when you’re off duty, but as long as you’re here, anyway…”

“I understand. Thank you.” Hanzo inclined his body towards the younger man. The words were meager compared to the weight of his gratitude, but his voice managed to convey enough richness that Lúcio was able to perceive at least some of it. His smile was warm as ever.

“It’s been no trouble,” he said. “I’ll see you around! Maybe play you some of my beats next time.”

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth lifted as he stepped out of the room and turned towards the doctor’s office.

Chapter Text

When he opened the door, the apartment smelled slightly stale, but still, the knowledge that he was in his own realm again brought Hanzo a profound sense of relief. He had not planned to be away so long.

“Come on, some of us are still out in the hallway!” Jesse laughed and gave him a nudge over the threshold.

They stopped to remove their shoes before carrying their bags into the bedroom, another small detail that made Hanzo feel better. He had been a little apprehensive that the intrusions into his home during his absence had been destructive, but as he looked around it seemed nothing was out of place or damaged. Everything was whole, except for his bed, where there was a small slit visible in the center of the duvet. He set his duffel bag down next to it and moved to stow his bow case in the closet. When he turned around, Jesse was staring at the hole like it was a venomous creature.

“We should go get you a new mattress,” he said.

“It is fine. I can repair it.” Hanzo opened the window shades to let in the light of the summer evening, and began to unpack.

Jesse continued to be transfixed by the small wound in the duvet. A tiny fluff of goose down was caught on the edge of the slit, quivering as Hanzo’s unpacking stirred the air around it. “Nah, we can replace it all. You shouldn’t have to see that every day.”

“Jesse,” said Hanzo. He waited for his lover to meet his eye. “It does not bother me.”

“You were that distressed in Ilios and afterwards from them coming for you, but seeing this every day is no big deal?” Jesse gestured at the bed.

Hanzo sighed, and carried his now empty duffel to the closet. He dropped all his unpacked clothes into his laundry basket. It gave him time to decide how to explain.

“I was distressed, but it was never because my life was threatened.” He’d had so much time to think about it, and even time spent not thinking about it had helped things become clear. “It was because the life I have wanted to live has always been in conflict with the life my family wanted me to live, and that fact alone put you at risk. At Ilios, you became known to them and the danger to you was imminent.”

“I told you I can take care of myself,” Jesse said. “And you, if it comes down to it.”

“I know. I believe you.” Hanzo stopped, watching Jesse’s face. “I am sorry, I do not explain myself well. I do not know how to tell you what is in my head.” He took a deep breath. “Or in my heart,” he finished, his voice quieter, hesitating. “Jesse,” he said, as Jesse slipped his hand alongside his jaw, stroking the graying hair back from Hanzo’s temple with a thumb, “I trust you.”

Jesse leaned down to kiss his lover, and it lasted a good few minutes, only ending when he wrapped his arms around Hanzo and pulled him tight against his chest. “Han, can I ask you something? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, I know you’re not new to being with guys or anything…” He couldn’t help but remember several moments that proved that Hanzo had gathered a fair bit of experience somewhere. “But, uh, have you had an actual boyfriend before? Like a real relationship, not just a good fuck?” He wasn’t even sure what made him ask. He’d only really had a few himself, and none had lasted long or ended particularly well. Their vocation didn’t really lend itself to long-term, healthy relationships. There was just something about how careful Hanzo was being, how uncertain he seemed to be about what the boundaries were. It just made Jesse wonder.

Hanzo’s cheek was pressed against Jesse’s neck as he answered, and Jesse felt his voice vibrate through his body. “Yes,” he replied, but he sounded a little uncertain. “I was very young.”

“Ah. So it’s been a while. Probably didn’t last too long, either, eh? Those early ones never do.” Jesse stroked the back of Hanzo’s head. It felt so good just to hold him, but he couldn’t deny that he had other ideas of what they could be doing. No rush, though. No schedule, no work to be done here. He was on his own time now.

Hanzo was still thinking of the past, and elected to share more of the story with Jesse since it all tied up with the events of recent weeks. “My father did not approve,” he said quietly. “I was the scion of the Shimada clan; I would have been subject to an arranged marriage had I not abdicated. Having gay lovers before marriage would have damaged my reputation and limited my matches. And he was not of our class, not part of our world.” He had been so handsome, though, and so intelligent. He had been a kind and generous lover, teaching young Hanzo much about pleasure and beauty even during such a brief affair.

Now Jesse was getting curious. He knew it was bad form to ask about former lovers, and usually a bad idea because it could easily lead to jealousy. But Hanzo was talking about his past, something he rarely did, and it always made Jesse feel more intimately tied to him. The fact that he never talked about his own past with Hanzo did not fail to register, and once again he promised himself that he would do it, and soon, just not right now.

“What world was he a part of, if not yours?” Jesse asked.

“He was in the theater, traditional theater. Kabuki.” Hanzo closed his eyes, remembering the ornate costumes and makeup that had so entranced him as a teenager. If his life had not already been preordained...but no, it never did any good to go down that road. It was too late for that particular dream. “We were lovers for only a short time, three, four months, before my family found out. Then they took care of him.”

Jesse pulled back enough to see Hanzo’s face. “‘Took care of him?’ In the way that mobs and gangs ‘take care of’ folks?” Hanzo’s eyes were glistening, and he blinked several times as he looked away. The muscles around his jaw flexed as he refused to give in to sorrow.

“Yes,” he answered, turning back to face Jesse. “I never saw him again. My father had an explanation, a story of betrayal, and I believed him for a long time. But not any more.”

“You thought they were going to do the same to me, huh?” Jesse’s face seemed to get a lot closer to Hanzo’s, their noses almost brushing. Hanzo’s lips parted to reply, but Jesse’s mouth was on his before he could speak and they were kissing again, more intensely than before.

Hanzo broke away first. “Jesse...a moment…” he said, slipping out of his lover’s arms and into the bathroom. Jesse untucked his shirt and took off his belt, then pulled back the duvet and stretched out on the bed, long legs crossed at the ankles and arms tucked behind his head. He could hear the water running and smiled at how particular Hanzo always was about smelling nice for him.

And then Hanzo was back in his arms, freshly washed, his clothing loose, his hair damp around the edges, his face flushed slightly, his lips dancing across Jesse’s face and neck. Jesse rolled them over as their mouths met again, open and devouring. Hanzo pulled Jesse’s tongue down into his mouth, teasing and sucking on it as Jesse pushed his lips against his, nudging his jaw open further. Hanzo wrapped his legs around Jesse’s thighs and drew their groins tightly together, making Jesse groan at the pressure against his hardening cock and the feeling of Hanzo’s digging into his abdomen. Hanzo’s hands slid up the back of Jesse’s shirt, cool and still slightly damp against his hot skin, where they stroked and massaged him, manipulating his muscles as though he was clay being sculpted, tracing the lines of his bones across the surface of his skin.

Jesse pushed himself up to sit back on his knees, and took off his shirt. Breathless, and with Hanzo’s dexterous fingers tormenting the sensitive skin around his waist, Jesse asked the question he always had to ask, every time they were intimate. “Want me to take off the arm, Han?”

Hanzo looked up at him, face pink and hair messy from their make-out session, his strong, serious face all the more beautiful and alive for it. “No, it is fine.” His voice was rough, and he ran his tongue over his raw lips. “I was wondering…” he began. “Perhaps we could do something different tonight?”

Jesse raised an eyebrow and his mouth curved into a smile as he laid back down, propping himself up on his elbows. “I’m always up for an adventure, pumpkin, just tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

“It is not especially adventurous,” Hanzo said. “Just...I would like to feel you inside me.” He hadn’t expected to feel so shy asking for what he wanted. It was like he was nineteen again, in so many ways. “If that is acceptable,” he added, the expression on Jesse’s face not clearly broadcasting what he thought about the idea.

Something deeper than arousal stirred inside Jesse. In the half dozen or so months they’d been together, they’d sought pleasure together in a variety of ways, but Hanzo had always held back that one thing. Jesse had to admit he’d fantasized about taking control and breaking down that wall that Hanzo carefully built around himself, but he’d never really questioned it. Some guys just didn’t like taking it in the ass, and it wasn’t like Hanzo wasn’t great at everything else. Now the idea flashed through his head that it had been about control, and trust, and if Hanzo was willing to let Jesse lead, it meant a lot more than just looking for something new to try.

He realized Hanzo was still waiting for him to answer. “Darlin’, I’d love to,” he said. He quickly followed it up by nuzzling into Hanzo’s neck and collarbone, knowing how sensitive the skin was there. He felt Hanzo squirm beneath him, his fingers digging into Jesse’s flesh as the sensation overwhelmed him. Jesse unbuttoned Hanzo’s shirt and pulled it open far enough to reveal the edge of the dragon tattoo where it wrapped around his shoulder. Jesse trailed the tip of his tongue along the lines, pausing briefly in surprise when his tongue tingled slightly as it came in contact with the ink.

Hanzo threw his head back as Jesse’s attentions sent his pulse racing and sensitized every inch of him. He was remembering what it had been like to surrender himself all those years ago, remembering how incredible it had been and knowing that if anyone could ever do that for him again, it was the man he was with now. His hands were wandering on their own across Jesse’s shoulders, his fingers burying themselves in Jesse’s hair. He had to stop himself directing his lover’s movements as he normally would have. He wanted to see where Jesse wanted to go, to follow where he led.

Jesse pulled him gently out of his shirt and slid down to remove his trousers, undershorts, and socks, stroking the skin underneath as he went. He stayed at the end of the bed for a moment, gazing down at Hanzo like a shining rare treasure that he had just unearthed from obscurity.

“You are so beautiful, Hanzo. Every bit of you.” He smiled as Hanzo looked a little uncomfortable with the praise, then leaned over and kissed him gently. He wanted to be careful with this, to do it right. Jesse kept his eyes on his lovers face as he smoothed his palms over Hanzo’s chest and ribs, delicately thumbing across his nipples and following up with kisses on each, then descending down to his navel and nibbling at the delicate skin of his lower abdomen. Hanzo shivered and twitched as Jesse’s whiskers brushed against his cock, but the kisses trailed back up along his ribs, a half dozen or so on each side and then one on each tightly drawn nipple before Jesse’s lips landed back on Hanzo’s.

They lost themselves in each other’s mouths again, the heat rising between their bare chests. Jesse’s jeans were feeling more and more restrictive with each passing moment, but he wanted to draw this out as long as he could manage, and undressing would just add to the building momentum. It didn’t even occur to him that Hanzo was getting a bit of a thrill from being completely naked while Jesse was still half-clothed. When they broke off the kiss to catch their breaths, Jesse pulled open the top drawer of the low chest next to the bed and pulled out the small bottle he knew was stashed there.

He grinned at Hanzo with his most charmingly wicked lopsided grin, and Hanzo almost laughed. His heart was pounding and he felt charged up, and every touch of Jesse’s fingers or lips was a lightning bolt. He couldn’t remember being this excited about anything in years. He closed his eyes, wanting to be surprised at how exactly Jesse would tease him next. He could tell Jesse was kneeling between his legs, and then a warm hand wrapped around his cock, pulling the foreskin down to expose what still remained hidden of the head, then as he began to sigh at the pleasure, Jesse licked across his slit and then swirled his tongue around the head, and the sigh instantly mutated to a groan. The tongue vanished and there was only the cold wetness for a moment, and then the clicking noise of the bottle being opened and closed.

Jesse’s thumbs, one warm and soft, one slightly cooler and hard metal, spread Hanzo’s cheeks to grant him access to all the most tender parts. Hanzo’s fingers curled up in the sheet beneath him as a slick finger circled around the puckered flesh several times before sliding in just the length of a fingertip at the same time that Jesse’s mouth closed around the head of his cock. Hanzo made another small, low sound, and opened his eyes to see his partner watching for his reaction. He smiled, and Jesse swirled his tongue again, and slid his finger all the way in, stroking Hanzo’s inner wall as it went in and then slowly pulled back out.

“It is good, Jesse, it is good,” Hanzo moaned as his lover proceeded to take his cock deeper into his mouth, gently holding its base with his prosthetic hand, while caressing him from inside with his natural finger. Encouraged, Jesse added another finger, feeling Hanzo’s body instinctively clench around it, then relax as he massaged it. Every sound out of the normally-silent Hanzo and every reactive thrust of his hips got Jesse harder. His need was building just as fast as his partner’s, it seemed. He slipped a third slick finger in through the double rings, pushing them directly into the sensitive spot that had Hanzo panting. Jesse backed off the pressure slightly as he turned more focus towards what he was doing with his mouth on Hanzo’s dick. He’d been alternating between sucking and rubbing with his tongue and sliding up and down just a bit while holding it steady, but now he slid his mechanical hand down and carefully, carefully cupped Hanzo’s balls. It was playing with fire, but they’d done it successfully before. With everything in place, and his other fingers still teasing from the inside, Jesse opened his throat and took Hanzo as far down as he could manage, once, twice, eliciting another moan from Hanzo and making his body go rigid. Jesse pulled off then, removing his fingers but giving the balls a little squeeze before he let go of them. Hanzo gasped as he did so, and it turned into a small chuckle.

His eyes were shining in the dim light when Jesse looked up. The sun had set at last and it was quickly getting dark. “Want me to close the blinds?” he asked as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and leaned in for another kiss before getting up to strip off the rest of his clothes.

“No, I am feeling rebellious,” Hanzo said. “If someone is watching, let them see.” He grinned even more wickedly than Jesse had. He was done with his father’s rules, done with hiding himself. “Let them see that in my weakness is my strength. Let them see everything.”

Jesse hadn’t realized he could get more turned on by the circumstances, but Hanzo had just kicked it up another notch with his defiance and by reminding him that with the right equipment, their shenanigans could be observed. Filmed, even. Hot. He stood next to the bed, within arm’s reach of Hanzo, as he unzipped his jeans and dropped them to his ankles. Hanzo reached up and stroked his erection through his shorts as he kicked his jeans away and peeled off his socks. Then, while maintaining eye contact with Hanzo, he pulled down his shorts, sighing softly at the release of pressure.

Hanzo sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the low bed, turning to face his lover. “May I?” he asked, and waited for Jesse’s nod, as though there was a possibility he would get any other answer. When he received it, he leaned forward and ran his tongue around Jesse’s sack, rubbing it along the hard little ridge down the center, then taking each of the balls into his mouth one at a time and squeezing and sucking on it. Having done that, he dragged the tip of his tongue up the underside of Jesse’s cock, feeling how the veins were standing out. Jesse was leaking already, and Hanzo sucked off all the fluid, then took the greater portion of Jesse’s dick into his mouth. He would have tormented his lover for longer but Jesse was already so wound up that he only let Hanzo suck on him for a few minutes before he pulled back.

“I want you, Han,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I need you.” He pushed Hanzo back onto the pillows and positioned himself between Hanzo’s muscular thighs. Then he leaned over for another kiss, devouring and passionate. When it was done, Jesse hovered there for a moment, his face just inches from Hanzo’s. “I love you,” he said. And he reached down and nudged the tip of his cock into his lover’s well-buttered hole.

Hanzo groaned and pushed against Jesse, knowing that the small pain he felt now would rapidly dissipate and pleasure would replace it as his partner moved within him. He held his thighs up to make it easier, and Jesse gently pushed all the way in. Now they were both making sounds of satisfaction.

“Still good, baby?” Jesse whispered, feeling like he’d found heaven.

“Yes,” said Hanzo. “Yes. Yes.” As Jesse began to thrust, Hanzo began to feel a little delirious, occasionally repeating the “yes” and powerless to stop himself. Jesse leaned back and lifted Hanzo’s thighs over his elbows, nailing Hanzo’s prostate with each stroke, and Hanzo felt the glorious wave building. He reached up and began to rub himself as he felt the pressure rise, the delicious buzz building throughout his lower half. Every nerve was alight and even his arm and thigh tattoos seemed to be connected to the pleasure centers, heightening his sense of intoxication.

Jesse, meanwhile, was increasing his pace as he got closer and closer to release. He hoped he could last long enough for Hanzo to get off, because he was feeling so good. Sure, it had been a while since he’d fucked anyone like this, but he didn’t remember it feeling this good. Had it always felt this good? Oh god, this felt so good. Hanzo fit like a glove and was so warm and so beautiful. Jesse looked down at his lover and felt the fire inside burn brighter. And then Hanzo shuddered, and the first ribbons of come shot across his chest, the spasms squeezing Jesse’s cock inside him. Jesse buried himself in it, to the hilt, and as he did it was like he was launched into the center of an exploding roman candle, showered in a continuous cascade of sparks. He came as powerfully as he could remember ever having done, all his senses electrified and the sound of a rushing wind in his ears. He was sure he cried out in ecstasy, but he couldn’t hear himself. When he was spent, he collapsed on Hanzo’s chest, panting heavily.

Hanzo placed a hand each side of his head and lifted it up. “Jesse? Jesse, are you okay?” He sounded worried.

Jesse managed to get his elbows under him to hold himself up. “That was fucking brilliant, Han. I don’t know how you always manage to be so good…” He trailed off, eyes on Hanzo’s face, but still feeling rather like the room was spinning.

Hanzo’s hands shifted from supporting weight to caressing his face. “That has not happened before,” he said.

“What do you mean? What hasn’t happened?” Jesse was confused.

“The dragons...the spirit dragons came out...I did not summon them…” Hanzo sounded confused too, and even a little frightened. “I do not want to hurt you.”

Jesse smiled, reaching up with one hand to smooth the hair back from Hanzo’s flushed face. “Aw, sugar, you didn’t hurt me. That was damn amazing, actually. You must have really let go.” He couldn’t resist the curve of his lover’s lips, and stretched to kiss them again, tenderly this time. “You’re a hard act to follow, Han.”

Jesse couldn’t see it, but there was still the hint of an aura tracing his body in the darkened room. Hanzo was baffled by the phenomenon, but what Jesse said made sense. He’d let go, completely and thoroughly surrendered, and the spirit dragons-- his spirit--had flown free. They had projected euphoria, for once, instead of targeted destruction.

No one had ever suggested they were capable of this. But then, no one had encouraged him to release himself. He had only ever been taught control and self-denial. As his body relaxed into the blissfulness, his heart burst into joyous revelry. He’d finally chosen to live for his own happiness, regardless of what other people thought.

“I love you too, Jesse,” he confessed. He heard the first raindrops of an evening shower tap softly against the window, and he smiled. “It is good to be home.”