Chapter Text
Overwatch had been dead for about 7 years, and Jesse McCree had been Joel Morricone full time for 5 of those. 8 since the last time he saw Genji, 9 since the last time he’d been to Japan. Surely longer then all of those since he’d seen a picture of Hanzo Shimada in a briefing packet, and surely that wasn't fucking him outside the grocery store in goddamn Kyoto.
Jesse was stopped in his tracks, trying to remember the face of his best friend’s killer, when the man outside the grocery store tried to pull his bags loose with a little too much enthusiasm and tore one open. Oranges rained on the sidewalk, and the man looked so genuinely upset that Jesse was moving before he could think better of it, catching the ones about to roll into the road and gathering the rest up. He stood, grinning reflexively, and slipped into japanese.
“Might be a bit bruised. You need any help with the rest of your bags?”
The man’s perfect eyebrows practically shot off of his face.
“I ah- yes, but I’m afraid I walked here from my apartment. Do you live in the area?”
McCree shook his head.
“Just landed today, was gonna shop around a bit.”
The stranger snorted.
“Shop around? In Kyoto? Even with your perfect Japanese that seems a bit foolhardy.”
Jesse found himself smiling back, pleased despite himself.
“Hey now, perfect’s a bit of a stretch.”
The stranger held a bag open for the oranges, his grin getting sly.
“Are you accusing me of flattering you? What motive could I possibly have for flattering a such a handsome, considerate stranger?”
McCree’s face hurt from smiling, and he strung every one of the man’s shopping bags on his arms and elbows, earning himself an eye roll and a grin.
“Well,” he tried and failed to sound casual, “we don’t have to be strangers.”
The man tapped his lip thoughtfully and grinned.
“You could start with your name and your phone number.”
McCree was startled into a laugh.
“Joel Morricone. N’ we can trade when I have my hands free to write down yours.”
The man looked positively delighted.
“Joel Morricone? Do you happen to run a travel blog?”
Jesse grinned. This was the only way he enjoyed being recognized.
“As it happens, I do. Have you stumbled on a few of my articles?”
The man snorted.
“Hardly a few. I...spent quite a bit of time in the hospital years ago. A nurse was kind enough to recommend a few websites to help build my knowledge of the world again and to keep me occupied while I healed.”
A distant alarm went off in the back of McCree’s mind. He left it on read.
“Build your knowledge up again?”
The man looked apologetic.
“Ah, yes. Buried the lead. Retrograde Amnesia. Everything before...well, I must have been around 25. I’m still not precisely sure how old I am.”
The alarm went off a little louder, but Jesse kept his tone casual.
“Sounds like a hell of an accident.”
The man grimaced, a shadow coming over his features.
“It was, from what I understand. They couldn’t reconstruct it perfectly, but I was military, and got caught in a concussion grenade blast. The battle was such a loss that no one could figure out precisely who I was, but I’d mentioned to an agent from Helix Securities that I was from Japan shortly before the blast, so I was transferred to a hospital here once I was out of critical condition.”
The alarm went quiet again, and Jesse felt a pang of sympathy.
“Memory’s hell of a thing to lose. Glad my little blog brought you some comfort.”
That earned him a grin that warmed him down to his toes.
“I imagine you could offer me all sorts of comforts.”
McCree laughed as they reached the door of the apartment complex, the man tapping his key card to unlock the doors.
“Reckon I could. Mind doin me one little favor first though?”
“Oh, anything.”
McCree tried to ignore the little hot flash he got at that.
“What do you want me to call you?”
The man flashed him another coy grin that told him he’d left a lot of answers to that question open, but yielded.
“Henry Yoshida’s the name on my paperwork.”
“Henry?”
The man shrugged, hitting the button for the elevator.
“Somehow the staff came to the conclusion that I was an American. Apparently when I came to the first few times I was yelling in English.”
“Well y’know, I’ve got something else I’d love to call you.”
Henry raised an eyebrow as he hit the elevator button.
“Oh?”
“I’d love to call you mine.”
The elevator doors closed on a loud, ringing laugh.
___
McCree, to his joy, did get to call the stranger his. And after the first wild night in which the groceries were completely forgotten he never did get around to moving out. His darling was quick witted, sharp as a tack, and the most giving lover McCree’d ever had the pleasure of taking to bed. He’d even managed to swallow the swell of nervousness that had cooled in his gut when he first saw the tattoo on his lover’s arm. He’d asked, casually as anything, in the morning, if he remembered anything about it.
His stranger just huddled closer to Jesse’s chest, and huffed out a breath.
“Since i’ve settled in here, i’ve made pretty regular trips to the temple. They tell me that the dragons are guardian spirits, tattooed in the traditional style. They said the work had to have been done by a miko. Best guess? Must have worked at or near a temple. That’s all I know.”
So Jesse had silenced the alarm bells again and went right ahead falling in love with a stranger. It was foolish- but emotions aside, it had its advantages. The hospital didn’t bother much with paperwork or background checks, understanding the situation. He was safe, secure, and happy.
Except for, well. Except that his lover was...starting to come apart a little.
The first lapse was at a festival. There had been a swordfight- some dramatic play, a fight between brothers that was making McCree wince. When he looked over to ask his dearest if they could step out, he realized he was already gone. In the back of his mind- more bells.
Jesse found him outside, throwing up into a trash can. He was pale and shaking, and McCree had him up in his arms and halfway to the hospital before he got any stammered explanation- the swords, something about the swords, something awful. Something that made him scared and sick all the way down to his gut. McCree quieted the alarms by force and rocked his boyfriend in his arms, to calm again, letting the process of making sure he ate and drank water and slept in his arms absorb his doubts.
After all, there was no way the trembling man in his arms, who couldn’t so much as look at a sword, could have used one against his brother.
And maybe if it had stopped there, he could have stayed sure.
And well, there were plenty of little things, in between the big ones. His love up late at night, watching old disney movies. He always cried when families were reunited. Once they were out at a park and two kids were goofing off, chasing each other up and down the slides and laughing. McCree heard a sniffle, and when he looked, there were tears running down his lover’s face. He had clung tight to McCree the whole way home and when they were finally home and he’d calmed down a little, he blinked up at Jesse.
“I miss my family. I don’t know who they were, but I think I...I think I must have had a brother. It just feels right. Sometimes when you tell stories there’s something on the tip of my tongue, that
someone
was just like that. But it doesn’t lead anywhere.”
McCree took a breath, willing himself into letting go of his suspicions, and squeezed his hand.
Lots of people have siblings Jesse. Hold your horses.
But then there was the nightmares.
He kept waking to crying, to yelling, to arms wrapped around his waist so tight he thought his ribs might snap. And finally, one night, to an empty bed, to his boyfriend standing in the dark stock still.
“Darlin-” Jesse reached out-
Jesse didn’t see him move. He didn’t see anything at all, but he felt his wrist snap and he went down hard, yelling more from the shock then the pain.
His lover jumped, looking around as though he’d-
He’d been sleepwalking.
Shit.
Shoulda learned not to approach a fucking combat trained sleepwalker way back in goddamn deadlock, and here he was stumbling into his stupidity again.
“Joel? Oh my god, Joel?? Are you- oh my god did I- I- I-” his lover backed away, hands up. He looked terrified of his own palms, fighting the simultaneous urges to run away and to run right back to Jesse and help.
“Darlin- Darlin I need you not to panic.”
“How can I not panic?? Did I just- I just BROKE YOUR WRIST. Oh my god. Oh my god I hurt you and all these dreams- I’m not- I’m a killer oh my god oh my god-”
“Darlin, please-”
“I hurt you! Why did I hurt you?? How did I- ohmygod you trusted me and you shouldn’t have trusted me i’m a bad person I hurt people and-”
“HENRY.”
His lover’s jaw snapped shut and Jesse grimaced at the hurt still on his features.
“We can talk about this. We can talk all this through and find out all the why, but right now, I need a splint for my wrist and a bandage to hold it in place. Can you do that for me, pumpkin?”
It took a moment to process, but with a deep breath, his boyfriend went sprinting to the medicine closet down the hall. McCree took a moment to breathe, assess the damage, and reevaluate what he knew.
Dreams. Killer. Dreams. Dragons. Swords. Brother. Loss.
He knew.
He knew, but dammit. It was too late. It was long too late. Jesse McCree had fallen in love with the man that used to be Hanzo Shimada from the first torn bag of oranges, and he had no way of stopping it now.
But what to tell him?
When?
His lover came sprinting back in, arms heavy with supplies, and took Jesse’s hand in gentle hands that only had the slightest shake.
“Baby.”
Hanzo paused, looking up to meet McCree’s eyes. Jesse gently reached out, cupping his cheek.
“If we could find out who you were, would you want to know? Even if it changed everything?”
He looked down again, at Jesse’s wrist. His voice was small when he finally spoke, but his hands were steady as they started again on the splint.
“If this was the kind of man I was- the man I see in my dreams- no. I...” He shook again, and Jesse reached out to pull him close with his free arm. Hanzo wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to jostle his hand.
“I want to be Henry Yoshida. Here, in an apartment with you. I want to be the man who goes to the temple and comes home to cook. Even if it means I never remember where I learned how. I want to be the man who gets to keep you.”
Jesse held him a little tighter.
“You’d have me regardless. I promise.”
And perhaps that would have been the end of it, were it not for Genji.