Work Text:
Zenyatta knows he’s staring. Despite Cole having been a changed gang member, ex-Blackwatch agent, and a trained bounty hunter, Zenyatta can still tell when those brown eyes gaze upon him. Cole might be subtle, keeping his stetson down to cover his eyes, but the monk knows better.
Luckily, Cole also knows better when to admit he’s been caught. Instead of wasting any more time, he catches the monk — and Genji, since those two are always together nowadays — in the hall after another Recall meeting. He offers his hand, “Hey Zen, can I talk to ya for a sec?”
Zenyatta stares at Cole, down at his gloved hand, then back up. “Of course, but for what occasion?”
Genji tilts his head in a way Cole knows he’s raising a brow. Confused, curious? The visor makes it more difficult to tell these days.
The cowboy awkwardly withdraws his hand upon realizing Zenyatta doesn’t do handshakes. “Just… got a few questions is all. It won’t be long.”
“Off to steal my master?” Genji jests oh-so easily that Cole has to hold his composure. Unfortunately, every fresh reminder the cyborg isn’t who he used to be still throws him through a loop.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin,’” he says instead with a practiced smile. “‘Sides, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that monk schtick. Achin’ western bones ain’t made for criss-crossed meditation.”
Genji shrugs, a smile to his words, “Suit yourself.”
That’s how Cole and Zenyatta find themselves on the Gibraltar hill facing the sea. Calm, peaceful, an environment the two can find common ground in without thinking about the differences of their backgrounds. A cowboy and a monk, both seemingly blending in with the calm scenery.
Zenyatta is kind enough to start, “What troubles you?”
Cole huffs to himself, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed he brought him here just to ask some personal questions. He wasn’t made to be vulnerable, let alone be vulnerable to a distant acquaintance. But curiosity is one helluva thing, Cole just can’t quit it nowadays. “It’s about Genji.”
“Ah, I see,” Zenyatta replies, thoughtful.
“Yeah, um,” Cole idly kicks the ground, wishing he brought more cigars; he smoked his last one earlier. “How’d you do it?”
The monk peers at him in an airy silence.
“I mean,” Cole scratches the back of his neck before dropping his hand down, “How’d you help him?”
Zenyatta lets the silence carry on just a bit more, almost in a cruel manner. He finally replies, tone still gentle, “That’s a very vague question.”
The cowboy cracks into a chuckle, nervously shaking his head, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just curious ‘cause… the last time I knew him, Genji was a troubled lil’ thing back in Blackwatch. How’d you uh, how’d you help him become… whole with himself?”
Zenyatta hums, “It took a lot of patience, but also a willingness to change on his part.”
“…I see.” Cole can’t help the frown that escapes onto his expression. He looks away, taking a breath before putting on a small smile again, “Must’ve took a lot of work.”
“Of course.”
“Couldn’t have been easy.”
“Why would it have been otherwise?”
“Right.”
They fall into silence. Gentle crashes of the waves below accompany them. Scolding seagulls wisps nearby. Zenyatta breaks the peace.
“You are jealous.”
Cole snaps his head to him, “…now what makes you say that?”
The monk only hums again, sound teetering upon amusement. “The real question is why are you jealous, and of who?”
The cowboy curls his fingers into a fist, unhappy for having been caught. Now he really wants a cigar in hand and the rudeness to walk away, but Amari taught him better manners.
Still, he can’t help but be a little snarky, “You already know the answer, don’t you.”
“Do I?” Zenyatta asks in feigned innocence.
Now Cole can see why the monk and Genji get along so well, sharing the same sly humour.
“Alright, fine, maybe I am a little envious of you.” He sighs, “I spent years with Genji trying to help him out, nothing seemed to work. And then he runs off one day without a word, no note, nada. I don’t see him for the next couple of years — then all of a sudden, he comes back with you as a whole different person.”
“And that upsets you?”
He shakes his head, “No, nah of course not. The problem ain’t that he’s doin’ better now or that you helped him, I’m happy for y’all, really. It’s just… I can’t help but feel like…”
Zenyatta waits for him to find his words, allows him to look at the sea, down at his boots, off to the side. Cole takes another breath, taking his time in the patience the monk exudes.
“Can’t help but think he’s better off without me.”
They let the words linger in the air. Rise and fall with the waves. Cole half expects Zenyatta to go on a spiel about self-worth or denial. Acceptance or rejection. About how jealousy is a foolish thing to feel when it only leads to resentment and self-hatred. He half expects Zenyatta to leave. Half expects him to let them stand in silence for the rest of their conversation. Instead, the monk tilts his head back in a sort of realization.
“You’re Genji’s Jesse McCree.”
Cole feels his heart beat uncomfortably faster. The way Zenyatta structured that sentence, the old name, the fact he always knows, knows, knows.
He stands up taller. Clears his throat. “Was.”
“…was Genji’s? Or was McCree?”
Cole immediately coughs into his fist. If Zenyatta was capable of showing human expressions, Cole imagines a chaffed one is worn at his expense. “I don’t go by that name anymore.”
“So I’ve seen.”
The implications of how Zenyatta knows the old American name makes the tips of his ears warm.
“Genji spoke of you often,” the monk supplies. “Albeit, it was rather crude whenever I encouraged him to speak of his past. But as he progressed over the years, he spoke of you fondly.”
Cole calms his surprise, “Yeah?”
“For him, memories began as a way to vent, to explain why things were the way they were during a time he felt lost. He spoke of his quarrels with you to prove Blackwatch was a… place of lost souls, where ‘nobodies did the dirty work for cowards,’ as he put it.”
He frowns a little, “Sounds like him.”
“But then as he learned to look back on old wounds, self-reflect and see them in a different light, he began speaking of you as a way to prove there was good in that dark place.” Zenyatta slowly descends to the ground until his criss-crossed legs are fully seated. He softly pats the grass, beckoning Cole to join him.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the cowboy comments quietly, sitting down beside him.
Zenyatta looks up towards the sky, remembering. “Damned indeed. He said, ‘Jesse was a man of honesty. Someone I — deep down — respected.’ When I asked him why, he was quiet for a long time and I assumed the session was over. But later that night, he knocked on my door and answered, ‘He was the only one who saw me for who I was. Not a pathetic patient, a weapon, or a failed son. He never gave me pity... I hated him for that. Why waste so much breath on a machine? I couldn’t understand him.’”
“…he really said that?”
“Us omnics have near perfect memory,” Zenyatta taps the side of his metal head. “What I recite is what my storage drive has recorded.”
“What else did he say?”
The monk chimes gently, pleased by Cole’s growing interest. “As his anger subsided and transformed into acceptance and healing, he began to laugh when reminiscing. He told me stories of how you played pranks on your commander, how you flirted with just about anyone, and you also had a terrible Italian accent. Now that is something I wish to hear.”
An anxious chuckle, “I was banned from using it for a reason. I’ll spare you the embarrassment."
Zenyatta hums, then his shoulders subtly sag, as if frowning. “Soon after, Genji began reliving those memories with a solemn look. He’d say, ‘Jesse always made small talk on missions to lift the mood, or to keep me out of my thoughts. He was always able to tell when I was spiraling.’” The monk turns over to Cole, “‘He told the best jokes, was the most righteous of them all. And he was the only agent to ever thank Angela after she saved us many times… I took him for granted.’” He tilts his head in a peculiar manner, almost as if trying to figure something out himself as he recites Genji’s words. “‘I miss him.’”
Cole avoids his gaze, processing. He swallows, feeling a sense of guilt, “Are you sure he said that?”
Zenyatta only taps the side of his head.
The conversation lulls into silence, with the cowboy looking down at his hands. The brim of his hat covers his eyes. Zenyatta returns his attention to the sea, letting it all soak in as the waves crash against the rocks down below.
He ponders aloud, “I am not familiar with love, nor do I understand it.”
Cole whips his head at the monk, “Genji and I— we’re not anything like that. We’re just—” he takes a breath, “colleagues.”
Zenyatta slowly turns to him, letting the ridiculous pause linger in the air. “…What I do understand is longing. And emotions created by longing can lead to frustration and even resentment.”
The cowboy furrows his brows. He almost retreats back when Zenyatta reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, but he stills himself, lets him touch. Zenyatta’s hand is surprisingly warm.
“Life yearns for companionship, no matter the relation between individuals. Without company, loneliness devours you whole.” A sudden butterfly flutters by, catching their attention for a moment. The monk brings his hand towards the sky, lifting a finger as the insect decides to land on it. He admires its bright and yellow color, then turns to Cole. “After all these years, you two should converse and be honest about your feelings. I see that the more you keep avoiding him from a fearful assumption, the more you two will suffer.”
Cole softly scoffs, “Who said I was avoidin’ him.”
“You’re more obvious than you think.”
The cowboy smiles, feeling a little foolish. The butterfly’s bright wings flutter again, catching his attention. His eyes follow its movement as it lifts from Zenyatta’s finger and flies across the sky — until it passes by Genji walking towards them.
He immediately gets up onto his feet, frantically brushing his pants clean. “Genji, uhm,” his eyes dart to and fro, not knowing where to look. He decides to awkwardly tilt his hat, mentally cursing himself to get it together, “Howdy.”
Genji repeats the motion in kind with an invisible hat on his helmet. Cole can’t help but smile at that, a sense of fondness as always.
Zenyatta rises to his floating stance, patting Cole’s shoulder once, “I’ll be meditating in my room — alone.” Before either of them could ask or retort, the monk smoothly descends down the hill, leaving the two behind.
Once Zenyatta’s far away enough from view, Genji turns back to Cole, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Good talk, I assume?”
The cowboy looks down at his boots with a small smile, “Kinda turned into a therapy session.”
“Eh, he wouldn’t call it therapy. More like ‘enlightenment,’” Genji mimics the monk’s tone so well, it cracks a laugh out of the other.
Then the conversation lulls. They don’t know who should speak next.
Cole idly scratches his beard, “What uhm, brings you here, Genji?”
The cyborg shrugs, “I was supposed to meditate with Master at our usual time, but it seems he wants to be alone.”
Talk about convenient timing, Cole comments to himself. He mulls over the monk’s advice in his mind, and decides to confront this now rather than later.
“Hey Gen—”
“Cole I—”
They stare at each other.
“Sorry you can—”
“Nah, you go f—”
A pause. They quietly laugh.
“I’m sorry,” they both say in unison. They share a look of shock, Cole’s brows raise and Genji tilts his head in surprise.
“…You’re sorry?” the latter asks, clearly confused.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I’ve been… avoidin’ you.” Cole plays with his beard again to give his anxious hand something to do. “I know I keep findin’ excuses every time you wanna talk to me. And it’s not ‘cause of somethin' you did… I just thought you didn’t want me around anymore.”
Genji shifts his weight, bringing a hand to his chin. His mannerisms show he’s thinking deep and hard; he still ends up confused. “Why would I not want you around if I kept seeking you out?”
Cole opens his mouth only to come up short; now he definitely feels foolish. With a sigh, his shoulders sag defeatedly, “You just look happier without me…”
A scoff of disbelief, “Cole, I thought you were the one happier without me.”
He blinks, “What?”
“You’re justified for avoiding me.”
Now he’s confused, “Fat chance.”
“It’s true.” Genji straightens his stance, standing firm. “I was rude to you in Blackwatch. You always showed me kindness, and I gave back my anger and suffering to you instead. I’d understand why you’d never want to see me again.”
“Honey, you were troubled back then, I— sure I got angry at you, but I never held a grudge,” Cole reaches out and grabs onto Genji’s shoulder. “I knew what it was like being in your shoes… well, kind of. And hey, I threw some punches at you, too.”
“I did far worse and you know it,” Genji crosses his arms, refusing to look the cowboy in the eye from shame. “I abandoned you.”
“Everyone did,” Cole says like he’s accepted it as truth. “It was Blackwatch, it was bound to happen.”
“That doesn’t excuse the fact it was wrong,” the cyborg almost snaps but levels his tone, softens it. “The same way my past doesn't excuse the way I treated you. So I’m sorry… I hope you can forgive me.”
Cole squeezes his shoulder, “Darlin,’ I forgave you a long time ago. I mean, how can I hate you when I… I’ve missed you so much.”
Genji’s visor finally meets Cole’s gaze. If the latter stared hard enough, he could almost see the cyborg’s eyes beneath all that green haze. They’re not red anymore it seems, all gleaming brown instead. He missed those eyes.
Suddenly, Cole finds himself wrapped in a tight hug, arms reaching and pulling him close. His heart begins to race, his ears warm up, his own hands strengthen their hold around Genji without even thinking twice.
“I’ve missed you, too," Genji says with relief.
Cole's heart leaps into his throat, tugging him close. Asking him to stay. To never let go. The built up anxiety over the years slowly dissipates as he takes in human warmth for the first time, listening to the waves sing and the seagulls cry in the distance. This feels right. This finally feels like home.
He buries his face into the crook of Genji’s neck, takes in his scent of metal and freshly washed clothes. Genji finds solace in that familiar smell of gunpowder and smoke, hands clinging to Cole's serape so strong enough, it might even tear. But he’s careful this time, promises he will be. Instead of throwing punches and snide insults like how he used to in Blackwatch, this time they’ll do things right.
A sudden realization dawns on Cole, and he can’t help the laugh rattling out of his chest. “Honey, are you… standin’ on your toes?”
Immediately, he’s lightly pushed away as his laughter only barks louder. Genji crosses his arms and throws his head back as if rolling his eyes, “Ugh, some things never change, like your snarkiness.”
“And your height,” Cole puts his palm on top of Genji’s helmet. His hand is immediately whacked away with a groan.
From a distance, Zenyatta watches them chuckle, banter, start conversations about old tales and what Recall’s future has in store for them. He hums thoughtfully to himself, pleased.
He knows he’s staring, knows the trained gunslinger can see him in the corner of his eye from meters away, yet he doesn’t hide. He wonders if the cowboy will find him invasive for observing, but Cole’s grateful smile and slight nod to him from afar tells him otherwise.