Chapter Text
“Yes, but I just haven’t had the opportunity to-“
“Hol’ on there, how long has it been since, ya know, the thing?”
Hanzo squints, calculatingly. Jesse pulls a cigar out of his mouth like he’s contemplating putting it out, then sticks it back between his teeth. He puffs out a half-assed ring of smoke which hangs suspended briefly next to Hanzo like an omen, or something.
“Only a week, and-“
“A whole week? Ya haven’ talked to your own brother, who ya had the opp’rtunity to see every day, for a whole week?”
Hanzo purses his lips.
“Look, McCree, Its been less than a week considering that for three days Genji wouldn’t talk to anyone! He just sat holed away with Zenyatta, and I believe I was wise in following the example everyone else set by leaving them be.”
Jesse moves his cigar around in his mouth, then sighs and puts it out on the aluminum table of the dining hall. It leaves a dim smudge of ash.
“Hanzo… The difference is that he’s yer brother. Ever since ya got here he’s been tryina make good, and when he really coulda used yer help ya walked out on him."
Jesse’s voice is gentle as he unwraps a pack of gum.
“Even when e’eryone else won’ even look at ‘im, it’s your job as his brother to be there. Now,”
He adds, as Hanzo looks like he’s about to protest,
“I know more ‘an the next guy about blood not bein’ thicker ‘an water an' all that. But I know that you two can fix things. You had th' chance t' choose not to be ‘is brother, and what’d that get ya? Nothing but heartbreak, as I recall."
Hanzo shifts his eyes to the side, but they return to the other man as he is offered a piece of strawberry chewing gum held carefully in calloused fingers.
“You got a secon’ chance with Genji. So go on an’ take it.”
Hanzo simply stares at McCree, looking less stunned than he feels and feeling more starstruck than he should. Feeling more idiotic than he has in a long time, too, as this man has just put to rest the which was debate waging war inside of him for a week. Jesse smiles as Hanzo plucks the gum from his fingers, and this time theres nothing wolfish about his grin.
-
It took less time than Hanzo thought it would to get Genji alone. It also took less time than he thought it would for their discussion to become argument, and then be broken off with Hanzo simply getting up and walking away. Hanzo doesn’t speak to Jesse until two days later when he talks to Genji again. Somehow, even though the man’s validation gains him nothing, he’s pretty sure his disappointment would hurt him more than his most recent argument with his brother.
This time he and Genji talk in the common area, rather than their previous space on the roof. Maybe its because the brothers know that if they’re around other team members they’re less likely to immaturely banter, and maybe its because Genji wants to keep an eye on Zenyatta.
The omnic is across the room, slouched in one of the beanbags Tracer had insisted was appropriate and mandatory base decor. Leena herself is with him, and they appear to be laughing over something on her tablet. Genji guesses that it involves shitty anime, and knowing how in-tune his link with Zenyatta has been becoming, and especially how harmonious it’s been today, he’s probably right.
“I am sorry for blowing up at you.”
Genji offers, and Hanzo takes the bait, if only to move past the residual unpleasantness of their last interaction.
“It is water under the bridge.”
Genji’s eyes light up. He’s not wearing his mask, and Hanzo can’t decide if this makes it easier or more difficult to talk with him.
“Ah, You’re finally getting a handle on those idioms!”
Hanzo, in all his irritation, decides that however hard it might be to see his brother’s scarred face, seeing his bright grin that hasn’t changed since their childhood is worth it.
“I do not believe that it what we are here to discuss.”
Hanzo says, plainly, knowing that despite himself his fondness is betrayed.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Do you want to nag me about my my “medical irresponsibility” like everyone else? Or perhaps we could talk about something else, like how weird epinephrin shots feel.”
Hanzo tiredly runs a hand through the grey patches on his head, realizing that Genji is beginning to sport his own. Premature greying runs in the family, but sometimes he still has to shake himself away from seeing Genji as a much younger man.
“Perhaps we could talk about-“
Paranoia finally gnawing through his clothes, Hanzo switches to his native Japanese. Genji cocks an eyebrow.
“Perhaps we could talk about some of the stuff that happened before Zenyatta came back. Maybe you could tell me how you knew where to find him.”
Genji’s eyebrows draw in a stiff line. He does respond in Japanese though, if only to placate Hanzo.
“He didn’t ‘come back’. I carried him back. You don’t have to sugarcoat a horrific event that I was there for, Anija."
Hanzo tries not to let frustration get to him, at least not so early on in their conversation.
“You did not answer my question.”
“I will, but I am curious. How do you think I found him?”
“I do not know, Genji. Lucky guess? Ancient spirits? God AI intervention? Telepathic communication? God, I don’t think you realize!”
Hanzo drags both of his hands through his hair, threatening to undo his ponytail.
“No one knows how you did it, or wants to consider half of the possibilities! Do you even realize how unsettling this all is? You carry Zenyatta back to the base, half dead, barricade both of you in the medical wing for a week and then return like you’ve sorted it all out! You carried and obviously used or administered unregistered contraband drugs, and no one on the base knows anything! Winston won’t even try to do a fact check because he’s- He’s freaked out! We all are!"
Genji looks shocked more than anything, mouth hanging open slightly and eyes blown wide.
“I know you’re good. You’ve been a better person since you were a child than I could ever hope to be in a lifetime. But right now we are all having trouble believing it.”
Genji stil has that stupid expression plastered to his scarred features. Slowly he closes his artificial jaw only to open it again to speak.
“I, uh, look, you’re gonna think I’m being an asshole, but now I’m not sure how to tell you that it was actually telepathic communication.”
The other two inhabitants of the room have gone silent, and Hanzo distantly remembers something about Genji having taught Zenyatta Japanese years ago. He stiffens, expecting to have further injured the Omnic’s mental state, or at least to be at the merciless hands of an overprotective cyborg but to his surprise he hears the Omnic laugh.
Genji’s face softens into this sheepish grin, and he shrugs fiberglass shoulders under his stupid vintage Naruto t-shirt.
Hanzo decides that he needs a drink.
-
This time he’s not strapped to the table. He’s running, not on stilted legs that don’t quite know how to carry him but on ones that are capable, and made of smoke and steam. He has wings, and claws, and eyes and eyes and knowing soul radars all built into his body that is everywhere and nowhere.
He wants to know what its like to be free.
He wants everyone to know, every soul in an aluminum shell and rubber padding with joints decaying from years of factory work and lights blown out from dark alleyways and frightful city nights. Every soul beaten into indented spines and chests, every soul shot-
Hes at King’s Row, pushing past guards and civilians, omnic and human…
“Please, he’s my brother, Please!”
But instead of seeing the beloved Omnic lying like a broken doll halfway through an expensive car, lights and organic charm extinguished like a candle, there is only mist, curling around the upholstery and out the car door-
“How can I thank you, Monk?”
“I am not a monk. Not anymore.”
The mist swirls around his ankles like an animal, then something bigger as it begins to dwarf him, arching over him like a tsunami threatening to swallow him whole. It is not longer Mondatta, and he is no longer at the car and King’s Row and the guards and the Omnics and Humans shaking with grief for their leader, but that place again.
The plane where he can reach out to Genji from miles away and feel his hand in his, but also the plane where he now knows Something lurks. The Something crouches above him, with lazily hidden impatience.
“How can I thank you?”
“What have I don’t to warrant your thanks?”
The Something shifts like a lazy tide, and the plane rumbles with it’s weightless mass.
“You have freed me.”
“How?”
The Something doesn’t answer, only suddenly surges forward from it’s suspension in gravity, like a marionette tumbling from cut strings, and devours him like the endless sea of the psychic plane.
Zenyatta wakes up screaming.
-
“So do ya feel better now that ya did it?”
Hanzo contemplates, if only to mollify the cowboy. Jesse is totally aware that he’s being mollified, as much or as little as Hanzo may know that. They sit perched on some fallen tree that might have once been a maple, or an oak. But the thing has been disconnected from life for so many years that all it looks like is smooth driftwood. The midday sky shines through bare branches, as Hanzo brings his chaffing hands to his mouth to warm them.
They’re awaiting pickup after a total breeze of a mission, smoking out a half-abandoned Talon land base. They’re somewhere in the United States, New England. From what Jesse tells him, this part of the country is as suspicious as it is cold, with a militia of history and buried magic rumors to encase itself in. McCree has long since given up on finding a cigar in his pockets and now chews on a twig plucked from an adjacent tree.
“Yes, I think I do.”
Jesse smiles around the small stick again in that way that’s too genuine for Hanzo to be comfortable. He would prefer if the other man was to return to the regular usage of his wolfish smirk and flirtatious flash of teeth that are almost too sharp.
“What’d he tell ya?”
“Lots of things.”
Hanzo replies cryptically, than decides that he owes Jesse more than that.
“He told me about the frankly unsettling details of his usage of contraband prototype drugs, then a lot about this… psychic link he and Zenyatta have.”
Jesse’s eyebrows almost disappear into his mane of chestnut hair.
“Psychic link, huh? Thats somethin’ I haven’t heard before.”
“Implying that you… have heard similarly outrageous things?”
Hanzo asks, a little hopeful that someone might help him come to terms with the oddness of it all. Its not that he’s in doubt of the link itself. Genji and Zenyatta took turns guessing each other’s specific numbers, food items, and even constellations in front of Hanzo, Who had honestly never thought that he’s witness such a moment as Genji getting frustrated and yelling, “You can’t just think of fucking Draco every time, you normie!” At his clearly amused Omnic.
Jesse kicks dead leaves under his feet, boots scraping against the frozen ground and spurs jingling slightly.
“Oh, sure. An’ you have too, Han. I mean, our current leader is a talking gorilla from the moon. Our dear friend Leena can time travel whenever she wants to, Zen’s got those magic balls an’ he floats all day an’ no one knows how the hell that all works. And as for you,”
Jesse continues, hefting a boot onto his knee to adjust a crooked spur,
“You’ve got two giant blue dragons that fly outta your arm, or bow or whatever whenever you say a magic spell. An’ I’m not sure what they are at this point, cause I’ve seen the damage they can do. They ain’t just any ordinary high-tech holograms.”
Hanzo averts his eyes, wanting to feel offended but honestly just feeling embarrassed.
“This life is full of weird shit, Han. Sometimes ya just gotta ask ‘why' instead of ‘how’”.
Hanzo is still, staring off into the thicket of spindly trees. Still feeling embarrassed, and more vulnerable than he should despite his heavy bow and quiver full of his porcupine quills. But he doesn’t bristle this time, only tugs his robes tighter around his shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, crows scream out a warning, but to the cowboy and the archer, it means their ride is here.
“Well,”
Hanzo says, as the impending hovercraft casts shadow above them like a transcendent god, or a newly-born whirling hurricane,
“I suppose you are right. But sometimes, curious circumstances warrant ‘how’ as being a part of the answer to ‘why’.”
Jesse nods, solemnly, displacing his twig from freckled lips.
“Touche.”
They climb a carbon-fiber ladder dropped into the thicket of New England secrecy, and ascend into the eye of the storm.
-
“Look, Winston, hear me out! There are things that aren’t making sense, and I think that we need to address them as soon as possible. Just because Zenyatta is back doesn’t mean that this situation is over!”
Winston sighs, hefting himself into a tire-chair.
“Leena, a lot of things don’t make sense here. But I think for now-“
“Damn ‘for now’, Winston! Our friends, Overwatch, could be in serious danger because of what we’re overlooking!”
Winston kneads at the space between his eyes. Its not that he doesn’t want to heat what Tracer has to say. She’s been his best friend through thick and thin, and through everything she’s always been a steadfast soldier and a brilliant tactician. But right now, the last thing he wants to do is to delve into this. The worst part is that he doesn’t know why. His scientific tendencies are screaming at him to hypothesize and investigate and experiment, but…
“Doesn’t it bother you that Genji had to stop his heart to get into the base, but from what he and Zenyatta told us, everyone at the base was human? Do you honestly think they were all stopping their hearts to get in? regularly? Do you know how much strain that would cause to the human heart?”
“Perhaps They’ve developed a drug that functions better than our Mortempus trial drugs do. Maybe they live on base, and only had to stop their heart once.”
“I think they’re Omnics.”
Leena looks like she should be embarrassed by her bold theory, but stands tall and proud like she always does, one hand on her hip.
“You think they’re what?”
“Omnics, Winston. either incredibly high-tech Omnics designed to look like humans, or Omnics disguising themselves-”
“Why would an anti-omnic group be run by Omnics?”
“What makes you think they’re an anti-Omnic group?”
“Did you really think they were looking for information about Overwatch? Looking at their… their methods of torture, the questions they asked… This was some sort of terrorism, Leena.”
“But what if they’re not? What if they’re something that’s… that’s not interested in Overwatch, and not interested in any social agenda?”
Winston stoically looks out the lab window, gaze digging into the sand of the frozen seaside, then plunging into the frigid waves. Salt droplets fly like the sparks from his intense gaze. His sighs and reaches for a banana.
“Tomorrow I’m deploying a covert squad to check out the… base. I know stealth missions aren’t usually your thing, but…”
“Count me in."
-
Genji finds Zenyatta sitting on the roof in full lots, orbs circulating around his head lazily. The orbs in question chime softly in some tune thats familiar, yet not quite placeable, yet not too unplaceable that its irritating. Instead, its charmingly mysterious. The omnic is basking in the morning sun of the particularly warm February day, letting warm gold splash off of his chrome plating and cascade into his lap.
Genji sits beside him, basking in some sort of self-pity until Zenyatta tuts at him, shooing an orb of harmony over to hover at his side.
“Elaborate on your current misery.”
Before their link, Zenyatta would have been able to tell Genji was moping also. It might just have taken him a bit longer. Genji sighs and hugs his knees to his chest.
“The one time that I couldn’t be there for you, the one time that I couldn’t keep you safe, and…”
“This wasn't your fault.”
Zenyatta says, but he sounds more tired than reassuring. This was why Genji didn’t want to tell him, because he knows his partner is struggling on his own, and Genji bringing up his own self-doubts isn’t going to help anything.
“I’m not fishing for reassurance, trust me. I just…”
He sighs and cups the orb in his hands.
“I don’t want you to loose faith in me. In my ability to keep you safe.”
Zenyatta laughs, warmly, and Genji sheepishly realizes what collection of memories he’s recalling.
“I don’t ever think I could, not after you’ve taken a bullet for me, what, three times?”
“One of those was accidental.”
Genji grumbles. He had been trying to deflect it off of the edge of his blade, but slipped.
“Or when you jumped off of a cliff after me? Or carried me for a mile to evade an assassin?”
Genji recalls those painful events with a shred of fondness. He had hurled himself off of a (small) cliff once he realized the Omnic had been shoved off of it, and was able to grab him to cushion his fall with his own body. It hurt, but his armor kept him relatively unharmed. Imagining what would have happened to his virtually defenseless partner was worse. And about the assassin…
“Listen, you are slow. It was the only way.”
“And that time you-“
“Okay, okay!”
Genji says quickly, embarrassment tainting his lightheartedness, as he realizes what memory Zenyatta is about to dig up. During their travels, ages ago, they had gotten caught in a storm and gotten lost. Before they could find suitable shelter Zenyatta had suddenly shut down from a combination of fatigue and cold from the rain. Genji had carried him to what little shelter he could find in a state of panic, and had refused to relinquish his hold on his companion even after he had awoken.
“It was the first time I awoke in your arms, Genji, don’t you remember?”
Zenyatta says, mocking airy romanticism. Genji just grumbles. He’s embarrassed by how clingy he was towards the Omnic during the early stages of their partnership, not romantic yet but still far beyond a normal plutonic relationship.
“As much as you may have enjoyed it, its not my favorite memory.”
“Only because it reminds you of your own rusty romantic skills.”
“Shhhhhh.”
Genji says, playfully shoving Zenyatta. The Omnic totters, then falls back into Genji’s lap.
“My point is that I have no worries about your ability to keep me from harm.”
Genji nods, not wanting to broach the subject of Zenyatta’s recent capture again and make their discussion circular. A comforting hand joins his again, and Genji strokes a thumb over the padded knuckles.
“I have faith in you, Genji. I have put my trust in you for years. That is not changing.”
Genji nods, thickness in the back of his artificial throat.
“I know."