Chapter Text
Genji had never wanted to just get on the damn dropship harder in his whole life.
The mission was... a disaster. They'd managed to make a breakthrough to the pick-up point, somehow, but it hadn't been easy by any means. Genji lost himself in the fight for the most of it, jumping, charging forward at the enemies, deflecting, getting rid of one target after another… The whole bloody ordeal was overwhelming. Genji had no idea how much time it’s taken them to get through the city, but it felt like ages. His concentration started to slip after the second assassin, and it’d cost him.
It was his own fault, of course. He tried his best to stay vigilant, but it did nothing to save him from being pinned down by that heavy assault unit. The blow was enough to shock him into stillness for a second. Air got pushed out from his artificial lungs by the sheer force of impact, and Genji could feel something crumble and short-circuit under his armour. God, it hurt. It hurt even more than the bruising spilling over his remaining human skin and ribs.
The stream of Moira’s biotics came from above, bringing immediate relief. A second later she yanked him back on his feet, and Genji didn’t even have time to thank her before rushing back into the fight. He had a mistake to amend for and a heavy assaulter to finish off.
Moira’s healing did nothing for his seizuring circuits. Adrenalin helped for a while where she couldn’t, numbing the pain, but it didn’t last. Genji fought, and fought, and fought some more. He'd managed to summon his dragon once, to save McCree from a shot that only narrowly missed his head, and that final strain had left him exhausted, hardly able to stand upright. They were lucky to be under a decent cover that exact moment, or he wouldn’t have made it far.
He remembered Moira saying that her healing only used the resources their bodies already had, and it protected them at the expense of their strength. Remembered Mercy chastising him for pushing himself too hard, for he was still recovering.
It still felt like a failure. How long could this fight have lasted, an hour? Barely. No excuse to get tired that easily. No excuse to get himself injured. He was a half-machine now, enhanced with cybernetics, able to withstand so much more than his companions. A weapon to utilise. Genji was the one supposed to take the heaviest blows to shield them and then readily return to fight again. What he was not supposed to become was a liability to the squad.
The only thing that served as small comfort to distract him from his shame: the evacuation must’ve been close. He could hear the engines in the far distance, and the mere thought of getting out of there tasted suspiciously like hope. A hope so sweet that Genji didn’t let himself listen too closely to the howling engines of the ship under chase and the distant explosions. He kept himself from noticing the way they circled around the waypoint and then had to retreat to another, again and again. The way Reyes’ face darkened after every short exchange with their pilot.
He had always been good at denial. That was, until they learned that the ship’s not coming, full stop.
“What do you mean, she’s turning back?” McCree’s voice. He sounded like a spoilt child that had just found out there’d be no dessert after dinner. They were all frustrated, on the edge.
“You heard it!” Reyes snapped back. “It’s impossible to land under all this fire, and we’re not risking a fucking dropship like that. We tried a couple of pick up spots, neither worked. We’re gonna regroup, lay low for a few hours and try again later.”
“Nice to know this ship costs more than our lives, boss!” McCree snarled, but there was no real bite to it. Not anymore. They were all far too tired, and he knew better than doubt Reyes’ plans. If he said “wait”, they waited. McCree might’ve been cross with Reyes for killing Antonio, but they shared a certain level of trust. Genji envied that. He craved the feeling of having his back covered, of a leader who watched out for him, someone trustworthy and interested enough to care for his soldiers… Reyes could be that for someone like McCree if he wanted to. Yet there was a big difference between McCree and Genji.
Genji was a weapon now. He didn’t feel like he could trust anymore, and he wasn’t allowed to ask for it. It was probably for the better. He used to feel affection and trust for his brother, and he knew too well how much he had to pay for that.
(Genji still missed him. He was mad, but at the same time, he missed the way it was before. Unbelievable. One would think he’d learn by now.)
Now was not the time. Reyes ordered them to run and hide, and they did. Genji couldn’t catch most of the exchange between his teammates. All his focus went into simply keeping up.
Genji was falling behind ever so slightly, limping. Every breath was a struggle, pain spread from his damaged chest to his sides and middle, concentrating there, and somehow that felt even worse than being shot or broken. He could feel some elaborate support mechanisms within him shifting, failing and rebooting, damaged. The mere thought of that, of resembling a broken toy full of shattering gears, made him feel sick to the core. Genji didn’t even know what was broken, let alone how to fix it. The pain feed was constant, no way to numb it. Breathe in, breathe out...
“We don’t have many resources, have to make do. This mission was not intended to drag out for long.”
“Oh, so you did not plan for it to turn into the total clusterfuck? What a relief!” The thick sarcasm in McCree’s voice made Genji cringe. He never interfered when his allies would banter or, much worse, argue, yet it made him deeply uncomfortable for some reason. It was almost like family fights back in Hanamura, every tense moment he had to witness as a child, powerless to stop them… Genji hated this little analogy. He was no child now, and Blackwatch wasn’t anything near to a family.
The pain soon made him forget about that discomfort, too. It was getting too sharp to think of anything else. Genji could not allow himself even the smallest comfort of wrapping a flesh, warm arm around his aching side and stomach - the others would surely see.
He couldn’t let them see.
Good thing his team was busy arguing over the next step of their so-called (and, Genji was pretty sure, nonexistent) plan B. The onslaught of the enemy forces seemed to have calmed down - what a blessing! Genji wished he could spend the calm before the next bout of the storm that was bound to come spacing out, but he couldn’t afford to lose what had left of his vigilance. So instead, he listened.
"It’s getting late. Maybe Moira could use her biotics to get us going for the night." Reyes probably sounded sceptical even to his own ears.
"It's science, not magic, commander Reyes," Moira scoffed. "It's done enough wonders today, considering we've all, surprisingly, made it out alive. It can postpone the time by which your body reaches its limits, not turn you into an unstoppable machine... yet. That part's still in progress."
Genji wasn’t sure how he felt about Moira. She was never openly unkind to him, unlike many others, and treated him the same strange way as she did everyone else - but her treatment made people around her feel like they were some sort of lab rats waiting for dissection. She was rather... disturbing. There was a constant threatening vibe surrounding her. It was safer to stay out of her way.
On the other hand, she wasn’t the one to drag Genji back to life and into this whole mess. She wasn’t ever the one to pity him, to look at him with that barely contained pained sympathy in her eyes. She wasn’t the one to make him her prize project, a show-off for her medical prodigy and talent - oh god, look at that poor crippled Shimada bastard, up and running again, all hail the astonishing author of this medical masterpiece, what a miracle… No, Moira wasn’t one to do any of that.
Mercy was.
Genji knew he shouldn’t feel that spiteful and bitter towards a person that saved his sorry life. He just… couldn’t change it. Mercy was the kindest to him, always. She talked to him in the softest of voices, she was there to see him at his lowest, sobbing in pain and terror, she comforted and fixed, she put in the effort. And Genji hated her for that. The humiliation was always a little too much. He knew he didn’t deserve that kindness, and he never wanted it in the first place. Mercy just didn’t understand. Moira might’ve been mad as a hatter, but at least she didn’t bother to pity him.
Genji hated himself for hating Mercy, too. He could never appreciate anything - that’s probably why he couldn’t have nice things at all.
It’s not like he could get along with anyone nowadays. Genji was bitter, resentful. Anger burned behind his chestplate every time anyone tried to get close. At the same time, he was lonely.
People assumed Genji hated everyone, at it was true for most of the time, but not for everybody. He struggled to contain his temper, to put his trust issues aside for long enough to talk to anyone, let alone make a friend, but it didn’t mean he didn’t long for it sometimes. Some days, Genji was desperate for an outlet for his rage. Some nights, he was desperate for a shoulder to cry on.
For someone who could at least pretend to care. It’s not like anyone would’ve bothered caring for a living weapon beyond the necessary maintenance and occasional pity anyway.
Their current squad was… nice, in a way. Genji cared little for the fact that Reyes was to blame for the whole mess - he didn’t ever think about it in these exact words, but he trusted his judgement. Some things had to be done. There was Moira, and then there was Jesse. McCree, Genji had to correct himself every time. He wasn’t in a position to call him by the first name.
Genji had an even harder time deciding how he felt about him then he had about Moira. McCree was… friendly when he wanted to. Charming, even. Knew how to make people warm up to him. At first, Genji found that trait annoying borderline suspicious, but now--it didn’t matter. He was not allowed friends now, and even if he were, he’s done more than enough to push everyone away by now.
"I take it we're gonna have to rest or somethin' before anyone collapses." McCree, as if on cue. "Know any good places around there, boss? Nice view, breakfast included and not packed with heavily armed bad guys?"
McCree was joking around again, although the humour remained sardonic. Good sign. It didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t angry anymore, just merely that he was ready to postpone the confrontation till later, but it was good enough for Genji. A split team, physically or mentally, is no good in a dire situation like that. Plus, knowing McCree, that ‘later’ might as well never come - his anger tended to wear off over time.
Genji liked that about him. He wasn’t used to people letting go of their grudges; at home, things worked differently. The missteps never really got forgotten, let alone forgiven. McCree was by no means a push-over, but he knew how to accept an apology, verbal or otherwise. Genji didn’t think Reyes would apologise, but he did care for the team, and for the people like McCree, it was often enough.
“Our intel was patchy at best, but there might be an old safehouse we could use,” Reyes grumbled. “Let’s hope it’s still intact. Move it, we’ve got a way to go.”
Whatever McCree had to respond to that, it'd drowned in another flash of pain. Genji clenched his teeth and bore it as he should, focusing on obeying the order: to move forward. He didn’t know how far away the safehouse was from their current location or how long they would take to reach it. Thinking too much just made pain harder to endure.
They walked, and they walked, and then they walked some more.
At times, Reyes would command a stop to let a Talon ship fly overhead and only let them move forward when the rumble of the engines passed. Once they encountered a heavy-duty truck loaded with Talon tech and personnel, but no more foot soldiers: it seemed they were moving away from the Talon base. No civilians, either. If intel really was as patchy as Reyes had complained, he was doing an amazing job at working with what they had. Genji idly wondered why the ship couldn’t be sent to the outskirts of the city to pick them up there, from a safer location, but perhaps approaching without setting off the air patrols would’ve been impossible.
At the end of the day, Genji was used to keeping thoughts and doubts to the bare minimum and just doing what he had to do. Some would see the irony in it, seeing how his younger self angered the clan with his lack of compliance and disobedience. Genji didn’t see it as ironic. He saw it as evidence that the lesson his brother had taught him was well learned now.
“Hold on, this might be it,” Reyes called out. Genji had barely realised their march came to a stop. “Don’t have the key, so we’ll have to handle the door.”
A pause. Genji was too slow to realise his commander was looking at him, expecting him to slice through the door with his blade - it wasn’t a sheet of armoured metal, like the door they were breaching at the Talon base, but they had no keys (and why would they? there was never anything about the safehouse in the original plan). The blade was the quickest, easiest way to deal with the lock.
Even as much as thinking about pulling out his sword and making a physical effort made Genji’s laboured breathing hitch. Would it hurt even more? He just stared at the door, unable to push himself into making the motion, as seconds ticked by. Any moment now Reyes could become frustrated with him and ask what his problem was…
A bang made everyone flinch. McCree blew the steam off his beloved gun, giving the door a kick as the feeble lock, shredded by his bullet, fell onto the ground.
“What?” He shrugged. “Ain’t no one around to hear us, and I figured just shootin’ it off would be easier. Dicing and slicing takes effort. We’re all tired.”
After a tense moment or two, Reyes waved his hand dismissively.
“Whatever. Just don’t make any more noise.”
They entered the safehouse one after the other, making sure there’s no one inside to ambush them. McCree went in first, and Genji followed, eyeing his back with suspicion. Distrust was fighting gratitude within him. There was no way McCree had guessed what was happening, was there? He’d only decided to help by a happy accident. Everyone was too exhausted to truly pay attention. McCree’s attachment to using Peacekeeper whether the situation calls it or not must’ve played into Genji’s favour.
Just a coincidence…
The safehouse was tiny and not particularly cosy but it seemed like a decent hideout. Reyes made sure to block the door behind them so they would be harder to creep upon while Moira was fussing with her equipment, complaining that her biotics was running dry. Genji could only watch them from aside and hope for a moment of rest.
“How are we feeling?” Reyes asked, straight to business but genuine. “I need all of you in the best shape you can be, we’re making a run for it tomorrow morning.”
Genji, to put it simply, felt terrible. His younger self, Genji from before, could have cried over how much pain he was in, how helpless he felt knowing no one would come to fix him. He wasn't any stronger now. Just knew his place better. He had no right to complain and no one to beg for help - and then again, the pain was there most of the time now.
Slightly better, slightly worse... nothing to cry about. He really could get used to it if he only tried a little harder. Other members of their small squad possessed no cybernetic enhancements and were surely twice as tired. He'd never seen any of them crying. Even the mere thought sounded ridiculous.
Genji was supposed to be a weapon at their service, and yet he somehow turned out to be the weakest of them. Nothing groundbreaking here. He had always been a disappointment.
But his commander needed him up and running, so Genji had to at least keep up his appearances. Still, answering would’ve taken too much energy he didn’t have. He had to settle for a surly silence; luckily, no one expected anything different. Genji, as McCree liked to put it, had a reputation. He was not a talker.
"Mighty fine!" Jesse reported instead, clearly thinking he was speaking for everyone. His mood seemed to lighten since they reached the safehouse, Genji noticed. Makeshift as it was, it gave safety and a semblance of confidence. “This cowboy’s luck ain’t running out anytime soon.” He lifted his hat to demonstrate a bullet hole. That shot had only narrowly avoided blowing his brains out, but his luck was indeed going strong - Genji couldn’t see a single wound on him.
Good. That, at least, served as a small comfort.
“Here’s what we will do,” Reyes decided. “You take the ninja, go search the house, check if we can find some supplies in this godforsaken place. I will stay here with O’Deorain, check some maps and think through our next move. Then we’ll get some sleep in turns, I’ll take the first watch. If all goes well,” Moira visibly scoffed at that, but Reyes ignored her, “we’ll move out after dawn. Hopefully, things quiet down by then. Are we clear?”
Everyone was clear on the instructions. Luckily for Genji, McCree was happy to split - the safehouse didn’t seem like it could be a trap of any kind, and each of them could handle searching a few cabinets on their own. Genji got to go to the second floor, which he hurried to as soon as the tasks were settled. A creaky narrow staircase led upstairs, where he was greeted by an unlit corridor with a couple of doors. Quiet and deserted, covered in dust all over. No one had used the place in a good while.
Genji pushed the closest door and entered the small room. It was empty, except for a simple unmade bed and a few closets, which could contain some items of interest but right now Genji could hardly care about the supplies. He quietly closed the door behind himself to avoid drawing attention, made a few wobbly steps towards the nearest corner and finally, finally let his knees give out, sinking to the dusty floor.
His stomach hurt. Everything inside burned, like he'd tried to take a sip of pure acid. Genji curled up, hugging himself around the middle, and quietly whimpered, silently hoping no one would notice. He needed to keep it together. To grit his teeth and endure until the dropship came back for them in the morning, and maybe when they're back, someone would be merciful enough to fix whatever broke this time.
He had to be stronger, tougher, but he couldn’t. His traitorous body was causing him too much pain, too much torment, and the worst thing about it was, Genji knew it wasn’t at its limit. He wasn’t too wounded to carry on. He most certainly wasn’t dying.
It just felt like he was.
Pressing his mask into his knees, Genji let out a dampened scream. Weak, vulnerable, pathetic. It’s just pain. It’s all in his head. He should be able to deal with it, why wouldn’t his mind just let him resist? Why, why, why?!
A knock on the door broke off that train of thought.
"Hey, darlin'? Gabe and I found some rations downstairs, thought you'd wanna join us. They’re stale but anything goes, I suppose. Gotta eat something."
Genji froze in place.
The universe just hated him, didn't it?
Of course, it had to be McCree. Out of all options, he had to be found in such a helpless and humiliating state by that one person he actually almost liked. Genji wasn't ever lucky.
On the other side of that door, McCree was growing impatient for an answer. He called Genji again, this time by the name (and god, Genji secretly liked the pet names but he was in no state to appreciate them now, and somehow it made him want to scream even more), and then pushed the door. Genji could just about make out his silhouette in the doorway, although his expression was lost in the blur that settled in Genji’s vision. Here goes...
Genji couldn't even pretend everything was fine this time. There was no excusing sitting in the dark, curled up against the wall like a hurting animal. And even if there had been, Genji wouldn’t have gotten out a single word. The pain was white-hot, so intense he almost thought he was going to be sick. Genji trembled, squeezing his eyes shut so hard they started to water. Or maybe the pain was starting to get to him after all.
Look at him, shaking and on the brink of tears in front of another agent. Pathetic, Hanzo's voice split out inside his head. Good for nothing. No one feels sympathy for your pain, because you're not even worth the time wasted.
“Genji? Goddammit!”