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They say it ticks down to when you find your soul mate. Who they are; well Jesse wouldn’t like to hazard a guess, their identity seems unimportant at the moment anyway.
All he knows is some immeasurable amount of time ago he’d had half an hour on his clock, half an hour until his timer was up, he doesn’t have the digits on his wrist anymore, lost them along with the lower half of his arm but he knows the time and date down to the minute. What is meant to happen he doesn’t know, the verdict is mixed, some meet their soul mate, some touch them for the first time, for some it’s the first kiss, the moment they fall in love; everyone is different. Jesse doubts any of those things are going to happen.
His comm stopped working in the explosion that brought down the majority of the building, and he doesn’t want to think about how much rubble there is between him and safety. There’s a throbbing in the side of his head, he’s had a concussion before and he can’t remember if it was like this, like he’d thrown one of his flash bangs at his own damn face. He hasn’t moved since the collapse, he doesn’t know the damage, doesn’t know if the wall he’s pressed against is holding the entire place up.
The mission had started out so simple.
3 hours
“Jesse McCree you are a dirty cheat,” Angela laughed as she watched the emotions flicker over Reinhardt’s features. Cards sat between them on the table, Jesse’s royal flush to Reinhardt’s admirable 9’s.
“I prefer to call it skill,” Jesse argued with a laugh, pulling the seven of clubs and 3 of hearts from under his serape and laying them on the table. Hanzo was watching, propped against the wall nearest the table, and Jesse wouldn’t admit that he added a little bit of flair to the simple action. It was nothing fancy, a flick of the wrist, a flick of the eyes in his direction, and the flicker of a smile on Hanzo’s lips. He wasn’t smitten with the archer, not at all.
“I was watching,” Reinhardt argued his every word a bellow even with the confused smile, “How did you do it?”
“A magician never reveals his tricks.” McCree winked, revelling in the shock on the big man’s face, even after so many years of pulling the same old trick.
“Break is over,” Winston announced as he entered the main room at the Gibraltar base, “A new opportunity has presented itself.”
There had been a rocky start for the task force after the recall, no real leader, structure or force to speak of. That had changed in the last month, Winston having taken on the role of leader, a fact that any of the older members would vehemently ensure was understood by new recruits who questioned the existence of the talking gorilla.
“We’ve received information from Russia about the state of affairs. A soldier, Zaryanova, wishes to supply us with some intel’, may even want to join our ranks. But Russia is still on the brink of war with the omnics, we’ll need a task force just in case,” Winston explained “So, agents: Correia dos Santos, McCree, Shimada Hanzo, Song and Zeigler to prepare for immediate departure.”
“Sorry big guy, guess you get to keep your money today,” McCree laughed as he climbed from his seat.
“One day I will learn your trick,” Reinhardt insisted.
“By then I’ll have a new one,” He retorted with a tip of his hat.
“Good luck to you all!”
Now
Jesse can hear breathing; it had been muffled by the thumping in his ear drums. Deep laboured breathing, somewhere through the rubble, someone else is under here with him, someone who’s still alive.
“Hey,” McCree calls and the hacking cough that accompanies the word sticks knives into his gut.
No reply, but the breathing continues. Jesse wishes he had a torch, but all he has are the clothes on his back, even peacekeeper is lost somewhere in the wreckage and the dark. Jesse tries to think back to what had happened, to who might be in the wreckage with him, but it’s almost impossible to stay focussed on anything for too long with the pounding in his skull.
There’s a shuffle, rocks scraping against one another a few feet away. “Hey, stay still,” Jesse instructs on the off chance it’s his partner in all of this stirring.
He doesn’t expect the quiet, “McCree?”
Of any voice that it could have been- damn he would have hated any of them- but this one leaves a bitter taste at the back of his throat. Of all of the voices why him?
“Hanzo, are you okay?”
“I can’t feel my legs,” The archer states, there’s a moment’s pause and then Hanzo is laughing quietly. It’s far clearer than Jesse had anticipated; maybe they’re in this pocket of life together.
“Hey, stay with me, your legs,” Jesse demands.
“I have prosthetics,” Hanzo answers, his laugh ending slowly. Jesse has already been through the shock of waking up in the dark cave that could be his tomb, for once in his life he’s the sensible one.
“Well of all the times you could have developed a damn sense of humour, now wouldn’t have been the top of my list.”
“I think my legs are trapped under the rock,” Hanzo explains, “I require assistance removing them though.”
“I don’t think I can help you, I’m not even too sure where my own legs are,” Jesse admits.
“Is help coming?”
“Wouldn’t bet on it if I were you, comms are down, don’t even know if the other guys made it.”
“We can only hope.”
1 hour 30
Zaryanova was the biggest woman McCree had ever seen and he’d spent almost two decades of his life fighting alongside female soldiers. She met them at Volskya, one of the few remaining factories that had pumped out the giant human piloted mechs during the crisis. The war in Russia had forced their revival, she had explained as they walked through the factory grounds.
“We have had to strengthen our forces to fight against the Siberian omnics,” Zaryanova explained, “The robots cannot be trusted.”
“She’s gonna get a shock if she comes back and meets Zenyatta,” McCree whispered to Lucio, receiving a nod of understanding.
“Korea uses mechs also?” The Russian woman asked Hana, an almost comical contrast when the two stood beside one another. The Korean soldier barely half the size even with a large insulated coat covering her body.
“We have MEKA, they’re only big enough to fit one person, but yeah.”
“Do you know what caused the resurgence in Russia?” Mercy asked, her own Valkyrie suit covered in a faux fur coat. They were all dressed for the occasion, the Russian winter. Even Hanzo had covered himself for a change, white fur lined armour that looked as though it might actually protect his body unlike his usual attire.
“There have been no opportunities, we have been too busy trying to keep them at bay,” Zaryanova answered.
“If y’all don’t know what’s goin’ on why are we out here?” Jesse asked, Zaryanova rounding on him with a glare which caused him to add, “With all due respect.”
He could hear Hanzo chuckle beside him as Zaryanova answered, “We have found an old base of operations on the border. We are sending a task force and hoped for the input of some specialists. The government does not know you are here.”
Now
“Didn’t think it could feel so damn lonely with someone only a few feet away,” Jesse admits.
After a short silence Hanzo mutters, “There’s something I must ask of you.”
“I’m game for anything that doesn’t involved waiting for... something.”
“I will provide some light; you must… assist me in getting free.”
“Ya got a damn torch and y’all’ve been keeping it to yerself?”
“No, I have something else, but I will need you to trust me,” Hanzo answers.
“Hell, what’ve we got if we can’t even trust each other?”
After a moment’s pause Hanzo sighs, “I will assume that means yes.”
The blue light is faint, but even then it makes his eyes sting after nothing but black. It takes a moment for him to be able to look at it directly, to see the faint outline of Hanzo, the light twisting around his arm like a serpent, like when he releases his dragons and McCree fears for a split second that Hanzo plans on ending it all and bringing the building down on top of them.
But the light lifts, taking a form of its own. In a blink it is gone. Hanzo gasps as the light flies towards McCree’s face, the cowboy ducking to avoid whatever ethereal thing just tried to take his head clean off.
There is still a faint glow, enough that Jesse can see Hanzo, but not the source of the light. Not until two tiny blue faces peek over the brim of his hat to stare straight into his eyes.
“Uh, well howdy there?” Jesse asks hesitantly. One of them jumps, floating before him, and Jesse can see clearly now the long body of a tiny dragon. He reaches out a hand to touch it, assuming that it will disappear, or like a ghost he’ll pass straight through it, but instead the pocket sized dragon presses its face against his palm and wraps its tiny claws around his outstretched fingers. Jesse can’t feel a physical presence, he can merely feel cold wrapped against his finger.
“The assistance I asked for,” Hanzo prompts and the dragon relinquishes McCree’s hand, floating to sit in Hanzo’s lap.
“Sorry darlin’, not every day you get a tiny dragon thrown at your face.”
Hanzo scoffs and pushes himself up, “Can you help?”
It’s still dark in the cramped cavern, Jesse can just make out a dark streak on Hanzo’s arm, one running from his nose, blood matting the fur on his coat amongst the patches of dirt, and Jesse has to wonder how he must look. Hanzo fiddles with the joints at his knees, pulling away the kneecap easily. In the dim light Jesse can barely make out the scars that run over Hanzo’s legs, prosthetics crushed less than a foot from skin and bone.
“What d’ya need me to do?”
Hanzo takes a deep breath before answering, “Wrap your arms around me and pull.”
Jesse nods and with barely enough room to crouch he manoeuvres himself so that Hanzo’s back is pressed to his chest, arms around the archer’s torso. Jesse is acutely aware it’s the closest they’ve ever been, beneath the dirt he can smell fruit clinging to Hanzo’s hair, the scent of shampoo still holding even though the morning seems so long ago.
“You ready?” Jesse asks, waiting for Hanzo to reach down and undo whatever locks his legs in place. Hanzo’s only movement is a nod.
As Jesse pulls Hanzo grunts; hands gripping Jesses’ tightly. The gesture could almost be romantic, loving, if it weren’t for the situation and the scream that Hanzo emits. Jesse stops immediately and through gritted teeth Hanzo growls, “Don’t you dare stop!”
30 minutes
There were two Omnics guarding the door but between the six of them there was no trouble taking them out. The only issue was the possibility of backup arriving.
Hanzo stood watch (scaling the building and standing atop it as he often did) as the five of them headed into the tiny two storey in the middle of nowhere to search for anything that might be of use. There were no electronics in the building but there were stacks upon stacks of files, paper couldn’t be traced and there was no point in keeping terminals when every soldier had their own data banks. Instead they searched quickly; grabbing everything they could and letting Reinhardt and Zaryanova challenge each other to carry the most into the back of the truck.
McCree was acutely aware of the time, he placed several files on Mercy’s lap as she sat shotgun, the truck likely to be full with six of them and only god knows how many years’ worth of information. He could see the clock on the dash like a beacon. Mercy gave him a sweet smile, one meant to be full of encouragement. She knew, probably knew the time for everyone from the old days. He’s the last of them. Jesse could barely return the smile. It was almost an hour back to base, what were the odds they ran into someone in the frozen wastelands of northern Russia.
“Only one more load,” Reinhardt exclaimed.
“I’ll grab it,” McCree stated before anyone could offer. He couldn’t bear to look at that smile for a second longer. As he hurried past he glanced to Hanzo, the archer’s brows knitted together in confusion.
When the door blew shut behind him Jesse let out a sigh, piling the folders together not quite as quickly as he should have.
They could still find each other, it could still happen. Who knew, maybe Jesse’s soulmate was the kind of person to jump out of a snow storm in the middle of a Russian winter. That sounded about right, he needed an idiot with no sense of self-preservation if they were going to get along let alone be soul mates. There was still hope.
As he lifted the files his comm beeped; typical. Shifting the files he fumbled with his belt, grabbing the comm and trying to press the right button to answer the call. Stupid tech, it was 2076 why couldn’t he just shout at the damn thing?
The door slamming open made him start, some of the files in his one arm toppling to the ground. He didn’t have time to turn before he was pushed to the ground. Before he hit the floor his hand went to peacekeeper but there was nothing he could do, everything went black as his head hit the edge of the desk.
The explosion sounded far away but he knew from the pain in his left arm, from the silence that consumed him, he was wrong.
So much for hope.
Now
Hanzo lets out a final scream as they tumble backwards, breath heavy and trembling. Dust falls from their makeshift roof and the coughing it causes does nothing to help their breathing. Several minutes pass before Jesse shifts and tries to take his hands away but is held in place by Hanzo’s shaking grip.
“It had to be done,” Hanzo states, but with none of the authority his voice usually carries.
“You went for the more permanent fixtures?” Jesse asks, he doesn’t expect an answer but now that Hanzo has spoken he can’t bear the silence any longer.
One of Hanzo’s hands leaves him for a moment before he asks, “Jesse?”
“You know I think that’s the first time you’ve used my name.”
Hanzo is silent, his head hanging low as he sighs. There is blood on the floor, shards of metal amongst it. “What if we die in here?”
“Hey,” Jesse scolds, “Don’t go saying things like that, we ain’t dying yet.”
“It seems fitting that now is when I would die. Alone with only-…” Hanzo’s head flies up almost hitting Jesse square in the chin. The grip on his wrists loosens but Jesse has been in the position so long that he’s not sure he can let go of the archer, not sure if he can sit back in the corner alone. He doesn’t want to think that they’re going to die here, doesn’t want to imagine what state everyone else is in, but if that’s their fate he doesn’t want to let go yet.
A dragon crawls forward, unaffected by the blood and the dirt it continues to shine as it wraps its long body around Hanzo’s wrist. It rests its head in its master’s lap alongside its twin.
“You doing alright?” Jesse asks but Hanzo cuts him short.
“Do you have a soulmate?”
Jesse is stunned into silence for a moment, a rare occurrence. “That’s a mighty loaded question to be asking of a man when we’re holed up together in a pile of rubble.”
Jesse is forced to release Hanzo when he pulls away, turning awkwardly, pain visible in his grimace. “Please answer the question.”
“Lost my counter along with my arm,” Jesse explains, omitting the important detail that he knew he should have been meeting his soul mate right about then. “You?”
Even in the dim light Jesse doesn’t miss the flick of Hanzo’s eyes, the way they settle on his own wrist, the one currently wrapped in tattoo and ethereal dragon.
There’s half a second before Jesse realises the significance of the question, of the look. His breath catches in his throat as their eyes meet, it’s like a game of chicken, a car crash waiting to happen but neither of them looks away.
Hanzo breaks the silence, “What does it mean though, why now? We already know one another, we must have touched before.”
“My Ma always said it works in mysterious ways, can be a kiss, or the moment you fall in love, it can count down to anything.”
“I’m sorry Jesse; I don’t know when your timer ends, but I came to the understanding long ago that I did not deserve a soulmate.” Hanzo’s wrist is cradled in his lap beside the dragons, the numbers almost invisible against the blue ink. He sighs, “5 seconds.”
“What?!”
“3 seconds.”
Jesse pushes forward noses bumping in his haste. As their lips meet Hanzo is frozen beneath the hands that cup his cheeks. Slowly he wraps his arms around Jesse’s neck, pulling him as close as their bodies will allow, lips parting as Hanzo deepens the kiss. There’s a flutter in Jesse’s stomach, the only sound their breaths as they try to push closer.
When Hanzo pulls away it is sharp and sudden, arms letting go and eyes opening wide as if he hadn’t realised what had been occurring.
“Shit, sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” Jesse murmurs.
“Do not apologise, I reciprocated. Why..?” Hanzo asks, eyes trailing to the ground.
“Why’d I do it? Dunno, it just seemed like what I should have done.”
“You meant it?”
“’Course I did, with all my heart,” Jesse admits, smile widening as Hanzo raises his gaze, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“You should have told me you felt that way.”
“Guess we’re both guilty men in that respect,” Jesse laughs.
“I don’t deserve a man like you,” Hanzo sighs.
A hand gently cups Hanzo’s cheek as Jesse smiles. “I could say the same, suppose that means we deserve each other. When we get out of here I’ll try my damnedest to prove it.”
“I’d like that.” And damn, Jesse would do just about anything to see Hanzo smile like that again, his edges soft, eyes crinkled and void of his usual cynicism.
The rock above creaks and in an instant McCree has pulled Hanzo closer, receiving the opposite of the protest he was expecting as Hanzo holds him in return. Hell it would be just his luck that he dies the minute he finds his soulmate.
Though muffled a voice calls through the rubble, “Jesse?!”