Chapter Text
The first time, he had thought he was hallucinating something fierce.
Agent McCree felt rocks and sand scrape against his back and arms. The armor on his chest was tight and constricting, obviously dented, and was soaked through with salty water. It took several attempts, and even more blinks, before he was able to open his eyes and hiss in pain. The wounds he suffered were minor- he hoped. But the water stung like a hellhound’s bite, while it seemed his mechanical arm was completely useless. The throbbing of each injury told him he had two open wounds, and one very large bruise in the center of his chest. Probably a few broken bones. Rolling his head, he attempted to loosen his shoulders, to no avail, and only ended up coughing up the water that had decided to enter his mouth on the way here…
Wherever here was.
“Ahh…Madre de Dios-”
The cowboy froze as he felt eyes trained on him, and something brush against his arm. Who exactly had pulled him out of the water- and how? If he remembered correct, and he reckoned he did, they had been several miles above sea and flying in the middle of oceanic nowhere, when old pal Reaper had sent him flying like a bat outta Hades right into the churning sea.
Unless someone dived out of the helicraft to get him, he should be dead. Turning his head slowly, and pushing the wet, stringy hair from his eyes, he was met with a pair of nearly black irises.
Shouting in surprise, which was accompanied by an accidental gasp of agony, Jesse tried to back away from the curious looking man that was practically sitting in his lap, nose a mere foot from his own. However, with his useless arm, and injured torso, and the slip of wet sand, the action resulted in the gunslinger flailing gracelessly onto his back, where the other found it easier to examine his face more closely.
The stranger’s hands were on either side of the waterlogged man’s shoulders. In turn, McCree was able to pick up on quite a few traits of this man as well. Enviously clear skin, very dark eyes, an almost perfectly trimmed beard that lined his jaw and under his nose. He sported extremely sharp cheeks as well, and long locks of black hair that ended just short of his shoulders. Behind the line of his wet bangs, he could see flashes of bright blue and neon pink, like he had some sorts of bright ornaments on his ears. Weird. He was soaked, just as the cowboy found himself to be. This must’ve been the fella who saved him.
The man above him wrinkled his brow, apparently decided that he had seen enough of this man’s face to satisfy his curiosity. Carefully, he backed off by pushing away with his arms. Jesse sat up, another heave of breath leaving him, and nearly fell back over at the sight of his savior.
He had a tail?!
After seven solid seconds of good, hard, staring, McCree decided that yes, indeed he did. He could lie like a dog, but there was no way his brain could make up something that pretty. It was bright blue like the strange ornaments on his ears, translucent in an unsettling way. Bones could be seen through the scaly exterior, only just tinted by the neon of the blue and pink. In the right light, you could just barely pick up on oddly shaded bits of muscle. Oh- those weren’t ornaments on his ears. Those were his ears. They matched the tail, that was swishing just a foot away from the cowboy’s legs. It was that neon pink at the part where the fins connected to the should-be leg area. Gulping, the agent pushed his vision back to the equally strange eyes. In all, he looked like he didn’t belong on the same planet as McCree or any other human, a bit too beautiful. Too ethereal.
In light of the situation, Jesse was impressed at how calm he was. A screeching mess of surprise, anxiety, superstition and mostly confusion churned in his stomach. (perhaps less surprising once he realized that was his emotional state about 60% of his life) Outwardly, he blinked twice, ran his hand down his gritty face, and then sighed once he was sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
“That aint normal.” He said simply, looking back to the translucent tail that was resting on the beach beside the man before him.
The merman scowled at him before huffing, glittering, pink gills flaring on his neck with the action. Jesse hadn’t noticed that before now.
“What a rude thing to say, human. That relies solely on perspective. To me, your silly legs are simply impractical.” He paused, looking the tall human up and down before settling on his face. “Though yours aren’t as thin as most human’s I’ve seen.” Not many. Mostly swimmers at a beach. “I suppose that makes staying upright a little easier for you. What are you called?”
“Ah- Jesse. I’m… I’m a… Jesse.” The poor man looked ready to faint. Maybe he would. It had been a long day. “Jesse McCree.” Wait- had he just called him fat? “An’ my legs are perfectly normal sized, I’ll thank ya kindly. Just got a bit more muscle.” They were also very uncomfortable in sandy, wet, jeans. But he decided to leave that part out.
“Je…sseeeee….” The mer tasted the name a few times, pronouncing it different ways until it felt proper on his forked tongue. The cowboy noticed the tips of sharp teeth then, and took a mental not to stay away from them. “Jeh- seeeee, Jesse. Jesse. What brings you to me, Jesse?”
“I- we were- it- uhhhh.. Cargo. We were protecting Cargo. I got thrown out.” Jesse rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, breathing deeply through his nostrils. “What do you call yourself, if ya don’t mind my askin’.”
The mer blinked at him, a strange blue film crossing over his eyes before the fleshy lids did over that. The gunslinger, again, thought he may just pass out.
“I am called Hanzo.” The creature said, still examining the human in front of him, as if trying to determine if he was a threat. McCree couldn’t help but think that this fella’s voice reminded him of crashing waves. Fitting, really. Very low, very rough, very menacing. Hanzo’s eyes lingered on the destroyed prosthetic and what was left of his ammunition on his belt. Not to mention the gaudy buckle that rested on his pelvis. Or at least- that’s what McCree hoped he was looking at. Was his fly down? Buckle undone? Oh no- were his chaps still on?
Glancing down, he made sure that everything was good and proper (it was, apart from excess amounts of sand in the folds of his jeans), the confused man looked back to his new companion and was interested to see that Hanzo was examining the hat he had apparently saved along with him. Speaking of… It was his least favorite black Stetson, but the material was ruined. Shame.
“What is this? A bowl? It would not hold anything, it’s made of the wrong materials.”
“Ah- that’s cuz it’s a hat, partner.” The gunslinger said slowly, holding his hand out, inviting the other to learn what to do with it. Hanzo hesitantly held it out and Jesse took it, placing it onto the mer’s head. It was crooked, but he deemed it fine since he only had one hand to work with. “See? Like that.”
Hanzo tensed up immediately, but slowly relaxed once McCree backed away. Reaching up, he touched the brim of the accessory, marveling at the strange texture of the leather, and the smooth feeling of the shining ornaments on it. The difference of textures was almost unsettling, and reminded the mer of the difference between water and coral. He tested the word on his mouth over and over, just as he had Jesse’s name before.
“What is it for?” The finned fellow finally asked, his tail swishing in curiosity. It was almost endearing. It might have been, if McCree wasn’t freaking out. Currently, he found that trying to make his communicator work would be his best move. Pulling it out of his ear, he frowned at the soggy gadget.
“Keeps the sun outta my eyes? N’ it looks nice? Uh… comfort?”
“Hmm.” Hanzo took the hat off of his head and examined it some more, before stretching up and putting it back on. It did feel nice. And it seemed to keep the sun out of his eyes, just like Jesse had said. Not to mention, the bronze ornaments on it were well polished and seemed shiny.
“What is that?” Hanzo asked, scooting to look at the communicator that McCree was laying out on the sand. The sun was still reasonably high and would get it dried out in no time- like an old ipod or something.
“It’s an earpiece communicator.” Jesse said, glancing up to make eye contact with the mer before going back to work. He started to examine his arm, to see if he could fix it at all.
“What does it do?”
“It helps me talk t’ my team when we are further apart.”
“There are more of you? Did they fall into the water as well?” He seemed rather tense about that idea. Probably because he didn’t trust humans much. Jesse must have been an exception of some sort. Lucky him.
“Oh Lord, I hope not. I don’t think Lena can swim. Plus that means the payload will be lost.”
“Base? Paaah- Pay? Lood? Loaaaad…Payload? Where? How would you lose it?” His struggle on the word payload was almost cute. “Were you attacked? Is that why you were… kicked? Kicked out? Is that why you won’t move your arm?”
The cowboy sighed and scrubbed his face stretching his legs out in front of him to ease the pins and needles that seemed to be building up in them. “I’m on a team of people who try and help people who can’t protect themselves.” He said after a moment.
“Now if I could, how did I get on this bit o’ beach in particular?”
“I brought you here.” Hanzo said curtly, not even blinking. “You were bleeding. I didn’t want the hunters to come around because you decided to drop from the sky. You almost crushed me.”
"Hmm. Sorry ‘bout that.” The sharpshooter sighed and lifted his arm above his head in a stretch, then cricked his neck from side to side, trying to loosen his muscles. It hurt like the Dickens, but he felt the need to move. He needed to do something to occupying his mind from the fact that he had been saved by, and was conversing with, a fish man. “Pardon my askin’. But how long was I out?”
“A while. The sun has gotten a bit lower since I brought you here.”
As he spoke, the redundant sound of chopper blades resounded in the near distance. McCree smiled. That would be his team. They must have tracked him somehow.
“That’ll be-“ he turned his head to tell Hanzo that he would be out of his hair. But he was gone, only a tiny splash and the absence of his hat to indicate he had ever been there.