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She’s beautiful.
Jesse McCree isn’t usually one for waxing poetically, he’s good with words sure, but he prefers to keep his facts as straight and concise as possible. He’s been waiting for this, his soul mate vision on the night of his 18th birthday—and finally, he can see her.
She’s got her back turned to him, standing in a pool of water, steam rising from the surface and he briefly wonders if she’s Japanese, their surroundings reminding him of the hot springs in the land of the rising sun. She flips her hair over her shoulder, a long cascade of jet black and smooth silk dancing down her strong back, curling just above her tail bone. Oh. She’s pretty defined actually, with her arms rather muscular too. Maybe she practices martial arts? And is that a full sleeve dragon tattoo coiling around her arm?
A soul mate vision isn’t the same for everyone, some have been able to talk to their soul mate, ask them their name and such, while others—well, let’s just say they managed to take it a step further. Jesse is like most people in that regard though; he wants to at least know her name. He enters the water, approaching her slowly. Should he say something? He tries to cough; no response.
“Uhm, well, hello there!” he tries, immediately regretting how lame he sounds, but there is still no response. He inches closer and he’s about to speak again when she raises her right arm, a blade’s edge glinting in the moonlight. It makes Jesse’s blood go cold as he watches her gather her hair in a fistfull and then bring the blade close, her aura shifting as she does so. One slice, cleanly through, and her long hair is no more.
“With death comes honor, with honor; redemption.” she whispers, the wind carrying the words amidst sakura petals and into Jesse’s ears.
“Fuck.” Jesse breathes, reeling backwards. This was not how things were supposed to go. If she hadn’t heard him before, she apparently did now, turning her head and glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes are a warm coffee-colour, but her gaze is stone cold—and sad? Jesse stops in his tracks, barely dares to breathe. It’s a dream. He cannot die in his dream can he? She is slowly turning, looking straight at him, but past him at the same time, as if he’s merely a ghost to her.
“You wanted to see me?” a voice behind him says. The edges of Jesse’s vision starts to become foggy, and as the woman approaches him with her blade poised in hand, he turns—barely catching a glimpse of green hair before it all goes black. He’s yanked back into his own bed, gasping for breath as he wakes up in a pool of his own sweat, and with his heart thundering in his chest.
—
It’s peculiar how he’s remembering his vision now. Jesse hasn’t thought about his soul mate vision for a long time. He stopped a few years back, somewhere around the age of 32, slowly coming to terms with the fact that he might never actually meet her. It’s not an uncommon thing to never meet your soulmate, it’s just a depressing reality for those unfortunate enough. She is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, but then again maybe it’s for the best, seeing as his vision was mostly an unsettling scene shrouded in mystery—and quite possibly murder. He’s not ignoring that fact. She did have a sword, and she didn’t seem too happy to see the fella with the green hair.
Or maybe she herself had died that night?
It’s been a while since he’s remembered the vision so clearly however. It’s become more and more fragmented throughout the years, slowly fading into what it truly and honestly is in the end; a fading dream. He takes one last drag of his cigar before he stubs it on the railing and then chucks it down into the ocean below. Immediately as he does so, Angela’s disappointed face flashes in his mind.
“Goddamnit.” he whispers under his breath. With smoking he truly got two bad habits for the price of one.
He’s alerted to a presence behind him, friendly—or well, as friendly as can get with this particular person. He’s surprised to see him up here again so soon.
“Thought you’d spend at least another two days in the infirmary, couldn’t wait to see me, huh archer?” he quips smartly.
As always Hanzo scoffs at his ridiculous attempt at making a joke—albeit there is an ever so tiny quirking to the corner of the man’s lips.
“You wish, gunslinger.” comes the smug retort as Hanzo walks up to Jesse’s side and leans on the railing. It’s become a rhythm by now, a rhythm they have both grown comfortable with since being acquainted.
It had taken them quite a while to warm up to each other. Jesse hadn’t been particularly happy when Genji had introduced Hanzo—the Hanzo Shimada—his older brother, and almost murderer, as the newest member of the newly reformed Overwatch.
Even worse was the fact that Jesse had been hit with an intense feeling of recognition and familiarity when he saw the man, yet he couldn’t for the life of himself remember where or when he had ever met him. Tricks of the mind is what he told himself. Might as well be the sibling resemblance between Hanzo and Genji, coupled with Jesse’s strong distaste for what Hanzo had done to one of Jesse’s best friends. Now that him and Hanzo are friends the familiar feeling and presence of Hanzo is comforting. He’s prickly and at times aloof, but he’s got your back if you’ve got his and he makes for an excellent drinking buddy and philosophical partner. Which is exactly why they keep meeting like this, up on a secluded portion of the Gibraltar Base whenever they have downtime.
“The sunset is beautiful.” Hanzo says, a bit softer now as his guard is lowering. “For a moment back there I was sure I’d never get to see the sunset ever again.”
Saying their mission had gone awry was putting it mildly. Every single little thing planned so carefully for had gone wrong. Talon had gotten away and they were extremely lucky they hadn’t ended up with any casualties. Hanzo had been injured along with a few others, a hair’s breadth from having a bullet lodged in his head, but Jesse never doubted he’d bounce right back from it. He was strong like that. Strong, with a softer side that keeps surprising Jesse.
“Heh, yeah, had a few of those scares myself. Never a pleasant experience. You sure you should be out of bed?”
“I only have a fractured rib or two. Dr. Ziegler let me go, reluctantly so, but I think she understood that there are others who need those beds more than me.”
“How is he? Any news?” Jesse asks softly, still in disbelief that the Jack Morrison is still alive.
“Unconscious, but stable. Dr. Ziegler says not to worry.”
Jesse lets out a breath of relief. The last couple of days had been full of disappointments and surprises rolling in one after the other.
“Did you bring some?” Hanzo asks after a pause and Jesse grins at the archer’s question.
“Of course! These get togethers of ours are kind of like our very own little date nights aren’t they?” he says, giving Hanzo a smart wink to which the man scoffs yet again, but fails to keep a straight face and laughs instead.
He’s got a good laugh—and a good smile.
Jesse swallows and licks his lips as he realises just what he’s thinking about. Well darn. He must have zoned out as Hanzo is now looking at him questioningly—still smiling.
“Ah yes, sorry, spaced out for a moment there.” Jesse says as he procures the bottle of whisky from his pack along with two whisky tumblers. “Lena brought it from her last trip to King’s Row. Supposed to be really good.”
The moment the first sip hits his tongue is pure bliss. It’s good, just as Lena had promised, and he sighs as he savours the flavour, watching the sunset over the ocean bloom from orange to pink. He can’t help but let his mind wander again, feeling oddly mellow and a bit somber in the moment they are sharing.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” Jesse asks quietly, albeit sure he already knows the answer. He’s a hundred percent sure Hanzo is the type to scoff at and ridicule that particular type of concept. He can’t quite pinpoint the emotion that sweeps over Hanzo’s features when he asks the question however. The best description he can give is that the man looks forlorn for a second, then it is almost as if he corrects himself and goes back to his neutral expression.
“I believe the concept in itself has already been proven? There really isn’t anything to challenge, even if I am not personally a fan of the whole—thing myself.” Hanzo says, his words carefully measured.
“I like the concept.” Jesse counters. “Even though I was never that lucky to actually meet her. Doubt I’ll ever do to be honest, heh.”
Hanzo looks away then, turning his attention back into the sunset. He looks like he’s far away, somewhere Jesse isn’t privy to. Their talks doesn’t revolve much around personal matters since Hanzo is very much sparse with details about himself, but Jesse has found himself itching to know more about the man more and more often. Might as well give it a try since they’re both seemingly in a wistful mood tonight.
“How about you?” Jesse tries softly. He doesn’t want to scare him away by prying too much.
“Me?” Hanzo replies neutrally, his gaze still locked onto the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean.
“Yeah. Did you ever meet—?”
“I suppose I did.” Hanzo says after a pause. “It surprised me—”
“—and it also scares me.”
Hanzo’s reply is unexpected. His attitude towards the soulmate concept had seemed lukewarm and logical at best. Of course it might have been a front, Jesse’s all too familiar with those.
“Oh I hear ya.” Jesse replies, draining the last of the whisky in his tumbler. “Mine scared me too if I’m being perfectly honest with you.”
There’s that unknown emotion sweeping over Hanzo’s face again. Maybe he’d almost been murdered by his soulmate too? Something is itching at the back of Jesse’s mind, almost as if he has forgotten something very important.
“Listen, McCree, I…” Hanzo starts. He’s hesitating, so unlike himself. Jesse nary dares breathe.
“Yeah?” he affirms softly, encouraging him to continue.
“Nevermind.”
“Don’t you nevermind me, buddy.”
Hanzo is visibly surprised with Jesse’s stern tone, as is Jesse himself. He smiles apologetically, and feels a wave of relief was over him as Hanzo does too.
“There is a lot you don’t know about me, McCree.” Hanzo says quietly.
“Well no shit, you never tell me anything.” Jesse replies, albeit with humour in his tone. He isn’t offended by the man’s privacy, everybody’s got their reasons, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious about the mysterious older Shimada brother.
“You’re a good man, McCree. I see that now.” Hanzo continues. It’s a strange way of wording things Jesse muses. The other man is stalling however, there’s words on the tip of his tongue, and he looks like he is weighing them so carefully he’d put Lady Justice to shame. Jesse watches him carefully, patiently, he’ll listen to anything he has to say.
“I realise we haven’t known each other for very long, Hanzo. But for what it’s worth I think you’re an amazing shot, and you might not agree with me on this one, but I think you’re also a good man. You’ve done some shit, you’ve probably seen some shit, but haven’t we all? I like to consider you a friend, and I hope you can consider me a friend too? I’m here, and I’ll listen, whatever you need.”
If it’s possible to look both happy and sad at the same time that would explain Hanzo right in this moment. For a second there Jesse’s afraid the other man would just ninja leap over the railing and flee from him because he got too close, too personal, but he stays, and he pulls something out of his inner pocket. Jesse swallows out of nervous reflex.
“There are some things in life we cannot run away from, me almost killing Genji is one of them. The other two I have been meaning to never again address for the rest of my life, but since actually meeting you, that has become impossible.”
Because of him?
Jesse feels as if he has been presented with a cryptic puzzle. His head is buzzing with light intoxication. Hanzo’s words both makes sense and not at the same time. He wants to say something, but the moment feels so fragile, like it might shatter from any sudden movements or sounds. Jesse hopes for the life of himself that his facial expression conveys exactly what he wants it to; confusion, but with the intent to listen, because he cares.
“What I am about to say, it might change everything.”
“You can trust me.” Jesse says, not missing a beat. His heart is giving off some extra thuds without him knowing why. There’s something at the edges of the veil, about to be revealed.
Hanzo reluctantly hands him the object he took out of his pocket earlier. It’s a photograph, old, slightly worn around the edges. Jesse holds it gently in his palm. There are two people in the frame. He recognizes Genji, with his cocksure smirk and ah, the picture is that old. Genji did mention he used to rock green hair back in the day as he put it. The other person in the picture is a woman with long black hair and a stern expression. Could she be their mother? No, she’s too young. Sister? The resemblance is striking and—
It’s her.
Jesse almost recoils physically when he fully recognizes her. It’s her—the woman from his vision. The long black hair, the tattoo, the same haunted eyes. His heart hammers against his ribcage and he feels as if the ground has been pulled away from under his feet. He looks at Hanzo, a million questions racing in his mind. Hanzo said it could change everything, but how did he know about her? Jesse has never spoken about his soulmate with Hanzo. Is it a mere coincidence? What else could he have meant? Was this unrelated? He swallows thickly and wets his lips, tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down and remember; he is the one trying to help Hanzo here.
“Never knew the two of you had a sister.” he says quietly, watching Hanzo intently.
They were ex-yakuza. Had Hanzo taken the fall for his sister? Had she tried to kill Genji, but their family had then orchestrated a spectacular plan to have the oldest son take the blame? Jesse’s head is spinning from it all. The pieces doesn’t fit, yet they—
Hanzo’s face doesn’t reveal anything. He takes a deep breath before he reaches for the zipper of his jacket, pulling it off before he hoists the hoodie he has underneath over his head.
Jesse’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tattoo on his left arm. He’s seen it many times, a spectacular piece of art. Hanzo nods towards the picture Jesse’s still holding in his hand, and his eyes glides over it once more, stopping at the woman’s tattoo. He looks at Hanzo again, then back to the woman.
Their tattoos are identical.
From the majestic centerpiece dragon, to the crackling lightning bolts, and the gusts of wind slinking around their arms. Ashe’s angry face flashes before Jesse’s eyes like a revelation then, and the last, stubborn piece of the enigmatic puzzle clicks into place. Suddenly everything makes perfect sense. He’s embarrassed for being so slow on that particular uptake.
“This is you, isn’t it?” Jesse murmurs, and Hanzo nods in response, pulling his hoodie back over his head.
“I am sorry.” Hanzo says, voice uncharacteristically soft.
“Why?”
“You must be disappointed.”
Was he? No, disappointment was not the word. The whole thing was just so—surreal. One second he has been musing over his lost opportunity to meet his soulmate, the next he’s trying to help a friend by being a good listener, then the very next moment said friend reveals he is in fact Jesse’s soulmate.
“I don’t even know where to start.” Jesse confesses. Honesty is the best course of action regardless. “Here you are, my actual soulmate, whom I was sure I’d never meet a scarce twenty minutes ago. I am surprised, I genuinely am.”
“That’s...all?” Hanzo says. He seems surprised. Was there more?
“Well, you do look dare I say different from when I had my vision years and years ago. No wonder I didn’t recognize you. It’s kind of funny when you think about it.” Jesse says, offering Hanzo an apologetic smile. Hanzo just looks perplexed.
“You’re not disappointed I’m actually a man?”
Was he? Jesse’s been dating women his whole life, bar a little experimenting in his youth. He’s pretty sure where his preferences lie—was pretty sure where his preferences lie. He’s unmistakably attracted to Hanzo in some regard however. He never met the woman in his vision, but he thought about her for years. Now the man is standing in front of him instead, and his heart beats just as hard for him too. He chuckles softly and takes the whisky bottle to refill their tumblers. He takes a long sip, all while feeling Hanzo’s eyes on him. He meets his gaze with a friendly smile.
“I have—well, more like had, a friend just like you when I was younger, or well, like you but the other way around. She taught me a lot of things, both good and bad I suppose.”
Jesse chuckles as he remembers the chaos that had erupted the day the woman he came to know as Elizabeth ‘Ashe’ Caledonia had ‘come out of the closet’ so to speak.
“When he recruited me into his gang, Deadlock, I knew him as Ashton. A snooty rich kid who soon proved to actually be worthy of my respect. That doesn’t come particularly easy mind you. I’ll spare you of all the mundane details of our robberies and weapons dealings. Anyways, we’d completed a particularly lucrative heist, we had a lot of cash to spare, Ashton was glowing. He then disappears for a month, left only a note telling us to keep the hideout in check.”
Jesse pauses to take another sip of whisky and offering Hanzo another smile.
“Then, he comes back with his omnic butler Bob in tow and announces himself by kicking down the door to the hideout and yells loudly for everyone to hear; ‘Listen up, suckers! My name is Ashe now and I run this joint! Whoever has a problem with that can speak to the barrel of my shotgun, capiche?’. So whaddya know, suddenly we had a lady amongst our ranks.”
Hanzo has been listening with rapt attention to Jesse’s story. It makes Jesse feel warm all over. Maybe it’s the whisky, maybe it’s Hanzo, at this point they are both equally welcome.
“Point is, we were all family. Of course we accepted her right away. Might have been slightly out of fear too mind you, she’s—a firecracker. I guess I am rambling now, anyways, I accept you for who you are, this doesn’t change anything between us.” Jesse says warmly, watching Hanzo’s gaze glide over to the ocean again. The last slivers of pink from the sunset paints the archer’s face in a light glow that threatens to knock the breath out of Jesse.
“Unless you want it to.” he adds quietly.
Had he meant to say that? Maybe. Sometimes the heart speaks before the mind, and sometimes good things come from that. Hanzo meets his gaze then, and Jesse realises his coffee-coloured eyes hasn’t changed since back then, only now they are warm instead of cold. Had they been starring in a cliched romantic movie now would be the time to go in for a kiss—but reality isn’t anything like old Hollywood movies.
“I’d like that.” Hanzo says, just as quietly, and Jesse fears he might have heard him wrong.
“You mean…” Jesse starts, but stalls as Hanzo turns to fully face him.
“Do I have to spell it out for you, gunslinger?” Hanzo says, the tacked on title and slight mirth to his voice exposing his attempt at humour. Jesse snorts.
“Heard ya loud and clear, Sir.” he replies, mock saluting Hanzo who chuckles quietly.
“We’ll take it slow.” Jesse offers softly with the seriousness of the moment defused a little. “There’s so much I’d like to ask you, but I don’t want to scare you away.”
“You’ve earned that,” Hanzo says, “and I’m not running away, not anymore.”
Jesse prides himself in being a gentleman, a gentleman true to his words of ‘taking it slow’, but there has never been a spark so vibrant in his heart as the moment when Hanzo leans in and simply kisses him. It’s chaste, almost shy, but it makes something in the universe just click into place and an indescribable warmth spread through Jesse’s whole being. He lifts his hand to cup Hanzo’s cheek, for a second so thankful for their hideout letting them have this moment to themselves.
“This is going to be such a badass scar.” he murmurs gently, tracing his thumb over the grove the Widowmaker’s bullet had made across Hanzo’s cheekbone.
“That is—an oddly satisfying compliment.” Hanzo murmurs back, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“What was your dream vision of me like?” Jesse asks after a while, his arm firmly around Hanzo’s shoulder as they watch the waves lap up against the rocky cliffs of the base. Hanzo snorts at first, then he actually laughs.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll tell you one day, just—don’t want to embarrass you right now.”
“That bad, huh?”
“It’s—quite something.”
The sky bleeds out into deep blue and amethyst as they huddle together underneath Jesse’s serape. They stay there until there’s a full blanket of stars witnessing two souls meant to be together finally find each other.
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