Chapter Text
I wandered after I left. A sizable fortune stashed away in some untraceable account, the Shimada clan weakened. I’m not going ask anyone to understand why I did what I did. You either do, or you don’t. Either way the shame of my actions runs deep through my veins.
I was a fool. I wandered without thought nor caution, till I woke to the stench of smoke- I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move either, something pinning down my feet. A woman stood in the doorway, face covered. She told me to rise, I couldn’t.
I made it out, thrown over the shoulder of the stranger who carried the bag with my bow inside. Somehow she knew I needed it, though I’m pretty sure it would have been almost fine considering it was made mostly of metal. The would be assassin on the ground outside, a gunshot through the eye.
“I will not ask why they wanted you dead. You will not tell me.” She orders firmly as she carries me outside and through a different door. “Don’t look at your legs. Please, just don’t look.”
I understand later, the understanding coming from the lack of feeling and sensation. I’m not sure how she managed to get me to heal enough where she didn’t need to amputate. I know it would have required skin grafts in the very least. She just shrugged, evading like the best of them. It was bad, even with an iron will I emptied my stomach in the toilet multiple times.
“It will never be the same.” She told me, “I suggest you go for specialized braces. They function like high end prosthetics and connect to the undamaged nerves. Or I suppose you can learn to live with the difference in registered feeling.” White hair, a patch on one eye and a tattoo under the other. She was the age my mother should have been, with the lines of hardship my mother had never had to endure.
And really, I could feel. A little- not enough to replicate what I could do before but enough to get around on my own. “Understood.” I would go the route of the braces. For my own sake, I had the sinking feeling i’d break a bone if I tried to run in this state.
“You have the mark of a soulmate on your arm. Inside your tattoo. Have you found them?” She asked.
“What.” I paused, that sudden click so loudly audible inside.
“So no one ever told you.” Her voice was laced thickly with disbelief, and underneath that pity.
No. No one ever told me. Everything was orchestrated, controlled so I wouldn’t know. “No.” Somehow, even through the curiosity I never really tried to figure it out myself. It was some Forbidden thing that I could never shake the feeling of dread from. So you burn with the want of knowing but die because the cure involves wading through that very same river of dread.
“You’re linked forever with another person. That is their handwriting on your wrist. You feel pain as they do, I’m told though it is controllable if the two are close. You can block it out, on either end. They were idiots not to tell you.”
Everything made sense. I understood why I was never told, what it meant. The months of pain I had to simply endure with no real cause. The good of the whole before the individual. And the rage, the rage came bubbling up and it was blinding.
“If one dies, the other usually does as well. Don’t they.” Words come unbidden, solidifying all those reasons why. The woman nods slowly, features sagging and eye glimmering.
I got a tattoo, on my thigh. Above the ruined flesh of my calves, ankles and feet. Not in the way I got the dragon so many years ago. But by the way of a tattoo gun and the span of a few hours. A sparrow.
Even if I murdered him, I’d honor him. My younger brother.
The recall was a blessing really, every day I grew more and more discontent and restless. There was only so much stoppin’ bad guys on your own that a body could handle. Something was stirring beneath. The leviathan and behemoth breaking their bonds and everything tensing up because of the destruction threatening to break through to the surface.
I dunno how they managed to actually track me down. Like damn, when you’re hiding from a bounty of such ridiculous size it made your chest puff up in pride whenever you really sat down and pondered it. 60 million is an awfully impressive bit of number if I do say so myself. Anyway, with that sort of dough sittin’ on your head you got Damn Fuckin’ Good At Hidin’ From Shit.
Winston I think could pull it off though, he’s got the know how. So really I shouldn’t be too surprised.
Time found me on a plane (In the cargo hold, don’t ask how I got there.) on my way to Gibraltar. A stop to pick up a couple of those huge ass things of peanut butter as a gift (really it was an apology of sorts for disappearing’ on everyone. I like to think I’m sorta decent sometimes.) Set and ready I made my way the rest of the way to the Watchpoint. Now, I’d only been there for a couple hours about a decade ago, so the world’s gonna have to forgive the fuzzy memory.
Luckily Lena found me before i’d made a damn fool of myself and gotten lost. Never knew her too well, talked on a few occasions and even then it wasn’t ever more than a few shared words.
“Heya McCree. God how do you look the same but hairier than the last time I saw ya. I mean its been forever. Oh, nice tat- when did ya get it?” At her words I follow her gaze down, and damn near had a heart attack right then and there.
That pitch black writing that had been on my wrist before I lost it was back, on the opposite arm. And yes, the handwriting was just as shitty, if not worse- as I remembered it to be. Eh, maybe not worse, but pretty damn unreadable unless you squint hard and cross your eyes a lil.
“Well fuck.” I mutter, rubbing my wrist against the flannel of my shirt just to check. Nope, it was definitely real.
“Dude, you okay? You look like you’re looking at a ghost.” Lena actually stops, her attention torn from something that a mere mortal could only guess at.
“Well damn if i’m not lookin’ at a ghost.”
“Oh my god. Its the thing! Its the thing isn’t it! I heard from Mercy you used to have one on your arm before you lost it.” Lena is practically jumping, though she’s pretty good at the actual not touching people bit. Which relieves me greatly, because there’s nothin’ that bothers me more than that.
“Well darlin’ it would appear so. Now if we could get out of this sun things will be fine and dandy.” The glare along with the general shock was giving me a headache, never did respond well to sunlight. Another reason for the hat.
Winston looks at it and sorta shrugs- obviously preoccupied with the huge things of peanut butter, sends me to Angela who also shrugs and shoves a couple of aspirin in my hand before threatening to send me off to bed.
“Have you been wearing your hat?” She asks, knowing the general reason for my wearing it near constantly beyond the aesthetic.
“Yes Ma’am. When do I not wear it?”
“How has your arm been holding up? Wait, here- let's get this thing off you so it can be tuned up. God knows the last time you’ve had it looked at.” She gestures for me to remove my shirt so she can actually take the damn thing off. It wasn’t situated in a good spot for the wearer to be able to take it off very easily, so really unfortunately you couldn’t really maintain the areas you couldn’t reach yourself well.
“Wait- do you even know how to fix it? The fingers twitch at the worst times I swear. Also the pinky is downright refusin’ to work at this point.” Didn’t really dare go to a reputable fixer of expensive prosthetics, so you generally learn to deal.
“Torbjorn is here. I’ll take your concerns to him. Now in the meanwhile you will go rest, and perhaps we’ll figure out eventually why the soulmate mark resurfaced. Now, bed.” Angela really was a force of nature when it came down to it.
“Yes Ma’am. Wait, who all else is here?” I ask
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Winston. In the morning. “ And with that I’m forced out of the infirmary, down an arm and with more questions than answers.
I didn’t much like the current state of affairs. Still didn’t like looking at my stump much unless I had to, and really I couldn’t go to Winston and ask questions without Mercy finding out and giving me an earful.
So really, that basically left me with the options of actually going to bed (not an appealing option with the current situation) or wandering around and hoping I didn’t get caught. Because again, you don’t want to go against the doctor’s orders generally.
I opted for the latter, because well. One, I didn’t really know the layout of Watchpoint well, two, not knowing the layout and exits in general made me anxious as all shit. And well, three? I was bored.
Bored meant poking into rooms, narrowly escaping running directly into Reinhardt, who looks nearly the same except for a few more lines worn into his face. Damn man is still buff as all shit though, don’t know how he manages it.
Next morning got my arm back, and to my delight the fingers no longer twitched and the pinky was movable again. Also found out that Genji was on route, and that Ana’s girl was thinkin’ about joining up. Winston had a few other recruits in mind, but he kept muttering to himself that he was really hoping at least someone would take him up on his offer.
“I think Genji has either one or two people coming after him. Or at least that’s what I’m assuming he said. I’m pretty sure he was trying to be confusing on purpose.” Winston says finally, pushing his glasses back on all proper.
“Damn. That makes what, 7 of us?” I mutter, taking a long hard drag on the cigarello between my lips.
“Yes. Unfortunately.”
Fareeha did join, the next day actually she came racing down the road on a motorcycle. Honestly having known her mother so well I can’t even say I’m surprised. No wonder Ana kept her daughter away from all this- the girl was just the sort to join and be really, really good at what she did. Ana never wanted it for her, she always said she just wanted peace for us all. I think it hurt her, seein’ Mercy and me fighting when we were just 5 years older than her own kid.
The tech on the suit she brought along sent Winston and Torbjorn into a flurry. Because motherfucking rockets. Its always the rockets.
“McCree I think? Sorry, I’m not very good with names.” Fareeha Amari looked a whole lot like her mother, and it sent an unexpected wave of grief through me. Ana was dead, but here was that kid she spent so much time tryin’ to protect.
“Yes Ma’am. Fareeha? Am I sayin’ that right?”
“Close enough, the first a is a little softer. Fareeha. Like that.” She smiles slightly.
“Fareeha. There, did I get it?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I’d only met Fareeha twice before this, Ana really did hold great importance on keeping her personal and professional lives apart like that. I knew her not knowing my name was bullshit though. That child had idolized all that Overwatch was, having witnessed her meeting Reinhardt was pretty damn amazing. It was just after I joined up, when I was still healin’ and miserable and really it served as a defining moment.
And she’d been gone within the week, Reinhardt had that stupid grin stuck on his face for a month after the fact.
Genji, he never just arrives. No, he pops up and scares the shit out of you when you really ain’t ready or expecting it. Then he laughs because he actually managed to get a reaction out of you, and that’s apparently amusing as all fuck when you’re him.
Really, its just an asshole move. Four bullets gone and that man had not a single bullet hole in him. You could tell he was smirking beneath his mask. “Hello McCree. Sharp as ever I see.”
“You never do change do you.” I mutter underneath my breath while reloading Peacekeeper.
“I’ve changed plenty I assure you.” Dunno why he always insists on the accent when the man is perfectly capable of speaking American English like the best of them. Probably goes along with the ninja persona he had goin’ on.
“Winston said you’re bringin’ some folks along?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I wait a few moments, mainly to see if I wouldn’t have to play the whole word game. That’s how Genji fuckin’ Shimada was. He played. He remained literal just for his own amusement unless well, it was a bad time to remain literal or if he was pissed beyond all belief. That’s why I generally liked the guy, humor was generally a good thing.
“Mind elaborating there.” I say finally.
“My mentor, and I’m about 95% sure my brother is going to be showing his face within the next day. He’s not exactly happy with me right now, but is being stubborn about it.” I can feel the eye’s beneath Genji’s mask hone in on my wrist. Never bothered hiding the thing before I lost my arm, ain’t gonna start now.
“What’s that?” He asks, his hollow voice hitting a particularly sharp note.
“First you’re gonna tell me why the fuck the brother that you know, tried to murder you is showin’ up here.” Rage is a funny thing for me. It pops up at odd times and ebbs away at even odder.
“I don’t think he’s a bad person Jesse. I think he can get better. And he’s good, really good. We need the help right now and you know it.”
Most of the rage fizzles out right there, though I have the feeling that it’ll rear its ugly head when I actually see the man. “Damn.”
“Consider it an achievement that there’s even a chance he’s coming. I’ve been working on this for quite a while. Now, your wrist.”
“Soulmate mark. Used to be on my arm before I lost it, decided to show up again. Dunno why.”
“May I see it for a moment?” Genji asks quietly.
In response I turn my wrist over, angling it towards him. Really, I wasn’t expecting the laughter that Genji collapsed into. The handwriting was comically shitty but not the equivalent of cyborg dying of laughter comically shitty.
“Oh wow. Wasn’t expecting that. Holy shit man. McCree? You got your work cut out for you.” Genji wheezing was weird. Everything that comes out is robotic sounding right? Have you ever heard a robot wheeze? Thought not. It's really an uncomfortable thing for a soul to listen to.
“Why? You recognize the chicken scratch?”
“Is that what you call it? Without a doubt.” Mirth colored each exaggerated syllable.
“You gonna tell me?”
“Nope. Definitely not.” Dunno why I was expecting Genji to throw me a bone here, that’s completely against everything he stands for.
“Asshole.”
“So is he. Good luck there.” And with that Genji did that thing he got real good at, disappearing with a poof. I think he just really fuckin’ fast to give the impression of the whole there one moment gone the next deal. He’s got it down to pat though, and really it was pretty darn impressive.
“You fucker.”
Good Lord help me. I knew that face when that man walked in. I’d seen the younger version in my dreams many a time since I first saw him, plus the tattoo was a dead giveaway. It isn’t very characteristic for me to get caught up on anyone, much less a man I never even slept with. So yeah, guess you could say that chance meeting back then had me smitten. Ain’t too ashamed to say it, shit happens.
And I could tell. Really fuckin’ tell that Hanzo Fucking Shimada recognized me too and there was that deep rage rearin’ its ugly head again. As predicted.
With Genji, Winston and Mercy supervising I could only see the faintest glimmer of anger in that man’s eyes. Hanzo kept a good distance from Genji, but you couldn’t tell too much of what he was thinkin’ because he had a damn good mask goin’.
“Winston, this is my brother Hanzo. I think he would be a good addition to Overwatch. “ Genji was saying, I only heard him faintly because Hanzo and I were in the midst of a stare off and really. I wasn’t gonna back down anytime soon. If anyone else felt something off no one brought attention to it.
“Are you sure this is a good idea Genji? Considering your… Past.” Mercy cuts in, almost sharply.
“I won’t try and kill him again if that’s what you’re asking.” Hanzo cuts back. Oh sweet lord almighty that voice. Good Lord what what sort of mess did I get myself into?
“I can vouch for his skill.” Genji says, almost apologetic.
You can tell Hanzo doesn’t really much want to be here. Standin’ in the middle of a brother he obviously didn’t know how to feel about, two strangers and a not quite stranger you fought with the only other time you met, all on a particularly pretty bit of rock.
“Well… If wants to stay I’m not going to object. We need people right now, and I’m assuming you aren’t affiliated with Talon?” Winston, ever the voice of reason when you need it. Hanzo shakes his head no, disgust very thinly veiled.
How could you ever think this man was stoic. Like truly never showing much to him emotion wise. He burned like a carefully controlled fire, one wrong move and the whole place could go up in flames.
And when he turned his full body towards me, not just his gaze I felt the full force of that explosion directed straight at my face.
“See you never bothered to remove the gang tattoos.” He says. With a smirk. A tiny, tiny smirk.
A smirk that sent the rage in me to the boiling point. “Very funny.” I didn’t much like gettin’ angry. Lost most of my vocabulary and couldn’t shoot straight. I could feel the eyes of everyone there lookin’ at me, back at that Hanzo fella, then back at me. Even if I couldn’t see it, because like Hell I was losing a stare off to a piece of shit.
That’s when Genji started laughing, like not really the fall on the floor laughing because well. Cyborg. But damn if it wasn’t the equivalent.
“I should have known.” He manages to gasp out. Cyborg gasping, also an uncomfortable thing to listen to all said and told. Almost as bad as the wheezing.
And like that the boiling rage sputtered, and died out.
“Okay. That’s it, i’m out. Bye y’all.” I say finally , after watching Genji lose his shit for a few moments. Decided it was probably a good idea to make myself scarce for a while.