Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He woke to darkness

And the sense of falling

Arm outstretched he screamed

And through the air

A cacophony of bellowing roars

The feral screams of beasts

The sentient fury of man

And from that darkness burst forth

Titanic monsters of old

Light to flood the darkness

The hue of a clear day sky

Twin heads twisting round and round

A terrible sight

Dragons…

It wasn’t uncommon for Jesse McCree to wake from his nightmare startled and with too little sleep. It was always the same, and left the Cowboy’s heart racing jackrabbit-quick in his chest. He hated sleeping and hated his nightmare more, the cryptic message clear in his own mind. The monsters who stole the light of his life were coming for him next, they would chase him to the ends of the earth and take him too once they caught up…

Everyone had a dream. Some had it from birth, others waited until their other half was born. The stories were all the same though, two halves of a whole heart yearning for one another, and their dreams connected them until their physical forms met. Some dreams were clearer than others, dreaming of faces or names that made it simpler for them to find one another, while other dreams were more cryptic.

Except Jesse never had a dream. For as far back as he could remember, his had always been a nightmare, the same nightmare. The dragons hungering for him. Nightmares only came for those who lost their mate to death before they ever met. It had been a tough pill to swallow for McCree, especially when he got pitying looks from those who were close enough to him to know.

His nightmare had led him down a darker path from the time of his youth. Without the hope of a mate to find peace with, he wrapped himself in chaos. Gunslinger, Cowboy, Outlaw… There had been something sickly satisfying about taking his anger out on the world when he was younger, but now it left him haunted by ghosts. How many people had nightmares now because of him? How many people startled awake each night with the image of a red serape and a smoking gun burned into their eyes.

It was a sad thought, and one he figured he deserved for all he’d done.

At the age of thirty-seven, Jesse figured he should wake with thoughts of being too old for this shit. Tonight was little different, the nightmare throwing him into the waking world all at once, he jerked up and hit his head on the bottom of the bunk over his. He grumbled and rubbed the sore spot on his head, letting out a little huff as he turned and laid his feet on the cold cement floor.

As far as Overwatch bases went, the hideaway in King’s Row wasn’t bad, but London was a far cry from the warm open spaces of New Mexico. The base was tucked beneath the city streets and featured concrete from floor to low ceilings. Jesse idly wondered if the base was made for people like Torbjorn, but it was obviously not made for people over six feet. He felt too cramped there.

The rooms were sparse, each one featuring a bunk bed – that was about it. His bag was on the top bunk, and there wasn’t much space for anything else.

Jesse managed to get out of the tiny room and paced down the hallway in search of the kitchen. The light at the end of the space told him that he wasn’t the only one up that night.

The hallway opened into a larger community room, a sunk in sitting space where a TV used to sit (long since stolen before the Overwatch recall), a broken foosball table (courtesy of a drunken Reinhardt), and a metal table with four of its six chairs missing. The kitchen sat on the other side of the table, the weak orange-yellow glow of the overhead light leading McCree to it.

The appliances that hadn’t been looted no longer worked. The fridge only had one door and the stove had housed a family of rats just earlier that day. It was a miracle they’d gotten the lights to work…

It was Genji that he found inhabiting the space, sitting on what used to be a counter. The cyborg was hardly an imposing sight, but that was part of what made him so dangerous. His head turned when McCree entered, expression hidden behind a mask of green. Jesse recalled one night when he had found the cyborg legitimately and deeply asleep, and had drawn on his mask with permanent marker only to be chastised by Angela for a week afterwards. Genji had found it funny though.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Jesse asked as he walked over to the stove where a box of beer sat on top of it. He plucked on out and cracked it open with one hand before taking a long pull.

Genji was quiet for a moment before he hummed, the vocalizer giving it a slightly metallic tone, “My mind is…loud…tonight.”

“Can’t you just meditate ‘er somethin?” the Cowboy asked as he leaned against the opposite counter.

“I suppose I could. Perhaps I want to listen tonight,” was the honest reply. He was quiet for another moment before he broached the question he already knew the answer to, “Your nightmare again?”

Jesse scoffed, “The night I get some decent sleep is gonna be the day I die.”

“That is not a pleasant thought. I wish there was some way to help you…” The cyborg pulled his legs up to sit akimbo, resting his hands on his knees.

“Revenge might help. If it don’ help me sleep it’ll sure as fuck gimme some piece of mind,” McCree finished off the first can and set it aside before taking up another one. He rubbed at his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his flesh hand before he started on the second can of beer, “It’s just hard ‘cause you get reminded every time you close your eyes.”

There had been a long time where Jesse had feared sleep. He would go days without it, run himself until he collapsed. For a time he had been addicted to Angela’s heavy sleeping pills to put him in a dreamless sleep, but they left him sluggish for hours after he woke. Not a good thing for a Gunslinger like Jesse.

Silence fell between them, unbroken until McCree finished his second beer and set it aside. “How’s Zenyatta been holding up?” the Gunslinger ventured, changing the subject.

“It has been difficult… He knew it would be but I see it wearing upon him,” Genji lowered his head some, a display of worry. McCree had never met anyone else who had an Omnic for a mate, but the two were happy as could be – who was he to say anything about it? The cyborg pressed on, “His teachings are heard by many, but the masses of both sides remain unconvinced. Most Omnics are peaceful, as are most humans, but those who wage war garner the most attention.”

Jesse let out a grunt, feeling the beer worming its way into his bloodstream, “All we can do is protect the innocent, and each other.”

“There must be more. Each day the gap between human and Omnic seems to grow wider,” frustration lined his voice. It was rare to hear negative emotions with Genji anymore, not since he had met his mate. Though McCree knew that just meeting his mate hadn’t been the cure for his internal struggles, it had helped that Zenyatta was a monk and teacher as well.

McCree tried not to be bitter…

“I ain’t a monk, Genji,” the Outlaw sighed, “I don’ got flowery words to ease your heartaches. The fact of the matter is that human and Omnic are at a delicate place in history. War has always been how things get settled on this planet. People grow, need space, but when everyone’s got a different set of opinions and a different idea of right and wrong, well… My point is that if you look at history, this is just the same song and dance we’ve seen a hundred times.”

Genji sighed after another stretch of quiet, “When I was young it was easy to see the world as black and white, right and wrong. My brother and I would play games around the idea, kill the bad guy and be the heroes.”

Jesse smiled and huffed affectionately, “My Papa and I used to watch old Westerns, like the real old shit. The cowboys were the heroes, got the girl, and killed the savages. Then I grew up, learned the history behind those ‘savages’ and well…didn’t I just feel like shit.” The old memory was a good one though, sitting next to his father and watching an old vintage television with an even older movie.

“Didn’t you used to watch those old Westerns with Gabriel?” The innocent question caught Jesse off-guard.

“Yessir,” he said, recalling the old memories of being settled into one of the old Gibraltar rec-rooms, a tub of popcorn and a bottle of whiskey shared between two men. It was one of the better memories he had of Gabriel Reyes, when the man would crack jokes and grin wide enough flash his pearly whites. The two could sit for hours to watch the old movies together, sharing a mutual interest in vintage entertainment.

Genji canted his head, “You look nice when you smile.” Sometimes the cyborg just liked to come out and say odd things that had nothing to do with the situation. The comment was enough for Jesse to realize what he was doing, and the smile fell a moment later.

“Thanks, anyway maybe you should try ‘n get some sleep yeah?” Jesse went to grab a third beer.

Before Genji could answer their conversation was derailed by the sudden insistent beeping of their communicators. Jesse’s on his belt, Genji’s built directly into his arm. The trill was enough to startle them both, moving for their respective devices, “McCree here,” he drawled into the palm-sized device at the same moment Genji announced his presence.

“We’ve got a situation!” Lena’s voice was sharp, edged with panic that had a lump forming in Jesse’s stomach, “Someone started a fire up on Nineteenth Street.”

Jesse frowned, “Lena, we ain’t firemen,” he pointed out.

“The fire isn’t the situation!” the Gunslinger took note of the sounds of chaos behind her, “When the firefighters showed up, someone set off a bomb on the truck! Anti-Omnics, they’re poppin’ up all over the place causin’ mayhem!”

Well that did indeed sound like a situation in Jesse’s mind. “Shit,” he cursed aloud, “Stay low darlin’, don’ get caught in the crossfire, we’re gonna grab the others and be there in five.”

“I will come ahead of Jesse,” Genji said, “I am faster, I may be able to subvert some of the chaos.”

“Just hurry!” was the last thing Lena said before the communicator went quiet.

Jesse nodded to Genji, “Go on, make sure Lena’s alright. I’ll fetch the others an’ be out there right quick.”

The cyborg started moving before McCree finished, jumping from his perch and moving to the bunker’s entrance. “Genji,” Jesse called after him a moment later, when the man had his hand on the door, “You be careful a’right? Don’ do nothin’ stupid.”

“You honor me,” was the reply he got, the words tinted with affection despite the vocalizer. Genji was gone in the next second, and McCree was moving.

He ran down the hall, slapping the doors hard as he went, “Wake up y’all, it’s time for action!”

The doors opened behind him, one of them before he got to it and he nearly hit poor Angela in the face. The woman flinched, startled, but recovered quickly, “Jesse, what’s going on?” Her accent was heavy, voice thick from sleep as she blinked her sky-blue eyes at him.

“We got Anti-Omnic terrorism goin’ on a few blocks up. They’re causin’ a right ruckus and we need to go before they burn half of King’s Row down!” He kept moving as he spoke, barging back into his room and grabbing for his bag. He pulled out his flashbangs and several clips of ammunition, then grabbed Peacekeeper and her holster from the corner of the bunk railing where she’d been settled. He yanked on his boots and trudged back out to the communal area.

Reinhardt was struggling with his armor in the small space, huffing and puffing as he smacked his head on the ceiling. Torbjorn had his pack set up with the makings of a turret, his beard and hair sticking out at odd angles. Angela was running a test on her Caudecus staff and Valkyrie suit. Zenyatta floated quietly, but the Omnic wasn’t radiating his usual peace. The team was sorely lacking its old numbers, it also lacked the direction and strategy that came from the late Morrison and Reyes.

“Wipe the sleep from your eyes y’all, we gotta move quick!” he barked with the same authority Reyes had taught him long ago. The man had been an asshole, but he sure as shit knew how to light a fire under someone’s ass. Jesse just hoped he had half the ability to rally as his old mentors. He looked to Zenyatta, “I need you to stay back for this one. This is terrorism, and the last thing we need is for you to be singled out.”

The Omnic was quiet until Jesse turned, “I can help.”

“I know you can bud, trust me. And once things calm down you’re gonna be the first one I call for. The people are gonna need you, human and Omnic, but-“ Jesse huffed, unable to read any emotion from the Shambali as he floated in silence, “The last thing we need is to risk losin’ you. Genji needs you safe.” He had a horrible fear that something could happen to Zenyatta, that Genji would fall back into the agonizing pit of despair he had been in for so long.

He charged for the door and the crew followed behind, determination shaking the edges of sleep from them as they poured out into King’s Row. The entrance to the bunker was hidden beneath the vestiges of an old tavern, masked as a cellar door. It gave them easy access to the street where Jesse could already see the glow of a fire in the starry skyline. He turned and made sure their exit was covered, helped Angela up the last few steps and kicked the door closed.

Reinhardt charged ahead, following his eyes and nose to where the majority of the chaos seemed to be. Torbjorn and Angela were close behind, the glow of the Caudecus staff like that of a beacon in a storm. McCree always knew that if shit got bad, he just had to look for that light to find hope.

He covered their flank, watching the shadows as they ran up the streets. He grabbed his communicator, “Lena, Genji, what’s the situation?”

“Shite!” was Lena’s quick response.

“I have to agree with that assessment,” Genji’s voice was strained somewhat, “Many lives have been lost, and it seems that these terrorists are not yet finished.”

McCree frowned, “Just hold things down, we’re almost there.”

A flicker from the shadows drew the Gunslinger’s eye, “Reinhardt! On your three!” He bellowed as he grabbed for Peacekeeper.

The hissing screech of the rocket was something Jesse wished he didn’t know as well as he did. Reinhardt may have been older than a mountain, but his reflexes were still as strong as the Outlaw remembered. One massive hand grabbed Angela as his shield went up, Torbjorn diving for its cover just in time. The explosion was sharp and loud, filling the street with smoke and shrapnel.

Jesse was thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

The would-be assailant was trying to flee, ran right by Jesse who grabbed his ankle and sent the man sprawling down to the cobblestone with a thud. His rocket launcher crashed down with a heavier sound.

McCree took quick assessment of himself. Nothing seemed broken. His ears were still ringing like a firehouse alarm as he motioned to the others and yelled over the clanging in his ears, “Go! I’ll be right behind you!” He caught the look in Angela’s eyes as she had been ready to run back to him, but McCree wasn’t nearly as badly in need as those just up the street.

When the three turned to continue forward he twisted around and shoved down the punk who was trying to get up. He hit the kid square in the spine, knocked him to his stomach and crawled over him, wrapping the crux of his elbow around the kid’s throat, “Who’s behind this?” he snarled.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the punk wheezed out, “Go ahead ‘n kill me.”

Jesse didn’t have time for interrogation games. He heard a rumble in the distance, the distinct sound of an explosion. “Fine, you get your wish,” he snapped as he adjusted his grip and with a quick twist of his hands he heard the telltale crack of the kid’s spine. He couldn’t risk the shit hurting other innocents.

McCree reeled back onto his knees and grabbed the punk’s shirt, yanking it up his torso until he found the jagged black symbol of a bird’s talons etched into his skin. He cursed under his breath because of course it was fucking Talon. The attack seemed too organized a clusterfuck to just be random acts of anarchy.

He grabbed for the rocket launcher and checked the connection ports over before he disassembled it into three useless parts, taking the loading hull and two extra rockets, he scanned the area and dropped them into a nearby dumpster so they would at least be harder to find. He took a second to consider how readily his Blackwatch training came back to him, but for the moment he was glad it did.

A quick check of Peacekeeper was the last thing he needed as he started chasing after the path Reinhardt and the others had taken.

Scan the perimeter, find the head, and cut it off. Reyes’s smoky voice filled his head, making Jesse skid to a stop and consider. You know the area, where would they hide? More advice and McCree charged off down a side-path. Somewhere they can keep a lookout, issue orders. Somewhere high.

Jesse grabbed for the hanging ladder of a fire-escape, hauling himself up the rattling metal with quick movements. As he scaled he paced his breathing, listened to the sounds around the area. Sirens. Screaming. Chaos. Nothing seemed to stand out.

He paused for a breath before he breached the top of the building, gathering himself, getting Peacekeeper ready before he hauled himself up.

A quick scan showed the rooftop was empty. McCree tried to keep his footfalls light as he checked around the service entrance in the middle of the space, confirmed that he was alone before he looked out over the other rooftops. The glow from the fires and chaos below made it easy to spot the figure across the plaza from him. He took stock of what he could see; singular, slender, probably female, armed, long-point rifle, approximately sixty yards. Any other details were hard to spot. She was too far away for a clean shot from Peacekeeper.

Jesse grabbed for his communicator, “Sniper,” he warned, “On top of the bank, watch your heads.”

From the looks of things, she hadn’t taken any shots yet. She was surveying the damage, and the Gunslinger took a glance down. A shot would give away her position, force her back to cover. She was more than likely there for cover fire, and to relay orders and positions from a bird’s eye view.

“Roger,” was the confirmation he got from Lena before he replaced his communicator and took another scan of the area. Down in the Plaza, humans dotted the area with various short-range weapons. Pistols, a few with rifles. He could see the damage done to some of the scenery from rockets, but they seemed to have run out. The carcass of the destroyed fire truck was blocking one of the main inward routes, and the fire from the building (apartments, if Jesse’s memory was right) raged on without anything to quell it.

Bodies littered the ground below, both human and Omnic. There were several piled near the front entrance of the blazing building, as if they’d been gunned down as they fled.

Jesse had no doubt in his mind that this was terrorism.

Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and Angela were holding down the southern perimeter of the Plaza, but Talon still seemed to have control over the rest. He could see hostages being held under cover.

It’s a diversion. Reyes supplied again.

McCree huffed.

“I’m going for the sniper,” Genji’s voice came over the communicator, “I see her.”

“Be careful,” Jesse warned, “Lemme see if I can’t distract ‘er.”

He turned and did a quick measure of the distance between his building and the next. It would be a longer path having to avoid the burning building, but he had little other choice. He took a running leap, cleared the gap easily (thank the Lord Almighty that England liked to build shit close together), rolled as he landed.

Another scan of the area. He was alone, but he wouldn’t have been it seemed. There was a body lying on the gravel of the rooftop. Jesse darted over, confirmed he was alone, then knelt down. Facedown, the man had a single wound, the long shaft of an arrow protruding from the back of his head. An arrow of all things. He pulled up the man’s shirt, assured himself the man was Talon, and then took another look around.

He pulled the communicator to his mouth, “Careful boys, we got a Robin Hood running around. I have no idea whose side they’re on.”

Just because they’d killed a Talon member didn’t mean they weren’t going to add to the mayhem. He checked the status of the sniper, still there.

The next rooftop was empty, but McCree didn’t need to jump to the third to spot Robin Hood.

Strong figure, male, shorter, wielding a composite bow. The rest of the details were obscured by shadows, but McCree felt something churn in his chest, a sensation of dread and anxiety that he sure as shit didn’t like. He kept himself to the side, out of sight of the sniper since his attention was diverted. Robin Hood was drawing his bow, attention seemed to be on the ground below, unaware of Jesse lining up his own shot.

Hammer pulled, he took in a breath, measured his aim, let out a breath…

The air thrummed suddenly, a pulse running through the whole of the Plaza that had Jesse stumbling. A screech filled the air, followed by a second one, bellowing roars burst out. Jesse knew those sounds, knew them as well as he knew the beat of his own heart. Fear flooded his veins like ice, made him race to the edge of the rooftop.

There they were…

Screeching dragons twining with one another in the air over the rooftops, massive heads with gleaming antlers and long serpentine bodies stretching out to their source of…

The archer… Fucking Robin Hood commanded the dragons, left arm glowing the same icy blue as the monsters under his control. Of all the times and all the places to meet the bane of his existence, it had to be here. Had to be now.

Don’t lose your cool Cowboy. Reyes’s voice scolded him, but it was distant.

The dragons were swooping, adding to the chaos, drawing attention to themselves.

McCree acted. He could take the shot from where he was, could shoot the bowman dead here and now…but he was going to look the bastard right in the eyes when he pulled the trigger. He was going to make sure he knew what he’d done to Jesse, knew about the life he’d stolen with his dragons.

Jesse leapt for the next building, grabbed the fire escape and scaled the last bit of distance up to get onto the roof. The bowman was still distracted, commanding the dragons. The energy that swirled in the air was a palpable force, like a low gust of wind swirling in a vortex, pulling Jesse in closer.

He readied Peacekeeper, approached like a man possessed. Fuck the terrorism going on below, fuck the sniper, fuck everything but the satisfying knowledge that he would finally take his revenge.

The bowman finally noticed he wasn’t alone, the set of his shoulders tensing as he spun around. He was cast in a blue glow from the swirling marks on his arm, distorting the colors of his figure but Jesse could make out the Gi whipping around him, one sleeve hanging down, the topknot held up by a long golden scarf. His face was squared, angular and sharp, mouth outlined by a goatee, but his eyes…

Jesse stopped dead in his tracks because those eyes that stared back at him…

The dream slammed back into him with crushing force, the sensation of falling, reaching up, the dragons. Robin Hood seemed to be similarly shocked by whatever he saw, whatever was happening to him, the same thing that was happening to Jesse. The glow of his arm faded, throwing them both into darkness.

Reality crashed around them in the form of an explosion. The rooftop shuddered and trembled, sent Jesse stumbling and from that he caught sight of the sniper back in her position, rifle raised. His heart stopped for a moment, the world slowed down.

McCree lunged, grabbed for the bowman and shoved him to the side, away from the edge, away from the bullet. In a brief beat of clarity, he realized the sniper was a good shot, would have easily gotten Robin Hood right in the head. As it was, Jesse was taller.

He saw a flash of green behind the sniper. At least he had provided the distraction the Ninja needed.

Time returned to normal and Jesse saw that the arm he had grabbed Robin Hood with was still being held, the bowman yanking him away from the ledge with a surprising amount of strength from someone his size. He said something, Jesse could see his lips moving, but the only thing he could feel was burning warmth in his chest and a roar in his ears.

He wondered if meeting his mate was supposed to be such a powerful sensation, but then he realized the warmth wasn’t coming from his heart… His cybernetic hand shot up, covered the wound left by the bullet and pulled away bloody. Huh. Yep, the pain came a second later like a flood of fire to cast away the earlier ice.

Another explosion rocked the building, the force enough to send both men staggering.

The hand holding his arm lightened, let go.

At least Jesse knew the sensation of falling that came after.

Chapter Text

I told you not to lose your head, Cowboy. Reyes’s voice rumbled smoky and thick in the back of Jesse’s head, somewhere just beyond the realm of sleep. The memory was as much of a ghost as the man himself, stark and haunting against his senses. Trust me, I know how anger burns. But anger doesn’t have to be a bad thing kid. Learn to harness it, take your energy from it but don’t let it eat your senses. You got a lot to learn…

Jesse opened his eyes and took stock of the pain in his chest, a low throb that pulsed outward with each breath he took. Something constricted his breathing, bandages he figured by the familiar pull and stretch along his muscles. He ran a mental check; head (aching but normal), legs (an itch on the bottom of his left foot), arms (left one half metal, but still there). For a six story fall, he figured that he seemed relatively alright.

Yet something felt wrong. It sat in his gut, heavy and unclean, made him squirm.

He was back at the King’s Row bunker, he could recognize the stale, musty smell and the low ceilings even in darkness. The previous din of chaos was missing, the fires, the screams, the anarchy… It was too quiet here, the concrete walls muffled everything. He had to struggle and strain to hear voices somewhere outside of his room. He figured Angela must have been pitching a fit that she didn’t have some sort of proper medical room to work in, but the old area for that had become some form of a storage unit.

He took a breath and moved to pull himself up, the pain of his wound radiating out with sharp, jagged sparks like bolts of lightning. He reached up to rub at it, found his chest bare save for the rough texture of the bandages.

Pulling himself to his feet was less painful, though he flinched when he felt the top of his head brushing against the ceiling. He pawed in the darkness, searching for his shirt, his bag, Peacekeeper, but none of it seemed to be there. He found the door instead, pushed out and chased the sound of voices growing stronger in the communal room.

The conversation died when Jesse stumbled out into the low light of the room, wincing at the sudden shift in brightness. Angela, Reinhardt, Zenyatta, and Torbjorn were scattered around the space. They looked exhausted, but something was wrong. It was there again, burning and furious, nearly made him sick with the feeling. He looked around as if he could find the source of the feeling, frowned when he noticed…

“Where’s Genji? And Lena?”

Angela’s face was quick to turn crestfallen, wide blue eyes mournful and that feeling in McCree’s gut just got worse, “Genji has been missing since just after you fell.”

The Gunslinger just tensed up, gritting his teeth, “Waddya mean missing? Then what’re we sittin’ around here for?”

“Lena’s out scouting,” Torbjorn’s heavy Swedish voice consoled, “But when the authorities started showin’ up, an’ with you in rough shape, we pulled back.”

“One of our own is missing and we only have one person out lookin’ fer him?!” anger spiked as he searched each face in the room. Disappointment quickly followed.

“Jesse…” Angela’s voice was quiet but firm.

“None of us are equipped for stealth,” Reinhardt pointed out, “Winston has a tracker in Genji’s cybernetics. He confirmed our friend is alive, and we have his location. But charging in will get us nowhere.”

The Cowboy just snarled and spun on his heels, charging back for his room. He heard Angela’s shoes clicking behind him, gaining ground, “Jesse, what are you doing?”

“I’m goin’ after him,” he snapped, “Talon’s got ‘em, I’m gettin’ ‘em back.”

“You’re in no condition!” she fussed with silken voice firm with motherly worry.

“Fuck my condition!” Jesse stopped and whirled on her, a small pang of guilt at the startled look on her face, “One of my team is missing, I ain’t leavin’ him behind! I got every confidence you patched me up great Angela, I can work through the pain just fine. I’ve done it before.”

She didn’t immediately follow as McCree turned and entered his room, grabbing for the flashlight beside the door to find his way around. He grabbed for a clean shirt and jacket from his bag when he finally heard the woman enter, her steps heavier, “You… You really feel like we’re your responsibility don’t you?” she asked from the doorway, calm but somewhat proud, “You trained under Gabriel and Jack for years, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Gabe ‘n Jack ain’t around no more, so yeah… If I gotta be the one to take charge, I’m gonna do it. Y’all are my team, but more important, you’re my family,” the words lightened some of the heavy feeling in his chest, though not much, “Shit, where’s my serape?” he deflected, flicking the light around the dark space.

“He took it…”

Jesse turned and looked the woman over with a frown, “Who?”

“The archer,” she said, a pause falling over them before she pressed on, “He summoned the dragons, didn’t he? The ones from your nightmare?”

He was more reluctant than he should have been, letting out a sigh as he grabbed Peacekeeper’s holster, “Yeah… Yeah that was them.”

“Did you see what they did in the Plaza?”

Jesse looked up, moving past her and out of the room, into the dim light of the hall, “No. I was a little preoccupied,” he admitted guiltily. He remembered his thoughts just before he approached, he remembered thinking that nothing else mattered. Idly he wondered if that had been why Genji was taken, some cosmic act of comedy taking his thoughts and making them literal.

“They put out the fires. I’ve never seen anything like it. Then they moved the truck blocking the path…” Her voice was soft, as if she were afraid of speaking, that she might upset Jesse with her words, “When the dragons vanished, I looked up. You were falling. I was able to catch you with the Valkyrie suit, thankfully. The archer reached the ground a few seconds after I did, he looked…worried. I turned my back to get my supplies, but by the time I came back he was gone, and he’d taken your serape.”

McCree let the information sink in. The jumbled mess of memories from right before he’d fallen, the look on the archer’s face, and those eyes that burned straight through to his soul. The feeling in his chest, the wrongness that sat like a lead weight, seemed to get worse.

“Jesse?” Angela’s voice pulled him from his momentary woolgathering. He saw her searching his face, something distressed in her eyes, “You’re crying.”

His flesh hand shot up, rubbing at the wet tracks beneath his eye that he hadn’t even realized were forming. He wiped both cheeks clean with a disgruntled sound, “S’nothin.”

“It’s very much something. You’re in no condition to go out there, your bond didn’t get a chance to complete,” her face and eyes hardened.

Jesse startled some, but of course the good doctor had pieced it together. It only made sense, she’d seen so much in her days. “Talon has Genji. He’s alive for now, and I’m going to guess that until they can figure out where his tracking chip is, they’re going to keep him on the move so we can’t get a chance to organize. Once they find that chip, or get fed up, our chance is gonna be gone. Angela, I love you, and I know you’re doing your job, but I know you’ve seen what Talon is capable of just as much as I have. I can’t afford to be in bad shape right now. I can worry about it later. Right now, Genji has to be our priority.”

Angela looked ready to argue, but she let out her breath in a frustrated huff, “You sound just like Jack.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jesse said with a smirk, “Jack was a damn fine man.”

He stepped past Angela, tossing the flashlight down as he pulled on his holster. All eyes were on him as he stepped out, zipping up his jacket and grabbing his hat from the hook. “Sit tight, Lena an’ I are gonna get Genji back lickety split.”

“I am going with you,” Zenyatta spoke up as he approached.

“The shit you-“

“You made me stay behind, and my mate was taken,” he cut in and it was the harshest Jesse had ever heard the Omnic; by the startled look on the faces of the others, he wasn’t the only one who thought it. Zenyatta continued, his legs falling, feet touching the floor and he stood to his full height, not much shorter than Genji, “You wish to take responsibility for this team, then you will have it. But Genji is missing, and I refuse to sit idly by. You will take me with you, or I shall go alone.”

Jesse swallowed and took a moment to consider. Time was short though, he knew every second mattered where Talon was concerned. “A’right. I can’t argue,” he sighed, defeated. He would have to watch out though, having the Omnic around would cause a lot of complications, however if Zenyatta went alone it would only be worse.

He needed a smoke. He needed a beer, or a lot of beers rather. He settled for a smoke, “Come on then, we’re gonna find Lena and get some form of a plan.”

McCree was silently thankful that Zenyatta chose to walk. Omnics could draw enough attention on their own, but a floating Omnic would stick out even worse. He was also appreciative that, save for contacting Lena, the two were silent as they walked up the streets of King’s Row. His head hurt like nobody’s business, and his chest hurt even worse than that.

He was halfway through his third cigar when he finally broke their shared quiet, “I don’t blame you for bein’  upset with me,” Jesse said, glancing to the Omnic at his side, “I’d be right pissed too if I was in your…er, shoes…” Omnics didn’t wear shoes, he reminded himself.

“I am not angry, or even upset, at least not with you,” Zenyatta replied calmly, though his tone edged on firm, “You are not responsible for what happened. You are not the one who caused the chaos. But I am afraid you do not understand the fear that consumes you when your mate is missing. The sense of being forcefully separated.”

Jesse swallowed, took a long drag from his cigar and tried to ease the rapid thumping of his heart, “It’s my fault. I had a clean shot for that sniper, might’a saved Genji from getting’ nabbed…” He recalled, during his last moments of consciousness, the flash of green from Genji’s armor. Talon had grabbed the cyborg fast, and that had likely been when they did so. He was too wrapped up in the archer to pay attention to his team…

“Angela said you encountered the one from your nightmare,” the Omnic hummed, his voice soft, “I cannot imagine what was going through your mind. There is so much about our souls that… Things change where our loved ones are involved. We are all mortal, we are all flawed. The only one who feels at fault for this is you. And you are the only one who can forgive yourself.”

He winced at the words, because it was exactly what he expected someone like Zenyatta to say.

“Looks like they’re on the move again,” Jesse’s communicator buzzed from Lena. He reached down and picked it up. “South. They’re keepin’ to the tunnels…”

“If there’s half a brain between ‘em they are,” McCree drawled with a sigh. The Overwatch bunker was far from the only underground fortification beneath King’s Row. There was a veritable labyrinth of tunnels from when that part of the city was originally built, then more were added after the first Omnic crisis. More bunkers, more tunnels. People needed escape routes and hideouts. Jesse doubted there was an accurate map anywhere for which system they were using. “All we can do is follow their location, wait for them to surface.”

“Ugh, why can’t we just blast our way in?” Lena asked.

“Because we’d risk a collapse, not only on Genji but who knows what else. It’s too risky,” he pressed a series of buttons along his communicator, patching himself directly to Winston, “What’re the vitals lookin’ like? You got a read?”

Winston’s heavy voice came replied from the remains of old Watchpoint Gibraltar, “It’s in and out. The scans I’ve gotten aren’t bad, but they’re not good either.”

He sighed, “Got’cha. Keep workin’ on that map. The sooner we can get schematics, the sooner we can go kick the hornet’s nest.” Sending everyone in without a direction was a sure-fire way to get lost, separated, and nobody would be ready if and when they were needed in an emergency. Winston was doing his best to piece together maps and schematics of the known tunnel networks, and even that was iffy in McCree’s book.

“So we just get to wait…” Lena asked sharply. The woman always had been one of the worst people for playing games of patience and planning. “Let me in the tunnels Jess, I can map ‘em out in a jiff!”

“Just be patient Lena. I wanna find ‘em too, trust me I do… But Talon’s got the upper hand right now. You go in those tunnels and get lost, it’ll be a week before we find you. Or worse, you might get nabbed too.”

She groaned loudly, “Wanker!”

A passing woman looked up at that, glaring at McCree as she reached out to cover her children’s ears, “Such vulgar language!”

“Sorry Ma’am…” he waved after her, then sighed.

He took a look around, scanning his surroundings. He and Zenyatta were circling the streets around Genji’s location, searching for signs of Talon on the surface. The streets were far emptier than they should have been on a Saturday morning, the world around them quiet and mourning from the previous night’s havoc. Those that were brave enough to walk around were nervous, moving with a purpose, eyes on the ground. Jesse and Zenyatta stuck out.

He replaced the communicator on his belt and continued up the streets, staying close to the buildings. He flicked another dead cigar into an ash-tray and pulled out his fourth cigar, putting it between his teeth.

“Hey Zenyatta?” he asked after a few minutes of walking in silence.

“Yes?”

“I never asked but…did you have a dream? For Genji I mean,” Jesse glanced to the Omnic for a brief moment before turning his eyes away, that unsettling feeling rising in his chest again.

Zenyatta shook his head, “No. Omnics do not dream. However when my systems first came online, I had a…memory.  Something my creators did not place in me. A place, a face I had never seen… Nepal’s vista at sunrise, a silver body streaked in green… It was a memory I recalled every day, it brought me peace and joy. So in a way, I had a dream, and in another way, I did not.”

“Huh… Still interestin’ enough right?”

Zenyatta hummed, then his voice turned soft, “For a time my memory changed. Between one day and the next, my beautiful memory turned dark. No matter how hard I tried I could not recall Genji’s appearance, nor Nepal’s sunrise. I saw only dead land, blood…”

“That must’a been when Genji got attacked,” Jesse reasoned.

The Omnic nodded, “Yes. After discussing it with him later, the timeframe matches up. I struggled with that painful memory for months, nearly a year. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, it passed, and my old memory returned.”

Jesse hummed, closed his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “I’m glad it worked out for you.”

“I am not the only Omnic with a soul mate. Though I have heard stories of mates denying one another because of it. I am happy such was not the case with Genji…” though the Omnic had no emotion on his face, McCree could almost feel the relief from the monk.

“We’ve all heard the stories. Maybe not of Omnics but one half of the pairing rejecting the other half. From my understanding, it never ends well. There’s an old Indian story about the man in an arranged marriage. He found his soulmate the night before his wedding and rejected her because he had a duty to his family. A year later neither of ‘em was left,” he frowned, “Kinda grim, sorry.”

“Do not apologize. I have heard that once a bond is made between soulmates, it can never be unmade. Two mates who never meet will not die of heartbreak – but once the connection is there, it binds them whether they like it or not.”

After another long pause, Zenyatta’s voice came hesitant, “You never met your mate?”

“Naw, I reckon they were older ‘n me. Gone shortly after I was born,” at least, he had thought. He had believed that wholeheartedly until he met the owner of those dragons. Until he stood face to face with the one who had plagued him his entire life and everything felt…different.

“I can think of little more sad than that,” the Omnic said softly.

“Don’ you start,” Jesse huffed. He didn’t need pity, he was sick and tired of the pity he got from those around him. Always the same sad looks, worse still from those who already had mates. Zenyatta may have lacked a proper emotional face, but his voice was just as bad.

The Omnic hummed softly, then canted his head and stopped. McCree paused two steps later and turned, “What’s wrong?”

“I did not mean to upset you so deeply,” Zenyatta apologized, his voice laced with concern.

“It’s nothing worth the sorry, bud, I jus’ don’ like bein’ pitied. I’m a’right…” he nodded.

“But…you’re crying,” was the mournful response.

Jesse’s hand shot back up, feeling the fresh tracks of wetness on his skin, “Sunnava whore,” he snapped as he wiped at them, spinning around so nobody else would see the pathetic display. He wondered how this could happen without him realizing it, how he didn’t notice the swells of despair cresting in his heart, thrashing as if in the winds of a terrible storm.

A metal hand rested on his injured shoulder, feather light, offering what comfort it could. Jesse hated himself in that moment, hated the sudden rush of negative emotions that made him feel weak. He couldn’t afford this, not now, not when they had more important worries.

Genji, he reminded himself firmly, was his priority. Once they got him back, then he could fuss over whatever was going on in his heart.

The grip on his shoulder suddenly twisted and clenched down hard. Pain arced through his body and he snarled out and spun to find Zenyatta clutching his chest with his free hand, slowly collapsing down to his knees. Jesse turned fully, dropping to catch the Omnic before he collapsed, “Zen? Shit, what’s-“

Omnics couldn’t tremble, didn’t have the capacity for tears, nor the need for air, but the sound that escape the man’s voice box was a desperate, pleading whine that broke Jesse’s heart anew. The lack of response from Zenyatta was deeply concerning, and as Jesse grabbed for his communicator the Omnic let out another keen of pain, thrashing, gripping McCree’s shoulder tighter. The man snarled out in pain, reeling back but the grip didn’t let up as the Omnic let out another broken sound.

Jesse scanned the area wildly for any signs of aggression, catching the eyes of a few bystanders watching them with mixed expressions. He ducked down, swooping one arm behind Zenyatta’s back, the other behind the knee-joints of his legs and hoisted himself up. He felt like he was inhaling fire, the starburst of searing agony tearing through his chest enough to make any lesser man collapse.

He carried his companion on trembling legs, breath held as he tried with all of his might to get them to the cover of the nearby alley. He felt a little bad as he crumbled to his knees, all but dropping the Omnic to the ground as he gasped in a desperate, ragged breath and clutched at his injury. He could feel fresh blood welling up beneath the bandages, pulses of pain in the rhythm of his speeding heart.

Dumb move. His ghost was quiet against the raucous thunder crashing in his ears.

Zenyatta had released his shoulder at some point, the Omnic curled in on himself and whimpering like an animal.

“Zenyatta,” Jesse growled through the pain, trying to keep focus on the situation, “You with me?”

Perhaps that was a stupid question, he thought. The Omnic showed no signs of being aware of his situation or his surroundings.

“No,” at first the man thought it was an answer, but the other reached up to take his head in his own hands and let out a series of desperate sounds, “No! Stop this, stop it now! Th-there is…n-no need!” He was talking to some phantom that wasn’t near them, wasn’t present. Jesse may have had ghosts whisper in his head, but he couldn’t fight something that wasn’t there.

The haggard scream that tore through the air made the outlaw flinch back violently, the sound tapering off to cybernetic whirs that could have been interpreted as gasping breaths.

Two breaths later a flash of blue signaled Lena’s presence. The short woman was garbed in her orange suit, goggles over her face, hair a mess. She looked as panicked as Jesse felt, down on her knees beside the Omnic, shaking him lightly. She spun, wide eyes looking down at where Jesse clutched his own chest before going back to his face, “Were you attacked?”

“No, he just start-“

“It’s Genji then,” she interrupted sharply, turning back to Zenyatta, “They’re hurting Genji, and he’s feeling it through the connection!”

The only word that came to the gunslinger’s mind was a resounding and contrite, shit. He grabbed for his communicator with his metal hand, careful not to crush the device in his state of panic, “Winston! I need vitals on Genji, now!”

“My relays have been scrambled temporarily. Athena’s already working on getting through,” the reply was swift and knowing. They didn’t need Genji’s vitals to know their companion wasn’t faring well.

The cowboy snarled into the communicator, ignoring the flash of guilt, “Athena needs to work faster!”

“Jesse!” Lena’s startled voice had the man jerking his head up.

The far end of the alleyway had clouded in an unholy black smoke that billowed from what seemed a center-point of darkness. It swirled and twisted as if it were a living entity, a low rasp grating like rocks cast over metal. “What in the unholy hells is that,” Jesse staggered to his feet and grabbed for Peacekeeper, knowing his grip was weakened by pain and blood loss.

The cloud rippled and pulled in on its center mass, congealing into a humanoid figure. Male, muscular, wrapped in black leather, head under a hood, face hidden by a white skeletal mask. The figure held up two handguns, large, .50 caliber chambers at least, arched handles, no clips, and no hammers. Devastating but short-lived weapons the cowboy determined.

The rasping growl of the man filled the space around them, Jesse and the masked man faced off at a stalemate.

If he wanted you dead, your brain would be on the wall by now, his ghost supplied.

It was true. Jesse could get one, maybe two shots off, but one hit from those handguns and he was well and truly done. But he couldn’t hold the façade for long. The muscles in his arm sung a sad symphony as they struggled to maintain position. He swallowed, “Waddya doin’ here ya creepy fuck?” he snapped, feeling accomplished when his voice didn’t waver.

“Leave,” was the only word hissed out from behind the mask, deep and warped.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere…” this time his voice did waver. He could feel the edges of his senses dulling. The adrenaline was wearing down, the pain spiking, the blood dripping down his side from his sodden bandages.

The masked-man growled, an angry sound. By the time Jesse realized the other had adjusted his grip to pull the trigger, it was all over.

Peacekeeper clattered to the ground at the same time the gunslinger’s knee did. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision, but he was aware of the white arrow-shaft buried into the shattered mask a split second before the apparition roared and exploded into smoke and whirled away like a thunderous storm.

The arrow and mask lay on the alleyway floor.

Just when McCree decided that it was just the perfect time for a nap, strong hands grabbed at his shoulders. A jolt of consciousness lit up his nerves for a brief second as a blessedly familiar face was kneeling at his side.

Robin Hood looked a lot nicer in the light. Jesse could see the deep lines etched in the man’s squared face, the wide and expressive whiskey colored eyes looking at him with something like fear. His lips were moving, but the sound felt distant to the cowboy’s ears, but still honey sweet.

We really need to stop meeting like this… was Jesse’s last thought before the darkness crashed in like a rolling wave.

Chapter Text

Pain was what drew Jesse back to the waking world. Halfway through a breath, fire flooded his lungs and pierced through his chest like a serrated dagger. Something was pressing to the wound and some part of his brain sluggishly supplied that the pressure was trying to staunch the blood. It just made it hard to breathe and he squirmed in a weak effort to escape the source of pain.

“Hold still,” a thick voice, heavy and accented, demanded sharply. Jesse, stubborn as he was, continued to fight and squirm only to feel a sharper push, “I said hold still!”

McCree finally snapped his eyes open, staring up into the dimly lit space. The light coming in from the dusty window signaled that it was nearing sundown, made it hard to discern many details save for the most important one. The man sitting over him, pressing down on his wound, watching Jesse with a stark frown that affected his entire being.

“Aw, c’mon Sweetheart,” the Cowboy crooned softly, his voice rough from a parched throat, “Keep frowning and your face’ll get stuck like that.”

“Shut up,” was the barked reply.

Jesse did, if just for a moment, “Now that’s hardly any way to greet your Soulmate now is it?”

The man paused and McCree watched the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, heard the click of his throat in the silent room, “You are injured. You should not waste energy,” this time the words were softer, as if to soothe his earlier brusqueness and explain himself without so many words. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You should not have been out at all.”

The Cowboy huffed weakly, “Never was good at listening to the doctor.”

“You have not lived this long only to die now,” his Robin Hood hummed after a moment of thoughtful quiet, “Especially not to die in my place. That bullet was meant for me.” The man straightened his back and reached around his side, pulling up a canteen shaped as a gourd. Blood stained fingers pulled up the stopper, “Here, drink,” came the instructions as the gourd was lowered down, the man’s free hand slipping behind McCree’s head to lift him enough to give him access.

The splash of liquid was a Godsend to his aching throat. He drank down three greedy gulps before the burn of the alcohol hit and he coughed through a forth pull, “Shit!”

Robin Hood pulled the gourd up and set it aside, “Apologies, it is all I have.”

Jesse shook his head, “I reckon that’ll help here in a minute,” he grinned.

The man’s brows pinched together, lips twisting in a frown, “Alcohol is a blood thinner. It will do the opposite of helping.” He huffed loudly, “Now stop wasting your energy, your companions should return any time…”

The problem with that request was that McCree wanted to do anything but sit there in silence. A million questions rattled through his head, and just as many desires rolled through his body. He licked his lips and sighed a breath through his nose, “I’m not gonna die,” he pointed out, ignoring the flash of disapproval on the man’s face, “I had a lot worse than this an’ I’m still here.”

Briefly he felt a pulse of old pain on his arm where the port for his arm was attached to the skin.

“You are a stubborn man,” was the firm statement made into the quiet of the room.

“You’re damn right,” Jesse smirked, then felt himself sobering enough to ask, “Why’d you run away?”

An apologetic look crossed Robin Hood’s face as he took a moment to parse his words before answering, “Talon was taking my…companion. Genji had come to me, asking for my assistance weeks ago. Everything that happened that night was chaos. I had every desire to stay, but I did not want to let Talon leave with my…with Genji without a fight. By the time I returned, you and the others were gone.”

Jesse huffed, “An’ you took my serape because…?”

When the man smiled, a small and wistful thing, McCree felt his heart twist in his chest. He wanted to see that smile in the light, wanted to cherish such a small and delicate looking thing with everything he had. It knocked the air out of him, and the man above him seemed to take notice, “Are you alright? Is it your injury?” his fingers scrambled lightly over the wound worriedly. It also wiped the smile from his face.

“N-No, I just… I like your smile, s’all,” he offered his own up to his mate (his mate) and it only brightened when he saw the way the man’s eyes widened with surprise.

Jesse watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, “I see. As for your…serape? I…” once again he paused to choose his words, mindful of everything he said, “It was the part of you I saw in my Dream. I could never make out much else, you had your back to me. I took it in case I needed reminding.”

“Reminding?” the Cowboy lifted his hand and felt it, cold and weak, fall over a familiar patch of cloth. He tipped his head up and saw the spoken-of item being used to soak up his blood. It didn’t bother him much, knowing how often he’d bled on the thing. He dropped his head back down into his mate’s lap as his hand moved again, found the other and wrapped his fingers around warm skin.

He felt static, a constant sensation prickling over his skin wherever they made contact. His mate made no movement to pull away, instead staring at their hands with curiosity.

“That you are real,” the words spoken so concise and honest nearly broke Jesse’s heart.

He lay there for a moment, silenced by his shock. His hand tightened around his mate’s and he reveled in the sensation that curled up his cold arm, the swell of completion flicking like fire in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to sit up and take his mate in his arms and hold him, cherish these first true moments together and protect him from the world outside.

That last part gave Jesse pause however, as he realized that this man seemed more than capable of protecting himself, and that he had indeed even protected Jesse from the wrath of the wraith in the alley.

Suddenly he felt everything crashing back to him, the reality of their situation, “Wait, where’s Lena? And Zenyatta!”

“Ease, friend,” the Omnic’s soothing monotone broke into the peaceful quiet of the room, “I am here. I am safe.” Jesse turned his head back and forth as he sought the source of the voice and found Zenyatta’s head-lights flickering to life as if he were wearily opening his nonexistent eyes, “We are safe, thanks to our companion here. Lena has gone to get Mercy, we did not wish to risk carrying you and furthering your injury.”

“Bah, I’m fine,” Jesse huffed, though even just lying there with his head in the man’s lap he felt cold and winded. He couldn’t sit up if he tried.

“If not for yourself, then for me,” Robin Hood’s voice was stern, and though his voice didn’t show even a flicker of doubt, something in Jesse’s chest wavered. An emotion not his own, distant and worried like the sound of a voice from far away.

He realized that it had to be the bond. Though incomplete and fledgling new, it was there and so were the things he heard came with it. He remembered Zenyatta crumpled on the ground as he suffered through whatever pain Genji had as if it were his own body, the power of a bond at work.

Briefly he let himself float in the shallows of a memory. His two Commanders, stark figures in every way, two entities that seemed to exist as one. On the field the two never needed to voice a word or signal a command to one another, even stretched with miles apart they were attuned to one another as if one body.

The snake who eventually devoured itself, Jesse recalled.

Sometimes people were just people, even when the bond connected them at the soul.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he pulled himself from reverie.

“I am without one,” came the simple reply. Jesse could taste the lie, and more he could feel it sitting in his chest, cold and heavy. It was practiced, a man who tried every day to convince himself of what he knew was untrue, and by the look in his dark eyes he knew he had been caught. Jesse didn’t need to voice his displeasure, because his mate sighed, a tired sound, “When you are better, when we find Genji. It is…a very long story.”

“How’s a name got a long story?” Jesse asked, not liking the feeling of his fraying patience.

He didn’t get an answer, the conversation shattering at the sound of the rickety door swinging open and letting in cool England air. Angela and Lena bustled into the room, the blonde without her suit or staff but instead with a more traditional black tote-bag in her hand. She wound around the clutter of the broken-down shop and stopped at Jesse’s feet.

While resolutely avoiding the furious gaze he knew awaited him on Angela’s cherubim face, he watched Lena go to Zenyatta’s side to check on the Omnic. She settled into the Omnic’s lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and the scene felt personal enough that the gunslinger turned to face the Good Doctor.

Except she wasn’t looking at Jesse. Her eyes held fury, yes, a raging fire the likes of which the cowboy had never seen in her eyes, but she was glaring that fire directly at his mate. Protective instinct flared up, “Angela, what’s got you burnin’ like that?”

She broke her glare and turned it to Jesse, pinning him for a moment before she softened to genuine concern, “You fool, you ripped your stitches open didn’t you?” She stepped around to the man’s side and settled down to her knees. Her hand came out and gently pulled away the serape, expression darkening at the sight, “This is worse than I thought. What did you do?”

“I had to get Zenyatta off the main road so I carried him a short ways,” he winced as she touched at the edge of the wound, but the pain was distant and he still felt cold. He realized after a moment that he was shivering lightly, sweat forming on his brow and chest. He tried for a smile though, “Sorry Zen, you’re a bit heavier than you look.”

The lack of response was a pointed one, Zenyatta choosing not to respond.

He jumped when Angela’s tiny porcelain fingers grabbed the vertical hem of his button-down and tore it a vicious jerk, the little plastic buttons flinging in every direction as she worked to properly expose the wound. She muttered in German, sharp and personal, as she grabbed her bag and pulled out a long leather roll of medical supplies. Always prepared, that woman.

Robin Hood was silent as Angela worked, his eyes down and watching Jesse’s face. He could feel that distant sensation from the bond, the emotions that weren’t his. He was too tired to press, but he still felt them like the static in the air before a thunderstorm.

Jesse tried for a smile, hoping to ease the worry, “Don’ worry partner, I’ve come back from worse ‘n this. Ask Angie about my arm huh?” he chuckled, then felt horribly out of breath.

“Don’t,” the woman snapped back to English sharply, sparing only the briefest glance upwards to flash the warning in her crystalline eyes before returning to her work. Jesse hoped that she just didn’t want to be distracted from her work.

The needle she held up was downright gargantuan, and made even Jesse shrink back. He knew what was coming, “Hold still,” she stated firmly, “This is going to hurt.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she had sterilized a patch of skin directly beside the wound just before the needle pierced the skin. It hurt worse than the bullet had, sank deep into the muscle, between his ribs, and as the plunger pushed down and the nanites released into his body, they came out like the feeling of liquid nitrogen. He howled his pain, and for a brief moment figured that dying would have probably been easier.

She pulled the needle free and Jesse took several minutes to recover with heaving breaths, the feel of the nanites in his body something unsettling and disturbing on so many levels. Distantly he felt another needle, a pinprick by comparison, push into the vein on his hand. He cracked an eye open, and Angela had the presence of mind to give him an apologetic smile, “Liquids, you’ve lost a lot of blood and your fever caused you to sweat.”

Jesse glanced up and found his mate had a hand over his own chest, where Jesse had gotten the nanites injected. Shit. “You felt that bud?” he asked guiltily.

“Not…not as prominent as you did I am sure, but…” he swallowed, trying to mask the fear from his face. Obviously the negative aspects of the bond was starting to sink in.

“Should take a drink o’ that gourd o’ yours. Then pass it here, I think I need it,” he smirked, trying his hardest to take the man’s mind off of the shared pain. It wasn’t as effective as he hoped…

“The last thing you need right now is alcohol,” Robin Hood stated flatly, though he did uncap the gourd and take a long drink for himself.

Jesse huffed, “Stingy.”

Angela scoffed, “He’s right, the last thing you need is alcohol!” Despite her agreeing with him, her frosty disposition towards Jesse’s mate had yet to ease. She reached into her bag and retrieved a larger sterile swab and alcohol, then looked to the cowboy again, “This is going to hurt.”

He huffed, “Like it don’ already?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile before she set to work, applying the alcohol and swab to the wound. While he felt the burn of the disinfectant eating away any chance of infection, he became hyperaware of the hands coming to rest on either side of his face. Strong, warm palms framed his jaw, warming the clammy skin. Sensation buzzed through his mind like white-noise, and he found that he was able to relax under the gentle soothing. Thumbs ran over the edges of his beard in a slow rhythm, testing the texture of coarse hair and sun-warmed flesh.

Jesse was content to watch and let himself drift, relaxed and at ease. His mate shifted between watching Angela work, and studying Jesse’s face.

The stillness of his mind was momentarily broken by the sting of another needle. He squirmed but Robin Hood held him steady, “She’s stitching the wound,” he said, “Don’t move.”

Jesse just grunted his dissatisfaction, trying to push the feeling out of his mind and focus on the hands still at his face. Those were much nicer to think about. He turned and nuzzled himself against one of the hands, taking a breath of the skin, let his nose run across the palm and found it heavily calloused.

After a few minutes, Angela cut the thread and tied it off. “Turn over,” she instructed, “I need to see the damage from the other side.”

“Shit…” Jesse scoffed, “One bullet bein’ a big pain in the ass.”

Regardless he squirmed and was helped up by both his mate and Angela, and suddenly the pain from the wound at his back throbbed to life. “Got any painkillers Angela?” he groused, turning himself before nearly collapsing face-down. Robin Hood caught him, helped him back down and readjusted the serape to pillow his head against the metal of his boots.

“For the idiot who tore open my fresh work?” the woman tsked, “No. But not because of that. You’re nursing a fresh bond, it could cause your mate undue panic.” The way she spate ‘mate’ made Jesse frown.

“The hell is your problem with him?” he demanded as sharply as he could with his face in a bloody serape. He felt his button-down pulled completely off, giving the woman access before she pressed the cold alcohol swab to the worst of his wound and snarled out a hiss. He felt his mate tense above him, “Fuckin’ hell woman!”

“Don’t you curse at me, Jesse McCree,” she warned, “You’re a smart man. I know who this man is, and so do you.”

“Angela, if I knew who he was, I woulda been bonded long before now,” Jesse pointed out, but his mate was still stone-still and silent above him.

“Think, Jesse.”

Jesse just growled softly, flinching as the doctor seemed slightly rougher than she needed to be with the care of the second wound. He focused on what he knew, and let the ghosts in his memory help him lay the pieces out.

Archer. Japanese. Companion of Genji’s. Controls the actual dragons from his dream. Something prickled at the back of his mind, and then he recalled something he had only seen on the rarest of occasion. Genji with his blade, moving like water, an expert flourish and a mist of green. Jesse tried not to think about the fact that Genji had controlled such a thing, it had reminded Jesse too much of the nightmare that plagued him, and even Genji had known as much.

It would make sense then that the two knew each other, if they could both control a dragon like that. He doubted it was any form of a common skill, after all.

He tried to think back to what he knew about Genji, but his facts about the cyborg were few. One was standing out though, that he returned to his home in Hanamura once a year. That he said he went back to see something he didn’t want to lose.

It had been a passing thing once, so long ago, a conversation he hadn’t even been a part of. Stuck in Angela’s medical bay for some injury, hearing the doctor and cyborg talking in low voices.

“My brother still comes. Every year. Pays homage to the man he thought he slew,” he had never heard the cyborg’s voice so wrought with grief, “And every year I wish to show myself. To tell him that I am alive. But the fury inside of me… I fear I will seek revenge before reconciliation.”

Then another piece of the puzzle made itself known when Genji had gone away shortly after the recall. His visit home, he never missed it. He spoke of possibly getting Overwatch a new recruit.

Jesse’s chest tightened…

“Genji had come to me, asking for my assistance weeks ago,” his mate had told him not even an hour ago.

He swallowed, unwilling to voice his new knowledge until he was in a better position. He felt the rhythmic pierce and pull of the needle and thread patching him up, felt the uneasy churn of the nanites moving unnaturally in his body.

When the gunslinger had been quiet for too long, his mate spoke up, “Jesse?” The sound of his name on the man’s tongue did wonderful things to his heart, but the uncertainty in his mind was still there. Perhaps the other could feel it now.

Angela tied off the last stitch and sat back, “There, you need to rest for at least a little bit. No more charging out onto the streets.”

Jesse just huffed and, keeping his left arm tucked against his sternum, pulled himself up onto his knees. He avoided his mate’s eyes for the moment, smiling to Angela, “Thanks. Dunno where I’d be without you darlin.”

“Dead,” she stated flatly.

He gave a genuine laugh, but the effort pulled at his stitches and made him wince, “Ow, no, you’re pro’lly right.” He swallowed and glanced over to his mate at last, and his heart broke anew at the masked uncertainty he found there. He doubted he would be able to see it if he couldn’t feel the faintest echoes of it within his own mind. He sighed shortly, chewing his lip.

“What’s your name?” he asked again, staring Genji’s brother in the eyes.

The man swallowed, turned away from his mate’s scrutiny, “Hanzo.”

“Shimada?” he asked, just for the last piece of confirmation he needed.

“Yes.”

Jesse grunted his reply, then put his concerns aside for the moment, “Well Hanzo, right now my priority is still finding and getting Genji back from Talon,” Hanzo’s eyes snapped back up to Jesse, “I admit I don’ know the first thing about this bond business though. Might complicate the mission a bit with me bein’ injured. Angela?”

“You two have no doubt felt the effects of separation. Before a bond is sealed, two mates can be driven mad if they stay separated for too long. With that in mind, you’ll have to complete your bond before you can handle yourselves as you normally would,” her voice was pointed and matter-of-fact, the lilt of her voice making it sound nicer.

Jesse hummed, “And how do we complete a bond? I mean, I’ve heard rumors…”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Angela sighed.

“A good ol’ fashion roll in the hay?”

Angela groaned at the same time Hanzo covered his face with his hand. Jesse felt his cheeks heating up, “I told you I don’ know the first thing about this nonsense. Two days ago I didn’ even think I’d ever have a mate.”

This caused Hanzo to remove his hand, brows furrowing, “What?” Curiosity, concern, and hurt pulsed through the bond between them.

“It’s…tough to explain,” Jesse sighed.

“No it isn’t,” Lena piped up from across the room.

“You’re not helpin’ darlin,” Jesse snipped.

“Well, whether or not you think it’s hard to explain,” Angela began again, “You may as well. A bond is completed when two mates bind their souls as one. No secrets, no insecurities between them. You remember Gabriel and Jack. It took them almost a year to complete their bond.”

Jesse and Hanzo both stiffened, “We do not have a year,” was Hanzo’s sharp reply.

“He’s got a point.”

“I don’t make the rules,” Angela huffed, “And as difficult as that is, it has to be worked with. Jesse, I cannot let you work in this condition. You worsened your wound with your actions. Which means Hanzo, you can’t go out either.”

“You have no jurisdiction over me,” the man barked, a dark foreboding look in his eyes.

“But Jesse does, you’ll only be hurting each other if you charge into battle and one of you has to stay behind. If I have to handcuff you two together, I will,” she further warned, folding slender arms over her chest. She turned her eyes to Jesse and sighed, “Bonds are supposed to be such happy things, but this one seems to have come at the worst time.”

“Ain’t nobody’s fault, Sweetheart,” his eyes flickered over to the tense figure of his mate, sitting perfectly still and hiding a fire within himself. He sighed and looked back to Angela, “Can y’all give us a few minutes? Seems that Hanzo an’ I got a few things to discuss.”

The doctor looked uneasy, as if worried that Jesse was going to (yet again) ruin her hard work and get hurt. Her shoulders slumped and she nodded, glancing back, “Lena? Zenyatta?”

Lena stood and turned, helping the Omnic to his feet. He had never seen an Omnic look shaky before, at least not with damaged parts, but Zenyatta was definitely still feeling the effects from his connection with Genji. “Don’t go far,” the gunslinger warned them in a stern tone, “God knows it ain’ safe ‘round here.”

Together they shambled out of the shop, and true to his request they didn’t go far. He could see Lena from the corner of the window, her attention on the others just out of sight.

When Jesse looked back to Hanzo, the man was still. He could feel the anger burning like a bonfire, could feel it directed at him and it hurt. After a brief moment of silence, he sighed through his nose, “Listen, I know that this whole thing-“

“Why?” Hanzo suddenly cut him off, his word as sharp as Genji’s blade, “The night we met, you approached me with your gun raised. You had murder in your eyes. You came onto that roof with the intent to kill me. Why?”

“Well now that’s a fair question,” Jesse offered, trying to placate and ease some of the fire directed at him, “But it’ll take a bit of explaining. Got any of that booze left?” he nodded towards the gourd settled beside Hanzo’s leg.

The man canted his head and frowned, “Alcohol is the last thing you need,” he pointed out.

“I know bud, but if you want me to tell this story, I’m gonna need a few swallows,” he reached out his mechanical hand and was rewarded when the gourd was reluctantly handed over. He nodded in appreciation and tipped it back, taking a few long pulls before he set it down and took a deep breath.

“You see, Hanzo…every night since I was old enough to remember I’ve had the same exact thing play in my head, much like a lot of people. Your dream is supposed to show you who your mate is, and get you excited. Get you hoping. But I’ve always had a Nightmare. The same Nightmare. Falling into darkness, and two screaming dragons chasing me into the abyss, ready to eat me. It’s a scary thing, when the only thing you dream about are monsters. I was always told that the Dragons killed my mate, pro’lly as a baby. So Hanzo, when I charged up to you on the roof, I fully intended to look you in the eyes when I put a bullet through you, and avenge the mate I figured I would never meet.”

The surprise and pain and anger flared through the bond. Worst of all was the hurt.

Hanzo looked down to the ground, at the spot between them, and stared long and hard. “In Japan, it is a tradition to tell no one about your Dream. That is something for you alone to cherish. When Genji and I were boys though, we never heeded that tradition…at least, for each other. He knew my dream, and I knew his. We told nobody else. When Genji came to me some weeks ago, I had no desire to heed his request to join him,” he swallowed again, “I didn’t believe that the creature before me was my brother…”

The thread connecting the two stories was missing a part, “Something changed your mind.”

Hanzo nodded and took a breath, “He told me of a man in a red cape…who dreamed of blue dragons.”

Chapter Text

“My Dream was a simple one. It always brought me comfort, as Dreams should…” Hanzo’s voice was a soft tone that filled the space of the room, keeping Jesse enraptured by its tenor, “A wide, flat desert where I follow a man chasing the setting sun. The sky is orange, the wind is hot… I can make out little about the man, only the silhouette of wide shoulders and long legs. His cape is stark red, billowing from the eastern winds. He calls to me in a voice that sounds like smoke, ‘I will bring you the sun to fuel your fires.’” Hanzo looked up and searched McCree’s face, “I am sorry that your Dream of me did not bring you the same peace…”

Jesse just shook his head, giving himself a moment to find his voice. He could picture Hanzo’s dream in vivid detail, and wondered if that was the power of the Bond. “I reckon the reason was that my Dream didn’t have you. At least, not like you’re sittin’ here with me. When I was a kid I was afraid of it. I was fallin’ into a black abyss, no sky above me or ground below me. Jus’ fallin’ forever. Then the dragons came, ripped right out of the darkness, twisting down with snapping jaws. Two great blue dragons chasing me down into nothingness, screamin’ and roarin’.

“I couldn’t get any sleep when I was a pup, ‘n my Ma took me to an interpreter. The woman listened to my retellin’ of the Dream and she jus’ looked so sad. She told my Ma ‘n my Ma told me that my dream meant my mate was dead, an’ those dragons were what killed ‘em,” he smiled at Hanzo apologetically, “Eventually I stopped bein’ afraid after I woke up. I was just angry. I wanted to get revenge.”

“And that is why you intended to kill me when you saw my dragons,” Hanzo finished, “I cannot imagine how that must have felt. In Japan, there are legends of those who dream of Dragons having powerful mates. Mine is not the only Clan to have a dragon crest. So far as I know, most of our mates have been from our homeland. To an outsider, to one who has no idea the significance of the dragons though, I can only imagine that it must be terrifying.”

Jesse just shrugged, “So, you forgive me?”

Hanzo blinked owlishly, “Forgive you?”

“For pointin’ a gun at you,” Jesse chuckled lightly, wincing as the effort pulled on his injury unpleasantly. His hand came up and pressed lightly to the wound.

Hanzo’s expression was masked, but the gunslinger could feel the underlying emotions faintly; confusion, hurt, remorse. He shook his head slowly, “There is nothing to forgive,” he stated plainly, “You did what you thought needed to be done. No harm came to me – though you…” his eyes drifted down to where Jesse’s fingers were pressing to the mark on his chest, “There was nothing I could do when you fell. Everything I felt was sharp and different. I am unaccustomed to the sensation of fear. Torn between going after Genji and staying at your side, I chose wrong, and lost you both. When I returned and found you gone, I drove myself near to madness searching.”

Jesse watched the man’s face, let himself feel the tide of emotions swelling and easing within him, then realized, “So that’s why I was cryin’…” At Hanzo’s confused expression he smiled, “I think I was feelin’ your desperation without realizing it. Kept cryin’ for no damn reason, like my heart was torn out. I thought it was ‘cause the bond didn’t finish, an’ that still could’a been it but sittin’ here with you now I’m feeling bits of your emotions. Like an undercurrent. I wouldn’t notice it ‘less I knew,” he offered his mate a smile and held out his metal hand, “C’mere Sweetheart.”

Hanzo looked entirely confused and skeptical, but after a long moment of pause he gave in to the urge that Jesse had since the moment they met. He reached out and accepted the hand, letting himself be tugged. Hanzo crawled forward until he was settled in Jesse’s lap, straddling his thighs as the gunslinger pulled the man against his chest. The archer was stiff at first, then began to relax piece by piece until he was leaning comfortably into the embrace and his own arms looped around his mate’s torso.

The sensation of fulfilment burst through Jesse with each breath he took, Hanzo’s scent filling his lungs and the press of his body better than any security blanket. His mind buzzed clear contentment and cast a gentle light on all the dark thoughts that had been following him. It was like a drug and damn it all if he wasn’t already addicted, and turned his head to bury his nose in soft raven hair, taking a breath, “You feel it?” he murmured.

He felt Hanzo shiver in his arms, and mirrored it in kind. The archer nodded, his face buried in Jesse’s neck, “Yes.”

Relief pulsed through their bond between them, bouncing back and forth, building until nothing else seemed to matter but the completeness felt from being together.

“Will it truly take so long for our bond to complete?” Hanzo asked after several minutes of quiet, “I am unaware of how they work for those outside of the clan.”

Jesse shrugged slightly, not wanting to jostle his mate, “I dunno much about it either. I tended to not want to hear people talk about it, usually just up ‘n left when they did. But Gabe ‘n Jack, hell that was one hell of a love story. One of the few cases where I’m not sure they should have been mates.” He felt a pulse of curiosity in his chest not his own, “Those two ol’ bastards loved each other, don’ get me wrong. They would do anything for one another. But boy howdy they got along like kerosene ‘n a match. One little spark and everything would go up in explosive wildfire. Mates aren’t supposed to have secrets, mates are supposed to be equals. When I think about it, really wasn’t their fault…”

“You’re making little sense…” Hanzo groused idly.

“I suppose I should start from the beginnin’ then. Jack was the Strike Commander of Overwatch. He was our leader,  the figurehead. It was a position that his mate wanted something fierce. Gabe was one smart SOB,” another pulse of confusion, “Er, sunnava bitch. He had a head for tactics and leadin’ like no other. But Jack was just a nicer figurehead, they called him the Golden Boy, and that sure as shit didn’ help matters. Gabe was given command over Blackwatch, a smaller internal black-ops group within Overwatch. That’s where I came in, but maybe a story for another time. The point of the matter is that Gabe was always jealous of his mate’s status as true leader. But Jack knew that Gabe was always keepin’ secrets ‘cause of Blackwatch. Shit just got out of hand as the years went by. I think the bond between ‘em only made it worse, didn’t give them room to breathe or separate…”

He felt Hanzo’s worry, and gently rubbed the man’s back, “Theirs was an extreme case. An’ that’s just the bad parts Darlin. There’s plenty o’ good. Like I said, those two loved each other more ‘n anyone I had ever known. Jack knew Gabe was keepin’ secrets, what he didn’t know was that Gabe broke his back more ‘n once to save Jack’s life and his job. Tore him apart having to keep secrets from his mate, because if Jack did know what was going on in Blackwatch, he’d have to shut it down and worse, he’d have to see his own mate put in jail. What we did wasn’t exactly clean. I got shit on my conscience that’ll never come out.”

Hanzo hummed softly, “What happened to them?”

Jesse pulled his mate a little closer, took another breath of his scent, “Killed, unfortunately. An explosion at the Overwatch Swiss HQ. Some say it was done on purpose, but I don’ wanna believe that.”

“You were close to them,” Hanzo pointed out.

“Jack was the one who technically adopted me into Overwatch. Said a kid like me didn’t belong in some jail cell. Convinced Gabe to give me a chance. I ended up closer to Gabe in the end. He was like a big brother. Taught me about life, looked out for me, gave me shit every chance he got,” Jesse chuckled softly, “An’ by the end of it all he came to me about all the problems with Jack. Cried on my shoulder, almost literally. Then he told me he wanted to get away from it all. He wanted to take Jack and go away, leave Overwatch ‘n Blackwatch ‘n retire. He wanted to be happy with his mate for a change. Week after that he was dead,” his voice felt suddenly raw.

Hanzo shifted slowly and sat up. Jesse immediately missed the contact but he was suddenly face-to-face with his mate, gentle fingers tracing along the edge of his beard, “I do not wish to be like them…”

Jesse shook his head, “Nothin’ like that Sweetheart. I don’ want power, I don’ want secrets. Just you.”

He felt the smile more than saw it, a slow bloom of contentment flowering in his chest, reaching every part of his body. That smile pressed to his lips, a spark of joy coming with it as they melted into a slow and exploratory kiss. His arms looped around Hanzo’s waist, tugged him firm and close and he rolled his jaw to get his mate to open, to let him in and he was met with an intoxicating flavor that banished all thoughts save for that moment.

Hanzo sighed into the kiss, licked into Jesse’s mouth and sent another web of sparks down his spine. His hands fisted into his mate’s shirt (he couldn’t be bothered to think of the proper name) and he ground up at the same moment the archer pushed his ass down and Jesse moaned. It happened so easily that the spark turned to a flame, desire burning through their bond and making them both dizzy…

His mate’s hand slid down from his face, over his neck and came to rest on the freshly stitched injury on his chest, causing him to pause. The kiss was reluctantly broken, though Jesse desperately chased it. “We can’t,” Hanzo breathed, sounding pained, “Not here, not now.” He wanted to though, and that was all the gunslinger wanted to focus on. They both wanted it, they should have taken it. “Jesse, you’re wounded. My brother is missing. Now is not the time…”

“Honey we might not get another time,” the cowboy argued sharply, wincing, “I’ve seen it happen too much. Everything can go wrong in the blink of an eye. We have this, here, now, and I don’t want to risk a later.”

“Shh,” Hanzo pressed quieting sounds to Jesse’s lips, gentle presses that soothed the ragged edges of the gunslinger’s worry. He felt his own worry being reflected back, unsure if he had been the cause or if his mate had the same concerns, “Come, we should leave this place while we are still able. Temptation is not our ally, today.”

Jesse had a moment where a memory returned to him, the shadowy wraith screaming and gasping, with the two monster guns. He swallowed, “What if that thing is still out there? What happened after I went out? Did it come back?” his hands came to grip tight at Hanzo’s waist, keeping him firmly pressed to Jesse to ease his concern.

The man shook his head, “The creature fled after I pierced it with my arrow.” Hanzo cast his gaze aside, then moved and pulled until Jesse was forced to release. He stood and walked to where Zenyatta had been sitting before, gathering something into his hands before he returned. Without question, and to the cowboy’s great relief, he settled back into Jesse’s lap with the two halves of the bone-white mask.

Jesse took them in hand and examined the mask, “You see its face?” he asked.

“No, it vanished into smoke.”

The gunslinger took a few moments to examine the piece. He was surprised to find that it wasn’t metal, but instead bleached wood. Light and firm, but brittle. The shape was odd, not like any mask Jesse had seen before, but there was something altogether familiar about the shape. There was a shallow dip at the center of both halves where the bridge of the nose would be. He pressed the two halves together to reform the mask, shattered right between the eyes and missing several pieces.

He turned the mask over, frowning when he saw words carved inside, over the forehead. He stared at the words, fragmented by where the arrow had cracked the piece, for a few long moments. That familiarity returned, Spanish was etched into the wood. It was too dark to make out the phrase, so he stacked the two halves of the mask and sighed. “A’right, maybe we should head back to the bunker then. Regroup, check on Winston’s progress.”

“Winston?” Hanzo queried as he shifted to get up, his hands coming down to help Jesse to his feet.

The world spun lazily, his extremities felt cold and clammy, and everything ached. He focused on the presence of his mate, relieved when a gentle hand wrapped around his wrist, slid down into the palm of his flesh hand, “He’s our resident tech genius. We have an approximation for where Genji is, but he’s getting us a map of the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the city.”

“I see,” the man hummed softly, then pulled them towards the door.

Back out onto the street, the world felt oddly calm in the twilight hours. Peaceful, if one could ignore the darkness looming at the edges of their bubble. Lena, Angela, and Zenyatta were waiting just out of sight of the shop’s large window, however the Omnic looked more haggard than Jesse had ever imagined an Omnic could look.

Lena caught the cowboy’s eye as they approached, “Genji’s in pain,” she murmured sadly.

The hand in his own tightened considerably, pulses of pain, worry, and anger floating between the pair. Jesse spoke up, “We go back to the bunker and regroup. I’ll check the status of the maps with Winston and we can get some much needed rest. Lena, when was the last time you even slept?”

“You won’t like that answer,” she warned.

“But we should have someone scouting,” Angela sighed, “I just…”

“As much as I would love that, we’re spread real thin. I’ve got a hole in me, Zenyatta’s not farin’ too good, an’ Lena can’t remember what a bed looks like. We can’t risk you walkin’ around, and Reinhardt ‘n Torbjorn stick out like a fox in a henhouse,” Jesse sighed, “So we do what we can with what we have available.”

The woman looked sullen, but nodded, “Very well…”

“You three go on ahead. Hanzo and I will watch your backs. We’re askin’ for trouble if we walked around all grouped up.”

The smile he was fixed with from Angela threw the gunslinger off for a moment. He raised a brow, “Wassat for?”

“Nothing,” she turned and wrapped a delicate hand around Zenyatta’s arm. The Omnic jerked as if only just realizing there were others around him, “Come on, we’re returning to the bunker,” she reminded him gently.

The Omnic looked ready to argue, but then there was just defeat. His shoulders slumped and he turned, allowing himself to be led by the women. Once they were out of sight, Jesse waited for the mental count of thirty before he followed after, keeping Hanzo close to his side.

“Hey Hanzo,” Jesse asked after a moment of quiet, wanting something to focus on aside from the burning pain in his shoulder.

The archer made a sound from his throat, honey eyes turned upwards towards the rooftops. It took the cowboy a moment to realize that he was looking for trouble, and a few seconds longer to know that he should be doing the same. He let his gaze scan the ground area, searching the openings of alleyways and for people who had lingering eyes.

“What was Genji’s Dream?” he finally finished his thought, recalling his question.

The man grunted, sounding perturbed. “The Omnic,” he said, pulling his eyes down to search Jesse’s face, “The Omnic is Genji’s mate. I admit I am still processing that information. But… Genji’s dream was of a mountaintop. He sat beside a golden figure that glowed too bright for him to make out. He used to tell me that his Dream brought him immeasurable peace. In fact, once he started having his Dream he would sometimes sleep his days away.”

“Are you upset that his mate’s an Omnic?” Jesse pressed gently.

“I…” he paused, then released a sigh through his nose, “Perhaps. However my opinion matters for nothing. I am merely happy that Genji found his mate, that he found his peace. I will find him, and return him to his partner.”

Jesse hums, “Seems…seems like a far stretch from…”

His allusion was not missed, and the feeling of emptiness in his hand was both startling and distressing. Hanzo had stopped, and Jesse turned to face the ire in his mate’s eyes, “You question my intentions here?” he asked, voice sharp with an under-toe of pain that threatened to pull the cowboy out into a sea of emotional anguish, “You of all people would-“

“Now hold on Darlin,” the gunslinger held up his hands in an attempt to placate the oncoming storm, “Easy, I’m not questioning anything. Now’s not the time for that. I just… I wanted to know where you stood on all of this. I can feel your emotions but I can’t read your mind.” He reached out, flesh hand carefully taking Hanzo’s once again where he lifted it to his lips in a kiss. He was relieved to feel some of the waiting fury dispel, “I’ve known Genji a long time now. I saw the state he came to us in, I was there to watch his recovery. I’m a bit protective of him, especially given the past you two have.”

The roiling anger was soon replaced with guilt and pain once again, the storm shifting to a mournful downpour that threatened to drench the man where he stood. “I came to make amends,” Hanzo admitted weakly, “Genji came requesting my aid, and after what I did to him, I was powerless to deny. It took me some time to quell the fury of my own guilt enough to trust myself to come find him.”

“A’right…” Jesse used the hand he held to pull the archer forward, into his arms for a soothing hold, “It’ll be a’right Sweetheart. I couldn’t distrust you if I wanted…” not when his heart was so open to the other, when he couldn’t stem the flow of either of their souls sought spiritual equilibrium.

He felt Hanzo’s head rest on his shoulder, warm flesh pressed against the side of his neck. Joy soothed like a balm over the darker emotions they had been feeling, the completeness that came with being with his mate…

The bunker was a quiet place. Everyone was too mentally and emotionally exhausted to do much. Lena had gone to bed, Zenyatta sat silent in the corner of the communal room, Angela tended to her Caudecus staff… Torbjorn huffed softly, but Reinhardt managed a huge smile at hearing about Hanzo and Jesse. “Congratulations, my friend. A silver lining to a dark day,” he seemed so genuinely relieved to have something happy to smile about, “Once our comrade is returned safely to us, Jesse, we will have a celebration for you both.”

Jesse chuckled softly, “Shucks big guy. I’m holdin’ you to that, though. We’ll get some good drinks.”

Winston said that the maps were almost done. Just a few more hours. Enough time for everyone to decompress just enough.

Torbjorn had started a fire in a makeshift hearth in the communal room, an attempt to warm up the cold, drab space. It cast soft orange glows over everyone before they went to their rooms one-by-one.

Hanzo had been resting comfortably, leaned against Jesse who leaned back against him. Silence had fallen fragile over the whole of the bunker. Reinhardt fell asleep, Torbjorn close behind. Hanzo was drifting somewhere in-between until Jesse turned his head and pressed a kiss to the archer’s temple, “Go lay down Darlin,” he whispered into the quiet beside the man’s ear, “I’ll be in shortly.”

It took a minute before his mate decided to comply. He turned and they shared a tentative kiss, shallow and frail, then stood and vanished into the hall leading to the dorms.

A glance to the side showed Reinhardt had stirred, and watched Jesse with a sleepy smile. “It’s good to see you happy.”

“Good to be happy, hoss,” the gunslinger replied easily. He reached down behind himself and gathered up the two fragments of the mask…

Under the glow of the firelight he fit the pieces back together and turned the mask to look at the phrase etched inside. He swallowed as he read the phrase over, recognition hitting like a bolt of lightning to the chest. Like one of Hanzo’s arrows straight through to the quick of his fear.

“Caminas donde dios no puede ver.”

He turned the mask back over one more time and looked over the shape, the markings… He swallowed down his own heart threatening to come up through his throat, then stacked the pieces together and tossed them into the fire. Where the flames consumed the mask, the fire turned blue. Driftwood, laden with salt.

Reinhardt was giving him a questioning look, but he didn’t share his concerns. No reason to worry his friends. Not yet anyway. Instead, Jesse stood and bid the man goodnight before he followed after his mate, wondering if he had gone to sleep already.

He was relieved to find Hanzo still in the shallows of consciousness, and felt joy to ease his worries when the archer eagerly accepted him into the tiny space of the bunk. It was far from comfortable, but feeling his mate pressed against his chest had to be the best thing he’d ever had. Both of his arms wrapped around Hanzo protectively as the man sleepily tried to dispel the last of the lingering worry.

Slowly Hanzo fell asleep, his soft, heavy breaths felt over the skin of Jesse’s neck. He smiled briefly, but mentally turned the mask over in his mind over and over…

“Walk where God cannot see.” The ghost of Reyes sounded smoky and clear in the cowboy’s mind, a phrase he recalled being said often. It was the man’s motto. He could still remember Gabriel’s figure, his shape, the man as distinct in his mind as anyone else in Overwatch. Except as he recalled his old Commander, he remembered the insignia on his sleeve. The same that had been on Jesse’s uniform. The same as the mask he’d held in his hands…

Blackwatch.

Chapter Text

For the first time in his life, Jesse McCree didn’t dream of darkness or dragons. Instead he stood outside of a New Mexico ranch overlooking the wide expanse of desert, the red clay mesas off in the distance. To his back was a familiar old house, two story with a storm-cellar underneath, built sometime in the late 1980’s. It had been the McCree family house for three generations, along with the eighty-five acres of land for crops and animals.

It was a place that Jesse hadn’t seen since he was a pup, barely fifteen years old. A place he sorely missed, with people he missed even more.

It was hard to imagine that he hadn’t been home in over twenty years. Shit, his Mama had to be pushing sixty.

Jesse turned and walked up the gravel driveway long worn from truck tires. The old garage attached to the house fit six cars, none of them hover-based, throughout the ages. The oldest, an old 1920’s jalopy, all the way up to the old ’68 Ford that somehow still ran.

The third step leading up to the porch still squeaked when it was stepped on, and the old coat of blue paint on the house looked like it desperately needed to reapplied. Jesse remembered he had spent a few days in the summer of his youth painting the house with his Pa, a man whose face Jesse could barely recall.

The front door had an old cross hanging from it, a simple piece of polished oak. His Mama liked something to believe in, and as long as it kept her smiling he sure didn’t mind.

The door swung open before he got to touch it, revealing a living room with a white carpet and tired old furniture with plaid upholstery. His Mama jumped up from the couch with a bright smile, “Jesse!” She looked just like he remembered, a short little thing barely over five feet, rounded features and curly brown hair. He caught her when she went to hug him, returning it with desperate affection.

In that moment he realized how much he missed his old home.

“I was afraid you were going to be late, Mijo,” she told him as they broke from their hug, her strong little hands still holding his arms. She didn’t even blink at his metal arm.

“Late for what?” Jesse asked curiously. He reached up to take his hat off as they walked inside, setting it down on the old side-table by the door.

“Your celebration dinner, we made all your favorites!” she looked so excited, still holding his arm in one hand as she pulled him from the living room towards the kitchen.

The kitchen and attached dining room was all old-fashioned linoleum and yellow striped wallpaper. The stove was still a gas four-burner, with stainless-steel pots and pans on each burner. He recognized the colorful Mexican food cooking, could see the light in the stove showing off the enchiladas inside.

That was when he noticed Lena in the room, the woman smiling brightly at him as he and Joanna, his baby sister, fussed over a mixing bowl. There was blue frosting ready in another nearby bowl.

Jesse glanced over to his Mama, “What’re we even celebrating?”

“Your bond of course!” his Mama said happily, then hugged the arm she still had a hold on, “Oh, we’re so proud of you dear. You’re so lucky, he’s so handsome too.”

For a long moment Jesse was confused. Slowly it came back to him – it was an old tradition to celebrate two Soulmates coming together. The family and friends of both sides were supposed to come together for the event. Jesse swallowed as something panged in his chest uncomfortably.

“Heh, right. Of course…” he smiled to his Mama and reached to hug her firmly.

Winston ambled into the room and got into the fridge for peanut butter. Jesse didn’t think twice about the fact that the gorilla walked into the fridge and disappeared.

He could hear voices then, murmurs of conversation from the dining room. He broke away from his Mama and crossed the space of the kitchen to find the long oval dining table. Overwatch Agents sat around the table, some only vaguely familiar, others strikingly so. His eyes settled on Jack Morrison at the head of the table, Gabriel Reyes beside him. Everyone looked up from the table, but he heard Jack and Gabriel clear over the ruckus.

“Hey kid,” Jack greeted with one of his golden smiles.

Seeing them again made Jesse’s chest hurt. He swallowed and approached, “Hey fellas.”

“Heard you got your man, Niño,” Gabriel praised, turning so he could watch Jesse, “I also heard there was going to be food.”

Jesse couldn’t help the surprised laugh.

“My brother, of all people,” Genji said from the other side of the table. The man looked reminiscent of the old photos Jesse had seen of the man, with bright green hair and an orange scarf, “Small world.”

“Indeed it is,” the rough voice from the other side of the room made Jesse look up.

Hanzo stood in the doorway. He looked younger though, so different from the man he had met before. The man from the photograph in Genji’s bedroom, young and soft. He smiled and Jesse’s heart melted, his knees threatened to buckle. He took a step forward, reached out, but suddenly Genji was there, pushing Hanzo back and keeping them apart.

“I knew, you know,” Genji said darkly. He was a cyborg again, wrapped in a silver exosuit as he turned to face McCree, “I knew what the dragons meant all along.”

Jesse made to push forward anyway but Genji was holding him back, “I kept you from him.”

“Why!” Jesse demanded.

“He murdered me, McCree!” Genji snapped harshly, “He killed me in cold blood, left me to die! He made me into this!”

“Why are you keepin me from him?” Jesse snapped again.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to be happy. Because your mate is a murderer. Because I hate him!”

“Jesse!” Hanzo’s voice made the man look up again. It was the Hanzo that Jesse knew, the distinguished figure of the archer he had met on the King’s Row rooftop.

“Will you really love the man who murdered me?” Genji demanded sharply, pushing and pushing at Jesse’s chest.

The question struck the cowboy to the core, “I…”

“I thought we were friends!” Genji added.

Jesse struggled against the hands, “He’s…but he’s my-“

Genji snarled again, “He’s a killer!”

“Jesse!” Hanzo’s voice was clear and sharp, “Jesse!” again, louder.

Jesse snapped awake with a gasp, resurfacing into the conscious world with a jerk. His arms scrabbled, looking for the same heavy warmth he had gone to sleep with and when he didn’t find it panic settled in his chest. “Hanzo?”

Silence.

Jesse snapped to sit upright and banged his head on the bunk over him, hissing out a grumpy sound. “Hanzo?” he tried again desperately, then heard the little sound from nearby. In the pitch black room it was hard to see anything. Jesse reached out with his flesh hand and pawed further down on the bed – there…tucked against the wall and the frame of the bunk.

Hanzo seemed curled in on himself, knees pulled up, trying to be small in the darkness. He didn’t fight Jesse’s touch, but remained quiet.

Worry seeped into Jesse’s chest. He moved carefully, leaned himself back against the wall and scooted closer in the darkness until his arm brushed against his mate’s. They sat like that for a few long, silent minutes. “Did I scare you?” the cowboy finally asked into the dark, voice as soft as he could manage.

“No,” the reply was small and weak.

“Tell me what’s wrong? There’s an ache in my chest, it hurts,” unsure of how else to coax the man on, he took a hand into his own and brought it up, kissing at fingertips.

Hanzo swallowed, “I ruined your dream.”

The statement gave Jesse pause, “Waddya mean?”

“Your dream. I could see it. You were at a house, so many people I have never seen before. You were happy. But when I saw my brother I…all I could think was how you shouldn’t have to have a murderer for a mate. Then Genji started in, and…that was my fault.”

Jesse let out a sigh, still kissing at the man’s fingers, “Hanzo, whether or not you think we’re deserving of one another, the stars have deemed otherwise. My soul and yours are connected.” He was quiet for a moment, mulling over what he had seen in his dream, what he had heard, “People make mistakes. God knows I have. I might not have killed my brother, but I took lives and didn’t think twice about it. It ain’t the same, nothing ever is. But we got each other now, if that’s what you want.”

“What…do you mean if that’s what I want?”

Jesse swallowed down the heavy lump in his throat and sighed, “I just get this feelin’ somewhere in my chest that you would have walked away if you could have. From me. You woulda never been on that rooftop had you known.”

His answer came in the form of silence.

“We gotta finish the bond, I think. But once that’s done, if you still wanna go…” he silently begged for Hanzo to refute his words.

More silence.

Pain settled in his chest, his own he knew.

He stopped the gentle touches to Hanzo’s hand and put it down slowly. Jesse pulled himself from the bunk, “Try to get some sleep,” he said, moving for where he knew the door was.

Silence.

The community room was empty when Jesse ambled through and into the kitchen. The space was only barely lit enough to see the case of beer on the stovetop. He plucked one out and cracked it open, swallowing the whole thing down in just a few thirsty gulps. The second one went a little slower. The third he went back out to the community room to drop down onto what remained of the couch, sitting in the darkness and quiet as he waited for the alcohol to kick in.

After a few minutes and a few more swallows of beer he pulled out his phone and pulled up a search engine. It took a few tries when the name of the old story failed to come to mind, but eventually he found what he wanted.

On a tacky looking history website was the old fable he remembered hearing once a long, long time ago…

In the heart of India there was a ruler of great power. Beloved by his people who believed he raised the sun each morning, he was called the Sun King. His reign was prosperous and his people happy. The Sun King had six children with his wife, and among them only one boy to be his heir.

He was deemed the Sun Prince and raised at his father’s side to learn how to be a good ruler. As any man would want, the Prince was loyal to his father’s word. A bride was chosen for him when he was young, a woman who would bear him strong and healthy children.

However the Sun Prince went to sleep each night to the same dream. Instead of raising the sun each morning, he lifted the moon at night and with the moon came his bride bathed in soft light. His dream brought him joy and harmony throughout his life, yet he never thought it to be real.

The night before his wedding, the Sun Prince stood at the balcony of his room as the sun set over the horizon. As the moon lifted the Prince looked down across the royal gardens and saw a woman step out of the forest. She was garbed in a black gown with glittering silver stars and even from afar he could recognize the bride from his dream.

He raced down from his room and into the garden where the woman stood before him in moonlit radiance, her smile enough to melt his heart away. He spoke, ‘My lady!’

And she smiled, ‘My prince.’

She knew him as well from her dreams. She spoke of how she saw the Prince each night when she slept, saw him raising the moon to summon her to him. ‘Your father worships the light of day, but you love the softer shades of starlight.’

The Prince was enamored by the woman’s very presence, his entire world complete. And yet as they spoke through the night he dreaded the light of dawn. He prayed in silence that the moon would forever remain so that the morrow might be halted.

When the sun broke across the horizon his heart grew heavy, ‘I must go. And we can never again see one another.’

Distraught, the woman begged the Prince stay.

He could not. His wife to be would await him soon, and he had responsibilities to the Kingdom he would one day rule. ‘Go,’ the Prince begged, ‘Find another. Any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. I will not have you.’

Woe begotten, the woman left.

The Prince chose his path, and married the woman his father set for him. She was pretty, and her father powerful. Yet each night thereafter when the moon rose each night, it bathed the world not in silver hue but in crimson. For seven nights the bloody omen stood in the sky, the moon rejected by her Prince in life.

And so it was that at the twilight of the eighth night, the Prince stood at his balcony and watched the rise of the red moon. His dreams of the woman in silver had become nightmares of the red moon, and he knew there would be only one way to stop another bloody moon from rising.

He cast himself from his balcony then, remorseless of those he would leave behind.

The moon’s red cast vanished that night, its loveless mourning sated…

McCree frowned at the phone in his hand, flicking the page away with a distasteful sound. It had done nothing to settle the unease and ache within his chest. Even if it had been just a dusty old fairy tale, there was a semblance of truth to it. Those who rejected their partnership with their Dreamed One didn’t often walk away unscathed.

He finished his beer, and when he tipped his head back down he was surprised to find Hanzo standing at the mouth of the hallway. Cast in shadow and indecision, he stood hunkered against the wall, one hand on his chest, “How could you be with a man who destroyed your friend?” his voice was low and weak, “Who killed his brother?”

“My past is far from perfect,” Jesse pointed out after a minute of silence, “In my youth I filled good men with lead, I convinced kids to run in gangs, destroyed lives and families. Sure, I didn’t kill my brother, but I did some awful things. But I ain’t the same man I used to be. So I guess I have to ask, are you?”

“Are you not the same man? We wear the same skin from our youth, it was still our hands that did such things.”

“May be the same body, but I’m hardly the same man. Difference bein’ that I regret my actions, an’ I do everything I can to repent in the eyes of my family and the Big Man himself,” Jesse sighed softly, “But I think it’s a bit late for chats on philosophy and existentialism.”

Another long silence fell between them before Hanzo rubbed his fingertips in slow circles against the center of his chest, “It hurts.”

“Sorry Partner. I don’ know-“

“Not…not just you. I hurt for having given you the thought that…” he took a breath and slowly stepped forward, his footfalls silent and even as he approached, “My Dream was one of the few joys I had in my youth. It was something that nobody could take away from me. I spent too many nights wondering over the figure in my Dream, over the man I would someday meet. And it took me two seconds to nearly get you killed…”

Jesse smirked as Hanzo stood before him, “Aww now Darlin,” he mused softly, “Hardly the first time I been shot. Probably the most interestin’ though.”

Hanzo frowned, “It is nothing to joke about.”

“Isn’t it though?” Jesse reached out carefully and tugged at the hem of Hanzo’s gi until the archer slowly gave in and moved forward, all but collapsing into Jesse’s lap and arms. The solid weight of the man’s body against Jesse’s own was enough to tug free the knot of anxiety that had been building within him, and with a soft huff of air he turned his head and nosed into the soft fans of hair at his mate’s temple. “I wannna know…”

Hanzo let out a soft, curious sound, “Know what?”

“Everything. I got thirty-seven years of things I wanna know about you. I feel it in my core.”

There was a soft huff, almost a chuckle, though it fell silent quickly. “You needed me, and I was not there. Your nightmare.”

“Hey now,” the cowboy interjected quickly, “That hit you same as me. We handled the stress different, that’s all.”

It was as simple as Hanzo turning his head. Their lips slotted together easily, the kiss brief but affectionate, “I can think of a better way to handle the stress,” he murmured in a soft tone that Jesse wouldn’t have heard were it not for the feather-light touch of lips across his own.

Jesse felt his senses light up at that, suddenly very aware of everywhere Hanzo’s body touched his own. He surged into the kiss and was met with equal fervor, tasting and teasing the mouth over his own. He was surprised when Hanzo yielded easily, letting himself follow as Jesse led the kiss, pushing them both down onto the uneven couch.

Jesse huffed softly, shoving the man down harder, feeling a thrill run up his spine as his thighs slotted between Hanzo’s, both of them pushing lazily. They settled into a rhythm, arms looped around each other as they ground their hips together, lips parted and tongues tasting. It was one of the best moments in the Cowboy’s life he figured, taking a moment to discern the tastes of mint and sake.

It was Jesse who broke first, reluctant to do so as he pressed an apologetic kiss to his mate’s lower lip. They were both winded, sharing one another’s air, “So will you go runnin’ off when all of this is over?”

Hanzo hesitated, then sighed through his nose. His head dropped back onto the arm of the couch and the Gunslinger was happy to let his lips find a soft patch of skin to abuse while the smaller found his words. “I should,” he finally said, and Jesse felt his heart give a panicked beat, “I am a man who has disgraced himself in life. Yet…” he hummed, his fingers trailing up Jesse’s back to thread through the tangled mess of hair at the back of the man’s head, “I am unsure if I could make myself leave this.”

The Cowboy was happy to buck his hips, marveled at the soft groan that he could feel through Hanzo’s throat where his lips worked, “Please Darlin,” he begged quietly, “Please… I’d chase you to the ends of the earth.”

This time Hanzo chuckled, “I believe you.”

Jesse contents himself to nuzzle against the side of the man’s throat, pleading without words, feeling his emotions pushing through to Hanzo; desperation and longing. It seems like a cheap tactic, a guilt trip. For a brief moment he hates that he has to guilt trip his mate.

“Ease yourself,” Hanzo’s voice is firm and pleading, “We have much yet to do in a short time. I wish to find Genji. Then you will have your answer.”

Jesse swallowed down the lump in his throat. He recalled the Genji from his dream, the cheerful young man, and the angry cyborg. The man who had known who Jesse’s mate had been for near a decade and kept them apart. Why. He wanted to know why.

There were too many thoughts in his head, too many questions crowding for answers.

“Genji never told me,” he finally voiced his thoughts, “He knew about my Nightmare for years. If he knew what it meant, why didn’t he say anything to me?”

“My only guess is to hurt me,” Hanzo’s answer is even and well-considered, “But we cannot know until he is found. When he came to me, asking for me to join Overwatch he spoke at first of redemption. It was only when that failed that he told me of you…”

“When I knew him, shortly after what happened, he was dead set on revenge… He told me once that he sympathized with me and my Nightmare. That he would help me slay the blue dragons,” Jesse just lay there as he recalled the words of his friend, “He was a lot angrier back then. A lot more vindictive. Wasn’t til he met his mate that he started talkin’ about forgiveness.”

A sickening thought rolled through Jesse, clenching at his heart. He wondered if Genji had planned it. He had not spoken a word of Hanzo’s possible appearance, had not spoken up over the communicator during the battle towards the arrows or the dragon. Was it possible that he had anticipated Jesse’s vengeful rage? That he had hoped Jesse would kill Hanzo before they realized their bond?

The idea seemed far-fetched and horribly unlike his friend. Yet the thought held purchase in Jesse’s mind when Genji was not present to explain himself.

“Come now,” Hanzo’s voice pierced through the maddening thoughts, making Jesse lift his head and look up. The man smiled, the expression enough to dull the chaos in the cowboy’s mind, “Convince me to stay,” he offered, “While we have the opportunity.”

The invitation was immediately enough to dispel the worry. Jesse surged up and met his mate in a desperate kiss, feeling the tightness of his chest ease. Hanzo seemed content to soothe away the concerns with gentle swipes of his tongue and strong, nimble fingers on the back of Jesse’s neck.

They quickly found their rhythm again, working into a lazy undulation of lips and hips, when their momentary contentment was broken by the chime of Jesse’s communicator.

They jerked suddenly at the startling sound, stunned for a moment before Jesse pawed for the device at his hip. He opened the channel, “What’s going on?”

“Jesse,” Winston’s voice sounded relieved and tired, “Athena finished with the data on the King’s Row underground. We have a map, and Genji’s position.”

Relief and dread created a strange cocktail of emotion within the gunslinger’s chest. A glance to Hanzo revealed much the same reaction. However he was quick to push aside his personal feelings, swallowing down the worries and chaos.

“We mobilize immediately,” he stated firmly, “Have Athena run the map through to the holo-projector.”

Chapter Text

The holo-map flickered to life from the back of Jesse’s communicator. He had set the device face-down on the floor, giving the projector room to work. The map was mostly blues and whites, displaying a surface view of King’s Row before scanning in the twisting tangles of the labyrinth beneath. Amid the tunnels were box-like bunkers very similar to the one Overwatch was currently using, safe spaces for those who needed to hide out in the event of an Omnic assault.

In one such bunker was a red blip, the location of their missing companion. He had been moved again from when Jesse and Zenyatta had gone on their search before.

Jesse took a breath and let it out as he analyzed the map, studying the system of tunnels connected to the one Genji was being held in. “Athena, hide the irrelevant tunnel systems,” he requested. A moment later the images of the other tunnels faded, leaving the right ones highlighted and easier to see. How anyone was supposed to navigate the mess was beyond McCree, but it had worked in Talon’s favor.

Hanzo appeared from the hallway closely followed by Angela and the remaining team. Everyone looked tired, hadn’t gotten enough sleep. None of them would back away though, not when one of their own was in need.

Jesse gathered everyone around the map, giving them a moment to look it over before he gathered every frayed nerve he had left to steel, “Athena finished the map earlier. This displays all of the tunnel systems below King’s Row, and if this is right, the one holding Genji.” He paused as he searched their faces, all tinted blue from the holo-projector’s glow, “As you can see,” he pointed his finger into the tangle, “The bunker in question has three access points. Our best bet is to pincer Talon on two points, force them to flee through the third and take them out from there.

“Reinhardt, I want you, Lena, and Angela on Point-A,” he indicated the first access point, “Torb, you and Zenyatta, will hold position at Point-C and prevent any escape. Your turrets will be great in that situation. Hanzo and I will take Point-B and push an assault into the Bunker to force Talon to Point-C.”

“Jesse,” Angela’s voice was swift, “You are in no condition.”

“I know I’m not Angie, and I’m sorry. But we’re spread too thin right now to be able to afford not having Hanzo and I on-board. If we leave room for Talon to slip through the cracks you’ll be damn sure that they’re gonna take it. We have to hit them hard and take out the whole nest,” swallowing down his thumping heartbeat he glanced to the side and saw Hanzo give him the slightest nod.

Reinhardt frowned, “Jesse, these are not Omnics. You are proposing we go in and kill these people.”

The cowboy sighed. Overwatch had rarely dealt with the bloody messes that Blackwatch did. Reinhardt had been a soldier in the past, but as an Overwatch Agent he mostly killed Omnics, not people. When Overwatch did tangle with people, most of them were subdued and detained. He could see the warrior’s consternation, “Bud these are bad men. They took our pal and they’re t…they’re hurtin him.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” Reinhardt warned.

“If we want to get Genji back, we’re gonna have to go in and wipe ‘em out.”

“Must it always be killing Jesse?” Angela spoke next, “I know you trained under Gabriel, but remember where you came from. You were supposed to be eliminated along with the rest of Deadlock.”

Jesse grit his teeth, “This ain’t some two-bit gang from the south, Angela, this is Talon. This is a terrorist organization, the same one that took Amélie or did you forget?” He didn’t take pride in the stung look on the woman’s face, and saw Lena visibly cringe, “You haven’t seen what I have from these fucks, you didn’t deal with them like Gabe and I did! While y’all were off playin’ heroes of the Crisis, I was balls deep in Talon’s blood trying to keep exactly this from happening. If there is someone down there other than Genji worth savin, there ain’t anything worth it anymore. Talon doesn’t just recruit, they brainwash and torture.”

“And how are we better than them if we kill to meet our goals?” Angela snapped.

Jesse scoffed harshly, “Guess that’s up to you Sweetheart.” The room was silent for a long moment, a wave of tension and fury directed at the cowboy pressing down on him. He sighed and growled, “We’ll call for a surrender. We bust in, give them the chance to put their weapons down, and those who choose to fight or run will have to deal with what comes next.”

Another pause, then Reinhardt nodded, “Very well.”

Angela took another moment before she nodded.

“And what of the Wraith?” Hanzo spoke up from the back, directing the conversation down a different track.

Jesse recalled the black smoke and the broken mask.

“The Wraith?” Angela echoed.

“I’m not sure exactly what it was. It appeared as black smoke. Took shape like a man, had two big guns. I’d have been done for if Hanzo hadn’t shown up when he did,” he nodded to the other who met his gaze readily, “Never seen anything like it. Lena saw it too.”

“Don’t remind me,” the smaller woman frowned from beside Zenyatta.

Jesse considered it for a moment, “It ran off after Hanzo got ‘em in the head, yeah?” his mate nodded in affirmation, “Then all we can hope is that’s the key. If you see a creepy smoke monster, aim for the head.”

“That’s hardly reassuring…” Angela points out.

“We waste time,” Zenyatta’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp, “Every second we are here, Genji spends another moment with them.”

“I agree with the Omnic,” Hanzo said solemnly.

Jesse turned to give the map another look. Ideally he would have liked more time to form a plan, time to scout the scene for possible danger. Talon had them on the ropes, and Jesse knew the group to often be more organized than they appeared. “Fine,” he sighed, “But one last thing: If I call for a retreat you need to listen to me. You don’t know Talon like I do.”

The request was not well received as he looked over everyone’s faces. “Athena uploaded the maps to your comms. I’ll have her mark your points of entry and paths for the tunnels. Get to your positions and let me know immediately if there’s any trouble.”

He reached down and picked up his communicator from the floor, the room falling darker with the lack of the projector’s light. Everyone broke and suited themselves up quickly and quietly. Jesse made sure Peacekeeper was loaded and ready while Hanzo tested his bow (Stormbow, he had told Jesse when he caught the cowboy watching him) impatiently.

Then they were moving out. Three teams, taking to the streets of King’s Row in the pre-dawn shadows.

Jesse walked with his back straight, Hanzo half a step behind him. Between them were the roiling emotions shared through the bond, stagnant and malignant. It was hard to tell what emotion belonged to who when they were both too distracted by their mission to dissect it.

“You have dealt with this ‘Talon’ organization before?” Hanzo finally asked as the pair walked quietly down a lonely street, avoiding the street lights.

The cowboy glanced over his shoulder, “When I was workin’ with Gabe, yeah. Talon has had their claws in damn near ever major man-made disaster in the last fifty years. They had some part to play in the Omnic Crisis too, but Gabe and I never quite got to the bottom of it before Overwatch got the axe. Talon took some good people from Overwatch and even Blackwatch, brainwashed ‘em.”

“That is what they are trying to do with Genji…” not a question, the man was quick on the uptake.

“If I had to put money on an idea, that’d be it. But Genji’s a tough cookie. It’d take them a good long while to break him.” The wave of nauseous uncertainty made Jesse pretty sure that his words weren’t appreciated. He tried again, “We’re getting him back now. We’ll fight tooth and nail, and even if Talon is expecting us, which I’m damn sure they are, they’re not expecting you.”

Hanzo frowned, “What stake do I have in changing the tide of this?”

“That’s a pretty dumb question. Not only do you put our numbers up one, your dragons are a force to be reckoned with. Though I’d say that’s a last-case scenario.”

“Summoning them underground could be catastrophic.”

“Like I said, an absolute last case scenario.”

Hanzo hummed.

Jesse took them down a small alleyway, keeping his eyes sharp for signs of anything out of place. The entrance was supposed to be there, and after a moment he found the hatch beneath a dumpster. Hanzo helped him move it aside, and together they pulled the metal hatch open and dropped inside.

Creepy was the immediate word that came to mind. King’s Row had already been quiet, but as Hanzo and Jesse landed into the tunnels below, the whole of the world above died away in an instant. Darkness closed in around them, swallowing any peace that came with it and settling anxiety heavy in the gunslinger’s chest.

Though he couldn’t see Hanzo’s face in the lack of light, he felt his unease returned and shared from his mate. Unconsciously he reached out and found Hanzo’s wrist, their hands sliding together for a brief instant of comfort and grounding before they broke apart again.

In an attempt to break the unease, Jesse reached for the button at the top of his breastplate so that the lights at the front flicked to life. He grinned over at Hanzo, “Light-up nips, not bad eh?”

He heard the groan at the same time he felt the embarrassment, unable to help a soft chuckle.

They checked the map on the communicator, a smaller version of the holo-map showing their positions and their path. He also saw the positions of the other teams, moving slowly to their points. He tucked the com back on his belt and the pair pushed forward.

The tunnels were dark and dry, not even dust to cloud the way. Jesse had expected stagnant water, skeletons, or some sign that someone had been down there previously. The lack of anything just made it lonelier.

“You are tense,” Hanzo pointed out, his voice quiet.

“Who wouldn’t be right before somethin’ like this?” Jesse asked lightly in an attempt at deflection.

“Your worries go beyond that,” was the response he got.

The cowboy just grumbled. He glanced over and saw the tiny smirk his mate wore, enough to assuage some of the unease, “When it comes to Talon, things are never easy. They’ve got a curve-ball for us I’m sure.”

“A curved ball?” the archer looked perplexed and Jesse just smirked.

“It’s a figure o’ speech. I just mean they’re gonna have something we aren’t expecting,” he paused for a moment, then sighed, “Gabe was always good at his job, but Talon managed to stay one step ahead of him. Every ‘successful’ mission we had involving Talon came with casualties or worse. Never went clean. I’d have preferred having more time to set this up.”

“We will just have to make the best of this,” his mate reached out and touched Jesse’s wrist. It was almost jarring how the anxiety in his chest loosened and eased. A man could get used to that.

Their route was uninterrupted save for having to check their position at bends and forks in the path. Jesse figured that getting lost down here would be a truly scary thing. He felt Hanzo brush against his arm often as if to reassure himself of the cowboy’s presence.

As they neared their destination there were lights on the wall, old yellow lamps that cast the area in a sickly glow. He turned off the light on his breastplate and scanned the area, finding no signs of life otherwise. He drew Peacekeeper just in case, and Hanzo followed suit shortly after with Stormbow.

They fell into position just before a sharp bend in the path. Just beyond was the bunker. Jesse made a quick scan before ducking back behind cover. Two guards stationed at the door. He gave Hanzo a sign to indicate the positions of the guards, then pulled out his communicator and clicked the radio three times to alert the others that they were in position.

It was nearly ten minutes before he got a signal back. One of the other teams was ready, then five minutes later, the last one.

He looked to Hanzo and nodded, taking a few breaths. He opened the comm’s radio, “Everyone set?” he murmured, keeping his voice as low as he possibly could.

“A is ready,” Lena replied in equal silence.

“C is all set up,” Torbjorn relayed.

“A, take out the guards. Be quiet about it if you-“

“Might wanna move fast,” Torbjorn snapped, “Zenyatta ain’t doin’ so good.”

“They’re hurting Genji,” Angela whispered.

Something wasn’t right. Jesse felt it in his gut.

“Go!” he barked, rolling out from his cover. He had Peacekeeper raised, put a bullet through the skull of the left guard while Hanzo’s arrow took out the right at nearly the same instant. “Everyone in!”

They charged for the door. It should have been locked, but with a hard tug it opened easily. A quick glance down, the guards were Omnics.

The room was a ten by ten space, dimly lit. There was a computer in one corner and four Talon agents inside. They hardly looked surprised, turning to face both teams with weapons raised. Jesse didn’t give them the chance, aiming to kill.

Two dropped dead, the other two firing at Reinhardt’s shield. “Put your weapons down!” Jesse bellowed over the sound of gunfire.

When the bullets didn’t stop, Jesse and Hanzo ended them both. They fell to the floor with jerky movements, collapsing. No blood. Omnics.

Genji was in the middle of the room, strapped down to the table, struggling against his binds. He was missing one of his arms, there were tubes running into the joints of his appendages. “Genji!” Angela rushed past Reinhardt’s shield.

A burst of relief washed through the bond as Hanzo followed suit, going to his brother.

Jesse took another scan of the room. Something was wrong. There were too few agents. Why were they all Omnic? There should have been much tighter security.

Then he saw it. The screen of the computer, running commands down a seemingly endless list. The map to its side showing the tunnel system they were in. The red dot flashing in the corner.

“Cut ‘em loose, get out!” he snarled, “We need to get out now.”

Hanzo glanced over, but he couldn’t ignore the wash of dread panic spiking through them both. He opened the communicator, “Torb, you ‘n Zen get out now!”

“Jesse?” Reinhardt looked worried. Should have been panicked.

Angela connected something on Genji as Hanzo was using a knife to cut the smaller free.

“RUN!”

Jesse spun and lunged. He grabbed Hanzo as tight as he could and pulled them towards the door. Hanzo fought, Genji had one strap left.

The last door burst open, yelling, Zenyatta’s voice.

The explosions started, great booming blasts of sound as Jesse kept a firm hold on Hanzo’s struggling form. He couldn’t lose his mate now, he refused. Every instinct in his veins pulsed and shrieked too loud for him to try to ignore. He briefly wondered if Hanzo felt it too.

The ground shook and rumbled, the tunnels collapsing. An explosion roared and threw Jesse off his feet, sent him crashing down.

Everything went white, then…nothing.

Chapter Text

“Jesse, shut up for a second,” Gabriel Reyes was a man who rarely spoke about things that weren’t work related. During the rare occasions that he did, it involved mutual hobbies or just giving McCree shit. He never spoke about his personal life, his past, or his feelings. It was just something that Jesse knew and understood. Yet something about the way Gabriel said his name, the fact that he used his name said that this was going to be a different matter.

“I wasn’t even talkin,” Jesse huffed lightly. He had been alone in the canteen late that night as he cleaned Peacekeeper. He could have done so in his room, but the wide open space of the area felt more inviting.

Gabriel just scoffed, “Force of habit, your mouth is hardly ever not flappin.” When silence settled back between them Gabriel sighed and moved to sit beside his second. There was a long stretch, minutes of tense quiet as Jesse methodically cleaned and tended to his gun in an attempt at patience. Finally the commander spoke up, “Do you know what happens if I die?”

The grim nature of the question had Jesse’s hand pausing, and he glanced to the side, “We play Highway to Hell at your funeral?”

Gabriel’s laugh was a slow, lazy chuckle, “Yeah, but I mean… If I were to keel over, or vanish for whatever reason. Blackwatch needs a leader, they need someone they can count on. I trust every one of the assholes who works for Blackwatch, I hand-picked ‘em. But when the time comes, kid, you’ll be the one taking my place.”

Jesse’s hands fumbled and he nearly dropped the barrel-casing. He swallowed, then scoffed, “That’s nice ‘n all Gabe, but you’re one mean sunnava bitch. You’re not dyin’ or leavin’ anytime soon. Shit, I bet the Devil himself would spit you back out.”

“Watch your mouth Kid,” was the ready response that lacked any bite. Another long pause fell over them and Jesse’s hands were shaking lightly as he waited. “Anytime soon might be sooner than you think. Things are…not good right now. Not for me, not for Jack.”

It was rare that Gabriel spoke of his mate. He kept Jack to his chest like a closely guarded secret.

“The U.N. still givin’ you shit?”

“Ain’t about the U.N.. Jack and I have been…unwell for years. Slowly getting worse. We were supposed to be mates, but more and more that felt like just a word. A few nights ago I felt something break. I didn’t know it was possible for mates to lose their connection. I didn’t know what to do. I put a gun to my head, didn’t have a single other thought until Jack came rushing in.”

Jesse put Peacekeeper down and settled his hands on the table, listening with a heavy pit in his stomach.

“He stopped me, obviously. Begged me. These last few nights we slept together in the same bed for the first time in a few years. That break can mend, I can feel it. It’ll be slow but, if we don’t do something we’ll lose it. Forever. Somewhere along the line Jack and I forgot what being mates means. So I gave him a choice. Next week I’ll be going to H.Q. to put in my official resignation. You’ll be put in charge. After that, I’m leaving. Jack…he can choose to follow me, or leave everything we had behind.”

“Gabe…”

“It hurts to not know what he’ll choose. It hurts to have these doubts about the one you love more than anything. To think that he’ll choose Overwatch over…me. When we talked he gave me excuses. He needs more time, he doesn’t have anyone to succeed him. If he cared, those excuses wouldn’t exist.”

Jesse glanced to the side for the first time since his superior had sat down. He looked over Gabriel’s powerful profile and saw the pain in the man’s face, the tears in his eyes slipping down his cheeks. Gabriel’s heart wasn’t the only one breaking.

“Looks, Jesse, I know you never met your mate. Shit kid, I’ve always felt bad for ya. But lately I’ve been wondering if maybe you got off easy. That’s probably not fair, I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through. But if it’s any consolation, you’ve got what it takes. Blackwatch needs someone who isn’t tangled up like Jack and I are.”

For a long while Jesse sat in silence as he attempted to parse all of the things Gabriel had been saying. He thought about how haggard Gabriel had looked, how much Blackwatch had weighed on him over the years. The thought scared him more than he would have admitted. “It’s an honor, Gabe,” he finally managed to mutter out, turning his eyes back down to the table.

“No it’s not,” the man snorted ineloquently.

“No, I mean…” Jesse glanced up again, “That you would choose me, that you trust me, that you came to me. That’s the honor, Gabe.”

The man’s lips turned upwards in a small smile, and a strong hand clapped on Jesse’s back, “Gonna be some big changes around here. Better prepare for the storm.” He sighed, “And promise me something? If, by some goddamn miracle you find your mate one day, hold onto them. Don’t let go for anything. Nothing in this world is more important than the love of the person who is the other half of your soul.”

Gabriel left after that, and Jesse sat alone well into the night as he thought about what he would have to do. If Gabriel quit, when he quit. Would Jack follow? He didn’t know the man well enough to venture that guess.

The week passed like nothing had transpired. The calm before the storm. Jesse kept bracing himself for something.

Then Gabriel got on a plane to go to Swiss HQ. Jesse felt so much anxiety and stress that he got sick in the bathroom, paranoid and terrified of what was coming.

It was a small relief when Jack took chase, boarding a private jet in the hopes of stopping his mate. Jesse almost hoped he did, that he convinced Gabriel to stay a little longer, to spare Jesse the crushing stress that would come with taking over everything that Gabriel had started.

Then the world gave way to silence…

The Swiss HQ went up in flame and violence, the shockwave heard round the world in the form of news articles and rumors.

It took less than twenty-four hours before Jesse was near crushed with questions and accusations. Blackwatch looked to him with apprehension, the remaining Overwatch leaders pinned him with allegations and questions regarding his allegiance. They demanded all of Blackwatch’s files. They would incriminate Gabriel and damn those in Blackwatch to a life in prison.

In the end, Jesse broke after three days.

He had the Blackwatch Archives wiped, he burned every physical document, and he destroyed everything that could poison Gabriel’s memory.

Then he ran.

The world came back to McCree very slowly. Pain first, a dull ache in his head, the soreness of his muscles, a number of scrapes and scratches on his body. He laid on something rough and unyielding, concrete he realized after a moment. The sounds next. The screeching of sirens in the distance and the suppressed din of mass panic.

His thoughts were hazy and sluggish. He opened his eyes and found the unforgiving light of the sun blaring down against mangled concrete and asphalt. He let his gaze travel lazily up, following where a stretch of road angled sharply down from where it had collapsed, torn from its foundation.

Then he was pushing himself slowly, his muscles not wanting to respond properly as he flopped sluggishly to his side and groaned.

The memories finally crashed back with all the force of the explosions that had knocked him unconscious. Ignoring the protests of his body, Jesse sat upright suddenly. The world spun as he searched the carnage around him for signs of Hanzo and the others.

The bombs had ripped through the center divider of the tunnel system, sending them collapsing and tearing across King’s Row. It took little effort to see the catastrophic effects that it had.

Hanzo was fallen behind Jesse, sprawled out on his stomach. The cowboy’s heart wrenched in agony as he saw a part of the collapsed roadway had fallen on the man’s leg, twisting it horrifically. He scrambled closer, “Hanzo!” grabbed for his mate in desperate hands and shook him lightly.

He checked for a pulse and let out a sob of relief when he found it, still strong.

Jesse turned his attention down to the pinned leg, preparing himself for what he would see only to find confusion. There was no blood, no gore. The chunk of asphalt had fallen on the man’s left shin and with curiosity the gunslinger reached down and pulled at the man’s hakama to expose the leg only to find…it was a prosthetic.

He laughed, near to hysterics, as his panic subsided some.

It took some work to find the catch connecting the prosthetic to Hanzo’s remaining leg, pulling it free so that he could lift his mate’s body and pull it back against his chest. Jesse leaned back against the wall with a thump, letting Hanzo’s head fall onto his shoulder as he clung tight for a moment to gain his mental bearings.

Worry roiled within him for his companions, panic and fear twisting together to make a sickening lump in his gut. He turned his head and nosed into Hanzo’s temple, silently praying.

As if sensing Jesse’s tribulation, Hanzo let out a groan. Much like Jesse, he returned to consciousness slowly and then snapped back to awareness all at once with a jerk.

“It’s alright, Hanzo,” Jesse soothed, clinging tighter.

“What… Jesse,” there was relief in the man’s voice as he turned is head and returned a reassuring, affectionate nuzzle, “What happened. Where are the others?”

He shook his head slowly, “I don’t know. It was a trap, Talon set off a bomb. Probably to take us all out.”

There was a burst of fear, then Hanzo sagged as the fear melted away to despondence. Jesse held him tighter, pressed pleading, quieting sounds to the man’s temple. “It’s ok, it’ll be alright. We’ll find them, I promise,” though whether or not they would find their friends or their bodies he couldn’t say.

“You were right, it was a trap,” Hanzo breathed weakly.

“I think everyone knew it,” Jesse murmured, “But we wanted to hope. There can still be hope.”

There was a moment of quiet between them as the world above raged in chaos, then, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Hanzo opened his eyes, searching Jesse’s face. There was a stripe of blood down his mate’s face from a cut on his forehead, his lip was split and one of his cheeks was bruised.

“A bit banged up, but I’ll live. You ‘bout gave me a heart attack though,” Jesse smirked and pointed to the twisted remains of his mate’s prosthetic.

Hanzo barked something like a laugh, a single, harsh note. He looked down to where he had only half of a leg and lifted it, “Apologies for scaring you.”

“It’s alright. Hadn’t quite come up yet,” Jesse relaxed back against the wall. The adrenaline was slowly waning, but he didn’t know if it would be safe to leave their position. He didn’t know if Talon was out there waiting, he didn’t know what might be beyond their little sanctuary. “I’m gonna go up and scout things out, see if I can’t find some help. We need to find out what happened to the others. Will you be alright down here?”

Hanzo looked down at his leg murderously, a swell of shame and anger burning between them. He then scanned the area quickly, frowning, “I do not see Stormbow.”

Jesse looked around as well, then shifted out from behind his mate and stood on shaky legs. He winced as his minor injuries made themselves known. His back hurt, there was a throbbing pain coming from his right leg where he must have hit the wall, and his head ached horribly.

He staggered towards where Hanzo had fallen, searching around the debris. He winced when he found Stormbow, or what remained of her. The beautiful bow had been half crushed beneath the collapsed roadway, the frame snapped into fragments. It took a few hard tugs to pull the biggest piece free, but all the cowboy could think was that it was better the bow than Hanzo himself.

“Sorry Darlin,” he offered weakly as he limped back to his mate, offering out the piece.

Jesse saw the same look in Hanzo’s eyes that the gunslinger would have had if he lost Peacekeeper. A mournful, saddened expression as he accepted the remains. Jesse could only pray that it wasn’t a precursor to what they would find of their friends later.

The cowboy reached down and pulled out the knife strapped to his outer thigh, holding it out. “I won’t go far, but I gotta see what’s up there, see if I can find help.”

Hanzo nodded, taking the knife and spinning it in his hand, “Go, I will be fine.”

Jesse took a breath and looked up where the roadway collapsed down, the sharp inclines leading up perhaps eight feet to the surface world above. He double-checked Peacekeeper in her holster, then took a running start to climb up the debris, hauling himself up the final junction with an undignified grunt.

The world above was chaos. The street was collapsed in and ruined for over a mile, storefront windows were shattered, cars were scattered in the road haphazardly. Jesse had to wonder how he and Hanzo had survived, and could think of nothing less than a miracle.

He turned to the direction of the sirens, could see the edges of the flashing lights in the distance. The faster he got help, the better.

Of course, he knew it couldn’t be that easy.

Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention towards the opposite side of the road. Billowing smoke twisted and rose in the shape of a man, coalescing into the cloaked wraith. He growled an unholy sound, low and guttural.

“I told you to leave,” the words were warped and inhuman.

Jesse stood his ground, swallowing down the lump of fear in his throat, “Now you knew I wouldn’t do that partner,” he canted his head.

The wraith snarled and lunged forward, clearing the distance between them far too fast for any normal human while drawing his guns. Jesse cursed sharply and bolted away from the opening to the tunnel, instinct demanding he lead the danger away from Hanzo.

The wraith took chase readily, seeking to get into close quarters. Jesse figured that those guns, while massive, were either inaccurate or had some form of buckshot. No less deadly, but Jesse could stand a chance up-close.

The creature was on his heels, he could hear the growl and dove for cover. The crack of the gun was deafening, blowing away a chunk of the brick corner that the cowboy had ducked behind. When it rounded the corner, Jesse lunged. He hoped to disarm, hands grabbing for the barrels of the guns, holding onto them tight. His cybernetic hand crushed the barrel, rendering one of the guns entirely useless while the pair struggled. The wraith was strong though, whipping Jesse around with little effort.

It abandoned the useless gun and opted instead to grab the gunslinger’s throat, metal claws piercing the skin as it spun and hurled Jesse nearly ten feet out into the road. The lacerations from the claws were deep, just missing the jugulars as they released and sent the cowboy crashing ass over head to the ground.

Pain sparked down his spine where his head hit the asphalt, but the need to recover quickly outweighed anything else. He pulled himself up to his hands and knees only to feel a heavy steel-toed boot slam into his chest, the crack of at least one rib ringing clear in his ears. He collapsed back to the ground, wheezing heavily, gripping his side.

The wraith was directly over him, his gun aimed.

Jesse McCree figured that this was how he was going to die. But so long as Hanzo was safe, so long as this murderous shadow didn’t find him, he could go.

“Guess I was right,” the cowboy grinned, spitting out a mouthful of blood from where he had bitten his cheek on impact.

The low growl and lack of a gunshot was the only response he got.

“The devil spat you right back out didn’ he hoss?”

Another growl slowly tapered off into a familiar lazy chuckle, “You always were smarter than you looked.”

Jesse could feel Hanzo’s panic washing through the bond, and did his best to hide his own fear as he focused on the small scraps of joy he’d had in the last few days. “Go on then,” he snapped, fighting against the growing swells of agony.

“I’ll give you one chance, ingrate. Join me. Be my second again,” somewhere in the deep warbling tenor was Gabriel Reyes, behind the mask, some tiny fragment of the man inside. “You don’t have to die here.”

Jesse looked up, trying to focus past the barrel of the gun pointed at him. He grit his teeth, “What? You think I’d join you? Look at you, look at what you’ve become.”

“I have ways of making you,” came the growl, “The sorrow of losing half of your soul makes  you susceptible to persuasion…” the intonation in the voice and the suggestion of the words had Jesse frozen in place, horror spiking through his heart.

“You wouldn’t dare…” but he knew the answer.

Gabriel stepped back and raised his gun, no longer taking his deadly aim. There was a silent promise as he turned and started down the road.

In his panic, Jesse grabbed for Peacekeeper and fired once, twice, three times. He watched each bullet hit and Gabriel didn’t even flinch. He jumped to his feet and charged with a hellish snarl, aiming a shot for the Wraith’s head.

Gabriel turned, aimed down.

Jesse didn’t register the crack of the gun but the pain that arced up his leg and spine sent him crashing down to the ground again, the shot missing its mark. His foot was a bloody mess of fore, ruined. He blinked back tears of pain and panic.

“Gabriel don’t do this!” he begged.

He didn’t stop.

He kept walking, closer to the opening, closer to Hanzo.

Jesse grit his teeth and dipped his head, panic and sorrow roaring through him like a fire. “Stop,” he begged, his voice weak.

Energy swirled from his pain, arcing through his mind and soul. Whispers murmured somewhere beyond the physical world, offering silent comforts. There was a fleeting flash of darkness, his vision fading. Falling through the darkness, the flash of blue and twin dragons chasing him into the abyss. The memory faded, the swirls of energy pulsing through him.

He grabbed for Peacekeeper, and felt them stir, hungry and angry, “YOU WONT TOUCH HIM!”

The trigger pulled, the bullet flew and suddenly the wild energy surged up through his arm to chase the streak of metal. The dragons burst forth with roars of unbridled fury.

Gabriel spun around at the sound at the sound, the shadows starting to form but not soon enough. The dragons crashed into him, twisting and grabbing him in their jaws. There were howls of pain as the dragons snapped until the man broke down into shadows, dissipating completely.

The dragons wheeled around with their prey gone, twisting in the air before fading away completely.

Jesse gasped in heaving gulps of air, falling back to the asphalt with a choked sound of relief. Confusion pulsed through the bond and the cowboy tried to soothe it away. He was alive, he was going to be alright.

The snarl that echoed through the air made Jesse look back up, gritting his teeth as Gabriel reformed in the middle of the street. He staggered and fell to his knee, rumbling, “You think you can stop me?”

Another flash of blue was the precursor to Lena’s sudden arrival, rushing behind the fallen wraith to unload the full clip of her gun into the back of his head. Gabriel screeched and whirled, staggering a few feet off.

Reinhardt charged in from the side alleyway with a roar, catching the shadow in his momentum to slam into the wall opposite them with a sickening crunch. Hope and joy sprang through the cowboy as Angela swept in next, landing beside Jesse with a soft click from her heels, the wings of her Valkyrie suit spread wide.

His friends were alive.

Gabriel staggered, stunned. Faced with the remaining members of Overwatch, he vanished in one final billow of smoke and slithered away to the shadows. Reinhardt looked perturbed, but Jesse just rolled onto his back and huffed out a pained breath, “Fuck am I happy to see you guys.”

They came closer, and at closer inspection he saw they all looked haggard. Reinhardt’s armor was scraped and dented, Angela’s hair had fallen loose and one of her wings looked crooked, and Lena’s goggles were cracked and there were numerous cuts on her exposed skin and suit. Jesse was just glad they were alive.

Pain burst through his leg in pulses, reminding him of the ruined foot, yet it felt distant. “Genji?” he asked Angela as the woman knelt beside him to examine the damages, “And Zenyatta?”

“They’re alive. They’re with Hanzo,” was the woman’s reply, “Stay still, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“I need to get to Hanzo, he’s,” Jesse insisted, moving to sit up until Angela pushed down on his chest, eliciting a wheeze of pain from his broken rib.

“Right here,” the familiar voice had the cowboy craning his head. Relief flooded him as he saw the archer approaching, leaning on Zenyatta for support. Genji was on the Omnic’s other side, keeping close with a need that Jesse was finding he understood. When they were a few feet away he could see Hanzo’s relieved smile, “How do you keep getting hurt, cowboy?”

“It’s a talent.”

Hanzo sighed, “So it would seem…”

Chapter Text

The Overwatch Carrier had, over years of disuse and previous wear, become something of a sore sight. She needed a fresh coat of paint, lubrication on her joints, and a tune-up. However to McCree she was still a thing of beauty and a welcomed figure of familiarity. The wide open main-bay was large enough to comfortably fit everyone, even Reinhardt.

They had settled the Carrier far on the outskirts of London, and getting back had been a very cramped ride in a van far too small for all of them. McCree’s foot had been tended to as best as Angela could, however he was still denied painkillers which left him exhausted and irritable. His only consolation had been Hanzo forcibly pressed against his side during their ride.

The quiet was almost too much. With Jesse wounded, the tension between Hanzo and Genji – and Hanzo and the rest of the team by proxy – was acidic.

Reinhardt had to help both Jesse and Hanzo onto the carrier, pulling out the old creaky futon from the benches against the far wall. Far from a proper bed, but more than enough for McCree. He flopped down and stretched out, injured foot bound in gauze giving a pulse of renewed pain. Hanzo settled beside him, leaning against his side as they both took solace from the bond.

Jesse couldn’t help himself as he nudged his mate with a tired grin, “Hey, we kinda match now,” he said as he pointed to his foot. Hanzo rolled his eyes and let out a scoff.

“You should sleep,” came the pointed reply.

“Hard to sleep. Angie won’ give me any pain meds,” the gunslinger huffed and shrugged, “But you get some shut-eye while we got some peace.”

Hanzo frowned and looked down at the injured foot, “She will not give you pain medication because of me.”

“Ain’t your fault. Somethin’ about the bond right? Can’t help it,” they both glanced over to where the doctor sat beside Genji, looking over the cyborg’s damages. Jesse lowered his voice, quiet behind the whir of the engine, “I know there’s a lot between you two right now. You got a list of questions a mile long I’m sure. Think you’ll be alright?”

The bond between them pulsed wildly with sensations of uncertainty and trepidation as the archer continued to stare at his brother, a lost look in his eyes. When Genji caught the man’s watch he lifted his good hand awkwardly in a wave, breaking Hanzo’s concentrated gaze. He turned his eyes away, back to Jesse, “I do not know. I look at him and am unsure of what I see – the man who was my brother, or an abomination of metal playing the part. Since arriving in England I have had no time to dwell on this line of thought.”

Fear bloomed prevalent between them. Jesse lifted his arm and wrapped it around Hanzo’s shoulders, down around to the small of his back and pulled the man closer. “You remember the dream I had the other night? Before it went bad…” he watched Hanzo keep his eyes decidedly fixed on where their legs were pressed together, saw the man nod, “You know I kinda like the idea. I haven’t seen my Mama in ages. Not since I was a pup. Gave ‘er hell all my life, then one day I took up with some gang and…that was the last she saw of me. After I joined Overwatch I used my connections to check in on ‘er, make sure she was ok. She got sick for a time, but I was too much of a coward to go see ‘er. Sent ‘er money anonymously so she could see a good doctor. Apparently I got two lil’ sisters now. An’ she remarried. Hope she’s happy, my dad was a real shit piece of work.”

Hanzo didn’t question Jesse’s lazy drawl, and he felt the man press closer against his side. “Do you know their names?” he asked when his mate’s words paused.

“Lilah and Hannah. I’d say they’re about twelve and thirteen now. I used to send ‘em cards. Didn’ put my name. I had to stop when I was on the run though, hard to keep up and mail is too easily tracked. But y’know, once Mama’s done whippin’ my ass I’m sure she’d love to meet you. She always looked so sad whenever my Dream got brought up, like it was her fault somehow. But now? I’m sure she’d throw a big party, invite everyone in the family. Make enough food for an army, take enough photos for an album. Hell, I’ll have to ask her for copies of those.” He paused again, then felt a nudge from Hanzo as a silent bid to continue. “Grew up in a desert, a place called Sante Fe in New Mexico. Mama was a fan of old-fashioned parenting, got my hand whacked with the wooden spoon more times than I could count. Had to help with all the household chores. She wanted to make a good ‘ol boy outta me. Sadly, I got my dad’s stubborn side, was a right asshole. But she loved me anyway. Taught me how to cook, how to shoot,”

“How to talk,” Hanzo interjected, glancing up enough for Jesse to see a coy little smile.

“Nah Darlin, that’s all me.” Jesse settled back and turned his head enough to speak right into Hanzo’s ear, nosing against the fans of gray hair at his temple as he talked about his home, his family, his town, his school. It was around his retelling of when he dropped out of High School that he realized Hanzo had fallen asleep, his head lolled to the side onto Jesse’s shoulder.

He chuckled softly and settled back, content to rest with Hanzo’s head tucked against the crook of his neck.

A glance around the space showed Reinhardt and Torbjörn had dozed off, Zenyatta and Genji sitting in meditativesilence…

There was a sense of peace in the space that had not been present at all in the last few days. Their mission had been a failure and had left everyone battered and bruised, but they walked away from it alive and with a new companion. Now, in the aftermath of the events in King’s Row, everyone could take the needed time to breathe and relax. No stress about their missing friend, no fuss over an incomplete Bond.

It was hardly the first time Jesse had been involved in a mission gone FUBAR. Blackwatch had not been perfect, especially in his younger days when he screwed up more times than he succeeded. He remembered every time he dragged himself out of the wreckage of a failed assignment, every time he felt like a failure.

It was one of the things Jesse could remember with some measure of fondness. Before the tongue lashing and dissection of everything that went wrong, Gabriel would stand with his team and offer them comfort. “ Our job involves good guys and bad guys. Unfortunately this isn’t a fairy tale or some dime-store novel, the good guys don’t always get to win. We do what we can, pick our broken asses up, and go to the next chapter. ”

Sometimes they lost civilians, teammates,   friends . Gabriel had never been one to give his crew hugs, but he knew how to be there when it counted.

It was something Jesse had failed to do in return… A new failure to add to his dossier.

Gabriel, his mentor and friend, had put his faith in Jesse to be a leader, and instead Jesse had chosen to run like a coward. He chose to run from the man’s memory and everything that had been built – and now what had come from it? His old friend was a monster. His old friend wasn’t just an enemy, but a terrorist working for the very same group they had spent years of their lives trying to take down.

The sorrow of losing half of your soul makes you susceptible to persuasion… The words rolled around in Jesse’s mind, made him blanch in remembrance of what they had been promising. Gabriel had lost Jack in the explosion, had half of his already damaged soul ripped away from him. Had Talon swept in to capitalize on that? It was entirely possible that Talon was behind the whole ordeal at the Swiss Headquarters.

The two had rarely spoken of one another as Mates, but back in the early days it had been obvious. Jesse had still been on heavy probation when he learned the truth, entirely on accident.

Jesse wasn’t supposed to drink. He was barely eighteen, but Deadlock had given him a taste of all different forms of addictions. It was how they kept their hooks in the younger members, being their gateway to get all the things they weren’t supposed to have. Even asa pup, Jesse was good at getting what he wanted.

He couldn’t recall where he’d nicked the bottle of gin from, but stolen booze tasted even better than the Deadlock shit. He tucked himself away in the dark corner of a rooftop, the Communication’s Building in Gibraltar – close to the heavens with the prettiest sight of the stars hanging overhead.

When the door to the rooftop access opened he’d frozen, figuring himself for busted. Instead he’d heard quiet voices and muffled laughter. One voice in particular had been familiar, had drawn Jesse to peek his head around the AC unit he was hidden behind.

His bosses, both Reyes and Morrison stood leaned against the edge of the fence surrounding the rooftop. It was hard to see their faces in the dark, but the tone of their voices was light and eager…

“So, can I get you to sing me a sappy Spanish love song again?” Morrison asked, leaning closer to Reyes.

The other huffed, “I’m not drunk enough for that, mi amor. Besides, it was one time, will you ever let that go?”

“No!” Morrison laughed, no, giggled . Like a fucking schoolgirl! “Come on, I thought it was sweet. You have a nice voice. Why won’t you, just this once?”

“Because I’m not singing for an audience,” the man gruffed, then turned his head, “I can feel your eyes on me cabron, get your ass over here.”

Morrison went very still while Jesse weighed the option of pretending he didn’t exist. When Reyes straightened up and took a step forward, Jesse scrambled to his feet, knowing it was better to fess up than get the ass kicking that would come with trying to pull one over on Reyes.

Both sets of eyes were on him as he made his way towards them, swallowing hard as he saw the furious glare from his boss, “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to, I mean… I was already up here-“

“Shut up,” Reyes snapped, “Give me that bottle you little shit, if you slack off at training tomorrow ‘cause you’re hungover I’m gonna run you extra hard!” he reached down and snatched the bottle out of Jesse’s hand, lifting it to read the label in the minimal light, “Least you brought me the good stuff. Too good for a little punk like you.”

“Aww, go easy on ‘em Gabe. How many times were you caught drinking when you were a young little cabron ?” Morrison was openly teasing the man, had no fear of the deadly fury that Reyes was capable of.

“Shut up, Jack. You’re too white to talk like that,” Reyes lifted the bottle to take a long drink, then handed it over to his partner.

Jesse swallowed, shifting from foot-to-foot, “Um, so…are you two?”

“I swear to God you lil’ shit, if you speak a word of this to anyone -“

“Relax Gabe,” Morrison jumped in again and reached out with his free hand to take Reyes by the wrist. Jesse didn’t understand it then, didn’t understand why Gabriel seemed to deflate at the small touch. Morrison turned his eyes to Jesse and offered him a smile as he passed the bottle back to his mate, “Yes. It’s just not something we broadcast. So you’d best keep it quiet.”

“Or I’ll rip your tongue out through your anus,” Reyes growled after a long swallow of gin.

“Always with the romantic imagery, Gabe,” Morrison chuckled.

Jesse swallowed hard, watching the two as they relaxed back against the fence. Finally it was Morrison who spoke up, “You’re the one with the Nightmare aren’t you? I can’t imagine… I can’t exactly blame you for drinking. I imagine anyone would.”

Reyes went oddly quiet, taking another swig before passing the bottle back to Morrison.

“Been a little better since I got here,” Jesse admitted, more to himself than his superiors, “Get worked so hard most days that I collapse into bed without any nightmares. Plus, I mean, I’ve been makin’ friends I guess. Better ‘n the Deadlock assholes.”

“Which reminds me, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Reyes snipped, “We came out here to be alone , I’m off-duty and don’t feel like babysitting.”

The words stung and Jesse felt himself deflate, “Er, yeah. Sorry.”

Jesse left the roof with a sense of dejection, and expected to be run hard as punishment the next morning. Instead, when he finished the day, Reyes stopped Jesse before he got to the showers and offered up their first movie night. The first of many…

“Jesse…”

The gunslinger huffed softly.

“Jesse…” again, firmer. Familiar, a pulse of worry coming through the bond. Hanzo.

He blinked his eyes open and realized that somewhere along the line he too had drifted off to sleep. The rumbling of the Carrier’s engine had become silent and still, which meant they must have landed. Jesse straightened his back and stretched, then jerked when his foot throbbed in agony from the motion.

“Easy,” concern then, followed by a wash of soothing calm as Hanzo tried to ease the swell of pain. Jesse focused on the emotions and sensations coming from his mate and finally took stock of the world around him. Reinhardt stood by the opened carrier door, and Hanzo sat directly beside him. They were the only ones present, as it seemed the others had filtered out.

He could see Watchpoint: Gibraltar beyond the open bay doors and could smell the heavy sea air. It was relaxing. “Seems I drifted off,” Jesse mused as he leaned back and offered a smile to Hanzo, receiving a relaxed smile in return.

“It would seem so,” Hanzo spoke calmly, “Angela is waiting for you. She is tending to everyone’s injuries but she said she wanted to address yours as soon as possible.”

“Figures,” Jesse shrugged, “You helpin’ me get there big guy?” he looked over to Reinhardt who gave a broad smile.

“Indeed I am!”

“Well alright then, let’s get this over with. Needles ‘n scalpels ‘n pain,” Jesse reached out and accepted Reinhardt’s help to stand upright, leaning on the man to avoid pressure on his foot. It occurred to him that he would have to leave Hanzo behind on the Carrier, which only left him more nervous. The pulse of nerves he got back didn’t serve to make him feel any better.

They were twenty paces from the docked ship when Jesse glanced back, and Reinhardt spoke again, “Do not worry, my friend, I will be coming back for your mate as soon as we get you to the med-bay. You two have been through a lot in a short time, I would not dare to keep you apart for any longer than necessary.”

“You were mated, weren’t you?” Jesse asked after a moment.

“Yes! And I still am. My Princess is in another castle though,” he bellowed a good-natured laugh, “Brigitte is back home in Germany, I did not want to put her in danger with Overwatch still so new.”

“Can I ask what your dream was?”

The large knight hummed, quiet for a few paces, “My Xena, Warrior Princess! My dream was of fighting a mighty mechanical dragon alongside her, and together we vanquished our enemy!” he chuckled easily, “A fine dream for a fine woman.”

“That’s real unsurprising,” Jesse grinned.

Being separated was harder than Jesse anticipated. Reinhardt got him to the medical bay and Angela set the gunslinger up on a comfortable bed with a warm blanket and local anesthetics for his foot and an IV in his arm. Relief was palpable as the pain faded away to nothing but a distant memory, but it left Jesse with only the feeling of the ache in his chest.

Reinhardt had been gone a long time when Jesse caught Angela scurrying back with a glass of water, “Drink, you lost a lot of blood.”

He didn’t take the glass up immediately, frowning, “Reinhardt’s been gone a while, Angie, reckon everything’s alright?”

The blonde leveled him with an exasperated smile, reaching out to pat Jesse’s leg gently, “He’s been gone less than five minutes. They’ll be back very soon. Tell me, how is the pain?”

“Like I got a fist in my chest…” he groused.

“I…meant in your foot,” she smirked.

“Oh. S’fine, no pain,” he cleared his throat, “Sorry.”

Angela shook her head and gave Jesse’s leg another gentle pat, “No need to apologize, Jesse. This is all so new to you, and you had to deal with so much in such a short time. Right now I’m tending to Genji’s injuries, but I wanted to make sure to at least get you out of pain. Reinhardt will be back shortly with Hanzo, so just try to relax in the meantime.”

She picked up the water and pushed it into Jesse’s hand in silent command before stepping back. Jesse drank obediently, swallowing all of it before setting it on the bedside table. He was surprised how much that alone helped. “Thanks, Angie. For everything.”

“Of course,” she smiled and turned to leave.

Each minute felt painful as he waited for Hanzo. Finally, though, he felt the bond flare back to life, like it was suddenly reconnected. Relief flooded between them, bouncing back and forth in the short minutes before the med-bay door opened. Reinhardt pushed Hanzo in on a wheelchair, and Jesse refused to show how much he wanted to drag the archer back into his arms.

“Thank you, Reinhardt,” Hanzo said when they were close to Jesse’s bed, “I appreciate it.”

“Of course my friends. Try to relax, I think we all need some rest,” the large German always lowered his voice in Angela’s medical facilities, having been warned and asked so many times. Jesse reached up to make the motion of tipping his hat.

Once Reinhardt left, Jesse turned his eyes to Hanzo and smiled, “Long time no see.”

Hanzo shook his head, holding back a smirk though amusement pulsed between them, “You are terrible.”

“You’ll get used to it…” he paused a moment, his heart clenching briefly, “If you stay.”

Hanzo wheeled himself over to settle directly beside Jesse, then reached up and took a hand, “I want to…very badly.” Jesse wrapped his fingers around the Archer’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, humming as the other continued, “It is…jarring to be forced to be so open with someone. To be so connected. If what I feel from you is anything to go by, you feel the things that I try to keep hidden away. It is…frightening.” He took a breath as he formed his words, pulses of too many emotions to untangle floating between them, “I have heard stories of rare instances where Mates of the Shimada can summon the dragon of their partner. Though in the past I have heard it only possible after many years of being together.”

“Well Darlin, I dunno if it’s somethin’ I could do again. Certainly not on command at least,” he lifted Hanzo’s hand and leaned over to press a kiss to the back of the man’s knuckles, “And it’s not a situation I’d like to replicate either. Pretty scary actually.”

“You have no told me what happened,” Hanzo looked at their joined hands, his brows furrowed before he huffed and adjusted himself, standing up on his good leg to wiggle himself onto the bed. Jesse let out a whumph as the archer dropped his back to Jesse’s chest and got comfortable, the bond between them settling on a constant medium of warm, safe, happy . The cowboy wrapped a possessive arm around his mate’s midsection and held him close, nosing against the soft fans of hair at the man’s temple.

“The Wraith wanted to hurt you. He wanted to destroy me by takin’ you out. I was so angry, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to hurt ‘em. Then I felt ‘em. Like they were respondin’ to a plea I didn’t know I was makin. God am I thankful though,” he hugged Hanzo tighter against himself, took a breath of his scent; sweaty, dirty, amazing.

Hanzo let out a low hum, “I felt them too. Begging to be released, fighting against the bonds in place for them. I have never felt them so anxious, twisting with the fear and anger burning from you.”

“So they’re real things then, I mean… I’m not sure I get it.”

“The dragons are an ancient magic, guardian spirits within our family. They come and go at will. The spirit chooses its partner after a rite of passage. The origin story of this has been lost for some time, I’m afraid, but the spirits are deeply connected with my family’s blood and soul. My dragons are twins, forever bound to one another. Eager, restless. In my youth they were difficult to manage.”

Jesse reached down and took Hanzo’s arm, lifting it to look over the beautiful tattoo stretching across his skin.

“The method of making this tattoo is an old and painful tradition. Threading enchantments into the skin to bind the spirits. The dragons choose where they will be strongest on the body. For my father it was his throat and chest, commanding the dragon’s terrible breath of fire. For Genji it was his back, letting the dragon move with him as one.”

“Sounds pretty incredible to me. I know the first time Reinhardt saw Genji’s dragon he about shit a brick. He begged to see it after that first time, still does now and then. Big guy shoulda been born durin’ the old times, y’know?” Jesse pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s temple and relaxed back.

They fell into silence, both of them relaxed and at-ease as they let peace overtake them. Jesse would be fine with this, he figured, he would be perfectly alright to just have this for the rest of his life. Hanzo tucked up against him, everything seeming right even if it wasn’t. The world was still full of problems, Talon was still crawling around, Gabriel was a terrorist, but Hanzo was there with Jesse.

The world was still good because Hanzo was there .

Having Jesse’s foot operated on was a nightmare. Hanzo wasn’t allowed in the operating room, and Jesse wasn’t allowed to be heavily medicated. Stress ran high between the pair with each prick of a needle or sharp whir of one of Angela’s tools.

It was apparent that Jesse could also feel the dragons stirring under Hanzo’s skin. They were anxious and protective, adding to the tension. By the time Angela finished, Jesse was exhausted from the constant clench in his chest, the way his heart was beating too quickly as displayed by the monitor by the operating table.

He tried to close his eyes and think of pleasant things. Warm sunny days in New Mexico, a cool watering hole, Hanzo naked...

Wrong thing to think about, he realized very quickly at the pulse of desire and arousal threading through the anxiety.

In the end, Angela had to reconstruct half of Jesse’s foot with synthetic bone. Jesse didn’t much care, all he could focus on was how exhausted he felt when he was taken to recovery, his lower leg bound in a heavy cast to keep anything from jostling it. He was relieved to find Hanzo there immediately, closing the space between them with a sensation of concern and comfort.

“Please be mindful of his foot,” Angela spoke, her voice hitching where she would have spoken Hanzo’s name, reluctant. She cleared her throat and addressed Jesse, “You need to focus on resting. My nanites will streamline the healing process, but I want to have you here for observation for at least a week to ensure everything mends correctly.”

Jesse frowned at that, worried about how he would be able to get any rest if he and Hanzo had to be separated. The swarm of dissatisfaction and the frown on the archer’s face showed a similar train of thought…

“I know it won’t be the most comfortable,” she turned her big blue eyes to Hanzo a moment later, “But this is far from the first time I’ve handled distressed mates in a med-bay. The beds in the room can be moved and slotted together easily. Just make sure it’s on his good side.”

“Aww c’mon Angie. Every side’s my good side,” Jesse grinned wide.

The woman gave an exasperated sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, “Oh, that reminds me. If I find you two trying anything in my med-bay, I will bring Reinhardt in here to babysit you two and I will ensure that he makes horribly awkward, unsexy comments anytime you two so much as look at each other!”

Jesse huffed, “Angela, has anyone ever told you that you’re a cruel woman?”

“Yes. Many times. Now try to get some rest, alright?”

“I’ll be good Angie,” the gunslinger huffed with a grin.

She looked skeptical, but left the room with a sigh.

Hanzo turned to Jesse and appraised him with a critical eye. And wasn’t Jesse just a sight to behold, worn down from days of excitement and little sleep, his clothes ragged and dirty, his beard wild, his hair greasy, he knew he looked like he’d just crawled up from hell. Yet that didn’t stop Hanzo from reaching out to take the man’s hand, waves of relief washing through them both, relaxing tense and sore muscles.

“She does not like me,” Hanzo noted plainly, lips pulling down in a frown.

“To be fair, she’s real attached to Genji. But she does take a while to warm up to new folk,” he added when he felt a flicker of anxiety and pain from his words, “Wasn’t too keen on me at first either.”

Hanzo hummed, “I should not be here.”

“We belong together,” Jesse pointed out, squeezing their hands firmly, “You feel it as much as I do. Angie will come around.”

“And when she doesn’t?” asked with such certainty.

“Well then if you ain’t happy or decide to pack up ‘n leave, I guess I’ll just have to go with,” Jesse offered a shrug and a sigh.

“They are your friends, your team. You went to great lengths to protect then,” the archer turned his eyes away from Jesse, pulled his hand free and even the small space between them seemed leagues too much, “They deserve your attention and affections far more than I. You trust me, accept me, because of our bond. Perhaps Genji was right to keep us apart.”

“Now hold on!”

“I will stay long enough to complete the bond, Jesse. I would not be so cruel as to leave before then. But I am not a suitable mate for anyone. And if there is a risk of you leaving because I am not accepted among those who saw what I did to my own brother, then I will leave before that arises to spare us both.”

“Hanzo!” Jesse snapped, sharp and angry, “Don’t…please. Don’t go runnin’ off. Don’t go leavin’ me with this hole in my chest ‘cause I wouldn’t be able to handle it,” he pressed at the ache he felt swelling inside of him, “Damnit all, I can’t go back to that.”

Hanzo was silent for a long while, back to Jesse as he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The emotions tangling between them were indeterminate of one another, impossible to tell what belonged to who and it served only to make the gunslinger more anxious.

“Then why wait?” Jesse finally snapped, settling himself to anger over desperation.

Hanzo turned his head some, still not meeting his mate’s eyes, “What?”

“Why wait for the bond to finish? If you’re gonna do it, don’t play like you’re bein’ kind to me. What happened to before? Back in London, you said you wanted to stay.”

The archer frowned lightly, “I said… I said I was unsure if I could leave.”

“And I said I’d follow!” Jesse adjusted himself and sat up straighter, reaching out to grab Hanzo by the wrist and drag him closer, clinging to the connection between them overflowing with sorrow and mutual self-pity, “I said I’d chase you to the ends of the earth.”

“You don’t know me-“

“And you don’ know me !” the room fell silent for a moment. Then, finally, “If you’re gonna leave you’d best do it now and give yourself a head start. Or you can stay, and we’ll figure it out. You can stay and have a home. Might take folks a little while, but all of us got shit in our past. If it comes down to it, I’ll leave Overwatch. We’ll go out and figure things out, together .”

Hanzo swallowed, “You do not know me, your attachment is based on the bond.”

“ And ? Bonds aren’t wrong Hanzo, you’re the other half of my soul, and I’m the other half of yours. Together we can be whole . We might be a bit fucked up, might have scars and dents, might have problems, but that’s what you get with two people closin’ in on forty,” Jesse tugged, bringing Hanzo just a bit closer, “I’ve lived a while, seen some shit, been through hell ‘n back, and Darlin, you’re still the one I dreamed about every night.”

“With fear,” Hanzo pointed out acidly.

“With misunderstanding. So help me to understand right…” Jesse took a breath, let it out evenly, “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re afraid of, why you think you can’t have this. I feel your pain, Hanzo, but I can’t read your mind.”

The man was silent, turbulent emotions roiling with a sickening weight. Jesse kept a tight hold on Hanzo’s wrist, refusing to let go for fear of the man actually taking his advice. Of leaving. Of running.

“I can’t go back to that…” Jesse muttered weakly, “Please don’t make me.”

Hanzo remained quiet, then slowly pulled himself to stand and crawled into the bed beside Jesse, his free hand coming up to frame the side of the cowboy’s face. He said something in Japanese, the words going right over Jesse’s head but they sure sounded pretty. The man leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, pulling their world into the scant space between them.

“I don’t understand,” Jesse said after a moment more of quiet unintelligible mutters.

“Neither do I…” Hanzo sighed, then adjusted himself to lay on the bed tucked against Jesse’s side. The torrent of negative emotions began to settle and calm as exhaustion blanketed over them, “Rest. We both need rest.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Jesse asked, feeling like a child.

“Yes.” Definitive, sure.

Jesse let sleep claim him.

Hanzo lied.

Jesse awoke alone in the med-bay late the next morning. He couldn’t tell exactly how long he’d slept, but he could guess it had been a while. It didn’t change the quiet emptiness of the room around him as he stared up at the ceiling, a blanket laid over him in place of the archer that had been there previously.

Panic rose, then faded away to a sense of despair. He closed his eyes against the need he felt to scream out in frustration – when he felt a distant pulse of panic and attempts at soothing.

Jesse let out a shaky breath at that, brows furrowing together.

“Jesse?” He finally lifted his head and looked across the space where he found Genji sitting on the bed directly opposite his own, one arm still missing. The cyborg sat up straighter and stood, going to the foot of Jesse’s bed, “It’s alright, Angela and Torbjörn are helping Hanzo fix his prosthetic. They asked me to stay here in case you woke.”

Relief. Hanzo was still there, technically. He was coming back, right?

“Yes, he’ll be back shortly. They just needed to adjust the measurement,” Genji answered the question Jesse didn’t realize he had asked aloud. “I understand it must be hard for you…”

The gunslinger shook his head and swallowed down the lump of undignified petulance in his throat, “I’ll be fine. How’re you doin? Are you gonna be alright?”

Genji was quiet for a long moment before he came to stand at Jesse’s side, a hand came out to rest on his metal forearm, “Physically I need only a few replacement parts. Zenyatta is helping me with the rest. He told me what you did, what happened. Everything became a mess in a short span of time.”

“Speakin’ of, where is Zenyatta?”

“He is just outside. I…was hoping to get the chance to speak with you alone,” Genji’s mask made his face unreadable, his tone dipped down to something synthetic. Yet despite that, it was obvious there was more he was trying to say, halted by the human pretenses of his own mind.

Jesse’s mouth pulled in a frown and he focused on the thin threads of emotion coming from Hanzo. After a moment though, he huffed, “Well?”

“I am unsure where to begin,” the cyborg admitted plainly.

Anger surged suddenly, though Jesse managed to keep his voice level, “How about the part where you kept my mate from me for damn near a decade?”

The fingers on Jesse’s arm twitched expressively, curling around the folds of blanket, “I…” Silence again. “I wish I could say I had some good reason. To protect you, or to bring Hanzo to you myself. The first time I heard about your Nightmare, when I realized what it likely meant, I was furious. In my mind, Hanzo didn’t deserve a mate, and I could revel in knowing that keeping you away was hurting him. I enjoyed his pain through you…”

In a fit of rage Jesse pushed Genji’s hand from the bed and glared at the opposite wall. Betrayed by his best friend. Bile rose in his throat, and distantly he felt pulses of concern and worry. Good, he thought to himself, let Hanzo worry. He had promised to be there when Jesse woke up.

“After a while I started to tell myself I was protecting you. That if Hanzo was such a danger to his own brother, he would have hurt you too. I knew it was a lie, but it was my justification to myself whenever I saw your Nightmare plaguing you. Every time I looked at my reflection I felt justified in my decision. But then I met Zenyatta, and as I began to heal I couldn’t help but think about how I had been responsible in keeping you and Hanzo apart. I kept it hidden, even from Zenyatta, and tried looking for Hanzo myself in the vain hopes of being able to bring you two together. But that was still wrong, because I had not admitted what I had done to you. I silently hoped that bringing you two together would somehow absolve my decisions.” A beat of quiet as if to emulate Genji catching his breath before he continued, “Hanzo is impossible to find if he wants to be hidden. The only place I knew to find him was home, in Hanamura, on the anniversary of…” he looked down at himself, “And it was near impossible to bring myself to encroach. Still stuck in self-pity, I could only watch, and by the time I drew up the nerve to approach, he was gone again.

“But this year, a few weeks ago… With the Overwatch recall, getting to see your face again, I couldn’t stand to keep making you wait. I found Hanzo in Hanamura, I tried begging him to come back with me. I wanted to surprise you both, I didn’t want to…admit what I was responsible for. Hanzo did not want to come back, did not want to believe who I was, even with proof. The only proof that I could offer to him was his Dream, and your Dream, the connections between them. I told him where we were to be stationed, told him that he could come if he wanted to see for himself. It was supposed to be a simple mission, I wanted to make it into a happy occasion.”

Jesse frowned, finding no redeeming qualities in Genji’s story. A thousand things crowded his mind, questions and accusations alike, but finally he said, “Hanzo wants to leave.”

“What?”

“From what I can gather, he’s spent the last decade hatin’ himself. Hatin’ everything he stood for. He’s got some idea that leavin’ is gonna somehow be better for us. That he deserves to be hated by everyone here ‘cause of what he did to you ,” Jesse frowned harder, feeling his face distort in anger, “Spend that long hating yourself without anyone to tell you otherwise and it fucks with a man’s head.”

Hanzo’s worry and concern were getting stronger as he got closer. Suddenly the med-bay door opened and the archer came inside, honey eyes settled on Jesse. He closed the space between them, walking again as his damaged prosthetic seemed to have been repaired. Or partially repaired, given the man seemed to have a slight limp. He came to stand at Jesse’s opposite side, hand gripping Jesse’s own tightly.

“Apologies, they…wanted to check the connections to my leg, and the measurements,” the look in his eyes was genuine, along with the strong pulses of guilt and worry.

Jesse’s upset at the man evaporated almost immediately as he relaxed. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the comfort he felt working through his chest like a strong current, “It’s alright Darlin.” He opened his eyes again and sighed, then looked over to Genji, “Might be best for you to go, Bud.”

“Jesse…” his voice was tight, human, “I – can I do…anything?”

The cowboy looked over to Hanzo, the confusion and trepidation evident on him. “Genji, sometimes a man’s just gotta be mad for a while. What’s done is done, can’t go changin’ that,” he admitted on the tail end of a sigh, “I think we all need some time to recover.”

Genji hesitated, then nodded lamely, “For what it is worth, I am sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

A long pause before the cyborg turned to leave, halfway to the door when Hanzo spoke up, “Genji…” Immediately a swell of uncertainty washed through the bond, chased by worry and self-deprecation.

Genji turned his head and studied the pair quietly, then turned and crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye. He took Hanzo into his arm, a tight embrace that left the elder shocked and confused. At first Hanzo merely stood there, silent and still and surprised, before his arms hesitantly came up and slid around the cyborg’s slighter frame. A tumultuous storm swept over the bond, too many emotions for Jesse to pick through, all he could do was brace himself through it as the brothers held one another.

Eventually Genji spoke, his words in muted Japanese. The reply was in-kind.

When a wash of fear came through the bond, Jesse reached out helplessly, settled a hand on Hanzo’s waist and felt the man tense again. Jesse just sighed, closed his eyes, and waited.

After a few more minutes, the brothers separated, their faces turned from one another before Genji turned and left, vanishing out into the Watchpoint.

Jesse kept his hand on his mate’s hip, “It’ll be alright, Darlin.”

“How can you be sure?” Hanzo asked, words quick but lacking bite, “How can any of us be sure.”

Jesse shrugged, “Experience, mostly. C’mere, lay with me please?” He needed the feeling of completion that came with his mate’s presence. It didn’t take much more for Hanzo to turn and pull himself onto the bed. He tucked himself against Jesse’s body and peace began to bleed into them.

Silence filled the space, relaxed and easy for a change. “What did Genji say?” Jesse finally asked.

Hanzo didn’t answer. Instead he buried his face in Jesse’s neck and seemed content to ignore the question. He was just about to drift off when the archer spoke, words quiet and weak, “He said he forgives me.”

Jesse hummed, turned his head and kissed Hanzo’s forehead lightly, “That’s good ain’t it?”

Hanzo didn’t answer and instead buried his nose deeper into Jesse’s neck. He remained quiet until Jesse drifted back to sleep.

“How did you lose your arm?” It was later in the day as the pair were eating an early dinner. Hanzo was perched on the edge of the bed with a bowl of fruits, eating them slowly like he was savoring a sweet dessert. Jesse was trying to be a clean eater, tried to show he had manners, but he was a lot hungrier than he thought. He was halfway through his second sandwich (ham, bacon, lettuce, tomato, dripping in mustard and mayonnaise) when the question arose and made him pause.

He finished his mouthful and looked over the prosthetic curiously as he recalled the story, “Omnic raid out in Boston. I was, oh, twenty-four? Five maybe? Overwatch got called in, Blackwatch too. Wasn’t uncommon for the bigger raids that it was all-hands-on-deck. I was running point with a fella named Tully. The fight’s a bit of a blur, but Tully ended up running away, didn’t say a word. Took half a second, I looked back to see him runnin’ like a bitch and when I came back around I was snatched up by a Rook Class Omnic. He went for my neck but when I went to deflect he got my arm instead. Crushed it like it was nothin’, bone and muscle ground down to powder in an instant. It was Reinhardt who ended up savin’ my hide, but the arm was utterly ruined. Angela had to do an emergency amputation before bone fragments got where they shouldn’t be.”

“That sounds…terrible. I am sorry,” Hanzo was guilty at Jesse’s injury, making the cowboy pause.

“What’re you sorry for, wasn’t your fault,” Jesse shrugged.

Hanzo shook his head slowly, “While you were out fighting and defending the innocent, I was running from myself like a coward.”

“Stop that,” Jesse sighed, brows pinching together in frustration, “You keep puttin’ yourself down like that. How can I get to know you if you can’t focus on anything but the negatives? You weren’t around when I lost my arm, we can’t change that. But you’re here now.”

Silence followed like a shield, Hanzo pulling into himself at the mild chastisement.

“Can I hear how you got your dragons? They’re mighty fine critters,” Jesse smiled, trying to coax his mate.

Hanzo looked up and hummed softly, considering, then began, “Our dragons are earned after a Shimada makes their first kill. Though the act of killing my mark gave me no elation, my dragons did. I settled down in my family’s temple to pray to the spirits for my guardian,” he smiled then and Jesse returned the expression, “When I looked up, they were circling me. Two of them, brothers, twins. They were happy and playful, and when they joined with me I felt a completeness that had not been matched until…” he trailed off.

The gunslinger canted his head, “Until?”

Hanzo glanced up, a shy smile on the edges of his lips threatening to break free, “A rooftop in London.”

Jesse reached out, Hanzo set the bowl of fruits aside and moved to settle back against his mate’s body, a comfortable connection that they had already grown so used to, “You wanna tell me what Hanamura is like?”

“A village high atop a hill. There are cherry blossoms in the spring…” the words were spoken quiet and succinct, leaving no room for further question. A pause, then, “Will you tell me of your home again… It sounds…nice.”

Jesse couldn’t help his smile as he held Hanzo tighter in his arms, buried his nose in dark silken hair, and started his story from the beginning.