Chapter Text
Jesse is headed for the cybernetics department because Genji was in for upgrades and he always needed support after, even if he didn’t admit it. When he arrives a few of the brass are there, to see the upgrades. They’d want a demonstration. Scientists bustle around, checking datapads and adjusting equipment. Angela is there, fielding questions. They ask why not cover all of him in armor, hide his eyes with a visor. It would be more practical, wouldn’t it, they say, and Jesse hears wouldn’t it be nice to erase the little humanity he has left, so we don’t have to see the man, only the weapon. Hanzo may have been the one to kill Genji, but the suits revive and kill him again every day and call it a mercy.
He remembers Reyes pleading his case to the brass, ten years ago. Jesse was supposed to die with all the rest of them, neatly and tidily clearing away the unsightly pox on the world that was Deadlock. But Reyes had left him alive, and forced them to remember that every evil, godforsaken organization he broke up was made of people, real people, and that they so casually told him to kill every one of them, oh, and do it quietly, we don’t want anyone to know. In their eyes, Jesse was Gabe’s mistake, not a product of the Crisis and all the things the world’s leaders had overlooked in its wake in favor of patching up their reputations. They couldn’t kill him now, not out of combat; that would be unethical. But leaving him alive was a loose end, and they couldn’t have that. Reyes defended him, appealed to their empathy, reminded them that he was a child soldier, a victim, a kid who’d been forced into a terrible situation.
One of the very few times Jesse had ever seen Reyes truly taken aback was when they had waved all that aside and asked what Jesse could do. They agreed it was terribly unfortunate, oh, yes, but Reyes, you always have a plan, what can he offer as an asset? Asset. That’s the word they used to refer to a seventeen year old kid. The same word they used to refer to a man they had picked apart and rebuilt into something they could use like a tool.
Angela comes up with a sufficiently scientific sounding answer and they nod, offering more questions. They don’t notice Jesse leaning against the wall, probably because they don’t like to acknowledge Blackwatch members unless they need some dirty work done, or maybe because he’d stolen a lab coat and swapped out his usual hat and kit for a pair of low-power reading glasses and a meek demeanor. He’d kept his gun, of course. Angela spotted him mid-conversation, and he gave her a wide, slow grin. She usually let him stay, as long as he didn’t touch anything and didn’t bother anyone too much.
Genji sat on the table, legs drawn up. He stared, unblinking, at the suits, and a few subconsciously shift away from him. He allows the scientists to take readings and samples without resistance, except Jesse can read the stiffness in his movements and the slight tightening around his eyes. He wants this over as soon as possible, and is a hair’s breadth away from ending it early. Jesse wonders, absently, just how badly Overwatch and the UN would be crippled if he did, by doing what they designed him to do. Genji’s eyes flick towards him, and Jesse offers a smaller but more genuine smile than the one for Angela. Genji nods, a small movement, and moves the fingers of his right hand for the scientist at his elbow.
The scientists finish their tests, and the brass run out of questions. He finds it funny in an awful way that not one of them had asked Genji a question about his own workings. Genji hops off the table and heads for the training room, where a few practice drones wait. The suits gather at the glass wall dividing the rooms, eager to see their funding at work. Genji stands in the center of the room, and tilts his head left, then right, as if popping his neck. It’s an old habit from when he had an organic neck to pop, and Jesse guesses he probably kept it for old time’s sake. He did stuff like that, from time to time, to remind himself he was still human. The drones started up, and Genji made quick work of them, flipping off walls in long arcs as the suits oohed and aahed. They mobbed Angela with more questions as Genji returned. Several scientists attempted to shepherd him back to the table, but he pushed past them, heading for the exit.
Jesse opens the door for him, and they’re out before anyone can object loudly enough for something to happen. The hallway is far quieter, and smells less of antiseptic. Genji’s shoulders visibly relax.
“Contact?” Jesse asks, and Genji considers for a moment before nodding. Jesse loops an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as they walk. He starts talking about something else, anything else, until the cybernetics department is far behind.