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The sounds of pulse rifle fire greeted him as he neared the shooting range. Jack was already there, which was not a surprise. Hanzo found himself practicing early in the morning frequently, more so than he would like. No matter the ungodly hour that brought him here though, he was rarely alone for long. Sometimes he would be there first. Other times, like this morning, he would walk in second. The silver haired man’s routine presence was comfortable, desirable even.
Jack turned to face him for a few moments, a silent greeting passing between the two of them before the rifle fire continued. This was normal. It was familiar. They would stand a moderate distance apart, quietly firing again and again. The steady drumming of pulse ammunition being fired over and over had become a soundtrack to Hanzo’s own practicing. On the occasions where the former commander was off on a mission, his practice felt empty, quiet.
The familiarity it had fostered sneaked up on Hanzo. The first morning he had done this alone had felt oddly empty, quiet in a way that left the archer surprisingly uncomfortable. Since that morning it was noisier, but normal, familiar, comfortable. Few words were exchanged as they stood at each other's sides for hours, firing shot after shot, until exhaustion took or it grew too late for them to stay.
They had never spoken about what this was between them, what it meant. They both understood that words would change things, putting a name to it would make it real in a way that neither of them were ready for. Most everyone in this new Overwatch had their own demons that they fought.
They all sought relief and comfort in their own way, this new Overwatch, often with each other. He knows that his brother found serenity with Zenyatta and that the monk has continued to support and comfort the man. The younger one’s spend time together laughing and crying. Many of the old guard stick together and tell stories. People had even offered a sympathetic ear to Hanzo, despite his sins, but he refused. He did not deserve their sympathy and their pity only made things worse.
Jack never offered pity. The man seemed to have none to give. Instead, he would get up when he could not sleep and practice until his body ached and he could no longer hold his bow. When things were particularly bad and no amount of punishment helped or, on rare occasion good and the weight of the world and his guilt were not suffocating him, the two of them would often find themselves in Jack’s room together. Even there few words were spoken, the contact was all that was necessary to help to mean something even if they could not articulate what. They could tire themselves out and if Hanzo was very lucky he would sleep a few hours dreamlessly next to the man.
Jack was much the same as him when it came to the other members from what Hanzo could tell. He went along with what the others wanted often, if reluctantly. But, in the end he always retreated away, to deal with his problems by himself. Hanzo may never have really noticed how much they had in common if they had not both practiced to exhaustion. Without words he knew that they both did so to make it through each night, to forget.
Precisely what brought Hanzo here would change from time to time. Sometimes his dreams would haunt him, not allowing a moment’s rest or escape from what he had done. Other times he would lie in bed for hours, unable to even reach the dreams that are rarely quiet, rarely kind.
On those nights he missed drinking, one of the few things that could sometimes help him rest. He had been made to quit drinking when he joined, it was interfering with his performance. He had argued, been insulted at the idea, but when Genji practically begged him he caved immediately. Sober Hanzo simply found other ways to punish his body and attempt to persevere through the memories.
Tonight he was here for a different reason, the worst of all the types that brought him here. Earlier he had gotten into a fight with Genji. He had not meant to, it was not important enough. It should have simply been a minor disagreement. But Hanzo was a stubborn asshole with a temper and instead of listening he had gotten defensive. He remembered every word he yelled, every insult. He remembered watching Genji storm off while Hanzo’s pride kept him from apologizing.
Instead he went to bed, trying in vain to sleep. When he failed at that he came here, took his spot next to the former strike commander and prepared for another night of bitter practice. Even here the night was not turning out as he planned it. His form was sloppy, his aim off center and no matter what he tried he could not manage to correct it. He managed things for about a half an hour before he tossed the bow away in disgust with an angry shout.
Hanzo froze once he realized that Jack had stopped what he was doing and was staring at him. He rushed out of the range angrily, refusing to meet the man’s eyes. He was opening the door to his quarters when he realized that he had left his Storm Bow behind. Cursing, he refused to go back there and face things right now. He would merely have to retrieve it in the morning.
There was no way he was getting to sleep now, he was wired, angry and upset. So, Hanzo did the only thing he had left to do. He fished his stash of Schochu out of hiding and took a swig from the bottle he had hidden it in. It did not matter at that moment that Genji would be mad at him or that Angela would lecture him on his drinking.
There was a knock at his door just as he swallowed his first mouthful with a satisfying gulp. Hanzo elected to ignore even as the knocking slowly grew more insistent, content to sit on the edge of his bed. He did not wish to deal with anybody. All he wanted to do was drink in peace and no one on this base would let him do that.
He began to idly wonder how long they would keep this up before giving up. An answer never came because shortly after the thought entered his mind, the door opened without his consent. Jack stood on the other side of the doorway, eyeing him seriously and he froze mid drink.
“I can override any lock on this base,” Jack informed him cooly, letting himself into Hanzo’s room. The man walked over and calmly plucked the bottle from his hands. Hanzo rose indignantly only to be faced with a 6 foot tall super soldier staring at him intensely, completely unimpressed by Hanzo’s attempts to be intimidating. “You're not drinking this,”
“I do not need a lecture about my drinking problems from you,” Hanzo was getting genuinely angry now. He had not expected the man to show up here, let alone snatch his alcohol from his hands. Jack seemed to ignore his outburst.
“Come on,” The soldier called out, gesturing for Hanzo to follow him. Jack sighed when Hanzo made no move to follow him. “You can come with me or I can carry you over my shoulder kicking and screaming. Your call,” Hanzo briefly considered calling the man on his bluff, but the look in the man’s eyes made him think better of it. He followed Jack with a sigh.
Hanzo had guessed their destination and he really was not upto dealing with any of this as Jack dragged him into the man’s room. To his surprise though Jack had not dragged him to the man’s bed, where their nights would usually end, but instead to the much neglected couch at the other end of the room.
“Sit!” He obeyed the order simply, resigned to whatever the old soldier wanted from him.
Jack disappeared quickly into the office attached to his room while Hanzo tried to atleast get comfortable if he was going to be stuck here. The couch was clearly worn from use. He had never seen the man sit in it, had rarely seen him with company outside of Ana. If it was used that must have come from before the explosion at Zurich. His mind was distracted by the possibilities when he heard the man return and take a seat next to him. Jack handed him a glass with a single ice cube in it.
“It's scotch,” He explained as he poured from a very fancy looking bottle. Hanzo stared at the cup in his hands while Jack poured himself a glass and took a sip himself. “Drink,” He ordered softly. “It's good,”
“I thought I was not allowed to drink,”
“Not my rule,” Jack replied after another sip. “I just can't abide you drinking shit like that, miserable and alone,” Hanzo was taken aback by the answer. “Nothing wrong with it if you have something good to drink and some company that'll keep you from going too far,”
Hanzo followed the older soldier’s lead and took a sip from his own glass and he was both surprised and impressed by it. He focused on enjoying a good strong drink when he heard something very familiar coming from the tv in front of them. At some point Jack had turned on a very old movie.
“Seven Samurai?” Hanzo asked unnecessarily. “You've been talking to Genji?” He could not keep the accusatory tone out of his voice as he questioned.
“Nah, but that's never managed to stop him from having a conversation,” They shared a laugh.
“It's my favorite movie,”
“He said you know every line by heart,”
“I used to,” Hanzo replied, face flushing.
“Well I've never seen it,” Jack may as well have murdered a puppy in front of the man for how offended Hanzo looked at the end.
“That is unacceptable,” Hanzo had to make sure Jack watched the movie. So they watched and they drank. Pretty soon Hanzo was talking about the movie and the director over the movie itself, Jack listening attentively. The excitement died down slowly as the movie also drew to a close. Hanzo was tired and had not even noticed when he had leaned into the man next to him, head resting comfortably on Jack’s shoulder.
This was a significant change from their usual dalliances. Hanzo could not keep himself from asking.
“What are we doing?”
“Keeping your mind elsewhere,” Jack replied simply.
“Why?”
“It's better than wallowing in misery alone and drunk beyond rational thought,”
“I did not ask for you help!” Hanzo all but shouted. He was not some child that needed to be taken care of.
“Didn't need to. I wanted to help,” Hanzo fumbles at that point. Anger was his normal response to anything difficult, it's why he and Genji had fought earlier. He did not know what to do when the source of his problem was doing everything right. “Don't regret it either. Got to see you smile excitedly about something. More than worth it to me,”
“So what is this then? Hanzo asked. “What exactly are you doing?”
“I'm not good with words and feelings, but I wanted to help you feel better,”
“Why go through all of this trouble? I'm not worth your damn time,”
“My greatest regret in life, Hanzo, was keeping my feelings silent because I had small doubts. It was too late by the time I said anything. I don't intend to repeat that mistake,” If Hanzo was not so tired he might have questioned exactly what he had meant, what this made them. But, he was focused on other details.
“So instead of talking about it with me you talked to my brother about it?” Hanzo asked incredulously.
“Well it's difficult to avoid talking to Genji and I didn't want to scare you away,”
“So Genji gave away all my embarrassing secrets?” Hanzo asked, mortified at the thought.
“Not at all. He was rather tight lipped. Though, he might've mentioned some of your favorite movies while he was interrogating me about my intentions with you,”
“What does he think is going on?”
In lieu of answer Jack pulled their lips together suddenly, passionately kissing the younger man. Hanzo resisted for a few moments, confusion drawing forth old defensive habits, but he returned the kiss with as much passion as he, himself, could manage.
Perhaps words were a problem, they would change things in the wrong way. It is not that they would define things incorrectly, but rather that they could not define what the two of them shared. Much more could be said with a thoughtful gesture, a simple gift, even simply sitting together. Hanzo fell asleep that night with a smile on his face, only slightly drunk and rested dreamlessly at least for one night.