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Twilight of Blossoms
**
Windblown and barren grassland mirrored the vacant heart carefully concealed within Hanzo’s chest. Eventually the rains would transform the landscape into a riot of color seldom seen. A surprise in an otherwise dry brown scene. The first time Hanzo witnessed such beauty was in the arms of a man now missing from the world.
Jesse McCree had driven through the night to this very meadow, instructing Hanzo to sleep so he’d be wide awake for sunrise. A strange request, but considering Hanzo had driven the majority of the way out of the city while his partner dozed off, it was not a difficult request to honor. Just before dawn teased her pale pink fingers onto the world, Jesse pulled Hanzo from the truck into the knee high grasses. Dew clung to the leaves and dampened his clothes. A chill touched the world.
Gently blooming colors dispelled the lingering shadows of morning. A marveling dreamscape unfolded before Hanzo’s very eyes. Tiny blue wildflowers escaped night’s grip first, leading the charge for the specks of red poppies to occupy the field. With the sun breaching the horizon, the hills burst into flames of bright oranges and dark vermillion. Wide yellow petals broke the cacophony alongside notes of lavender.
Once the color fully impressed, then came the fragrance. Too much to identify a single flower and not enough to overwhelm the senses. It was heady and sweet. A unique experience the highly educated ninja doubted he would ever find words to explain. Hanzo could drown here and now and count himself the luckiest man in the world.
“See something you like?” The cowboy’s soft drawl purred against Hanzo’s ear. Immediately the archer elbowed him in the stomach for surprising him. McCree released a puff of air in playful response. A thick arm settled across Hanzo’s shoulders and a bouquet of those very flowers cascading over the hills filled his sight. “It’s all yours.”
Reflexively Hanzo cradled the wildflowers in both hands. “I’ve seen greater gardens in the Imperial Palace.” Though his voice feigned indifference, he brought the blossoms to his nose and breathed in the scent, eyes closed to better remember the sensation.
“You wound me.” Jesse tugged the compact archer closer. “This isn’t a tamed little garden. This is real nature. And it’s ours.” The final words whispered against Hanzo’s ear.
McCree had always spoken of retiring to a place in the middle of nowhere. So far from civilization that no one would bother two questionable mercenaries. It had taken years to quell the second Omnic Crisis as most of the world named it. More accurately it had been an endless stream of terrorist attacks from Null Sector. No actual battle lines had been drawn. Few armies had been called to serve. Taking down the root cause of chaos occupied most of the illegal Overwatch activities. Talon appropriately had claws in every major government and enterprise around the world. Exposing them as the criminals they were left a bitter taste in Shimada’s mouth. It hadn’t been that long ago that he held equal prominence in Japan for a similar organization. Still it was satisfying to watch Akande Ogundimu be tried a second time and watch as his dangerous prosthetic was removed.
Hanzo released his breath slowly, savoring the lingering fragrance. He could make a life here. Away from all those who knew his name or his face. What bounty-hunter would want to trek to this no name hillside? “Ours? How on earth did you manage that?”
“Would you believe I won the deed in a poker game?”
“No.”
Chuckling Jesse planted a chaste kiss to Hanzo’s cheek. “The guy owed me a favor. I don’t usually collect on those offerings, ‘cause it don’t feel right. But after talking to him a bit more, he told me about this plot of land. Too far to be of use to the town. No silver or ore to be mined. And no way for him to meet the federal regulations about conservation. So we came to an agreement and I purchased this acreage from him.”
With a sharp nod, Hanzo twisted in Jesse’s arm until he could look up into those warm honeyed eyes. “That sounds more like it. I take it, we’ll only be building a home. Nothing more?”
“Leaving everything as natural as we can. Save the little half acre for the house.”
“And the garden.” The former mercenary would be adamant about that. These fields with their sparkling array of colors were only temporary. Hanzo wanted something closer to the home he remembered.
Of course they made room for his garden. Due to conservation efforts, Hanzo limited his extravagance. Flowering cherries from Hanamura graced the stone pathway to their front door. Bonsais of azaleas, junipers, magnolias and wisterias sat on pedestals under the cedar plank pergola. However most of the flowers and decorative leaf plants he wished to use for Ikebana arrangements had to be done within a climate controlled greenhouse for the weather in the high desert of the American Southwest was not conducive to most varieties. There Hanzo could also enjoy a koi pond and fountain. It was a small version of the zen garden from home. Well tended and orderly.
The room also served as their main living space when the heat or chill of the season proved too much.
Still every spring Jesse made sure they traveled to the meadow and spend days out there just enjoying each other and nature.
Until one year they lay upon a thick wool blanket in the back of their pickup truck, gazing out at the wildflowers drenched in the clear mountain sunset. They had started this practice of camping in their truck on the little dirt path so as not to disturb nature’s purity. Jesse took Hanzo’s left hand and carefully trace his metal thumb across the black tungsten wedding band with a solitaire ruby imbedded into the metal. Jesse had a similar ring but with a thin cobalt blue inlay set off center. Symbols of who their hearts belonged to.
“I’d like to be buried here.” Jesse started without warning. Hanzo bit his tongue to stay silent. Death was not a new concept to them. Old age perhaps, but not death. “Nothing fancy. No coffin. Just a box of ashes buried out there.” He said nothing more on the subject, nor did Hanzo press for more answers.
The thought became buried in their day to day routines. Hanzo finding refuge in tending his gardens and Jesse puttering around in the kitchen. Occasionally they would seek out the shooting range while in town. When someone paid for lessons, their visits were more frequent. Neither went out of their way to advertise their expertise, but both thought it a shame if they could not share their knowledge and passion for sharpshooting.
Small town life made it easy to forget their history.
One night Hanzo came in with a carefully arranged ikebana of lavender irises and tiny ferns only to stop short and glare at the offending vase stuffed with bright yellow blossoms. “Why are there dandelions on our table?” The adobe red pottery spit out a thick mound of lemony color. He tried not to sound offended, but he spent hours trying to remove these weeds from his garden.
“Saw a bunch outside and thought they were pretty.” Jesse called from the kitchen.
“They are weeds.”
“Weeds are only plants that are not wanted.” The cowboy leaned against the pillar separating the dining area from the kitchen. “Dandelions are as much a part of nature as your garden. All flowers started as some sort of weed, growing in places that best suited their needs. Then someone decided they were pretty and took care of them. Then before long those flowers got put in gardens.”
Their home was such a contradiction. From the Japanese inspired garden that framed the traditional adobe structure to the interior swathed in patterns originating from deserts of the southwest and organized with zen minimalism. Now Hanzo was faced with accepting a tenacious undesirable weed. But the more he watched the gentle honey eyes and the soft smile peeking from the thick almond colored beard, the more the archer relented. McCree had been just as insistent in their early interactions. He had taken root where no others dared and flourished when all others failed.
Glancing down to his simplistic beauty of iris and fern and then to the bulging mound of yellow, Hanzo chuckled. “I think we can at least make the flowers more comfortable in their new home.” Setting his ikebana arrangement onto the coffee table, Hanzo removed the three irises and went to work with the adobe vase. Soon the fistful of dandelions took a more symmetrically rounded shape. The irises poked above the yellow hill at varying heights. Judging from the bright smile and crinkling eyes, Jesse approved.
Dandelions were the first wildflower to appear on the dining table. It was by no means the last. One night a wide pink and white daisy draped across the braided palm leaf. Hanzo said nothing, only making sure the stem accessed the water. It didn’t ruin the look of the ikebana, but it certainly wasn’t the grace he had intended. A blend of what made the two of them work.
Hanzo again pushed these events to the back of his mind, accepting Jesse’s additions with ease though a frustration tinged his observations when the wildflowers took over an arrangement he spent hours perfecting. Even then Hanzo couldn’t get angry. It was the charm of his cowboy.
When he noticed strange greens mixed in with their pasta dinner, he had to ask. “What are these?”
“Dandelion leaves.”
“Those are edible?”
Jesse grinned as if this was common knowledge. “Sure are. The whole plant is edible.”
Never once in all the years of living in their isolated adobe ranch did Hanzo think to ask why they were consuming dandelions. Full blossoms ended up in their morning pancakes. Petals in their occasional hamburger. Leaves in their salads and pastas. Even a nightly tea of dandelion roots. It came to the point where Jesse took over a corner of the greenhouse to use a large square planter for just dandelions. Hanzo tended to it just the same as his other more particular vegetation. They proved to require a more forgetful touch. Much like his orchids. Just enough attention to not forget they existed, yet otherwise they flourished without a care.
As he walked along the sliver of a dirt path up from the road, Hanzo noticed dandelions edging the compact gavel. He plucked a few out of remembrance. A cheerful yellow on an otherwise bleak day. Dark clouds rolled overhead, threatening rain but never giving any. Not until thunder rumbled in the distance did rain come calling. Then it was fast and ferocious. A downpour to last for years.
In just such a storm Hanzo had nearly lost everything.
One midsummer afternoon the retired sharpshooters took their truck and a few blankets to the flowering meadow for a picnic dinner followed by stargazing. A great plan. Jesse had made fancy sandwiches. He claimed Lena had taught him. Hanzo chuckled at watching the larger than life cowboy cut off the crusts to make dainty little triangles. A few onigiri wrapped in nori added a splash of something salty. For dessert Jesse had made his biscochitos, most of which were saved for the picnic basket. As always a few went missing while they cooled and the whole house smelled warm with cinnamon and anise.
They lounged on the heavily geometric patterned blanket and let their conversation wane with idle thoughts. Two retired sharpshooters dancing around remembering their pasts. Neither wished to bring those memories onto this wondrous field. Hanzo relaxed against his partner’s shoulder, dozing in and out while Jesse planned the next Halloween party. Apparently it was their turn this year. One of the few times a year they reunited with the old team. The archer was more than happy to let McCree act as host.
Next to them was a Black Dalea shrub with vibrant purple flowers with such a strong citrus scent that Hanzo could close his eyes and imagine an orange grove. Jesse kept his hands busy by weaving the tender twigs into a flower crown. Hanzo huffed when the wreath settled on his head. “I do not need such decorations.”
“Looks pretty damn good on all that silver hair of yours.” Jesse planted a kiss to the white hair. Hanzo had gone salt and pepper early in life. It was now more silver than black.
“Which is not fair, that you have yet to have a single gray hair. Or are you dying it on me in secret?”
“Coloring my hair? Never. ‘Cause then I couldn’t lord it over you.” Hands now free, Jesse pulled Hanzo into his arms and against his chest. A robust heart steadily beating in Hanzo’s ears. Just waiting on the sun to set. Fast moving dark clouds caught the gunslinger’s attention. He knew the weather here far better than the man from the other side of the world. “Might not get much of a night show. That’s a storm heading this way.”
“Pack up now? Or chance that it blows past?” Hanzo sat up to gage the distance. Thick fat raindrops answered his question. As they gathered the blankets and picnic gear, the heavy suddenly clean wet air harkened the arrival of the storm. Just as they were dumping things into the cab of their truck, buckets released over their heads.
Jesse laughed boisterously as he removed his soaked serape. “Now that’s what I call a shower. Guess there won’t be any stars tonight.”
“But perhaps some wildflowers tomorrow.” Hanzo chuckled. They watched sheets of water rush across the glass. The windshield wipers barely kept the line of sight clear as they drove off. McCree eased the truck down the dirt roads. The deluge kept their pace slow. It aggravated the old archer that they could not reach their safe haven sooner. The flash floods here could be as devastating as a tsunami. At least according to the news media.
A twenty minute drive turned into an eternity. Violent gusts of wind knocked the truck across the faint tracks Jesse called a road. Even with drive assist Jesse struggled to maintain control in the high winds and blinding rain. Cold and wet neither of them spoke. Too much concentration was needed to focus on the drive. The sun had already been setting and the dark thunderclouds only added to the deep inky night. Headlights could only stretch their sight so far into the downpour.
“Shit.” Jesse lost control of the wheel. A perfect combination of wind and water rolled metal. The truck crunched against a sandstone outcropping and kept tumbling. Water leaked into the cabin. Hanzo knew they had to get out before they were flooded, but with the constant crashing and ricocheting against the gully the truck was their best protection. His head bounced so much Hanzo didn’t remember one crash to the next.
Lights flashed around him. Brightness rather than color registered on Hanzo’s consciousness. Sounds meant nothing. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Up to the moment he knew he was alert and conscious of the doctors and nursing staff directing care around him. No one knew how their truck survived long enough for first responders to reach them. The computers in the vehicle held all the statistics that Hanzo didn’t want to know. All that mattered was Jesse McCree.
His life partner was alive though harmed far more than Hanzo himself. They were in separate rooms until Hanzo met discharge criteria. Though kept abreast by the doctors, information was only superficial: ‘Doing well and not deteriorating.’ Once he finally sat beside an unconscious Jesse, one doctor sat down across from him.
“Mr. Shimada, how much has your spouse discussed his health with you?” It was a disembodied voice all these years passed.
“We discussed the complications of decades of smoking and drinking. Jesse never said anything more about actual problems he might have.”
“During a routine scan we noticed a possible mass on his liver.”
“Not his lungs?” Hanzo had been surprised.
“We would like to biopsy the mass just to be sure. Since he is not able to consent to the procedure we need your consent.” Of course Hanzo signed the documents allowing the biopsy. When the results came back, Hanzo slipped his hand into his husband’s. It wasn’t a death sentence in this day and with the advances in medicine. Jesse remained in a medically stable state of unconsciousness until the multitude of bone fractures and intracranial swelling healed. It would be days to possibly weeks. Hanzo sighed and glanced around the impersonal hospital room. As much as he wanted to remain, their home required some sort of attention. “Go ahead with whatever treatment you deem necessary.”
A car accident. A lost fight against nature. It paled in comparison to the news of cancer. There were treatments, but it was a chronic disease with no certainty of remaining in remission. The question was did Jesse know something was wrong long before now or was he trying to take all precautions possible. The influx of dandelions into their diet made Hanzo wonder.
They were getting older. No more care free, late night drinking binges. The moment they promised each other, ‘’Til death do us part,’ was the moment they decided to live as long as humanly possible. Taking better care of themselves had been a difficult trial in patience. But they were persistent. It started the moment they retreated from the Overwatch Recall effort. The moment Jesse got the deed to their wildflower meadow. The impossibly small ceremony out in the middle of the field, surrounded by a riot of color and only their closest friends and family present. It was no wonder McCree had decided he wanted to be buried there. That field held all their potential, their dreams, their wishes.
Suddenly Hanzo needed to fill that hospital room with flowers. The arrangements in the gift shop were contrived. Designs that were cheaply made but still managed to add a pop of happiness in an otherwise derry atmosphere. None were true wildflowers, but Hanzo did find a few with bright yellow and orange daisies. Colors Jesse enjoyed for the amount of brilliant life they inspired. The vase sat in prominence so that whenever Jesse finally woke, it would be easy to view.
Hanzo forced himself to remain busy to avoid thinking the worst. The house was spotless. The meals prepared and frozen, waiting for the day when Jesse came home. His garden was immaculate and complicated arrangements filled their living spaces. It was all only temporary. Flowers. They couldn’t remain forever. Hanzo hated having to disassemble an arrangement, but that was just as necessary as putting it together.
One day Hanzo arrived to Jesse’s room and found the man propped up in bed. Groggy but awake. The old archer carefully placed the items for a simple ikebana on the chair before sitting on the bed. Jesse smiled. “Sure looked nice.” Those warm brown eyes focused on Hanzo. It wasn’t Hanzo himself nor the flower arrangements Jesse commented on. He raised a hand to card through Hanzo’s loose white hair. “Guess the flower crown wasn’t going to survive.”
“You’ll make another one.” Hanzo sighed, leaning into the sturdy hand. It was a start on the road to recovery. He didn’t even have the heart to discuss the tumor growing on Jesses’s abused liver. That conversation could wait. The old archer caught ahold of the gunslinger’s hand and placed a featherlight kiss to the palm. “I don’t really have any flowers that would do well as a crown, but perhaps you would like to participate in completing a flower arrangement more suited to your personality.”
“Hey, I thought you did good with those sunflowers.” The next few hours were filled with quiet conversation and long silences as McCree drifted in and out of sleep. The gunslinger gave limited input in the arrangement due to his exhaustion.
When the doctor finally sat down to converse with them, Jesse barely said a word. Hanzo could only imagine the thoughts spiraling through his head. Most likely far more severe than any Hanzo had dwelled on.
Not until they returned home and found something resembling their old routine did the numbness gradually fade from the gunslinger’s demeanor. Jesse still wasn’t as vibrant as his bright yellow dandelions, but he tried. Hanzo didn’t want to push his partner. Days blurred and Hanzo started to miss the random wildflower interrupting his carefully crafted artwork of flowers. He noticed less color in the world once Jesse settled into his new pattern. Doctors visits limited the number of hours in a day where the two could simply be. Occasionally the only time they spent alone was right when they curled into their bed.
Their room was a harmonious blend of their two worlds. Not too long after moving to this small Southwest town, Hanzo had gotten sidetracked by a quilt displayed in a storefront window. Vibrant reds and deep burgundies swirled gracefully with stunning sapphires and twilight indigos in geometric patchwork. Jesse had actually sauntered several paces away before he realized his partner was missing. “So? Are you going to get it?”
Hanzo arched an eyebrow playfully. “Do you even know what caught my eye?”
Jesse chuckled and slipped an arm around Hanzo’s waist. “I suppose if I don’t guess right the first time, I’ll just buy everything in the window just to be sure.”
The gesture amused the archer to no end. The window of the antique store had such a clutter of items that Hanzo was certain it would break the bank. “No need for such extravagance.” With a tilt of his head to the door, he lead the way inside. The shop owner was more than happy to bring out the quilt in question. Turned out it was smaller than their bed, but Jesse refused to say no. His solution was elegantly simple. Buy a solid color blanket that matched one of the colors in the quilt and use the heavy pieced together bedspread as decoration. Hanzo laughed at how easy that had been. He insisted on the darkest blue they could find in order to make the reds pop that much more. Turned out to be the best decision the two had made in a lifetime of difficult choices.
Now with his partner teetering on the edge of depression, Hanzo twisted in their bed until he could pull Jesse tightly against his chest. “What worries you?”
“Nothing.” Jesse’s voice was gruff with failed attempts to sleep.
“What worries you also worries me.” Burying his head into the thick brown mess of hair, Hanzo tried not to make any delicate conclusions for his husband of half a lifetime. “I cannot know how to assist you without knowing what you desire.” He tried very hard to not to take control of Jesse’s life. It was just so complicated when his partner shutdown communication between them. They used to share everything. Even the most minor of concern. The most memorable being when Jesse had added too many Hatch chilies to their dinner and utterly destroyed Hanzo’s sense of taste for the entire week.
A heavy sigh shuttered through that great chest. “I never thought it would end like this, you know?” Jesse shifted so he could lay on his back. He still did not meet Hanzo’s gaze and Hanzo had to accept his husband’s pace in this. Death was not new after all. Old age and all of its hazards were. Neither were particularly brave enough to face those unknowns. Gray hairs were nothing compared to McCree’s diagnosis. “Always expected a bullet. Half the time expected one of your arrows for doing something stupid.”
“I can’t tell you how many times I considered it.” Hanzo’s lips managed a smile to here the soft chortle from his partner. “Though you were not the only candidate for my arrows. Far too many did idiotic heroics.”
“You’re one to talk. Idiotic heroics were the very reason you joined. Genji said you were running out targets and came searching for more.”
“I am loathed to admit the influence of my brother’s words.”
Jesse shifted again until they curled forehead to forehead. Eyes gazing into each other despite the shadows. “Glad you did. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Jesse pursed his lips as he tried to commit to or dismiss his next thought. Hanzo waited patiently. “Come to think of it, you did shoot me once.”
“You forgot? For all the times you complained about getting shot at, you forgot the one time you got hit by an arrow. Unbelievable.”
“Hey, it was a long time ago. Got banged up pretty bad afterwards.”
“That I will not forget.” Hanzo reached up and carded his hand through the short brown hair. “One of the first ‘missions’ together, and I use the term very loosely. Null Sector separated us, cut off communications, and set up an ambush for you and Oxton. I shot you to warn you. Yet you go barreling in. I am surprised you survived.”
“Luck. And that big blue flash as I was blacking out. Genji said it was your dragons. Sad I missed it at the time.”
“You saw them plenty of times after.”
“Yeah, but that was the first time. First times are always special.”
“Sentimental.”
Jesse leaned in and pressed his lips to Hanzo’s. A soft chaste kiss. A simple conveyance of adoration. “Can’t help it. You gave me something to be sentimental about.” Hanzo knew Jesse was affectionate when moments allowed. Still he felt the blood blossom on his cheeks and thanked the night for hiding his blush.
“That’s not what worries you.” Hanzo tried to redirect the conversation. Intimacy came with great hesitancy thanks to his troubled past. The extent to which he trusted Jesse amazed him. To feel it reciprocated baffled him even as he basked in that level of affection. Over the decades he had learned to share more of himself and to trust more in his partner. They remained together for the support they built out of a life of trauma.
“No, that’s not what worries me,” Jesse finally relented. “What worries me is how will you cope when I am gone.”
Hanzo stilled to give the condition as much weighted thought as it deserved. “I cannot say. It would be one moment at a time.”
“Then promise me you will take those moments and move forward.”
“Jesse, it is not something that is going to happen tomorrow. The treatments are working.”
The old gunslinger scoffed. “Working. For now. The question is for how long? What happens when it stops? I’ve already made up my mind, Hanzo. I just hope you can find it in you to accept it.” Jesse took a slow, steady, deep breath. Hanzo unconsciously matched him. He needed the moment of calm to absorb what he feared Jesse was about to say. “I don’t want to battle forever. It’s taken us away from the meadow. From camping under the stars and moon.”
“We did miss the bloom following that storm.” Hanzo abruptly desired to see Jesse’s face, but he did not want to move to turn on the lights. Instead he carefully threaded his fingers through Jesse’s beard and along the angles of the face he knew so well. A few wrinkles around the eyes from grinning. Weathering darkened his natural tan. The face of his best friend and beloved husband. “I think I understand. Until then, let us continue to make the most of this peace we fought so hard to obtain. When you are ready, that will be soon enough.”
Without a doubt Hanzo would grieve. He already grieved. Death was a certainty. Only the day could not be predicted.
Hanzo created brightly colored arrangements to fill their home. When the nights were prefect for camping, he drove them out in their new truck should Jesse be too tired. That old statement kept bubbling to the surface when he lay awake staring at the silent moon. Jesse wanted to be buried here. In the place of their marriage. In the place where they shared the most joy. Hanzo was much more accepting of that sentiment than he had been when first hearing the request. Jesse never spoke of it again.
Flower crowns became the most important task. Hanzo started taking pictures of himself and Jesse with the most absurd flowers in their hair. Despite nearly a decade of attempting to learn to weave young green stems into a circle, the crown’s atop Jesse’s head were never perfect. Never as neat. Jesse loved them anyway.
Many years later Hanzo honored it, just as if Jesse had asked the night before. The site wasn’t too far from the road. Hanzo knew he wouldn’t be able to walk further as the years continued. Always planning, Hanzo urged his mind to quiet. The time of forethought had ended. Now was the time of fond remembrance. With a headstone of a massive cliff, Hanzo believed his life partner would have approved.
The ceremony had been held in town. The viewing had been open to anyone who wished to give their condolences. Many of the townsfolk came, said their goodbyes and left flowers. So many beautifully arranged stands and bouquets. The room was filled with the thick perfume of roses and lilies. Flowers that surprisingly neither man had much fondness for. Hanzo still thanked the visitors. As Jesse would say, ‘It was the thought that counted.’
Only a select few joined Hanzo on the journey from the crematorium to the meadow. Just those from McCree’s time in Overwatch. Hanzo couldn’t stand the idea of any larger of a crowd into this private and well loved place. Someone had carved Jesse’s name and dates into the cliff while Hanzo buried the remains. At first he was concerned because he had not shed a tear during this time. But he had mourned every day since first learning about the mass on Jesse’s liver. It had been enough time to accept the inevitable.
They were not the only ones growing old and passing away. That was time ever marching forward. Jesse and Hanzo had attended several funerals for their old friends by this point. Part of them wondering why they survived for so long. Shedding tears when each passing day took a few drops seemed the last thing that Hanzo needed to do. He had promised Jesse to move forward.
Grief never became either of them. Hanzo continued to tend to their house, empty though it felt. Each day lasted an eternity. Only his visits to the wildflower meadow for mediation eased his mind. He also brought a small bag of seeds with him each and every time. Though the fields were beautiful on their own, scattering the wildflower seeds gave Hanzo closure. He didn’t have to think the future without his love. He only had to focus on the moment and how Jesse would be thrilled with the idea of adding to the burst of color once the seeds germinated. That peace helped Hanzo through the worst of his loneliness.
He had never expected this life journey. Much like Jesse, Hanzo had always suspected a bullet would end his existence. It left little in the desire to plan for the future. Then the moment they no longer had to worry about that well-aimed slug, they floundered into what civilians called normal life. One of the greatest ironies. Hanzo could hear Jesse pester him about such thoughts. How living a peaceful life was the best alternative they could ever get.
Yet even with his promises to move forward, Hanzo kept retreating from public life. He just didn’t have the energy or desire to make small talk with their neighbors in town. Unlike his husband, Hanzo had never sought company and quite enjoyed being a recluse. Internally Hanzo conjured the voice of Jesse chastising him for living as a hermit. The old archer just shrugged it off. Perhaps the worst part of grief was the lack of attention given to his garden. Without someone else to share it with, Hanzo gave up creating small ornamentations with its flowers. The vibrancy of their home diminished with the loss of the cowboy.
Perhaps all that he had left were the frequent visits to the meadow. The pure nature that had enthralled McCree became Hanzo’s new garden. Each spring rain brought the riot of color Hanzo linked to the gunslinger. Every year was more spectacular than the last. The lavender daisies captured Hanzo’s attention one visit. One by one he wove a flower crown just as the two of the used to. He draped it on the flowers springing up near the cliff.
Camping in the truck gradually became a constant. When the weather permitted, Hanzo spent as much time outdoors as possible. The blend of red and blue quilt graced the front seat instead of their bed.
When the dreams started, Hanzo wondered if he needed to seek professional help. Perhaps he was not grieving appropriately any longer. The dreams were innocuous. Just drifting into the memories of a time when Jesse would seek out his hand or pull him close. Hanzo enjoyed those. So he never told anyone. Dreams equated peace. Peace meant Jesse.
“What to you mean you don’t dream?” Jesse had once asked him. “Everybody dreams.”
“If I do dream, I don’t remember anything.” Hanzo groused. His partner simply encircled him with his arms and planted tender kisses to his temple. Eventually Hanzo relaxed against Jesse’s broad chest. “It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. So I’m not really missing anything.”
“I disagree, but there’s no way I can force you to dream. I can only focus on giving you plenty of things to dream about.” Jesse grinned into his hair. Hanzo snorted.
“And what do you dream about?”
“Hmm… odd things. Sometimes bits of Overwatch slip in. Other times hyperrealistic daily life where I wake up and wonder if I had actually done those things or were they really dreams. Dreaming is strange to say the least. For the most part it is interesting to wake up and only remember the most vivid details.” Jesse’s way with words had made Hanzo curious. He had no idea how to dream. It wasn’t something that could be trained as far as he knew.
When he had his first dream it was weeks after Jesse made the choice to stop fighting with treatments that barely kept the tumor under control. It might have been more of a nightmare. All Hanzo remembered on waking was the absolute devastation of not having Jesse in his life. At the time Jesse was asleep right next to him. Hanzo laid back down and curled up close to his life partner and wished for anything that could keep Jesse with him.
Dreams continued after that. Not every night that Hanzo could recall. Just often enough for him to feel disconcerted about waking and feeling more emotionally exhausted than when he had fallen asleep. He didn’t bother Jesse with retelling of these dreams either. It was just his brain comprehending the eventuality.
Hanzo had made those last few months some of the best they ever had. Jesse joined in without hesitation.When they made it for an afternoon in their wildflower meadow, Hanzo brought a large basket of random flowers, collected simply because he thought they were pretty. Jesse always laughed. “Didn’t someone else say that first?”
“When there is a hint of truth, I will not disagree.” Hanzo enjoyed having Jesse lean onto his shoulder and nap. The man woke up to a new flower crown or boutonniere each time. Occasionally both if the afternoon wore on for far longer than anticipated. Hanzo hated having to wake his husband.
Then came the day when Jesse couldn’t leave the bed, much less the house. It was all too soon and long expected. Hanzo wasn’t alone in the house either. Jesse’s closest friends had the guest rooms and took over the living room. Only the dining room and the greenhouse were spared the makeshift bedroom make over. It was the hardest days since Hanzo grieved for his own brother. Genji ultimately proved more stalwart than Hanzo’s blade and that eased some of the suffering. Jesse was not that lucky.
The hospice nurse took care of everything so Hanzo did not have to think. Jesse had taken care of everything so Hanzo did not have to think. The cowboy Hanzo had always claimed had no foresight proved more than capable of intricate planning right under the archer’s nose. It was admirable. And Jesse never once let him forget it. It lead to the most laughter the house had heard in weeks.
Then the Morning.
The morning where Hanzo’s life took its last change.
Angela picked up the roll of handling affairs because Hanzo could not think. He could only hold a rapidly cooling hand and stare in disbelief as the light faded from his beloved’s honey brown eyes. That he remembered anything from that day surprised him. All he could think about was joining his husband. Overly dramatic as it was, Hanzo’s thoughts were consumed by the idea. If not for the continued presence of Genji, Hanzo might have carried through. He just didn’t want to be without his Jesse.
The first weeks after the funeral, Hanzo had constant company despite trying to send everyone home. They did what he could not. Find ways for him to keep living. Ultimately Hanzo had to thank them for granting him space and time and incessant company. It kept him sane. Or at least not suicidal.
Now meandering through the meadows with its wildflowers in full bloom, Hanzo could thank them. A cool breeze disturbed the short lived grasses of the high desert. Winter had a hard time letting go. Hanzo could relate. Random flowers joined the dandelions from the road. They had all been a part of the couple’s retreat at some point. A variety of daisies made up the mix of bold colors. Some California poppies added to the accents. Some white specks that Hanzo could not find a name in his memories. A few purple blossoms joined in because they were there and pretty.
Hanzo’s little walk ended with him sitting against the cliffside stone, holding the bouquet in his lap. Perhaps it was the poppies, or the idea of the poppies, that had Hanzo drifting off to sleep. The walk had been more tiring than usual. Just old age catching up with him after all these years. Sleep felt appropriate. The only thing he wished for was the quilt from their bed. It would have kept him warm on this chilly spring evening.
“Hey, Hanzo.” A deep warm timbre woke Hanzo. “Sleeping already?”
“I was having an odd dream.”
“You were dreaming? Finally.” Jesse offered a hand to help him up. Gratefully Hanzo accepted.
“I’m not entirely sure. Just…” Hanzo glanced down at his hands to see the brilliantly chaotic bouquet of wildflowers. “It felt real. Like a deja vu moment.”
That comforting low chuckle. “Yeah. Those can happen. They are very strange dreams. So, who are the flowers for?”
Hanzo frowned at the bouquet, trying to remember when he had gathered the flowers together. Obviously not too long ago considering how fresh they were. “Is there someone else I would give flowers to?” He paused a moment before offering them to Jesse.
“I should hope not.” The gunslinger grinned and breathed their fragrance. “No ikebana today?”
“Not today. Too much trouble and I don’t feel inspired. Simply picking flowers has an appeal in the ease.” Hanzo took a few moments to actually study his life partner. The brown hair still without a gray hair. A neatly trimmed beard and the ever present cigar. The cowboy hat shaded his eyes, but a glint of gold flecks caught the sun. The man was just as beautiful as when they first met. “Are you missing those garden raised, elitist flowers?” He had to grin at Jesse’s affronted look.
Jesse relented. “Just a little. I miss messing with them more.”
“Of course you would. Then perhaps tonight I’ll find the inspiration to make one for you.”
“Fantastic.” Jesse smiled around his cigar. He offered one of his hands again while the other held the bouquet. “Think you’re up for a walk?”
“I think that is the best idea I’ve heard yet.” Hanzo placed his hand in Jesse’s and let them take a slow strolling pace through the meadows. It felt like an eternity since the two of them had a chance to meander at will. No obligations burdened them any longer. It was the first time Hanzo had ever felt truly light hearted. He never wanted this emotion to disappear.
***
“I found him.” Genji related across their communications. After a day of not having Hanzo respond to his texts or calls, the ninja went on a search. “Jesse’s headstone.” Genji removed his face plate and crouched beside his brother. Though the cyborg mechanization kept him far more mobile than others his age, Genji felt old. Those he knew were slowly dwindling. Now death took his older brother. Not unexpected. Just not expected.
Hanzo was not ill. Had not contemplated disappearing from the planet in years. It was strange to find him with such peaceful set to his face. To all looking on, Hanzo had sat down to rest and his spirit chose that moment to leave him. Probably one of the most peaceful deaths possible.
A car took the dirt roads carefully, the hum of an electric motor alerted his enhanced systems. That would be Angela and possibly medical services. With no foul play suspected Genji dropped next to his brother and leaned against the stone. “I am glad you had the chance for happiness, brother. I don't think I have ever seen you at peace until Jesse called your bluff all those years ago. Watching the two of you in a shootout competition was perhaps the most fantastic display of of sharpshooting ever seen.” When the vehicles pulled up Genji dropped back into silence. He wished he had had a chance to say a final farewell.
The Swedish doctor let a small gasp escape her professional presence. She wasn't here for the deceased in a medical capacity, but it was difficult for her to not immediately start triage on arrival. The emergency medical team took over, allowing Angela to tend to the grieving Shimada. “Oh, Genji,” she reached out to wipe away tear stains he could not feel. “I'm sorry you had be the first to fin him.”
Genji shuddered as a sob coursed through him. He accepted the warm embrace of his life long friend. While he had never managed to return to the closeness the brothers had when young, Hanzo did start to warm towards him after the Second Crises ended. They were the only family they had. A shared history only they understood. It became important to mend the broken bonds and for Hanzo to look past Genji’s cybernetics and near total body prosthesis. True it had been decades past since their reconciliation, Hanzo had remained distant from everyone except the American gunslinger. Jesse McCree became the bridge both needed.
Using the handkerchief to help dry his eyes, Genji allowed himself to lean into Angela’s shoulder. “He looked happy. I don't think I have seen him happy often enough.” Watching the medical personnel carry away his brother in a body bag disturbed Genji far more than sitting next to a corpse. It was so surreal watching human and Omnic trample the wildflowers and native grasses.
“They were good for each other. We have all suffered, those two… their looses nearly destroyed them. I, too, am glad they were able to find comfort and happiness.” Angela managed a chuckle, motioning to the discarded bouquet dropped from Hanzo’s grip. “Did you see the flowers he held?” Faded color scattered across the dirt. Few retained their original shape.
Yet they had been lovely in a rustic sort of way. Not typically the style expected from the city-born son of a billionaire crime boss. “Those were for Jesse. Without a doubt.” Genji grinned. “Hanzo would have been embarrassed if anyone saw that haphazard bunch.”
“I thought they were a nice gesture. The colors must have come from every corner of this field.” Angela picked up one of the wilted flowers and twirled it between her fingers. The limp purple petals drooping and scattering from the motion. “I wonder why he walked all this way.”
“To clear his head? Knowing Hanzo, he went for a walk and needed a destination. Probably didn't think about the distance. Though it might have contributed to the ultimate cause of death.”
“Perhaps.” Angela tried to hide her frown. Blue eyes misted at mentioning a loss of life. “Come, Genji. Let's go back to the house. We won't know the answers unless you wish an autopsy. Which is unnecessary.” Angela pushed herself from the dirt and touched the carved name above where they found Hanzo. Remnants of the flowers scattered at the base of the natural headstone. “I miss him. He always managed to smile no matter how dire the circumstances.” The doctor had aged far better than either man despite being a similar age. Blonde hair nearly white and drawn into a loose bun. Genji wondered if he was doomed to watch all those he loved pass away before his mechanically assisted biology failed.
Upon standing Genji replaced the carbon fiber and titanium faceplate. It clicked and isolated him from the outside world. Everything took on a green hue with statistics generated by his computers. A mobile life support system. Resting his left hand on Angela’s shoulder, Genji opened the opportunity to offer a source of strength. “Jesse was good at that. Hanzo never admitted it but I saw him laughing every time he thought no one was looking. “
Together they walked towards the car knowing they needed to get the next steps started. Memories continued to emerge they waited for their remaining friends. Genji accepted the consolations as they came in. Before long they had gathered quite a crowd, all of whom brought an untold number of flowers. They kept remarking on how Hanzo had changed their perspective or lightened their day with his flower arrangements. This surprised Genji. He had never suspected his snooty older brother capable of casual friendly conversation. Hanzo became a regular face in this small town.
A greenhouse already filled with exotic blooms collected more. Where the communal out pouring of grief at Jesse’s funeral had been in show of numbers, even before the viewing Hanzo’s mourners buried their sorrow in the brilliant rainbow of colors. Genji didn’t know what to do with all the offerings. He simply sat beside the koi pond, humbled by the outpouring of love and loss.
The public viewing held even more surprises. The room had tables lined against the walls, plus many creating rows for people to meander through. All of them were Ikebana. That was how he discovered that Hanzo used much of his idle time following the death of Jesse to teach any willing to learn the ancient art of Japanese flower arranging. The classes had only been a nominal fee or even completely free considering the circumstances, partnering with the local community college and the budding art scene. Hanzo supplied the flowers and the fee purchased the dish and spiky frog to hold up the flowers. All of these artistic creations were in tribute to a man Genji had assumed to be a hermit.
Wandering through the displays he noticed several that used unusual choices of blossoms. Flowers and branches native to the area. Genji saw much of Jesse in these bursts of new life for the ephemeral beauty nature provided. One in particular caught his eye and halted his steps. A wide shallow dish, glazed with a deep cobalt blue held bright yellow blooms he instinctively new to be dandelions. They floated and drifted idly in the weak current created by mourners walking past. A mesmerizing dance to calm Genji’s tears.
A young girl, perhaps no more than eight or nine years of age, clung to her mother’s hand as they approached the cyborg. The child tucked her head into the folds of her mother’s black skirt. Genji knew his image was not the most friendly, but he knelt, guessing at why they approached. “Did you make this one?” The electrical buzz distorted his curious tone.
Nodding into the dark fabric, the girl finally responded after some prompting from her parent. “Mr. Hanzo said I could use any flower I wanted. I like dandelions. Because they are pretty. And they make me happy. I wanted to make you happy, too.”
Though Genji could not feel the tears stream from his eyes, nor could the little girl see the smile under the metal mask, she did brighten when Genji nodded. “It is very beautiful and it has made me and everyone here very happy. Thank you.”