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In the world of Western music, there are twelve notes, twelve keys, and twelve chords. Couple that with the musical traditions of the rest of the world, and one has an infinite array of possible melodic combinations. A partner song occurs when one takes two melodies and places them together. Two individuals, complete on their own, combining to become something more.
The same could be said of soulmates.
Jesse McCree was five years old when he began to hear a hint of someone else’s song in his head, buried underneath his own. His mama had hugged him real tight with happy tears in her eyes, pleased as punch that there was someone who would love her little cowboy as much as she did.
(On the other side of the world, another little boy was getting a similar hug, though his mother’s tears were born of sorrow rather than joy.)
For a short, blessed while, eastern flutes blended with western guitars in a soft, almost playful dance.
Then Jesse lost his mama and his song faltered, its chords sparse and melody broken. His partner’s song stayed steady, and its stern presence was a comfort through the losses in his life. Despite everything that tore at Jesse’s heart, his soulmate’s song remained.
Then, two years into Blackwatch, the song stopped cold.
Jesse mourned its loss like a friend and would have fallen into the blackest of despair had his commander not taken pity on him. Gabriel Reyes knew a thing or two about loss and heartbreak, and he kept his charge too busy to dwell on either.
By the time Overwatch fell and Jesse lost his family a third time, he had almost forgotten the hole in his heart covered by his own song as it still stubbornly kept its refrain. In a way, it was a comfort. He was alone, on the run, and had far too much blood dripping from his hands, and yet his song still played. Despite everything, he was still alive. Still Jesse McCree.
Years passed, and his song grew with him. Jesse grew so used to its sound that he almost missed the reemergence of his partner’s song.
It was faint, playing in fits and starts. Its notes stuttered as though the musician could not quite remember how to play their instrument. And the song had changed, the flute more free and flowing, the melody not as rigid. But it was there, and Jesse almost wept as he heard it.
It slowly grew steadier, more confident as he made his way across the sea, back to a family he’d thought he’d lost for good. Jesse welcomed it, cheered it on. Whatever had happened to his soulmate, they were healing. Like him.
All thoughts of songs flew from his head as Lena met him at the door, practically tackling him with a hug that almost knocked him flat. Reinhardt slapped him on the back with a hearty laugh, knocking the breath from Jesse’s lungs. It felt like coming home.
Jesse was in the middle of shaking a teary-eyed Winston’s hand when Genji tapped him on the shoulder. They laughed (and wasn’t Genji’s laugh a treat to hear) and hugged before Genji motioned to someone in the shadows.
A stranger stepped forward, hesitant and unsure despite his proud bearing. A stranger Jesse had promised himself long, long ago he’d kill on sight if given half a chance.
Hanzo Shimada looked like nothing Jesse had expected. He stood at his brother’s shoulder, quietly regarding the cowboy. Jesse thought he looked two seconds away from running out of the room.
Jesse studied him as Genji explained his spiritual journey of forgiveness, taking in the recent-looking piercings and undercut. There were heavy circles under his dark eyes, and he looked worn and tired in a way Jesse felt in his very bones.
A far cry from a high society crime lord, he decided. This was someone with mistakes and regrets that weighed heavily on his conscience. This was someone Jesse understood.
He stepped forward, tilting his hat back. “Genji’s vouching for you,” he said slowly. “And that’s enough for me. Welcome to Overwatch.”
He offered his hand and was surprised by the small smile on Hanzo’s face as he shook it.
(Gently, softly, the two songs twined together, briefly in unison as their hands met.)
“I look forward to working with you,” Hanzo replied, his voice deep and rich in a way that made Jesse want to curl up in a blanket and savor it. “Genji has told me much.”
“All good things, I hope.”
The smile became a smirk as Hanzo glanced at his sibling. “Depends on your definition of good,” he said with a hum.
Jesse threw his head back and laughed, loud and hearty and feeling lighter than he had in years.
..............................................
Oddly enough, he and Hanzo got along far better than anyone had expected—least of all them.
Both were victims of the insomniac curse. The first time Jesse spoke with Hanzo after the initial introduction was in the middle of a sleepless night.
He was restless, too many thoughts eating at his mind. The beat of his song was a frenzied tattoo, and with a pang, he realized his poor partner's was no better. He spared them a wish for peace and threw on a pair of pants. Better to work his energy out in the gym rather than wearing a hole in the floor.
The light was already on, casting a glow in the dim hall. Jesse hesitated as the sounds of someone in the midst of their own midnight workout reached him. He didn't want to interrupt, but the thought of returning to his room was unbearably stifling.
He walked quietly into the room, intent on just moving to a space without disrupting whoever was there. He froze again at the sight of Hanzo Shimada attacking a punching bag with a ferocious snarl twisting his face. He slammed into it with a roar, and Jesse wondered if the bag had insulted his mother or something. A low whistle escaped him as he admired the sheer speed and efficiency of his strikes.
Hanzo whirled around, fists raised and ready. His face was dripping with sweat, and his hair escaping its tie to form a scraggly halo. He looked… Wild. Feral. And something in Jesse's song swelled into a frantic crescendo as his heart twisted at the sight. He knew that look, knew it as well as he knew his own hat.
Jesse raised his hands and halted. "Easy partner," he said in the most soothing voice he could manage. "It's just me."
Hanzo stood from his crouched stance but looked no less wary. "My apologies, I was just…" He trailed off, gesturing helplessly at the battered bag.
"Couldn't sleep?" Jesse supplied. "Same here. Figured I might as well try to tucker myself out."
Hanzo relaxed at that admission, and some of the cacophony in Jesse's head eased. He noted it briefly as he felt relief for his partner's sake— wherever they were. At least one of them was getting some damned peace.
"If you want," Hanzo said hesitantly, bringing Jesse's mind back to the here and now, "I would be open to spar. I suspect it would be a more satisfying workout than fighting a stationary target."
Jesse grinned, caught off-guard by the offer. He didn't know Hanzo well, but he'd gotten the distinct sense that the man wasn't the sort to reach out.
"That sounds mighty fine," he said, stepping towards the mats. "But fair warning, I ain't goin' easy on you."
Hanzo kicked his fucking ass. Handily.
He'd expected a fella trained by House Shimada to be good—after all he'd fought alongside Genji for years— but either Jesse was rusty as hell, or Hanzo was on a completely different level.
Still, Jesse couldn't find it in his heart to be upset, not at the smirk Hanzo gave him as he helped him to his feet. Something about it made Jesse's heart flutter in time to both songs playing in his head. He laughed as he dusted himself off.
"Damn," he said with a shake of his head. "I need a drink after that. You comin'?"
Hanzo paused, and for a long moment, Jesse thought he was going to say no. But then he smiled— a thing so fleeting that Jesse almost missed it.
"I think I would enjoy that."
(In the morning, Genji found them slumped together on the couch, the menu for some old sci-fi flick flashing on the tv screen and an empty bottle of whiskey between them.)
To say that the two were inseparable after that would be inaccurate, but the rest of the team rapidly discovered the easiest way to find one was to ask the other. Hanzo and Jesse just clicked— two men with similar world views and goals. They could talk to each other in a language no one else on base quite understood.
And when paired on the battlefield? They were a truly terrifyingly competent team. Ruthless and efficient, Overwatch’s enemies quickly learned to fear the dragon and the sun.
(And when one got hurt, the other would sneak into medbay to keep them company. Angela eventually gave up on chasing them out and just wheeled in another cot.)
Jesse hadn’t expected much from the reformed Overwatch beyond a place to hang his hat and maybe some reliable backup. He’d found that, of course, but he also found something he’d never had in his life. A best friend. An actual, honest-to-God partner.
He found Hanzo.
He wondered a bit, about his soulmate and their song from time to time. (Usually when he caught sight of that small smile that Hanzo seemed to save just for him.) They weren’t quite in sync yet, which meant they hadn’t found each other, right? But maybe they were close. The song grew stronger every day, more confident. Jesse could feel the anticipation thrum within every note.
He hoped they would like Hanzo as much as he did.
Hanzo had a soulmate, too, but he was quiet about it, and Jesse didn’t ask. He had a feeling there was some pain there, and Jesse understood that. The memory of sudden silence still haunted him on those sleepless nights.
Wherever they were, Jesse wished them luck. For now, he was content. And he suspected Hanzo was as well, judging from how much quicker he seemed to smile and speak. The status quo was, for once in his life, good. Jesse knew it’d change eventually—it always did— but he focused on the present and figured the future would take care of itself.
He did not figure on the future throwing a goose at him.
“I do not think that is a wise idea.”
Jesse huffed and edged closer. “I am not letting a damned bird steal my hat.” He held out his hand in what he hoped looked like a more friendly gesture than he felt.
Hanzo scoffed behind him. “Geese are well known for their aggression. I think your hat is a lost cause.”
“Bullshit. I am getting that hat back, ain’t that right, goosey?” he replied in a voice as sweet and syrupy as antifreeze. “‘Cuz if ya don’t give it back, I’m gonna shoot your goddamned head off.”
The goose lowered its head, hat still in its beak. It looked wary, but Jesse was encouraged by the submissive display. He took a step forward. “That’s it, buddy… Just give ol’ McCree th—GAH!”
The goose dropped the hat and charged with a hiss that sounded straight from hell. Jesse yelped and fled, turning to Hanzo for protection. The goose tried to take a bite out of the back of his jeans, and Jesse jumped with an unholy screech straight into Hanzo’s arms. Hanzo caught him reflexively, and the goose froze with consideration in its beady eyes.
“Hah! Not so tough with the two of us!” Jesse jeered from the safety of Hanzo’s arms. Hanzo choked on something suspiciously laugh-like.
“Don’t tease it,” he said. “It knows one goose is no match f—”
The goose threw back its head and let out an ear-piercing, screeching honk. And was answered by an entire chorus of echoing, angry honks.
Jesse looked at Hanzo. Hanzo looked at Jesse.
“We should…”
“Run?”
“Yeah. That.”
Hanzo dropped Jesse and gripped his hand, yanking him along as they ran from the encroaching army of raging geese. They did not stop until they reached the edge of the park, far from the goose pond. There, they watched for a long moment, but when no geese appeared behind them, they both sighed and sagged with relief.
“Sorry about your hat,” said Hanzo after he caught his breath.
Jesse shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I got a spare.”
Hanzo nodded and was quiet for a long, long moment. Thinking, Jesse figured. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched. He bowed his head, and his shoulders began to shake. As Jesse reached towards him to check if he was alright, the sound of snickering erupted from Hanzo’s frame.
The bastard was laughing. At him. And Jesse really couldn’t fault him because the whole situation was pretty damn funny.
And it was very hard to be annoyed with Hanzo snorting and giggling like that. Jesse liked hearing it. Loved it, even. Like he loved Hanzo.
A sudden chord jolted through Jesse as he started to process that thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hanzo startle as well. Music swelled about them, each melody bursting forth as though freed from chains. The flute and guitar danced on the wind with joy, creating new harmonies as they finally connected.
Jesse turned to Hanzo, heart in his throat and saw the same awed expression on his face. He heard it, too.
“It’s you,” he breathed, reaching a trembling hand towards Hanzo’s cheek. “All this time, it’s been you…”
There were tears in Hanzo’s eyes, and Jesse knew he was no better. His face felt like it might split in two with the force of his smile.
“I never dared hope…” Hanzo began, voice breaking as he took Jesse’s hand in his. “All these years, I was so certain we’d never meet, that I’d pushed you away, and… And…”
“An’ here we are,” Jesse finished with a wet laugh. He pulled Hanzo close and bent down to meet his face to kiss that smile. And kiss it again, and again. They were laughing and crying and hugging, and Jesse didn’t think it was possible to be so happy. His heart was full to bursting and still the music continued rising around them with sweeping orchestras and choirs. It bound them together with its jubilance and a promise to never be alone again. Two individuals, complete on their own, but joined to create something new. Something wonderful.
Friends. Lovers. Partners.
