Chapter Text
The vast cold of the Khingan Mountains stretched out beyond the window, the endless snow swallowing the horizon. Inside the newly established Overwatch reconnaissance base, the air was thick with the intensity of change. Soldier: 76, also Jack Morrison—ex-military, leader of countless operations—had known war in every form, in every corner of the globe. But this? This was something new, something bigger than any battle he’d fought before. The new Overwatch. He’d taken the call, the promise of redemption, but so many faces in this room were unfamiliar. Their roles were still unclear. Allies, enemies, or something in between?
One face that stood out in the crowd of recruits was Hanzo Shimada. Cold. Calculating. Silent.
Jack had watched him from the moment he stepped into the base, eyes narrowing on the man who carried the weight of a broken family. The rumors that had preceded him—about his past as a mafia boss, about his brother, Genji, and the violent death that still haunted him—echoed in Jack’s mind. The guilt was clear. Hanzo wore it like a second skin.
Would this guy even last here? Jack often wondered. He was used to discipline, to order—things Hanzo didn’t seem to respect. They had little in common, and that was just fine with Jack. The less to be said, the better. He’d seen enough to know people like Hanzo didn’t last in the long run. It was just a matter of time.
The first mission they were paired on was a simple surveillance task. No combat. No heavy lifting. Just watch. Observe. Easy.
They didn’t speak to each other much, each absorbed in their own thoughts, keeping their distance. Jack’s eyes often flicked over to Hanzo, the only real distraction in a dull operation. There was something about the way Hanzo moved, the quiet intensity with which he observed their surroundings. He was calm, methodical—a trait Jack both admired and feared. That kind of cold focus could be a dangerous thing.
They spent only a few days to accomplish the surveillance mission. No untoward incident had occurred – a decent sign, but not one that raised Jack’s hopes.
Back at base, the other recruits were starting to notice the strained silence between them.
Tracer, always cheerful but with a sharp eye, nudged Winston, the ever-curious scientist, with a knowing grin.
“Oi, what do you think about those two?” she said quietly, jerking her thumb toward the far corner of the room, where Jack and Hanzo were both hunched over their reports, not speaking a word to each other.
Winston, with his perpetually neutral face, adjusted his glasses and shrugged.
“I think they both have some... unresolved issues. But I’ve also noticed that neither one of them has actually thrown a punch at the other, so that’s progress.”
Cassidy, sat with a glass of whiskey in a corner, muttered from where he sat, his voice low and cold. “Give it time.”
Jack’s super soldier hearing picked up the conversation but had no interest in the speculation. He felt the weight of their silent judgment every time he and Hanzo passed each other in the hall. The new recruits seemed to think there was something more—some kind of rivalry between him and Hanzo. Hate was the word they used. It was never hate. At least, not for Jack.
But Hanzo... Hanzo didn’t make it easy.
Months passed, and Jack found himself spending more time with Hanzo than he’d ever intended. Each mission they were assigned to, each task they carried out together, only added more layers to the unspoken bond between them. They still didn’t speak much—Jack wasn’t one to chatter, and Hanzo’s stoic silence was almost unnerving—but there were subtle shifts in their relationship.
Jack noticed the way Hanzo took charge when needed, directing operations with a precision that matched his own. The way Hanzo’s instincts saved them on a particularly dangerous mission in a remote village—his uncanny ability to sense danger long before anyone else did—had earned Jack’s quiet respect.
For his part, Hanzo had slowly come to appreciate Jack’s steady leadership and unwavering focus. Hanzo, who had led a life of chaos and violence, found solace in Jack’s grounded nature, the calm that radiated from him in the heat of battle. It was easy to underestimate Jack at first, but after seeing him execute mission after mission with calm precision, Hanzo couldn’t help but admire the man’s resolve.
One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, Hanzo found himself nursing a bruised rib near the far end of the base where things were quiet enough to allow one to think. Jack approached him, quiet and steady, like he always did when Hanzo was hurt. Hanzo knew Jack was watching him—he could feel his gaze, but he didn’t look up. He was used to being judged, used to being a monster in the eyes of others. But Jack wasn’t like the others. Not quite.
Jack broke the silence, sitting next to Hanzo with a first aid kit in his hand. “You should let me check that wound.”
“I can handle it,” Hanzo replied gruffly, not meeting his eyes.
“I know you can. But you don’t have to,” Jack insisted with a hint of softness that Hanzo had not seen before. It was… unsettling wasn’t the right word, but soothing wasn’t it either.
There was a long pause, and then Hanzo finally met Jack’s eyes, something unspoken passing between them. Hanzo wasn’t used to receiving care—not like this. But something in Jack’s voice, the genuine concern, made him pause. He didn’t need to say it aloud, but for the first time, Hanzo felt like Jack saw him for more than just the sum of his past mistakes.
Jack’s light and gentle touch on Hanzo’s side had no bearing on the fact that he couldn’t sleep that night. None at all.
Weeks went by, and their bond grew stronger, though still unspoken. Jack would never admit it, but he found himself looking out for Hanzo more than he had intended.
On their next mission in a foreign city near the borders of Russia and China, it was Hanzo who saved him. He’d taken a risk, sacrificing himself for Jack, a selfless act that the latter never would have predicted. The bullet wound Hanzo sustained wasn’t life-threatening, but it left him weak and vulnerable.
“You’re not invincible, you know,” Jack said once the firefight had died down and everything and everyone had been accounted for. His tone was low and serious, but it held the same gentleness from the time that he first offered to help fix Hanzo up.
Hanzo gave a weak smile, his eyes still sharp despite the pain. Lines of pain were etched around those eyes. “Neither are you, Morrison.”
The way Hanzo said his name—without mockery, without the walls that usually separated them—was a quiet admission. Something had changed. Hanzo had come to trust him, to trust Jack’s leadership, and Jack had done the same in return. The unspoken barrier that had kept them at arm’s length began to dissolve, replaced by a shared understanding that neither had asked for, but both had earned.
Back at base, the other recruits still noticed the tension, though it was shifting now. It wasn’t the dislike they’d assumed. They’d seen the way Jack and Hanzo had each saved the other’s life in battle, how Hanzo had come to rely on Jack’s steady hand in tense moments, and how Jack had, in turn, learned to trust Hanzo’s instincts in ways he never thought possible.
One day, Lena couldn’t help but ask, with that mischievous smile of hers, “So... when’s the wedding?”
Jack, ever the stoic, just shot her a look, though a small, almost unnoticeable smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Hanzo merely raised an eyebrow, his silence answering the question better than words ever could.
The team would never know exactly what had passed between them—what hadn’t been said—but Jack and Hanzo did. And that was enough.
But, just as Hanzo feared, nothing good that happened to him would last. Their quiet partnership was one of them.