cage - vacantgodling - Overwatch (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: redemption

Chapter Text

Sometime closer to dusk when the number of airplanes he could make out crossing the horizon was fewer and fewer, and the lights of Gibraltar’s closest neighboring city La Linea began to kiss the night with her bright lights, Lena came to find him.

Cassidy knew something was wrong by her approach; he barely knew it was her until she was standing right beside him.He always had trouble placing Lena’s footsteps; it was like listening to a dance. Usually he’d hear a step or two, then a smell of electricity indicating a blink forward, then a few more steps after that. He likened it to a horse making jumps and Lena giggled profusely the first time he mentioned it, making it a point to neigh at him whenever she went past—an inside joke between old friends. But hearing each muted step against the cold steel of the walkway he’d perched himself up on for the evening startled him out of his distracted haze, and a frown parked itself on his face before he could look up.

“Cole,” She said softly, and he turned his head, regarding her. She wasn’t wringing her hands, but she may as well have been; they fidgeted at her sides, and her attempts to look unperturbed were valiant. What got her shaken up? Or was it just nerves about how he’d take whatever news she had to bring? Whatever the case, she cleared her throat lightly, then continued.

“I’m not sure you were looking at your comm. But, we’re having a meeting now.” Cassidy shuffled around in his pocket for the communicator, that now that she mentioned it he did feel buzzing a few minutes ago, or was it hours? He always lost track of time up here.

“Shoot, I didn’t mean to keep y’all waiting.” He stood and the communicator tumbled from his pocket and down into the abyss of the inky black night below. With zero hesitation, Lena scrambled over the railing of the walkway and jumped, catching the comm before it hit the ground and rewinding herself in time back to standing next to him. She wiggled the communicator in her hand with a small smile.

“Wouldn’t want to lose that, would you?”

“Lena, you damn near gave me a heart attack!” Cassidy chuckled despite the fear that rabbited his heart. That was something he had to get used to about being back here; people taking unnecessary risks for the sake of being a helping hand. He shook his head and pocketed the comm, resigning himself to his fate of being the only person with common sense around—perhaps the only one plus Angela. He could see how the light in the good doctor’s eyes had dimmed as of late, not the fault of anyone’s own, but due to the world around them, and the jade of age. Cassidy felt the same when he looked into the mirror and stared at his own demons after every restless night where sleep eluded him.

This morning, even, was no different. He didn’t remember falling asleep the night before, but he didn’t try. Remembering anything at all these days didn’t do anything but dredge up all the old demons that he drank to forget. He couldn’t even say he got a restful sleep, however, it was something, and certainly better than nothing at all. He sat up when the rapping he thought was just in his dream continued and bled into his slowly rising consciousness, and he ran a hand down his face, scratching idly at his bed-beard.

“Jee-sus I’m comin’! Give a man time to open his eyes!” He yelled at the door. The rapping thankfully stopped, but he could almost feel the person’s judgment seeping through the door by the time he managed to find a shirt and amble over to it.

“What, you tha wake up patrol?” He deadpanned, staring into the unnervingly awake face of Fareeha Amari. She gave him a smile, a knowing one that was all too similar to her mother’s for Cassidy’s sleep deprived brain for his liking. She promptly informed him that breakfast would be over in an hour, and he better get a move on if he wanted any of Reinhardt’s sausages. He’d joked with her lightly for a few more moments, before finally shutting the door behind her and letting out a sigh of relief to be alone in darkness once more.

In the present, he just smiled. Lena probably knew it was a bit forced.

“Lead on then, time cadet.” Lena giggled at his joke, but still didn’t blink as they made their way towards the conference room, and that worried him most of all.

A long wave of silence crashed over the meeting room once Winston finished his speech. The second Cassidy stepped in, it felt too close like one foot in the tomb everyone was so damn silent and no one was making eye contact. Said speech was a lot of words, and a lot of guff, but sufficient to say, what he was saying was—

“You mean to tell me,” Cassidy ground out first, his voice like daggers. “That you’re bringing a f*cking kinslayer into our midst. And we’re just supposed ta what? Accept that?” The thunderclap of his accusation jolted the room, the tension palpable. For nothing better to say, Winston only coughed and adjusted his glasses, setting them back on his wide nose.

Surprising everyone—especially Cassidy—Genji was the one who answered. His voice was even, if strained, a hiss of synthetics on metal and the whole damn reason Cassidy was near shaking out of his skin with barely contained—if contained at all—rage. “I asked Hanzo to come. He—“

“You asked him?!” Cassidy leapt out of his seat, a full on growl on his lips and his expression twisted up into a sneer. “After what that sunuvabitch did to you?! You invited him to come here like it’s a f*cking tea party for Chrissake?!”

“He is seeking redemption.” Genji said tersely. His hands clenched and unclenched on the table. Cassidy had no doubts that if the ninja was holding anything, he would’ve snapped it in half. “What better place than here?”

“Oh redemption.” Cassidy crooned mockingly. “He can have his little mosey with redemption so long as it ain’t within fifty f*cking miles of ya! Who’s ta say he won’t finish the damn job?”

It spoke volumes that no one in the room told Cassidy to calm down, or to stop. Not a single person in the room said a damn word. If Genji tried to catch anyone’s eyes for support, for backup, they all turned their gazes away; downcast to the table or out of the windows. Even Winston didn’t really meet Genji’s face plate; but for the sake of his position, the gorilla took in a breath and tried. “Cassidy—“

“Don’t ya damn well tell me ta calm down Winston, ya know we’re all thinking it!” He felt like he was spitting coals down on an open fire and Genji was dancing on them. He hopped to his next foot, his next point.

“So you mean to tell me, that if Reyes showed up here today,” Genji’s synth was crawling with venom and agitation, and something violent seized in Cassidy’s chest so much that he wouldn’t be surprised if he had a stroke. “Asking to redeem himself that you yourself would push him away?”

“I’d shoot that sun’bitch myself.” Cassidy heaved, ragged, animalistic. “‘Cuz I ain’t that f*cking deluded to put none of y’all in danger.”

“If you are so concerned about danger.” Genji spit. “Then the only one here who is in any sort of danger is me.”

“And why tha hell should we let ya—“

“I accept that danger willingly.” Genji’s synth finally grated on its edges; not dissimilar to how it used to whenever Cole got on his nerves back in Blackwatch, and hell, them spitting fire at one another like this was not an unusual sight back then. But Cassidy hadn’t yelled at Genji like this since the time the man almost got himself blown up on account of his own bitter, misguided pride—no, death wish, to go out in a blaze of unwarranted glory. Cassidy had grabbed Genji by his wires that day and shook him senseless, hollering at him until his voice went hoarse and he was near purple in the face.

They never argued again after that.

At least, not until now. And Cassidy swore himself then that he would never go back to how things were, yet it’d only been a month and he was shouting down his closest friend like he was a child with no sense. Hard to convince himself that he wasn’t.

“Well I’ll be tha first one ta tell ya, that one false move and I’m shootin’ the f*cker.”

“Maybe that is why I have decided to bring him here.” Genji hissed. “So that if you are truly correct and he does still want me dead that I will not have to face him alone.”

More silence shuddered through the room, a whistling, eerie silence like wind in barren trees. Cassidy looked towards Angela, and her jaw was hard set and looking out towards the door. There was no way Genji got this cleared with her, he knew it. Maybe that was the source of the dark look in her eyes for the past few days. It was like Genji was taking all the sun and shine and joy they had begun to bring back to this old ruin and shut it out with rain.

Seeming to have nothing else to say, Genji left for the door. He didn’t bother to close it behind it, just left it hanging and forlorn. If Cassidy looked closer at the knob, he saw how tightly Genji had gripped it, so much so that the metal was bent.

None of them bothered to go after him.

Fareeha finally spoke up.

“I still think this is a rash decision.” Her voice was authoritative, and fierce; the wisdom of her mother shining in her eyes just like it had the morning before, like it had since he first saw her when he came to find her after the recall. “We cannot be sure where his loyalties lie. We’re a small enough team as it is; one traitor could break us.”

“I told Genji that this is a trial run.” Winston reluctantly said. Cassidy was still standing, itching for a smoke, a beer, to punch a good hole in the wall, hell, something. Anything to take the edge off of the coals of white hot anger burning underneath his skin. “You’re right Fareeha. We are a small team. We need all the help that we can get. We could be picky.” Winston paused for affect—or to collect himself. Cassidy couldn’t tell. “But if we don’t take a chance—“

“A chance!” Cole barked, a startled, disbelieving laugh.

“Cassidy.” Lena chided, gently. “Winston’s spent a lot of time thinking about this. Who knows?” She said softly. “Maybe he’ll be different than we thought…?”

“You don’t sound too sure o’ that neither.” But he did quiet down. He didn’t sit though. Winston went on to explain that Hanzo Shimada, Genji’s f*cking murderer, would be arriving on base within the next 48 hours. He was currently en route; refusing to disclose how he would be making it to Gibraltar, just that he would. And that alone already set alarm sirens wailing in Cole’s mind but he bit down on his cigar so hard he broke the filter just to keep from making more of a scene. Winston told them all to be respectful. Not friendly; but respectful as you would be with a coworker since Hanzo was. Would be. Then, he dismissed them.

No one tried to follow after him when he stormed off. No one tried to reason with him. They knew that since the bull was riled up they’d have to give him time to cool. He’d cool off. He ain’t never been good at being professional so he reasoned with himself he would just avoid the elder Shimada—at least until he caught the bastard slipping. Then he’d off him, and f*ck whatever Genji had to say about it.

He swore it on the rosary beads he kept stashed in the back of his nightstand. He wasn’t religious (never was and couldn’t be after all the hellfire and brimstone he’d been through), but they were all he had left of his mama and he swore on them when just a promise wasn’t strong enough.

He wasn’t going to lose anyone else to something he could prevent.

Never again.

Chapter 2: kinslayer

Chapter Text

After the disaster of the previous meeting, which ended in everyone storming or abruptly seeing themselves out—everyone was on edge. The ever-present chatter that accompanied the day to day activities and maintenance to the Watchpoint was taken out back, so to speak, and Cole was mourning it like he mourned his first puppy who passed away suddenly after a hit and run. He’d cried and cried about it, near inconsolable for weeks until his mama told him: When good things die, something better comes to replace them. They bought him a bigger dog a few months later, and little Cole took those words to heart.

And so far in his life now that he was older—not really wiser but experienced on a good day—he’d found that to be mostly true, even if there were some hurts he could never recover from. His mom’s death led to the Deadlock Gang, the gang led to Blackwatch, and a mother figure in Ana, a father in Reyes, and companions who—if shifty (looking at you O’Deorain)—had his back. And then that went to sh*t too—and for a long time he doubted his mother’s words. But then Winston issued the Recall. He wrestled with it… as he was sure all agents who weren’t Reinhardt did. But up until this meeting, he’d come to realize that once again her words rang true. Something better had come to replace what the old Overwatch was.

But something else Cassidy learned in all of his travels and escapades, is that he was her god’s goddamn favorite punching bag. So of course, whenever things were going too well for him, life had to throw him a curveball. At this point, he was just feeling a bit sore that god’s form of a curveball also sucker punched the people he held dear too.

48 hours passed, slow as a snail’s meander. As expected, Cole didn’t see a big fancy ORCA roll up to the hangar or anything touchdown on the helipad. Not a taxi, a car, a small personal aircraft, anything that would be normal. In fact, he didn’t see the brother assassin in the flesh until after a small mission briefing for their first real engagement as Recalled Overwatch. They would be heading out to Reinhardt’s old stomping ground of Eichenwalde due to reports of break ins to the old abandoned castle, and shifty characters poking around the historical site itself. It wasn’t a rough and tumble mission Winston kept repeating. It was simply to offer generosity and aid. Torbjörn cooked up some new sentries for them to place around the castle out of sight to deter any nighttime visitors. They would go under the cover of darkness, and leave before the sun rose high on the horizon. In, out, done.

So of course, Cassidy was the one tasked with the check of the ORCA. He wasn’t sure why when Lena was right there, but Winston seemed to have her up to a couple of different things so he didn’t really mind sharing the burden. It also would give him a chance to continue to peep around and look for the elder Shimada. He was supposed to be here after all, and even Genji hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him.

In fact, he was starting to think that Genji’s infamous killer might be a ghost.

Or at least, he wanted to keep thinking that. It would save him the bullets after all.

But as mentioned, life was not kind to Cole Cassidy.

“Shimada?” Cassidy called, hesitantly. He’d walked out into the hangar and saw something distinctly person-shaped perched atop of one of the ORCA’s wings—several hundred feet in the air mind you—and seemed to be listlessly staring out at the sunset through the slotted panels of the hangar door.

The person only gave him a grumpy, uninterested hum in lieu of response. So… This had to be Hanzo but….

“What in the Sam hell are you doin’ up there?”

A full cake, of all things, sat precariously perched on one knee, and the stranger shoved a piece in his mouth, not garnering Cassidy’s question with a response.

He remembered at some point these past two days, Brigitte asked Genji what type of personality they should be expecting from Hanzo. Was he a jokester? Was he serious? Cassidy felt it was a simple question with a simple answer (who cares? He’s a murderer) though apparently, a loaded answer. If Genji removed his faceplate, Cassidy would’ve seen the concerned frown take over his face.

“I have known my brother to be meticulous and serious.” Genji said slowly. “But when I approached him initially, he looked at me and laughed.”

“Laughed?” Cassidy asked incredulously. “What the hell is there to laugh about, lookin’ into the face of yer greatest sin?”

“Perhaps it was only momentary disbelief.” Genji said. “But it has been so long since the two of us have communicated—“ For good reason. Cassidy wanted to add but he held his tongue. “—That I am no longer sure.”

“I guess we’ll see when he gets here!” Brigitte said, forcing a smile.

Cassidy stood there, squinting up at the man. Hanzo still hadn’t said anything in response. Instead, he picked up his fork and shoveled another piece of cake into his mouth. Cassidy mentally counted to ten. Then with a noisy, irritated sigh, he bit.

“Are ya ignorin’ me?” From atop the ORCA, Hanzo finally turned his head. The look he was giving him could only be described as condescending; like an emperor gazing from atop his mountain throne at the peasant who dared interrupt him.

“Ah, so it seems you can teach an old dog new tricks.”

Of all the things Cassidy thought Hanzo would say, that wasn’t one of them. It showed. He sputtered for a moment before he composed himself. “Pardon you?”

“The art of observation, Cole Cassidy.” Hanzo said, his mouth still full of cake. How he already knew his name settled something like discomfort in Cassidy’s gut. From here, Cassidy could see little flecks of white frosting in his neatly trimmed goatee. It seemed uncharacteristic for him to allow that, but hell, what did Cassidy know?

“It was one I thought lost on you from the moment we met.”

“We haven’t met.” Cassidy said gravely. Hanzo tilted his head, regarding him. Then said, “Perhaps I imagined our encounter in the hall.”

“When?”

Hanzo didn’t elaborate. They stood in stilted silence for what felt like another 20 minutes before Cassidy sighed loudly again, and answered the question Hanzo didn’t even ask.

“‘M real good at observin’ people.” He drawled, eyes narrowed and a frown pulling even deeper over his face. “‘Specially when I don’t trust ‘em.” Hanzo snorted.

“As far as you could throw me, I presume, cowman?”

“Cow boy.” Cassidy ground out. Hanzo dragged his eyes up and down his physique, his eyes piercing and calculating. His voice was much gruffer than Cassidy imagined it to be—especially marrying it with the ridiculous image of the man eating cake on top of a parked aircraft. Maybe the smallest shred of him that wanted to find some humanity in the assassin almost expected him to sound more like Genji.

“You look much too large to be a boy.” Hanzo finally decided, and upturned his nose, licking a smidge of frosting off his fingers in the process. “However, if you wish to be one, your shortcomings become much more explanatory.”

“Shortcomings?” Cassidy’s hand went to his belt, thumbing the grip of Peacekeeper. Any other person would take the warning, but as it was Hanzo laughed—and this must be the laugh Genji was talking about that perplexed him. It was more of an unrefined puff of air than a laugh, with not a single hint of muscle moving to indicate that he may be deriving joy from any of this. In fact, he stared straight back at Cassidy, unblinking.

“Shoot me if you like then, cow boy.” Hanzo twirled his fork in his hand with flourish, before stabbing it back into the cake again. The violence of the act seemed to mimic how one would stab another and Cassidy felt his body run hot. He pulled back another chunk, like pulling flesh from a carcass. “However, I do not think Genji would be very pleased if you shot his aniki on the first day he arrived.”

“I don’t give a damn what Genji thinks!” Cassidy growled. He whipped Peacekeeper out of her holster, brandishing her at the cake-eating man on top of the ORCA. “He’s a damn fool for bringin’ you here. Fer thinkin’ that someone like you can be redeemed.”

“You and I are in agreement then.” Though Hanzo’s frankness did make him start, Cassidy did not lower his gun. “Ya think if you agree with me, I won’t shoot ya dead?”

“I would prefer it if you did.” Hanzo set his cake to the side, then sat up straight, puffing out his chest, giving Cassidy a clearer shot. “If you are going to shoot me, be sure you shoot to kill.”

“What’s going on out here lads?” Lena’s voice startled the two of them out of their “conversation.” She strolled into the hangar, probably to check on Cassidy and ensure that he didn’t somehow blow up her plane before they took off tomorrow. However, Cassidy was sure that she wasn’t expecting to see him pointing a gun threateningly at Hanzo, who was still perched on top of the damn ORCA, seemingly without a care in the world.

“I…” Lena looked back and forth between them. “I heard shouting.” She said lamely. She was bouncing from foot to foot; seeming to try and determine if she should run and find Winston or Genji, should Cassidy go to shoot.

Before Cassidy could say a word, however, Hanzo spoke.

“He was merely demonstrating his technique.” Cassidy did not expect Hanzo to speak to her, hell, he wasn’t expecting Hanzo to speak to him either. Hanzo shrugged. “Average. At best.” He set his cake down on top of the ORCA wing, then leapt to the bridge that connected its outer doors to her interior. He rolled, landing in a crouch, then jumped down a few more bridges to finally land where the two of them were standing.

“Average?” Cassidy snarled, but with Lena present, and feeling a bit ridiculous, he returned Peacekeeper to her holster. Hanzo shrugged. “I have seen better form from my brother when we were boys.” His dark eyes were even more fearsome up close, cutting deep into Cassidy’s own like a chiseler with a long awaited statue of marble. “Hardly worthy to raise my own weapon.” That does it—

“If ya ain’t gonna to fight me like a man, I ain’t gonna kill you like a coward. At least I got honor.” Hanzo’s posture went from relaxed to a viper on the attack in nanoseconds, and like the snake he lashed, grabbing Cassidy by the serape his expression twisting into something venomous.

“What do you know of honor?” He hissed, low enough in the back of his throat. However Cassidy wasn’t in a mood to be afraid. So he snarled right back. “Enough ta know not ta be a gotdamn kinslayer.”

Hanzo tossed his serape out of his hand, making Cassidy stumble back into the hangar railing. His metal hand reached out to keep balance, bending the bar so hard part of it snapped. Hanzo pushed past Lena before she could say anything else.

“Cole…” She started, distress clear on her face. Cassidy breathed out hard through his nose. He told himself he wasn’t going to let his emotions get the best of him. Told himself he wouldn’t interact with Hanzo unless he had to. And here he was, breaking his own code. Breathe Cole. He told himself. f*cking breathe.

“I’m gonna check the f*cking plane.” He grumbled, leaving Lena wringing her hands on the hangar walkway.

Chapter 3: night vision

Chapter Text

The ride to Eichenwalde was somber.

A few hours after what he would be dubbing the “cake incident,” Cassidy was formally introduced to Hanzo by Genji. At his brother’s side, the unnerving brashness that Hanzo greeted himself and Lena with seemed to have flown the coop and instead they were met with a man that seemed more like how Genji described: his eyes didn’t hold that same venomous spark, they only looked like murky pond water, and his brow was furrowed just enough to pronounce the years dug frown and wrinkle lines on his face.

He didn’t even make a noise when Genji went through the roster. Not one facial muscle twitched as Winston briefed them on the mission for the umpteenth time. Even Hanzo’s footsteps, encased in metal boots, didn’t make a sound as they all piled into the ORCA and Lena set a course for Germany.

Usually jovial Reinhardt was quieter than Cassidy ever heard him; he gazed out of the ORCA’s windows with a resounding resignation, a feeling all of them knew all too well. Angela sat next to him, with one hand on his arm, scrolling through files on her holopad with her free hand. She seemed absorbed, but Cassidy knew her better than that by now, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she was scrolling through articles on how to console loved ones through grief in her worry. Lena, obviously, was up in the co*ckpit, flying this damn contraption, and Genji was with her, probably to escape the dour mood that settled in the back of the craft, and to give Hanzo some space.

With little else in the way of seating as this was a smaller model than Cassidy was used to in the “glory days”, it left himself and Hanzo alone and face to face with their toes almost touching in the narrowest portion of the hull. Hanzo, unnervingly, wasn’t doing anything to distract from the long flight. His fingers kept drumming a rhythm on his bouncing leg, consumed with a particular sort of restlessness that he just couldn’t seem to shake, yet his expression was transfixed ahead of him—seeing but unseeing. Cassidy was convinced he could wave a hand in front of his face and the man wouldn’t move… but after what happened before their departure, Cassidy could even buy that he was doing this to f*ck with him. Not that Cassidy was expecting Hanzo to have a sense of humor; no, absolutely not. Especially not one where he felt comfortable joking with people who hated his guts. Despite this, Cassidy still found this odd; he seemed fine enough to shoot his mouth off at him before. Why shouldn’t he now?

At some point he stopped trying to discern what Hanzo was and wasn’t doing to piss him off. Instead, he took to staring right back at him from underneath the brim of his hat.

Cassidy sized the elder Shimada up.

Aside from his gruff voice, and now frosting-less goatee, Hanzo was a man shaped by severity. He had a sharp dip to his brow and his lips were bowed; like a Cupid, or however the saying went. A slim, steel ball piercing broke through the bridge of his nose, making the bump at his dorsal seem even harsher. Cassidy let his eyes drift further from his direct face and to his ears and eventually they caught sight of more steel. The kinslayer seemed to have about 11 piercings total between each ear; close enough to his body to be practical, but there nonetheless like nettles or a warning of some kind. During this examination, Hanzo caught his gaze, red-handed with his eyes trailing lower over the planes of his plush chest, and he made a particularly nasty scowl in his direction, but said nothing about it to draw attention to it.

Cassidy wouldn’t be the one to break the silence. Hanzo didn’t seem keen on doing so either. So the two men spent the entire flight staring at each other until Cassidy’s eyes started to burn.

This was going to be a long damn flight.

The ORCA touched down deep within the black forest on the outskirts of Eichenwalde’s ruined castle defenses. Night had already begun to settle like a thick, velvety blanket, enclosing them in the shadows of the city’s former glory, the moon obscured by clouds. The hangar doors opened to nothing but pitch, and with a press to one of the tiny buttons on the comm hooked to his ear, a holovisor slotted itself over Cassidy’s eyes. It filled the forest with the tinny, green hue of basic, bog standard night vision. He hated the visors, but it was better to see something rather than nothing and he’d already been doing more complaining lately than he liked to peg himself capable of.

Now that he could see the ground in front of him, he followed Reinhardt out of the hull and into the woods, trampling pine cones and dying bits of forlorn grass underfoot, the only sound in this wretched darkness. The rest of the crew filed out after the two of them, and they stopped in a semicircle around the down ramp, utilizing the last bits of light that the inner hull could provide to at least see one another. Each of them had their visors on, with the exception of Genji who had built in night vision in his suit.

The other exception was Hanzo.

“Our mission shouldn’t require us to utilize our weapons.” Angela began. Her hands were white knuckled on her caduceus and her lips were pulled into a tight line. “We are here on a diplomacy mission and nothing more.”

“So, some kids are just sneakin’ in and causin’ a ruckus?” Cassidy asked. He looked down at the bags at their feet. “Seems like mighty serious artillery for just a diplomacy mission.”

“Not quite.” She replied. “We are here to ensure that Talon does not breach the castle by fortifying some of its remaining defenses.”

“Talon’s been here?” Cassidy asked, incredulous. Winston hadn’t mentioned that in his report. Lena also looked equally perplexed. “What would Talon want that’s here? … No offense, love.” Reinhardt shook his head, a small, weary smile coming to his face. Angela, de facto leader of this mission, pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I’m still not quite sure myself—”

“Is the Crusader’s armor unique?” Hanzo’s voice cut like a knife through whatever it was she was going to say, and like it or not, Cassidy found himself turning towards his voice, glare already intact.

“Ang was speaking.”

“Patience love,“ Lena’s hand on his arm was immediately shrugged off. He didn’t feel like being touched right now, not when he felt the irritation begin to rise into anger underneath his skin. “Rude ta interrupt, kinslayer.”

“I was not speaking to you cow boy.” If Hanzo wasn’t staring directly at Reinhardt, Cassidy was sure he would’ve upturned his stupid pierced nose like earlier when he was sitting on the ORCA’s wing. “I was asking Reinhardt-san.”

“So he’s Reinhardt-san and I’m just ‘cowboy’?”

“I do not see any other honorable warriors in our midst.”

“You son of a—”

Genji swung a metallic arm against his chest, hard, nearly knocking the wind out of him, and stopping him from reaching for Peacekeeper all in one fell swoop. Lena pressed closer to his side, and standing on her toes she said in his ear: “I don’t like it either love, but he’s a teammate. We can’t just off him. Genji would be so upset.”

“And why not?” Cassidy hissed back. He stopped paying attention to whatever the hell Reinhardt was saying in response to Hanzo’s question. “He ain’t seem ta have no issue makin’ snap judgments on Genji.”

“You do not know the situation.” Genji’s metallic voice cut in, tight with agitation. “I appreciate your care Cassidy but I can take care of myself.”

“He f*cking killed you Genj.”

“And Dr. Ziegler saved me.”

“And ya think she wants him here either?”

“If you three are quite done,” Angela snapped, drawing all of them back to attention. Hanzo and Reinhardt had stepped a little ways away from the rest of them, in deep conversation— Cassidy had never heard the big guy speak so softly, in fact, his usual booming voice barely registered through the soft lull of the lazy breeze between the pines. “We are going to head to the castle.” Angela narrowed her eyes at Cassidy, just like she did whenever he smoked in the hospital room when she specifically told him not to. He felt his neck burn hot even though the forest was cold.

“No. Distractions.”

The trek through the broken city, despite everything, was surprisingly amiable. Reinhardt’s spirits were still down, no doubt from being here, but he did his best to entertain the questions no one asked for his own sake. Lena and Genji played along after a minute or two, asking him about the local bakery they passed, or the history of the homes they saw with battered brick walls and holes through the roofs, and he complied. As there were no immediate threats, they didn’t have much to worry about.

This didn’t stop Hanzo from taking to the roofs to be cautious, scrabbling up the side of the first tall building he saw and disappearing into the blackness of the night.

“Are you sure it’s alright to let him go alone like that?” Lena directed the question at Genji and his vents whirred softly as he thought for a moment. “I do not like it.” He finally settled on. “But I know my brother does not trust easily.”

“Tha feelin’s mutual.” Cassidy grumbled.

Genji didn’t acknowledge that, instead, put a hand on Lena’s shoulder companionably. “So as long as we have a way to communicate with him, it will be alright.”

Angela stayed oddly silent throughout the conversation, and Cassidy noticed it—there was something she knew that she wasn’t saying, but he knew prodding the doctor would only make her more tight-lipped. He resolved to keep an eye on her, falling in step by her side. She still didn’t say anything, but allowed the companionship, sticking close as they made their way through the winding, cobbled streets.

Eichenwalde Castle was bigger than Cassidy thought it would be—he knew it was a castle, sure, but it didn’t occur to him that the doors would be nearly triple the size of Reinhardt’s hulking frame. Hanzo was still nowhere to be seen, but Cassidy brushed off any lingering concern; he was a kinslayer for one, and for two, this place was as good as a ghost town. The only threats they could come upon them would be the ones Hanzo brought himself.

Reinhardt set his great hammer to the side and tried pushing at the heavy doors with his big hands. They didn’t budge. “I can set my bomb on it!” Lena supplied helpfully, but Angela shook her head. “No, we need these doors to be able to close again. We wouldn’t have the manpower to repair them if we blew a hole through the wood.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, staring up at the great doors. “Right…” Lena zipped to the side, sitting cross-legged on a mountain of rubble. Cassidy switched his cigarillo to the other side of his mouth. “Well then, what do ya suggest we do, Ang?”

“Is there a locking mechanism?” Genji asked. In a quick flash of movement, shuriken appeared between Genji’s metal fingers. “I can disable it.”

“The door is locked from the other side.” Reinhardt boomed, setting his hands on his hips. “There is no other way into the castle.”

“If there ain’t no way into it, why tha hell do we need to come out here to fortify it? Seems mighty sturdy ta me.” Cassidy peered up at the door through his holovisor. He could make out grooves and dips in the old oak wood, but as far as he could see with what limited depth perception the night vision gave him, there was no way in or out of this castle. They were at an impasse.

The small group lingered, unable to decide what to do. Genji suggested climbing around the castle to look for alternative entrances, but one look at the great ravine and cliff side around as well as underneath the castle and her bridge made Angela ex that idea swiftly. Reinhardt suggested he continue pushing at the doors until the wood gave, but Lena chimed that if they went that route, then it would just be easier to bomb it open, which was already vetoed by Angela.

Growing frustrated, Cassidy bit down so hard on his cigarillo that he felt the filter pop once again. He needed to stop doing that these were expensive, but, desperate times—and all that.

“If ya veto everything that we suggest then how tha hell are we supposed to get in to do tha damn job?”

“Do not raise your voice at me, Cole Cassidy.” Angela snapped. She snatched the cigarillo out his mouth. “I told you to stop smoking these.” And there it sailed, down into the inky abyss below. f*cking. Swell. Cassidy grit his teeth to keep from bitching more and Angela continued on. “I have contacted Winston to see how he would like for us to proceed. Until then, we wait.”

“We’re sittin’ ducks.” Cassidy groaned. He flopped down on the ground next to Lena, who was looking less and less cheerful with every passing second. When their eyes met, she gave him a brave smile. “Not to worry, Cole!” She said. “Winston will get back to us lickety split!” Then turning to the rest of the group, she said; “Cheer up, lads! We’ll get this done in no time!”

By the time the second hour rolled around, Genji had taken to chucking shuriken at a poorly etched out dartboard on the oak doors. Reinhardt had still not given up, and whenever Genji stopped to collect the few he was using in his makeshift darts, he would square his shoulders and push at the door again. Still nothing.

The moon was high in the sky now, shaking off the cloud cover to shine directly onto the bridge where they lingered, and the sudden light was messing with the green hue of the holovisor’s night vision. Cursing, Cassidy finally turned the damn thing off and with a small zip the visor slid out of view, leaving his eyes to feast on the blessed cool tones of the night. He let out a large sigh, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He wished he had a smoke; the one Angela threw was the only one he brought with him. And speaking of the good doctor, she was still hunched over checking the holopad she’d received with the mission details every few moments and he could tell she was growing more and more frustrated by the minute, since her languid pacing had turned into outright agitated stomping back and forth on cobblestone bridge. Cassidy peered up at the oak doors again. Now that he didn’t have that damn visor to contend with, and the moon was shining just right, there seemed to be a part of the door at the top darker than the rest. It was hard to make out the full details; the shadow of the great door's frame hung over and shielded the top portion of it from full moonlit exposure— but if he was seeing correctly...

“Genj?” Genji stopped mid-shuriken throw, allowing Reinhardt to step in front of the doors once more and heave against them. Still nothing.

“Look up there. Can ya see if tha’s a hole?”

“A hole?” Genji tilted his head up and Lena’s head also turned to squint up at the doors. “In the door?” Cassidy nodded. Genji pondered for a moment, then said: “If I could get closer, I may be able to tell.”

“There is no need.”

Like a ghost out of a nightmare, Hanzo’s voice sounded through the night and with it being too dark to tell where he was, Cassidy rocketed to his feet, his hand already on Peacekeeper. Lena also jumped, and Reinhardt made a grab for his hammer. Only Genji seemed unalarmed, and with a purposeful motion he touched a hand to his ear. “Hanzo?” Despite himself, Cassidy also pressed the button on their comms to open the channel but was greeted with nothing but static.

“Hanzo?” Genji asked into the comm again. Once the tinny echo of Genji’s voice in his ears passed, static once again remained.

“Dr. Ziegler, what channel is my brother assigned to?” Genji asked, turning his body slightly to face her.

“There is no need to ask.” Hanzo’s voice cut through the night again before Angela could respond. “You need the doors open, so I will open them.”

“But where are you?” Genji seemed exasperated, his vents hissed loudly as punctuation. “You could not open these doors by yourself.”

“Look up!” Lena suddenly called, pointing up towards the top of the doors. Damn it all, the clouds slid over the light of the moon once more, forcing Cassidy to tap his comm again to activate night vision. Once the holovisor settled over his eyes, if he squinted, he could see a shadowy figure standing in the same blackness he’d noticed before and thought was some sort of opening.

Well whaddya know. Cassidy thought sarcastically. There is a damn hole.

Genji insistently pressed at his comm again. “Aniki?” Lena did the same this time, and made a face when she also heard static. “Maybe he’s not using his comm?”

“Then what, ya think he’s just yellin’ into the open night to talk to us?” Cassidy put one hand on his hip, the other still resting on Peacekeeper. “How tha hell did he get up there anyway? We woulda seen him if he went up tha front.”

“Hanzo!” Reinhardt boomed. “How do you suggest we breach the doors?”

“Yer askin’ him for help?” Cassidy asked, exasperatedly and Reinhardt looked at him, a little oddly, but said nothing. Cassidy shrugged. “Ya trust him mighty easily.” He grumbled, trying and failing for an explanation.

“Wait, where’s he going?” Lena called, drawing everyone’s attention back to the doors. He squinted up at the hole again and Hanzo was gone.

“Is he not using a comm??” Lena zipped from the doors, to the rubble, to in front of Angela, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I— Perhaps not.” Was all Angela could weakly reply.

“I just checked the log,” When Cassidy looked at Genji, his face plate was fading from the information screen’s blue to its usual green. His head was tilted towards Angela, body language near unreadable. “Why does my brother not have a channel?”

Everyone was stopped in their pondering when something on the other side of the doors clicked, a sound loud enough due to what sounded like chain screeching against metal, then dropping to solid ground. As if on cue, Reinhardt stepped forward once more and heaved against the doors. This time, the force exerted was met with reward: they swung open, creaking loudly on their old hinges.

Standing in the doorway was Hanzo, illuminated dimly in the slowly receding moonlight, as clouds moved to cover her once more. His silhouette was marked by a large compound bow that Cassidy was startled to see. He hadn’t been briefed on what weapon the elder Shimada would use after that disastrous announcement meeting, and somehow this made the elder Shimada even more ridiculous than Genji. A bow? What was this, the dark ages? Cassidy frowned, at the whole situation, really, but followed in after Lena who went zipping by him and onward into the hallowed halls, cheerfully thanking Hanzo as she passed him.

Chapter 4: snakes and barbs

Chapter Text

“We were trying to get in touch with you.” Genji’s voice was a harsh whisper that Cassidy could barely pick up as they trailed through the hallowed halls of the castle. “Surely, you know how to use a communicator, brother.” Hanzo didn’t say anything in reply, and as far as Cassidy could tell, simply kept his eyes trained on Reinhardt’s back. Cassidy could hear the disappointment in Genji’s voice, like a parent scolding an unruly child: “We used them all the time during our youth—“

“I remember.” Hanzo hissed. Once more, he fell silent. Cassidy was doing his damndest not to snap at the man, but he was trying to trust Genji’s judgment, at least in this aspect of things. He couldn’t make promises when it came to the rest of them—like Angela who Hanzo cut off earlier but he was. Trying. If you squinted. After all, Genji was the one who brought the man here, and as such Hanzo was his responsibility. If he thought that arguing with the man over his lack of common sense was the true path to redemption then he could be Cassidy’s guest.

Genji’s face plate was firmly in place, but if it wasn’t, he would probably be pinching the bridge of his nose, irritation at its peak limits. Hanzo picked up the pace, catching up to the front of their pack, not next to Reinhardt but falling in close behind, as though he were trying to escape Genji’s judgment. Probably was.

For all the snakes and barbs Hanzo had for him, when it came to Genji, Hanzo seemed exceptionally mild.

“The throne room should be over there.” Angela was looking down at a small map of the interior of the castle, generated on her holopad, then glanced up again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that fell loose from her high ponytail. “That is the room that needs the most reinforcement.”

“Are we adding security to all the rooms, doc?”

“Hopefully not!” Reinhardt called from the front. “We’d be here all night!” Lena laughed and zipped up next to the big guy, jostling his side (or as much as she could jostle with her small stature, but it was enough to make the old timer tilt) and Reinhardt laughed at her antics loudly yet kindly.

The hallway widened as they continued their trek, veering left around a pile of rubble that was once a pillar and to a wide open space that Cassidy could almost see crowds of Crusaders feasting and holding festivities in. The ceiling was dark and looming; he couldn’t see where the chains of the chandeliers distributed amongst the open air were hung, but they swayed in the fitting draft that blew through the wide room from the castle’s old windows. Tattered flags flanked every other wall column, either purposefully ripped down to the floor, or tattered through the unfortunate battle that Cassidy only had a vague memory of being told happened here. He never paid much attention in school, and notoriously fell asleep during any history chapter discussing the origins of the Omnic Crisis. At the center of the room, towards the very back of the wall, was a throne. Collapsed on said throne was a body of armor, as large, if not larger than Reinhardt himself.

The big guy stopped a few yards back. A clank of metal and the assistance of his night vision showed Cassidy that he’d placed a large, iron-clad hand over his chest, solemnly. If it weren’t for one of his knees smarting as of late, Cassidy had no doubt that Rein would’ve gotten down on one knee to pay his respects.

“This is…”

“The armor of Balderich von Alder.” Angela supplied. She was still scrolling through her holopad. Finally seeming to find the notes she was looking for, she dropped her large bag that Cassidy previously assumed was full of medical supplies on the floor. “We received reports of Talon scouts trying to break into this place from the mayor of Eichenwalde. As it is a rich historical site, precautions have been taken from their end to ensure no one comes up to the abandoned castle. However, with Talon…”

“If there is evil, there is a way.” Genji said solemnly. Angela nodded. “We want to make sure they do not get their hands on any of the information stored here.”

“They have information stored here?” Lena tilted her head. “They pro’ly ain’t advertisin’ it like a visitor’s kiosk.” Cassidy commented dryly. “But I get the memo.” He placed one hand in his hip, gesturing with the other hand. “So we’re supposed ta fortify this place somehow?”

“With the assistance of the Eichenwalde Government, Athena, Torbjörn and Winston have created tiny sentries.” Angela kneeled down to rummage through the bag; a glowing blue light erupting from within it as soon as the first clasps were undone. “They can be lethal, but more importantly, they are able to scan each person who steps near them to match them to international crime databases.” At that, Cassidy whistled. Reinhardt even looked impressed. Angela continued.

“We’re going to concentrate most of these on the armor. Then we will place a few on the way out. Be careful though: once you set them down, they will be activated, so no weapons.” She stood again, two small beeping sentries in her hands.

“Do you all think you can handle that?” She gave Hanzo a sidelong glance. “Without breaking anything?”

“Aye aye!” Lena zipped up to Angela and took the two in her hands from her, then rewound her own time to race off. Hanzo seemed a little stunned by it, only managing to sidestep her by years of what Cassidy assumed was combat training.

“Last one done buys breakfast!”

They split up the sentries into neat little piles, with the bigger ones allocated to keeping watch over Balderich’s body, while the smaller ones were divided to line the halls. They decided to have Hanzo and Genji take care of setting the ones in the higher to reach areas, such as the top of the chapiters, or on the chandeliers. Cassidy and Reinhardt would take care of the larger sentries that Reinhardt had slung over his back to guard major choke points. Angela and Lena would take care of the smaller ones, crouching so that they would stay out of an unsuspecting “visitor’s” line of sight. After delegating roles, with the clap of Angela’s dainty hands, they dispersed, and Hanzo and Genji as one mind quickly made towards the throne. Cassidy had to admit, there was something absolutely f*cking asanine about watching Hanzo take one look at the left pillar, grab it in something too close to a stranglehold for Cassidy’s liking then proceed to haul his body up it with relative ease. It seemed that being a power ranger ran in the damn family; when he looked over to confirm his suspicions, Genji was already hanging off of the opposite pillar, readying the first sentry for placement.

“Let’s get started!” Reinhardt boomed cheerfully, picking up one of the large drones. “We should be done in an hour!”

They worked in relative silence for some time; the only sound to break the pervading quiet, being his own grunting while heaving some of the heavier sentries to each side of the throne within and out of sight, or Reinhardt doing the same. Occasionally Lena would zip by him, laughing when she startled him half out of his wits, and he could hear Angela’s kitten heels clicking and clacking on the floor towards the hall that they previously came from, setting up tinier sentries out of sight to the untrained eye.

The silence was peaceful. Usually in prolonged silences Cassidy had a penchant to think of things mighty unpleasant, but the monotony of simple manual labor was enough to keep what should be laid to rest at bay in the beds of his subconscious. Feeling the warm burn of exertion on his arms, legs and in the back of his knees as he squatted down to haul another heavy sentry up for placement was a good enough distraction, at the very least. He paused after putting down the second to last sentry, stretched, popped his back, and groaned in satisfaction at the release. He was distracted from life’s little pleasures to the argument that was taking place above all of their heads in the rafters that their night vision seemed to have problems seeing through.

Now, Cassidy had been to Japan once or twice in his storied career at Overwatch before it all fell apart. However that didn’t mean he understood a lick of Japanese. He knew how to say the basic things in the most inoffensive accent he could muster— where’s the bathroom, how much is this, hello, how are you— but never enough to fully converse with anyone. From what he was hearing, it sounded like some advanced placement Japanese that he would never be able to master in his lifetime. Genji’s voice was strained, that much he could tell. It was the same way he sounded after a few members on a base a couple of months back, out of sheer boredom, ordered some Carolina Reapers online just to see if they could handle it. They couldn’t. However, just like then his vents whirred and hissed and his voice gained an uneven metallic rasp at the end of it. If Cassidy had to compare it to anything it would be like what it sounded like to get shrapnel stuck in the back of your throat.

Hanzo’s voice however, was something more feral. Something closer to a low, warbled growl. He snapped back at Genji’s rasp with increasing ferocity until the two brothers seemed to be practically shouting in the dark at each other in the rafters.

“Ya think we should be worried about that?” Cassidy quipped, feigning nonchalance, and he walked past Reinhardt to pick up the final sentry and place it near the throne itself. Reinhardt glanced upward at the ceiling, then shook his head. “It is a conversation not meant for our ears, so I will hope that they work it out.” Cassidy snorted. Work it out? Them? He was sure Reinhardt knew the situation and was trying to be optimistic. The reality as far as he was aware was: if Hanzo got too bold he’d take him out— Genji’s opinion he damned.

As Cassidy placed the last sentry, he heard something clank down to the floor and looked over to see Genji dropping down from the rafters. Despite the lack of real visibility and with his face plate still activated, Cassidy’s night vision could tell Genji’s posture was rigid. His shoulders were drawn up, as he righted himself from his landing power pose, and he jauntily stalked over to the sentries they had separated out. Cassidy let him cool off for one beat, two, then he was striding over to him before he could clamber up the column again.

“Ya alright Genj?” He kept his voice pitched to a low rumble in the back of his throat. Genji turned his head ever so slightly. Shrugged.

“My brother is being difficult. I’m sure this would come as no surprise to you.” Genji’s cadence was almost self depreciating and Cassidy almost felt bad. Almost. But he wasn’t really a person that liked to hold their tongue around people they cared about, so Genji was probably expecting the heat from his stupid ass decision the second he made it. He made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Cassidy wasn’t going to oust the man for trying to find some semblance of peace for the one loose end in his life. He just didn’t see why a bullet or a quick draw of the ninja’s sword wouldn’t do the trick just as well. He was still, however, Genji’s friend. And as such, Cassidy put his hand on his shoulder, pausing him briefly. Genji didn’t fight it. His shoulders sagged under the touch.

“How so?”

“I was… We were speaking about the communicator. I was telling him that no one will warm up to him if he keeps acting so…” Genji paused. “Assholeish?” Cassidy offered. “Standoffish.” Genji corrected. Cassidy could hear the wry, tired smile in his voice. “He said that he does not wish to have people “warm up to him.” So I asked him why he was here.”

“What’d he say?”

“‘I am here because you asked.’” Genji’s metallic voice wasn’t really suited for impressions, but this one of Hanzo worked well enough— he made his voice as growl-like and proud as he could, with a heavier emphasis on the accent that both of them shared. “He did not want to talk about it any further, so he began ignoring me. I then tried to ask him about how he found a way in.”

Cassidy thought back to the way Hanzo hauled himself up the column before like it was something wholly insignificant to him. “Shouldn’t be too hard to guess how.”

“But he appeared from within the castle.” Genji crossed his arms over his chest and the metal of the sentry clanked against it. “I do not know the layout of this town too well, I will admit. However I am sure my brother has never been here a day in his life. Let alone to Germany.”

“Looked it up beforehand?” Cassidy offered. Genji shook his head.

“He told me he simply climbed around the outside of the castle until he found an open window.”

“So he broke in?” Cassidy deadpanned. “That is not what I am concerned about.” Genji let out a frustrated hiss, his vents whirring stronger in his irritation. “The window he found was on the backside of the castle. The side that is perched on the cliff. If something were to have happened to him, because he is too stubborn to use his communicator we would not have known about it.”

Cassidy couldn’t help it. “Would be better for us then, wouldn’t hafta waste a bullet.”

It was then that Genji shrugged him off. Not violently or harshly, just merely turned his shoulder to let Cassidy’s metal arm fall away from him and he took hold of the column again.

“I do not want him dead, Cole.” And without another word on it, Genji disappeared back up into the dark.

“I do not disagree with your assessment.” Angela’s voice behind him startled Cassidy something fierce and he jumped, nearly crashing into the pillar his damn self. He turned, letting his expression soften. “Doc,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Ya gotta warn a man ‘fore ya sneak up on ‘im.”

“My apologies.” He could hear the amusem*nt in her voice. “I’ll make a note of it for next time.”

“You and Lena done up there?”

“Yes, I think she is setting down the last few. She was so excited to do something after waiting for so long she sort of ran with the wind.”

“Good ol’ Lena for ya.” Cassidy laughed, aloud this time. “‘M glad some things never change.” He gestured for her to follow him so the two of them stepped away from the throne and columns to stand near one of the fallen banners, in a small nook away from the others. Cassidy wasn’t the biggest fan of gossip, but hearing that the good doc felt the same way as he did was something that seemed like it needed elaboration on. She followed him without complaint.

“I take it you want to know my feelings on the situation.”

“I know you and Genj are closer.” Cassidy elaborated with a benign shrug. “He an’ I don’t always see eye ta eye.”

“Genji and I don’t always see eye to eye either.” Angela seemed annoyed saying it, and to further illustrate her irritation she folded her arms across her chest. “He told me of his intentions to bring him here a month ago.”

“At least ya had some warning.” Angela however, sighed again. “He had already asked his brother to join us when the recall first began.” Cassidy blinked incredulously. “A year ago?”

“Yes.” Angela shook her head. “He apparently only responded to his request after that amount of time. Genji decided to tell me after speaking with his mentor for guidance and Winston, for his consent.” It was hard to tell in the darkness, and as a doctor, Angela was exceptionally good at disguising her true feelings through a customer service voice practiced to perfection. Either he knew her too well, or she wasn’t trying too hard to conceal her frustration with this turn of events. Maybe she felt safe enough around him in this concealed corner to express her true thoughts.

“Did he ask for your permission to have him here as well?”

“Nein.” That was the ringer, Angela’s voice was more bitter than when she found out about Moira being on Overwatch’s premises the whole time under her nose. “I told him that someone like that has no business being around those who are trying to do good, and he told me—” Angela abruptly cut herself off. “Well, it doesn’t matter what he said, because the point still stands that he is here now.” Cassidy nodded sympathetically. He felt the same way about Reyes, back in the day, making decisions without asking for any advice, just telling him or anyone after he’d already done it. The sudden memory of the man stung like nettles; Cassidy promptly stopped thinking about it.

The two of them didn’t say more after that, just looked out into the main hall. The angry conversation from the ceiling moments before settled, but there was very little conversation beyond that, at least that Cassidy could hear. Footsteps scuttled above them momentarily, before something dropped in the dark near them. Angela jumped.

As the way of their luck would have it, it seemed that they were in a nook near one of the windows of the castle and the waning light of the moon decided to show itself from behind the clouds. The figure standing before them was wearing clothes too bulky to be Genji’s sleek armor.

“What is the expression?” Hanzo pondered aloud. The moon disappeared behind the clouds once more, enveloping them in darkness. Cassidy’s night vision showed Hanzo growing closer to them, walking right between the two of them without pause.

“The two of you are ‘thick as thieves.’” Neither Cassidy nor Angela said anything else, watching as Hanzo disappeared from their view around the corner they came from.

Cassidy was certain he’d heard them. He knew Angela knew it too. Cassidy however, squared his shoulders, gesturing for Angela to go first. He wouldn’t be made to feel bad about speaking the goddamn truth with someone else who had some semblance of sense.

When he and Angela returned to the main hall it seemed everyone was waiting for the two of them. Genji, Reinhardt, and Lena were caught up in some sort of conversation that Cassidy caught the ends of as he and Angela entered the main hall.

“... As such I… Feel at odds with myself. I know that I have grown into a better man, one who shields my team like I should have done many years ago. Being back here is a reminder though… of who I used to be.”

“What matters now is that you aren’t that person anymore!” Lena encouraged, grabbing hold of one of Reinhardt’s massive hands. “You learned from your shortcomings! I know Balderich must be proud of who you’ve become now, love!”

“Overcoming demons of the past is difficult. But you have put in admirable effort to overcome them. However, if you would like, Master Zenyatta will be coming to join us at Gibraltr in a few months time. Maybe I can ask him to speak with you. His guidance has been both relieving and enlightening.” Reinhardt nodded, gathering both of them into his arms in a massive bear hug that Lena and Genji both laughed at.

“Y’all ready to hit the road?” Cassidy asked after Reinhardt set them down. “I dunno bout y’all but haulin’ all these damn sentries around has made me mighty thirsty.”

“Who finished last?” Lena bounced from foot to foot. “They owe the rest of us breakfast!”

“I did not think you were serious about that.” Angela laughed. “I think it would have to be Genji then. I still heard you up in the rafters after the rest of us were done.”

“Nonsense!” Genji held up his hands. “That was definitely my brother!” The mood among all of them — at least between Lena, Angela and himself dampened quickly. It was only Reinhardt who let out a booming laugh. “Then we shall tell him to empty his pockets!” He looked around. “Where has he gotten off too? We will not let him off the hook so easily!” Cassidy wasn’t sure how Reinhardt could do it. He definitely wasn’t a man who hid his negative opinion of someone from them. Why was he so okay with Hanzo around? Genji however, seemed grateful that there was at least another person on his side and he looked around, the green light of his face plate seeming to grow even brighter.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well just as he has found his way in, we can be sure he will find his way out.” Angela turned on her heel; not storming towards the door, but if she stomped her heels any harder, Cassidy was sure that she would break them. Genji paid her no mind.

“Brother?” He called. After hesitating for a moment longer, Lena blinked back towards the throne, then to the other end of the room, looking up and around with her night vision. “I don’t see him, Genji!”

“Goddammit.” Cassidy looked up towards the ceiling again, despite Hanzo being on the ground the last time he saw him; he took him as a man with a penchant for being off it. Maybe so he could more easily look down on the rest of them. He finally spotted him with one foot dangling off of one of the chandeliers towards the back of the throne room. Cassidy wasn’t sure if he could see him. However, he flipped the shadow off.

“Found yer brother.” Cassidy jerked his finger up and back. “Up on tha chandelier.”

“Brother, we are leaving now!” Cassidy decided to take Angela’s lead and head towards the front of the castle.

Once outside the first rays of sunlight on the horizon began to peak through the heavy cloud cover, meaning that Cassidy could finally be rid of this damn visor. Reinhardt, Genji, and Lena with Hanzo trailing behind them stepped out into the light after a moment or two, and Reinhardt closed the doors securely behind them.

“Is that it then?” Lena asked. “Or do we need to reseal the doors too?” sh*t. Cassidy hadn’t thought about that. Since they’d essentially broken in to get inside, and it would be stupid to lock them from the outside, they were once again at an impasse. This time however, instead of having to wait on word from Winston, or for the kinslayer to come to their aid, Angela pulled out a locking mechanism from the bag that she’d brought with her.

“We can use this to lock the doors. We would just have to get back inside.”

“Through tha hole again I’m guessing?” Cassidy looked between the two brothers; neither seemed particularly raring to volunteer. Or maybe, Genji was hoping Hanzo would show some gesture of charity and offer to do it, since he was the one who found the way in in the first place. No such offer passed his lips, and Cassidy would guess that no such thought passed through his brain either.

“Genji can do it.” Angela finally decided after a pregnant pause. She handed the reinforced steel chain for the door over to him and he hesitated, briefly, before he turned and clambered up the heavy oak doors to disappear into the hole Hanzo discovered for them. Once Genji finally clambered up and disappeared into the dark, Hanzo spoke.

“I imagine you must think me to be a petty thief that would make off into the night with valuable equipment.” Angela’s mouth tightened into a harder line than Cassidy had ever seen and she set her jaw squarely. Sensing the tension, Lena broke in: “No one’s saying that but yourself, love!”

“I would hafta agree.” Cassidy gave Hanzo a Look, that the assassin, as was becoming the habit, ignored. “Was this fallible logic the culprit to not receiving a communicator for this mission?” Hanzo was fiddling with a bracelet he had wrapped around his wrist as though he didn’t drop a bombshell on them.

“You did not have a communication device?” Reinhardt boomed, and Lena immediately shushed him, loudly.

“I’m sure even if you were to shush him, Ms. Oxton, Genji would still hear me.” Hanzo looked up from his bracelet, at Angela again, almost snarling. “Isn’t that one of the many “upgrades” your team installed?”

“Now listen here,” Cassidy cut in, stepping bodily in front of Angela. It seemed that a hand on his gun would become a permanent fixture around the elder Shimada. “Ang saved his goddamn life! Something we wouldn’t hafta had done if your sorry ass didn’t f*cking kill him.”

“Out of one organization which seeks to utilize him to another who masquerades their true purpose as the preservation of a life.” Hanzo picked a piece of lint from his shoulder, not meeting Cassidy’s hard gaze. “I do not know which would be worse.”

“Tha hell you— you tryna say that Overwatch was usin’ Genji?”

“Having one born in stealth join ranks to carry out the ‘dirty work’ is quite a tactful ploy.” Hanzo did finally look up, and what he said next caught Cassidy’s words in his throat. “I am familiar with Rialto, cow boy.”

“Watch yer damn mouth.” Cassidy spat. “You don’t know jack f*cking sh*t about what happened. And it doesn’t change tha fact that if it wasn’t fer yer sorry hide he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!”

“My friends,” Reinhardt stepped between the two of them, effectively ending the conversation. “What has happened in the past, may rest there.” Cassidy wanted to protest that sure, some things could stay in the past but there were other things that shouldn’t be forgotten about, however that train of thought was cut short by Genji dropping to the ground from the top of the oak doors to rejoin them.

“Genji!” Lena zipped over to him, possibly to distract him. However, Cassidy could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, and if by the way he completely brushed past all of them to walk back down the cobblestoned street from where they came was any indication, it was a giant siren that Genji was pissed.

“Now look what you did.” Cassidy hissed. Hanzo for his part, said nothing. Only scoffed under his breath something incomprehensible, then started after his brother, keeping a lengthy distance between them. He turned to look at the rest of them but none of them would meet his eyes.

“I uh…” Cassidy started.

“I think you’ve done enough talking for now.” Angela’s voice was quiet. “Let’s get back to the ORCA and return home.”

Chapter 5: unraveling

Chapter Text

Hanzo did not buy them breakfast.

No one had the heart to bring it up.

The ORCA was as silent as a grave. It felt too awkward to try and make light of anything, not that Cassidy was trying to; no, he took Angela’s advice and shut his damn mouth. Lena seemed the most distressed by this dour turn in mood, but she couldn’t seem to find the words to inspire in any of them to some semblance of cheer. She resigned herself to the co*ckpit and the doors to the pilot’s chamber slid shut with a kind of somber finality that only bittersweet cowboy songs could bring. It only took a minute or two, then they were lifting off. The only noise that broke through the quiet was the gentle purr of the engines as Lena adjusted speeds, or the occasional whistle of the wind against the windows as they changed direction.

In the old days they’d all rowdy up into one of the conference rooms for a mission debriefing, especially after one wrought with mishaps, however minor, like this one. However, when they touched down at the Watchpoint and stepped into the hangar, there was no talk of any sort of convene. He wasn’t sure if this was by choice—Angela certainly didn’t look to have the sanity to deal with being around Hanzo for any longer—or if this was because Winston didn’t have the foresight to throw something together. Lena quickly went her own way looking for more cheerful company in any of the sparse agents meandering on base. Reinhardt patted him on the back, gentler than normal Cassidy might add, then nodded at Hanzo before he too lumbered off down the main hall in a different direction than Lena.

Genji took rigid steps towards Winston’s lab, Angela on his heels, trying to whisper something to him that Genji wasn’t paying attention to. Before they rounded the corner, Cassidy saw her try and reach out to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged away violently, in a fit of barely contained anger.

It left him and Hanzo standing in the door of the hangar. Alone.

“You seem to have a talent for talking out of your ass.” Somehow, Cassidy wasn’t surprised that Hanzo said something first. He scowled. “Says the ass.” Hanzo did that weird breathy thing with his throat that Cassidy supposed was a laugh, then shook his head, ribbon swishing. When he too strode away, Cassidy was left with himself and his swirling thoughts.

That was never good.

“Damn, I need a drink.”

Cassidy remembers Reyes whispering in his ear “Sleep is for the weak” on their particularly brutal stake outs that stretched a little beyond 96 hours. He’d pass one of those god-forsaken energy pills he got from god knows where into his hand, and because Cassidy trusted him, he’d throw the damn things back dry without question.

After spending a good deal of time on the road, never truly sleeping—be it the threat of bandits and bounty hunters, or the recurring dreams that kept his eyes peeled open before the crack of dawn—Cassidy had come to the outstanding conclusion that sleep wasn’t for the weak it was for the lucky and he sure as hell wasn’t one of them.

He’d tossed, turned, then tossed again, his feet kicking at nothing. He threw his blanket off some hour before now, and he was too frustrated to reach down and pull the threadbare slip over himself again from its heap on the floor. Sweat began to seep from his pores, congregating between the rolls of middle aged pudge he didn’t feel like working off. All the while, he couldn’t get Hanzo’s death stare out of his mind. It was too similar to one he’d been trying to forget for ages.

“I’m going to work you to the bone, cabrón.” Reyes stood over him with his arms crossed. This was probably the fifth time he’d ended up on his ass today and it was only ten-f*cking-thirty.

“f*ck you.” He’d spat, wiping the sweat from his brow. If Reyes’s face wasn’t obscured by the beaming sun behind him, he would’ve seen him crack a tiny smile.

“Get the hell up.”

It wasn’t often his brain startled him with a memory so vivid it made him bolt upright in bed, adrenaline pumping like molten iron through his veins, halfway lashing out at the open air. It took him a solid minute to realize there was nothing there, and instead of at that stake out, or in that training room, he was still cooped up in his tiny room on Gibraltar.

The mind was funny that way. Cassidy heaved a sigh so heavy and creaky that his door was jealous. No matter if it was a memory like this or one of the worse one his brains had in its arsenal—no memory of Reyes was a good one.

Cassidy scratched the underside of his bearded chin and his eyes flitted to the nightstand. He squinted at the numbers, then groaned.

3:04AM.

It was too early to be functional. He knew that. But he also knew that his brain wasn’t going to let him fall back into the deep, satisfying lull of sleep anytime soon. So he got up. He’d make the bed later. The door creaked behind him, like a warning, before softly drawing shut.

The pitch darkness that swallowed the hallowed halls of the Watchpoint weren’t doing anything for his eyes and he wasn’t keen on using Deadeye just to walk around at night. Winston didn’t bother installing lights in certain parts of the facility, since they weren’t being funded by the U.N anymore, they had to save electricity where they could and prioritize vital functions. Those included: Athena, the training facility, and Angela’s tiny medical lab. Not dubious hallways or common areas; if not by a window, everything else was powered by batteries, gas, and a prayer. None of them were rolling in credits either, so they had to make do with what meager supplies that they had, and it got old to gripe about it after awhile so no one bothered anymore. No one said hero work was peachy-keen and without obstacles—no one ever talks about funding when teaching children about the joys of heroism. Reality was much crueler. The sentiment couldn’t ring any truer than while on his peruse, he tripped, colliding face first with the nearest wall, smashing his nose so hard he could see the spots dance in his vision.

“Sonuvabitch!” Damn that stung, what the hell did he even trip on? It was hard to make out anything in the dark and cursing again he shoved his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, searching for his lighter. He fumbled with it for a second or two, but after a few tries (and a lot of cursing), the tiny flame bloomed to life and illuminated the area around him. His eyes took a second to adjust to his surroundings. The object in question looked like nothing but a large black mass from his vantage point, and resigning himself to stooping, he bent and waved the lighter closer. He catalogued a buckle, zippers, and a golden scarf wound tightly around the handle. Grumbling, Cassidy righted himself. It seemed that damn Shimada had made it a bonafide mission to inconvenience him, even when he wasn’t around. He glanced around the empty hall. He wasn’t imagining that Hanzo would be around a corner, or more likely, up in the rafters, snickering at his expense—that seemed childish. But… it did seem odd that his belongings were in the middle of the floor like this.

Cassidy spun back towards the wall he ran into, noticing for the first time that he was standing just outside of the training facility from his nightmare. Fate must hate him tonight. Even better then, that their meager electric supply was currently being put to use. At this hour? Usually he was the only one in the training room late at night when the dreams plagued him and he felt restless with energy that a smoke or a drink couldn’t fix. He moved closer to the door. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear a subtle but still consistent thwack, thwack, thwack of something hitting some of the makeshift targets. The image of Hanzo standing in the open oak doors of Eichenwalde Castle with a bow in hand, deep scowl turning his lips down breezed through his mind and was gone the moment he focused on it. Despite the thought, or perhaps because of it, Cassidy peeked through the tiny window of the door and caught a sight of broad shoulders and dark hair, let loose from its usual uptight ponytail, heading towards the targets. The figure disappeared out of his line of vision quickly, for the tiny window could only show Cassidy so much. It was almost…. almost perplexing. Yet his mouth was moving before he could decide if he truly cared to know. “Athena.”

“Yes?” The AI chimed from overhead. “How long’s tha training room gonna be occupied?”

“There are 2 hours remaining of Agent Hanzo’s scheduled time.” Cassidy let out a low whistle at that, scratching his beard. “That long?”

“Though it does not seem like you are prepared for training at this hour, Agent Cassidy. You do not have Peacekeeper with you.” Athena’s observation was mild, but Cassidy took the hint, clear as day. “Is there a reason you wished to know?”

“Jus’ wonderin’.” He didn’t feel like having to explain himself to her, so he spun on his heel, tripped on the damn case again, grumbling all the while, then changed course and made his way to the kitchen.

When his thoughts were jumbled and he didn’t know what else to do, it was usually nothing that a good cup of Joe or hot cocoa couldn’t do for the soul. The Gibraltar informal kitchen was a tiny thing for such a large base; a chef grade commercial fridge stood to the far left side, covered in magnets and pictures Winston put up of the old team, important Overwatch events, and the restock list on a little magnetic white board. The counters were sleek, a bit dingy, but serviceable and the cabinets carried the same grey hue of the fridge with permanently cold metal handles with only a few spots of rust. If a few cabinets had missing handles or didn’t open all the way, well, no one mentioned it. A tiny pantry for the dry goods was tucked away and hidden in a back wall.

There was usually maybe one or two people in the kitchen at any given time, so it was as good of a place as any to pop a squat for a few hours and drown his nightmares in warmth and quiet. Usually at this hour he’d be alone anyway, and that was what he was counting on when he entered the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to stretch and pop his back.

“You sound quite ancient, Agent Cassidy.” A metallic voice that wasn’t Athena commented, and Cassidy nearly jumped out of his skin. Seated on top of the counter, kicking his metal feet with the same resemblance of a bored child was Genji, waiting on what was probably jasmine tea (his favorite, if Cassidy recalled correctly) to finish steeping.

“Damn Shimadas.” Cassidy spat, but he chuckled right after, and Genji didn’t seem to take any offense to it, laughing softly along with him. “Too damn quiet.”

“You should be more on your guard.” Cassidy shook his head, ambling over to the cabinets to see if they had coffee or cocoa. Scanning the shelves, it looked like they had neither, however, he was distracted from his disappointment by Genji clearing his throat.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” Cassidy asked. With nothing else to occupy himself with, as he left both holopad and laptop in his room and he would be assed to stumble through the dark halls to get them and come back, he shuffled to the table, dropping heavily into the chair. Leaving his tea on the counter for now, Genji hopped down and followed after him, sitting in the chair across from him. Instead of kicking them once he was settled, Genji’s legs, now connected with the floor, bounced.

There was silence for all of a beat. Then Genji spoke.

“This is not the Overwatch I once knew.” He ran a hand over his face, and even if Cassidy couldn’t see the tired expression on his face, he could see it in the way Genji hunched himself over the table.

“Hard ta be.” Cassidy replied, sympathetically. “We’re sparse. A lot less noise around here than there used ta be, though I’m not sure this old man is complaining.” The joke was light, but Genji didn’t take the bait, and a lump of lead dropped into Cassidy’s stomach when he shook his head slowly. Seems this was more serious. Cassidy let the moment hang, wetting his lips thoughtfully. Then, he bit. “How’d ya mean, then?”

“It is hard to explain.” Restlessness was eating at Genji’s wires, he knew it. He’d only just sat, but there he went, quickly walking back to the counter to bring his tea back to the table, as though he’d just noticed it as an afterthought. He stared down at the drink once he sat again, cupping his hand around it gently, drumming his metal fingers on the cheap ceramic.

“The Overwatch I grew to know and cherish took in those from all walks of life.”

“For better or worse.” Cassidy couldn’t help but say, and Genji looked up at him, briefly, before his face tilted elsewhere. “You were a gang member. I was the son of a yakuza lord. We both have blood on our hands that cannot be washed clean, yet we were welcomed into Overwatch with open arms.”

“Well, if ya wanna look at it like that. As I recall, neither of us had much of choice ‘bout joinin’ here.” The hand Genji had gripped on his tea shifted upwards, then pressed into two latches on the side of his face plate. There was a hiss, then steam, and a few small clicks in succession as the rest of the mask loosened from his face, then slowly, carefully he pulled the face plate off.

Genji said he wore it for practicality; he claimed that he was no longer as self conscious about his marred features as he used to be. Despite them, he was still a handsome man. Cassidy wondered which of their parent’s Genji’s softer features came from. His brows were arched, like Hanzo’s, but seemed more playful than commanding. He had the same prominent bridge to his nose, like Hanzo’s, but his nose sloped more evenly like a playful, rolling hill instead of the sharp jut of a mountain cliff. His eyes, even, were softer and wider than Hanzo’s, more willing to seek the good in others than to unanimously discard it. Perhaps Genji looked more like Hanzo when they worked together back in Blackwatch; more tense, more angry. Some niggling part of his brain mused, that maybe if he loosened up, Hanzo would look more like Genji.

“But do you regret it?” Genji’s question was more poignant with his warm brown gaze to stare down instead of the impasse, sleek steel he was used to. Cassidy fished in the opposite pocket of his sweatpants, pulling out the cigarillo he originally was planning to relax with resigning himself to a stress induced smoke instead. “Ya mind?” He rumbled.

“Never.” Genji brought the cup to his lips, tentatively taking a sip. “I do not have much of a sense of smell, you know.”

“Ne’er understood how they could get yer taste buds to work and not yer nose. Ain’t the two connected?”

“My sense of taste is dulled, if that is what you are asking.” Genji laughed softly, maybe even bitterly. “I miss the strong taste of liquor. Though perhaps my liver is grateful for the change.”

“Don’t worry, I drink enough for tha both o’ us.” He smiled when Genji’s laugh sounded a little more full. He quickly sobered from the joy however, and Cassidy found a frown pulling back over his face.

“To answer yer previous question, naw, I can’t say I regret it too much. I have some regrets,” His mind thought back to Reyes, and he pushed the insistent thought away. “But I can’t say decidin’ ta stick ‘round here was one o’ them.”

“Then you will understand.”

“Understand what?”

“There is not one of us who is here who has not done things that we felt were necessary at the time that we did them— even if those things were less than savory.” Genji drummed his fingers against the cup again. His eyes were almost glassy, unfocused, lost in thought. He hummed. “Is that why ya forgave him?” Cassidy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Genji with a somewhat unimpressed look that made Genji’s brows knit together. “My refusal to obey the elders was a threat. I only had 2 options.”

“Those bein’?”

“Get in line or be killed.” Seeing his expression, Genji let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I am not sure how your gang worked, but my clan was very serious about loyalty.”

“So if you didn’t want ta be involved…”

“I would have had to make myself disappear. Quickly. Quietly. At the age I am now, and with the insight that I have, perhaps I would have made different choices. But when I was young, I did not want to change who I was, regardless of the consequences.”

“Ya shouldn’t have had to!” Cassidy couldn’t contain it any longer, and the outburst was perhaps far too loud in the dead of night, in the quiet kitchen. However, hearing all of this made Cassidy’s blood boil. Genji was a teenager, barely a young adult. He should have been allowed to be whoever he damn well wanted to be! “What kind of different choice could ya f*ckin’ make? ‘Guess I’ll just be a slave to my family’s bullsh*t for the next—however long I got left to live’?”

“If Hanzo and I were closer… I could have cooperated for his sake.” It seemed like Genji was looking right through him, unphased by his outburst, as though this was a conversation he’d had with himself many times before. “I did not care about his struggles. I was selfish.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Ain’t nothing wrong with wantin’ ta be who ya are.” Cassidy countered.

“No.” Genji’s eyes refocused back onto Cassidy. “I do not blame myself for wanting to be my own person. But in that, Hanzo could not be.”

“He coulda just followed yer lead.” Cassidy argued. “Coulda rebelled together.”

“That would have been impossible.” Genji snapped, but he quickly calmed himself with a deep breath out through his nose. He closed his eyes, mouthed a few words that Cassidy couldn’t hear, then opened them again to meet his gaze. “I am no fool— I know that it was only because of him that I was able to live so carelessly. Until our father died, at least.”

The quiet stretched on, slowly descending upon them like darkness smothered the sun underneath the dip of the horizon. There was a unique kind of restlessness that burned itself under Cassidy’s skin, something primal within him that still wanted to argue, but there was nothing to direct that energy towards. He thought of Hanzo in the training room, firing arrow after arrow, hitting target after target, sweat dripping down his face and the swell of his taught biceps, probably feeling that same pull.

Cassidy pushed the thought from his mind. He traced a calloused finger across the small wooden table in absent patterns instead.

“When Hanzo approached me that night…” Cassidy looked up from his hands. Genji paused what he was saying, seeming conflicted. He crossed and uncrossed his fingers, flexing them whenever he brought them apart from one another, squeezing when they were laced again. He seemed to not know what to say.

“Anythin’ ya wanna say, jus’ say it.” Cassidy’s voice sounded gruff to himself, too much like Reyes, too harsh. “I ain’t gonna try and fight ya on it no more, so jus… jus let it out.”

“I have not shared this with anyone except for my Master.” His voice was almost a whisper. Cassidy sat up straighter, leaning in closer. Genji breathed deep again.

“... When Hanzo approached me on that fateful night… He did not immediately try to strike me down.”

That somehow made Cassidy’s entire worldview blow wide open. Seeing his dumbstruck expression, Genji continued.

“I was young back then.” Genji reached for his face plate again, this time to put it back on. The hiss of connection between the nodes was like another grand sigh. “Hotheaded. You remember how I was.” It was the Genji that looked like Hanzo. Red eyed and angry like the nasty scorpions Cassidy was used to back home in Santa Fe. First time he called Genji that was the first time he managed to break through the ninja’s frightening exterior. Cassidy’d never heard of Mortal Kombat, but after Genji showed him… he had to agree. He was like Scorpion. At least back then. And Genji laughed, a loud, sharp bark in comparison to his now bubbly, infectious and joyful laughter. Reyes found them fighting in the common room, but this time, there were smiles on their faces.

Another memory he’d thought he’d forgotten. Damn. He wished he had whiskey.

“Firecracker.” Cassidy cleared his throat, his tongue feeling quite too heavy for his mouth. He pressed on. “... Tired to kill me at least twice.”

“Three times.” Genji corrected, but there was no humor in it. No amount of awkward pauses or turning this new information over in his mind would prepare him for what Genji said next.

“I tried to kill my brother first.”

The silence that followed that admission spoke louder than any words Cassidy could confidently give him. He wasn’t sure what he should say to something like that.

“I am not asking you to befriend my brother.” Genji stood from the table, ferrying his still half empty but probably lukewarm tea cup to the sink. “Nor am I asking you to go out of your way to be kind to him.” He overturned the cup, emptying its remaining contents, then turned back to face Cassidy, who still very much had not moved, not even by a millimeter. “... Despite my forgiveness and understanding, my brother is still… more of an ass than I would like to admit.” Cassidy barked a surprised laugh at that, and the humor seemed to break the spell of this almost forbidden new knowledge, enough to allow him to drag in another desperate puff of his cigarillo. Genji continued. “Truthfully, Cassidy, I am not asking you for anything when it comes to my brother. The only favor I ask of you is that you do not kill him. I want to salvage what we have in front of us…. if possible. I know I must seem foolish to you.”

“I…” Cassidy sighed, blowing out a long puff of smoke. Thoughts of Reyes swirled through his head—if he were to come back, if he were to stumble across him again… Would Cassidy have the strength to forgive him? To offer him a second chance? Make up for what he f*cked up?

“I’ll try.” He finally said. “Cowboy’s honor.” He took his hat off, a show of sincerity, and he was relieved when the tightness in Genji’s shoulders finally eased. With a small wave Genji turned and strode back down into the dark, taking the final remnants of tension with him.

Cassidy stayed in the kitchen a few minutes longer, turning what Genji said over and over in his mind, like the butt of the cigarillo between his lips until his body finally protested the slouch of his shoulders and the tug of sleep finally began to pull on the corners of his mind and vision. When he passed the training room on the way back, the light was still on. He could hear muffled thwack after thwack of arrows finding their marks, embedding themselves deep into their abused dummies. The bag in the center of the hallway had vanished.

Chapter 6: sparks

Chapter Text

Cassidy stared back at himself in the mirror of his regulation standard, crammed ass little bathroom that he had to hunker his shoulders down to get into (he shuddered to think about how Reinhardt fared), and took inventory. The bags under his eyes were three years old at least—he fondly remembered the time he had a good bed back when he was playing it up as Joel Morricone in Las Vegas—and his beard was beyond saving unless he wanted to start with a fresh slate. Flecks of early grays were sprinkled between the thick brown bushiness of his hair, beard, and eyebrows, and sun freckles pooled deep in the creases of the lines and wrinkles that were beginning to make themselves less than acquaintances. Even if he wasn’t that old, he felt it.

He stopped looking after another minute and forced himself to shower.

When he finally appeared from his hovel, the Mediterranean sun was already high in the sky, cresting at the peak of the horizon and shining down through all the broad windows that covered the Watchpoint. But unlike any of the other days where he woke up late, the base seemed… empty. Empty to the point that he almost thought someone was going to pop out of some side wall and yell that he’d been punked for thinking Overwatch was capable of getting back together.

When he said it like that, they sounded like some old defunct country punk band that just couldn’t keep up with the demand of the charts.

Maybe Overwatch was.

The hum of Athena over the speakers in the hall grounded him back to reality.

“Agent Cassidy?”

“Yeah, ‘m up.” He grumbled, scratching his stomach. He meandered to the kitchen where he found the limp remnants of breakfast that remained: Reinhardt’s usual sausages, a simple, thrown together salad of the remaining arugula and watercress that they had in the back of the kitchen refrigerator, and a sorry looking toast with jam, where the sweet spread had already seeped so deep into the bread’s pores that it was soggy to the touch. It would do though; Cassidy had eaten far worse in his time.

Overhead the program continued.

“Winston asked me to inform you that you missed this morning’s debriefing.”

“For tha mission yesterday?”

“Correct.”

“My apologizes.” Cassidy mumbled, but he wasn’t quite sorry. He wasn’t sure if he could handle having to sit in a room with Hanzo civilly, especially after the fiasco that was the mission. Even though he spoke with Genji the night before and he seemed calm, Cassidy was secretly very thankful that he managed to miss the sh*t show that was probably Genji screaming at them for not giving Hanzo a communicator. Even he , outside of the biases he was trying to let settle and unravel, knew that a move like that was a stupid ass idea. Dangerous, even.

Unaware or uncaring for his apology, the AI prattled on. “Please make your way to Winston’s lab when you have a moment. He would like to speak with you as soon as possible.”

Cassidy looked down at the depressing breakfast and decided it could wait. He shoved his Stetson back on his head.

“You can let him know I’ll be down inna second.”

“Take your time, Agent Cassidy.” She said wryly, then the buzz overhead faded.

Winston’s lab was the same as it always was: its own little organized chaos. Photos that ought to be in a scrapbook littered the walls and computer screens, accompanied in equal measure by a plethora of sticky notes. Notes with MIA agent’s last whereabouts, people he’d tried to contact for the recall, other codes and scribbles that Cassidy couldn’t really make out… It all felt homey. Among the walls of pictures, he even spied one of himself and Ana when he was a bit younger and she was teaching him how to shoot. She was shorter than him by that point, Cassidy having finally hit his long awaited final growth spurt which left him towering today, but the younger version of him was laying down in the dirt with a tripod sniper. She was crouched next to him, offering him instruction, and the memory was as fresh as the smell of peanut butter and lavender that the gorilla was fond of, approaching him as he reminisced.

“Cassidy!” Despite the events of the past few days, Winston’s demeanor seemed chipper. “Thank you for dropping by!”

“No problem, big guy! Question fer ya, where’d ya get this photo?” Cassidy poked at the one of himself and Ana with his thumb. Winston gave him a smile. “Oh, just going through old boxes of things. I was trying to get other lab spaces cleared out and found it there!”

“Now what tha heck would this old thing be doing in a lab?” Cassidy asked with a chuckle. Winston laughed along with him. “You’re welcome to take it, if you’d like.” Cassidy gazed at the photo once more, but after a few moments, he shook his head. “Naw,” He said. “‘S part o’ the history of this place. It looks better with all the others here.”

Winston smiled again and it was a bit softer, and more sincere. “I’m hoping that soon, these walls will be filled with even more happy memories.” He said. Cassidy rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He did too but…

“What was up with tha communicator for the mission? Or… lack of.” Cassidy finally asked. “I know I ain’t too pleased none that he’s here but… it just didn’t seem like ya when Shimada brought it up.”

“I…” Winston looked down. “Yes. I admit it wasn’t my original plan.” Winston looked like he wanted to say more, but held his tongue, and decided to change course. “It will not happen again.” He said firmly. “We aren’t here to repeat the mistakes of the previous Overwatch. And I meant what I said when we first announced we were bringing Hanzo in: I believe he can be an asset to the team. Even during debriefing, Reinhardt told me how he discovered the entrance to the castle all on his own.”

“Genji was worried about how he did—said he was bein’ reckless. If I’m bein’ impartial, I gotta say I agree.” Cassidy remembered staring down into the foggy black abyss under the looming castle and he could imagine the fear that gripped Genji’s throat when he found out what Hanzo had done. What if he had fallen or slipped? What if Genji never had this chance to reconcile? Were those the demons that drove Genji to the kitchen in the dark of the night; that led him to spill his deepest secrets to a friend just because he couldn’t bear the full brunt of them alone anymore?

“Yes…” Winston frowned. “And speaking of being reckless… I do want to ask you a favor, Cole.”

“Shoot.” Cassidy drawled easily, leaning back against a blank part of the picture wall.

“Well, we’re getting some new team members…” Winston started, with a shy little smile and Cassidy broke into a grin. “Tha’s great ta hear! Who are they? Would I know em?”

“Not from before, no. These are fresh faces! But, you may know them from the news.” Winston ambled over to one of his larger monitors and beckoned Cassidy to follow him. A few taps on the keyboard revealed two sets of correspondences. The first one looked to be more like a DM, but on one of Overwatch’s secured channels. At the top, it was from Lucio Correira dos Santos.

“Have you heard of the musician, Lucio?” Cassidy tilted his head back and forth for a moment, then he laughed loudly, jostling Winston’s shoulder. “You kiddin’! Everyone has! Especially after he drove Vishkar out of Rio. I wrote a whole piece on it when it happened.”

“Really?” Winston laughed. “I would love to see your article sometime Cole—or, I mean, Mr. Morricone.” Cassidy shook his head with a little laugh at the nod to his moniker. “But seriously, he’s gonna be joinin’ us?” Winston beamed at him proudly. “Yes! He along with,” The gorilla clicked on his computer a few times to pull up a different screen. This one was more official looking; the name of the recipient of Winston’s messages was encoded in a highly advanced machine language that Cassidy didn’t need to be a professional to recognize was above his pay grade. The messages between Winston and these recipients looked much more formal—Cassidy would bet a cigarillo that he’d gotten Athena to help him with the correct framework and jargon. “Hana Song, callsign D.VA.”

“Diva?” Cassidy asked with an upturned brow. Winston laughed. “So I’ve heard! She’s the Korean government’s star MEKA pilot. They want to keep their affiliation with Overwatch on the “down low” for now, but it seems they’re looking to expand their operations.” Winston leaned in conspiratorially, making quotations with his hands. “And having another heavy artillery would be good for the conflicts Athena has been picking up across the globe.”

“I see…” Cassidy stroked his beard thoughtfully. It would be good to have some extra hands around but…

“Tha base is still half outta commission.” Cassidy said finally. “When were we plannin’ to take ‘em in?”

“Well, that’s why I called you in today. Lucio will be arriving tomorrow—“ If Cassidy was drinking something, he would’ve choked. “Tomorrow?!”

“Yes, it was short notice,” Winston said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, he was so enthusiastic and we do need the help. He is another pair of healing hands, and that should take some stress off of Dr. Ziegler.” Cassidy nodded, still surprised at how quickly ranks were beginning to fill back up. It was no pre-PETRAS act era where recruits were signing up to enlist by the hundreds—but for a small “secret” organization, they were beginning to toe the point of being noticeable. But, despite the lingering anxieties in the back of his mind, Cassidy decided when he came back that if nothing else he would trust Winston, and trust that they could build something better out of Overwatch. Hiccups would be hiccups, but they all didn’t have much to lose in the face of the looming threat of Talon, or whatever this new Null Sector had in store for the world.

“‘N what about Miss Song?” Cassidy asked.

“That, we thankfully have more time for.” Winston turned off his computer screens. “Though not by much! She will still be arriving by the end of this week at the latest. We need more preparation for her and her mechanic, which brings me to why I asked to see you today.”

Ah, so they were finally getting to the chase. “Sorry for distractin’ ya big guy.” Cassidy said with a little laugh. Winston waved him off with a smile, but all too quickly his face fell to something more serious. “Genji told me this morning that the two of you had come to an agreement about Hanzo?”

Though the question was posed carefully, and Winston was giving him his most nonjudgmental and open look he, a great ape, could muster, Cassidy still felt his blood run cold. He doubted that Genji told Winston, nor anyone, the breadth of what they spoke about the night before, but even the fact that he mentioned Cassidy’s acquiesce towards his… brother. Brother. He kept reminding himself through gritted teeth. Truthfully, it would take some time for him to not want to fight the Shimada tooth for tooth. Truthfully, he did still have a pact with himself that if Hanzo tried anything funny, he’d kill him to protect Genji if he had to. But… Genji was right and more importantly, Cole promised. Promised that he would at the bare minimum, not try to kill him.

“Somethin’ like that.” Cassidy finally said tightly. He couldn’t help the way his voice went darker when he asked, “What ‘bout it?”

“I’m not asking you to chaperone him—“

“But?” Cassidy deadpanned at the gorilla who held up his hands in defense. “I’m not! But, well, I feel the most comfortable asking you to help him clear out the old workshop room.”

“Wait… Huh?”

Winston went on to explain that while he’d still been in the throes of sleep, missing that all too important early morning debriefing, he’d announced to everyone that the new recruits would be coming and assigned everyone a task to help prepare the base not just for them, but slowly for more recruits in the future. Brigitte and Fareeha went out to La Linea to purchase some standard furniture for their dorms and clean them out when they returned; Genji and Angela were updating the medbay for Lucio’s equipment, while Lena and Reinhardt were off on the ORCA to pick up Lucio from Rio, and should be back by tomorrow.

This left Hanzo.

Initially, Winston wanted to assign Hanzo and Genji together, feeling that perhaps the more they worked together the more they would hopefully be able to smooth things over. However, Angela vehemently cut in, opposed to being “chaperone” should something go “awry.” Genji spoke up and said that Cassidy and he had come to an agreement about Hanzo and that if it was just menial work without much conversation perhaps it would help Hanzo feel more comfortable around the rest of them.Apparently Hanzo did not say a single word throughout the entire meeting, taking up to glowering in his own little corner of the world.

Cassidy wondered, not for the last time, why god seemed to hate him, specifically.

“Since we know for sure Torbjörn will continue to provide aid from Sweden and won’t be returning fully, he won’t need that space and it has most of the equipment a mechanic should probably need so Miss. Song’s tech can get acclimated.” Cassidy nodded along to Winston’s prattling, already steeling himself for his own personal solitary confinement for at least the rest of today. No food on his stomach, no energy to deal with Hanzo’s bullsh*t amid the revelation he’d been provided the night before. And that was the thing he couldn’t act differently; no doubt Hanzo would notice and call him out on it.

This grim resolution in the back of his mind, Cassidy thanked Winston for his time and set off for the workshop, hoping to get this over with quickly and continue with his active avoidance.

Torbjörn’s old workshop was a far cry from the photos Brigitte showed him of his new set up at their home in Sweden, and the old rummage and junk that littered the old space where everyone and their mother around base came to take their weapons and equipment in for repair back in the Golden age spoke to the years of neglect. A single working fluorescent light hung off kilter from the ceiling, making this already hazardous space seem eerier; like some abandoned asylum, or prison.

Cassidy took a cautious step inwards, just enough to clear the threshold of the door. As cliche as it was, his foot brushed against some broken tile and it clattered through the silence that settled around the junkyard like a gunshot.

The door behind him slammed shut.

On any other occasion, Cassidy would’ve pulled out Peacekeeper, prepared to shoot. He didn’t really believe in “mystic winds” or the supernatural… sort of (Deadeye and the other bullsh*t he’d seen in this profession definitely made him raise some eyebrows, but he wasn’t scared of anything supernatural, that was probably a better way of putting it). However, he did know that Hanzo was supposed to be in here with him.

He wasn’t scared of Hanzo either.

Slowly, Cassidy looked over his shoulder.

No one was there.

He sucked in a breath.

“.... Shimada?” He asked into the open air.

The tension in the room was palpable, but for what reason, Cassidy couldn’t discern. Not a single thing aside from the tile he kicked stirred, but the smell of electricity and ozone in the room began to grow stronger and stronger with each passing moment to the point that it almost felt suffocating. Steeling his nerves, he pushed inward, wading through the mess of unfinished projects and unloaded weapons in varying stages of disrepair. “Shimada?” He called again.

He finally found Hanzo in the back corner of the room, near the large generator socket that was about as big as either of their heads. He wasn’t looking at Cassidy, nor anything really, but his hand was grasped right along the partially frayed and exposed wire, meaning to pull it out, it seemed. Before he could stop himself, on instinct Cassidy was charging forward and he knocked the wire out of Hanzo’s hand making the man start so badly that he was on the attack. Cassidy was barely able to bracket his side from the roundhouse kick that nearly caught him in the abdomen.

The kick was followed by a twist of Hanzo’s body around the wire, (and it was still surprising that a man his size could be so acrobatic), and another telegraphed kick aimed at Cassidy’s sternum. He caught the metal boot with his metal arm, his prosthetic giving him the extra grip strength to keep Hanzo from wriggling free. After a few feeble attempts to free himself while hopping on one foot, Hanzo finally whirled to face him fully, and his eyes were blazing like if someone reached up and set the very night on fire.

“What the f*ck are you doing?!” Cassidy rasped. He tightened his grip when he felt Hanzo attempt to wriggle away again. “Why tha hell are ya tryin’ to pull out a goddamn…” Cassidy didn’t know the word so with his opposite hand he gestured vaguely to the generator plug, sparking now that it had been partially jostled from the socket. “With yer bare f*ckin’ hands?! Have ya lost the f*ckin’ plot?”

Hanzo growled at him, more animal than man, and twisted his body again, with so much propulsion that he managed to spin Cassidy with him, landing them both in a heap on the floor. Cassidy groaned when he hit the ground. This is why he never liked sparring with Genji, and it only made sense that Hanzo was capable of the same ridiculous level of ninja f*ckery. At least, Hanzo miraculously let go of the wire in their descent, otherwise he would’ve probably yanked it out fully and how the f*ck was Cassidy going to explain to Genji that his brother fried himself like goddamn idiot without looking like a guilty party?

“f*ckin’ Christ…” Cassidy groaned. But when he opened his eyes fully, he and Hanzo were near nose to nose.

“I do not need your pity cow boy.” Hanzo snarled and startling Cassidy, it was his breath that smelled of ozone. “I know what you and Genji spoke of last night.” Hanzo sneered, before Cassidy could even get a word in. “And the nature of how things began does not pardon me of my transgression.” Cassidy thought back to the previous night, the pain and sadness etched on Genji’s face by the low lighting, the desperation he felt to salvage what could be between himself and his brother… And then he thought about how Hanzo’s gym bag was gone after he finally left the kitchen. What Cassidy chalked up to Hanzo just being done for the night—

“Ya left yer bag out there on purpose.” Cassidy ground out. “Almost gave me a damn concussion.” Now, Cassidy wouldn’t call that a lighthearted joke, but it was a joke all the same; a deflection. Good luck telling that to Hanzo though, for the man just bared his teeth at him.

“Exaggerations seem to be your forte cow boy.” The way Hanzo said it, and if Cassidy was more ridiculous a man, he would’ve said Hanzo said the word like a slur—like it was poison to even leave his lips. “What thumps in the night cannot be more than the shadow of a man, even if it curses like one.”

“Tha f*ck does that mean?” Cassidy said in exasperation. This conversation wasn’t really going in circles, so much that it was veering sharply left and right down the linguistic highway. Every word out of Hanzo’s mouth didn’t do anything more than confuse him even more than before; it was like talking to a very drunk man in the middle of a stupor in someone’s town square.

“You and I are both men of the shadows.” Hanzo said. “I do not know why you are entertaining Genji’s attempts to drag me into the light.”

“It’s not my f*ckin’ decision!” Cassidy finally hollered. “If it was my decision, then I’d f*ckin’ shoot ya!”

“Then why do you not do it and spare us this conversation? Why have you stopped me?” Hanzo hissed and Cassidy groaned, at the precipice of putting his head in his hands. This was like talking to a brick goddamn wall.

“Stopped ya from what?” Cassidy asked. “Stopped me from havin’ to drag yer goddamn electrocuted body through the Watchpoint cuz yer too f*ckin’ stupid ta get the proper equipment to pull out a—“ Cassidy checked the branding of the socket, starting something fierce. “A f*ckin’ 4000 volt wire? What the f*ck—”

Hanzo stood abruptly, disentangling himself from Cassidy and apparently dissatisfied with his answer. He wasn’t looking at him, even though his eyes were in Cassidy’s direction, Cassidy could see how his gaze passed over him and glowered at something just over his right shoulder.

Stiffly, he turned, and if Cassidy wasn’t mistaken, it’s almost like he fled for the door in long rigid strides.

“Shimada!” Cassidy bellowed behind him, but Hanzo didn’t turn. The door to the workshop clattered behind him, leaving Cassidy by himself with the rest of the mess to contend with. Slowly, he rose to his feet, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, hard, to try and calm the blood vessel threatening to burst behind his eyelids.

To say that could’ve gone better was an understatement. And Cassidy was too tired to try and grapple with whatever the hell Hanzo had going on now. This workshop needed to be cleaned, so he’d do it his damn self if he must.

Resigning himself to this fate, Cassidy got to work, at least straightening the area around the generator plug so that no small fires bloomed while no one was looking.

Over his shoulder as he worked, and after he raised some of the shutters on the top small windows to get some more natural lighting in here, a cracked mirror caught the midday sun’s gleam.

Chapter 7: spirit

Chapter Text

Lucio was received on base with all the fanfare that their tiny budget could muster. While Cassidy spent all day slaving away at the abandoned workshop, alone, hardly making a dent in the junk there, the rest of his companions were able to string up frog-shaped fairy lights all throughout the kitchen, produce a questionably melting frog-shaped cake that should’ve said “Welcome to Overwatch!”—except the letters had begun to slide off of the side of the cake that couldn’t stand up on its own and we’re almost illegible.

When the musician stepped foot on Watchpoint soil, he was shining brighter than the neon lights that he felt most at home in. His smile and energy were dazzling and he laughed delightedly when he saw all of the frog decor that they’d hung around for his arrival. Fareeha and Brigitte even managed to throw together a makeshift turntable station! Cassidy watched with warmth brimming in his chest at the laughter; the sights and sounds of smiles on his face as Lucio made his way around their small crew to put names to faces.

Things took a slight detour however, when Lucio approached Genji.

Genji had been off all day, Cassidy heard from Reinhardt. He had helped with the decorations, scrambling high into the rafters just as he did on the mission to Eichenwalde, except this time there was no brother to whisper-yell at in the shadows. While usually a willing participant when someone said “party” Genji hadn’t batted an eye… not that any of them could see when he blinked anyway due to his face plate. His body language was stiff, and Cassidy could see that from a mile away when Lucio started over to him.

“Hey man, it’s nice to meet you!” Lucio grinned brightly at Genji, sticking out his hand for a friendly shake. Genji wasn’t rude—he did reach out and shake back, but Cassidy could see the jerk in his movements; as though his mind were somewhere else. “A pleasure.” Genji said back cooly, and oh there was definitely something wrong. Lucio, not knowing Genji well, didn’t seem to pick up on it. He managed to wrangle a name out of the ninja, and satisfied, he started off in Cassidy’s direction. He tipped his hat at him which made Lucio’s infections laughter bubble from the depth of his chest.

“A real cowboy! Man, I only read about those in storybooks as a kid!” He shook Cassidy’s hand, smiling even brighter when Cassidy gave him a hearty laugh.

“Flesh n’ blood.” He gave the kid a strong shake. “Tha name’s Cassidy. Cole Cassidy.”

Afterwards, Cassidy found himself by Genji’s side. Since the conversation that night about Hanzo, they hadn’t truly spoken much. But his best friend needed him—even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“Wha’s eatin’ ya?” Cassidy asked lowly. Lena produced a piñata from a different room, eliciting cheers and heightening the gaiety of the festivities the whole Watchpoint was swept up in. Genji didn’t seem apt to participate; his shoulders in the hoodie he didn’t truly need to wear but liked to because hoodies, as he once said, made him feel human, were scrunched up and rigid. Cassidy could see where the fabric caught in between the chunks in the metal plates that made up the non-flesh parts of his body that bent; the crevices of his shoulders and inner elbows especially. Genji took a moment to respond, watching the festivities with a quiet but not serene contemplation.

“You would think it is silly.” He finally said. Cassidy raised a brow, and leaned back against the wall Genji was propped against. He knew Genji didn’t care so he struck up a light, feeling the sweet, intoxicating breeze of nicotine sweep through his lungs like a hurricane of numbing, nerve calming sensation. He felt like this incoming conversation would need it.

“Let me guess.” Cassidy drawled before Genji could continue. The ninja angled his body to face him but only just so, subtle enough that Cassidy knew he was listening. “Ya wish yer brother had this kind of welcome, right?”

Genji didn’t respond—just seeing him turn his head away was enough to let Cassidy know that he’d hit the nail on the head, and he could see the irony of it all. Just a week ago, the base had been upheaval at the thought of not even welcoming, allowing Hanzo within their midst. Cassidy could admit that he was part of the problem; he may be stubborn but he was a grown ass man and he would own up to that. He wasn’t Reyes. But how they could all go from that to this plucky celebration for the world renowned musician? Hanzo wasn’t even here to partake in the festivities; a fact that Cassidy confirmed with the sweep of his eyes over their small gathering.

Genji surprised him by giving him a dry synth of a laugh, but Cassidy couldn’t tell if it was humorous or self-depreciating.

“My brother hates parties.” He explained. “Even if we were to give him this kind of welcome, he would hate it.”

“Really now?”

Genji just shook his head. Then said, “Every party I have ever set up for him, always ended in a fight.”

It was a personal admission, but it almost felt like an admission of pain. Every time Genji tried to reach out to his brother in the past, it was shut down swiftly, the rejection probably stinging. Perhaps it made Genji think of now, how no matter how hard he tried to reach out it seemed that Hanzo was always shutting him out.

“Have the two of ya even spoken alone since you brought him here?”

Genji hummed noncommittally, but that was also answer enough. Still, he elaborated.

“No.” He answered quietly. “But I suspect that it is because Dr. Ziegler does not wish for me to.” Cassidy hummed, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

“I…” Before he continued, Genji looked over his shoulder, then nodded his head towards the kitchen; empty of the joyful living room common area where everyone else was playing a particularly ridiculous game of charades jenga. A game as old as time on Gibraltar and still no one of the old crew could figure out who came up with the game originally. The kitchen however, left with all the snacks, was barren and empty right now and perfect for a sort of deep conversation that Genji seemed to be after. Cassidy obliged and followed him.

It took a few beats of quiet before Genji began. “I am grateful to Dr. Ziegler for everything she has done for me. She is, and always will, be dear to me—and I can never repay her the debt for saving my life.” His voice was a hushed whisper, almost so quiet that Cassidy couldn’t hear him. “But I feel as though she does not trust my judgment. After I began to create my own path… finding Master Zenyatta and becoming at one with myself… wanting to reconcile with my brother seemed to put us at odds, somehow.”

“I’m sure Angie is jus’ worried about ya.” Cassidy murmured. “Hell, Genj, all of us were, are.” He scratched a hand through his beard. “Ain’t too many of us that would want to make up with somebody who hurt us like that. But… yer you’re own person. So we can’t really stop ya.”

“You tried.” Genji said a bit wryly. But, he seemed amused. “As I always said, my ninja spirit is harder to sway than your cowboy heart.”

“You take that back!” Cassidy punched Genji lightly in the arm and he laughed for a moment before he grew serious again.

“I feel as though I am being treated as a child.” He said. “Just as when I was child, my desires were inconvenient to the clan… I feel like my desires in our new Overwatch are also being disregarded.” Genji started to pace, seeming pent up with some restless energy that he couldn’t contain.

“I do not doubt that she cares—that any of you care. But—“

“Yer a grown ass man.” Cassidy ceded with a nod. Genji heaved a sigh so great that the world felt it, and Cassidy felt his own shoulders sag with him.

“I feel bad for my brother. I asked him to come here, yet I cannot even try to mend our relationship because I am not… allowed.” Genji’s shoulders sagged. In lieu of anything else to say, Cassidy put his cybernetic hand on Genji’s shoulder, squeezing it with only the force that it could muster.

“Somethin’ will change eventually.” He said, and even if it was threadbare, Cassidy almost found that for Genji’s sake, he wanted to believe it.

When he returned to the old workshop later that evening after the festivities died down and found half of it cleaner than he remembered leaving it… The small plate he found by the door with neatly folded chopsticks was almost a confirmation. Cassidy almost chuckled to himself seeing it, mumbling an annoyed but almost fond “I ain’t yer maid.” under his breath as he rolled up his sleeves and got to work busying himself with cleaning the rest of it.

With timing that could almost be comedic, that change came in the form of one Hana “D.Va” (or diva) Song.

She arrived at Gibraltar with her MEKA, Toki, her MEKA technician and boyfriend Daehyun (seeming to be a recent development given how the lad blushed when she introduced him), and unsurprisingly, she was met with the same vibrant celebration and fanfare that Lucio received. Instead of frogs and bright neon green, Brigitte had gone all out scouring their still shambled base with bubblegum pink and purple with all manners of bunny paraphernalia littering the walls. Hana had lit up like the town square Christmas trees that Cassidy remembered from the states so fondly and her loud infectious laughter was like a brilliant summer’s sun that appeared on a random, lonely day in the wasteland dead of winter, just as Lucio’s was alongside her. Their meeting was surely destined—already fans of one another and so painfully young, and bright-eyed, and optimistic, that Cassidy felt himself age almost 20 years just watching them.

Yet, there was something keen and searching in Hana’s gaze. She had wit as sharp as a whip and popped her gum and commanded the space about her in a way that, if she were older, would almost even come off as menacing, but as it were, was simply an undeniable magnetism that drew everyone into her orbit. Even Genji, who had been off for the past few days, was drawn in with talks of high scores and games Cassidy wasn’t sure even existed. But that wasn’t all. No. The moment Cassidy knew change was in the air, happened suddenly. As they were all congregated in the living room with video games, the food table was left abandoned; a perfect time for anyone trying to sneak a treat and get away to dip in and out (honestly Cassidy wasn’t sure how many more rounds of Disco Dance Star he could be roped into, his knees weren’t getting any younger, so he certainly wasn’t paying attention). However, that person was caught red-handed by both Hana and everyone with her loud shout of “Hey! Who’s that?”

Everyone turned.

Hanzo was standing astride the uncut cake, no utensils or a plate yet, but seemed keen to grab some. The hair that Cassidy had become accustomed to seeing in a severe updo, was let loose and tucked behind his pierced ears. His garb, even, was more casual than Cassidy had ever seen: he wore a dark blue, tight fitting athletic shirt that accentuated his biceps and meaty pectorals, covering him all the way down to his wrists, accompanied with loose black sweats that sat low on his hips. Though he didn’t jump from the shout, nor when all eyes fell to him, he did glare with a crackle of electricity behind his eyes that made Cassidy’s mouth run a tad bit dry.

He may be wary of Hanzo but he wasn’t blind.

Before Hanzo could scamper away however, Hana broke off from their small group and went right up to him. Beside Cassidy, Angela’s hand started forward as if to reach out, as if to stop her, but she pulled it back quickly before anyone other than Cole could notice.

Hanzo watched her bravely approach, sizing her up as she ventured straight into the dragon’s maw. You could’ve heard a pin drop, that’s how deadly quiet the room became… minus the incessant loop of Disco Dance Star’s loading screen playing in the background.

“It’s nice to meet you!” She said brightly. She held out her hand to him and Hanzo looked at it as though it were a bug, or something wholly beneath him, something that might kill him if he interacted with it. He didn’t take her hand, just nodded at it curtly.

“Come on, isn’t it rude not to shake?” Hanzo didn’t say anything in return. From where he stood, Cassidy could see Hana rolled her eyes, but it seemed… playful.

“At least tell me your name.”

“No.” Shocking everyone Hanzo replied and it was just as venomous as he had ever been. A shard of guilt lodged itself in Cassidy’s gut—he wasn’t sure if anyone told Lucio, Hana or Daehyun about Hanzo and now this was a spectacle.

Appearing out of near thin air, Genji was suddenly by Hanzo’s side, and though he was guarded before, Cassidy’s eyes trailed across the leap in Hanzo’s broad shoulders and cataloged the way the veins in his arms beneath the athletic shirt tightened; bunched and ready to pounce the second Genji put a metal hand on his shoulder.

“This is my older brother, Hanzo.” Genji said smoothly. He gripped Hanzo’s shoulder tighter, and Hanzo looked even more ready to flee. “I’m glad that you could join us, brother.” Genji tilted his face towards Hanzo.

“I was just leaving.” Hanzo said curtly.

“That’s booooring!” Hana sang. “Come on! We were just to have a Disco Dance Star tournament! You can be on my team.” And surprising literally everyone she reached out and tugged on Hanzo’s arm, making to bring him towards the center of the room and into the festivities, and with Genji anchoring him in place, it was looking like he agreed.

Cassidy caught Hanzo’s eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the look of sheer panic that arrested his soul, slipped through the cracks of the facade he’d built up. But only for a moment. He planted his feet hard on the floor and wrenched himself out of both Hana and Genji’s grasps, and without so much as waiting for anyone to say anything else, Hanzo turned and bolted out of the room.

More silence followed; so loud that it was deafening.

Lena steered everyone back towards their dancing tournament, but the damage was already done and it wasn’t long before this exciting and hip party dwindled down until Cassidy found himself alone with Fareeha picking up the discarded plates and steamers. They chatted idly about safe things; the food, the weather, but even he could tell that Fareeha was trying to piece together the puzzle that was Hanzo Shimada in her mind.

He hated that he was starting to fall into the same boat.

The last thing anyone was expecting after the disaster that was the party, was for Hana “D.Va” Song to make it her mission to become one broody, temperamental and apparently, friendly touch avoidant Hanzo Shimada’s best friend.

She sought him out during meetings; always plopping herself down next to him while the rest of them gave him a wide berth, especially after what was now dubbed “the bunny party incident” (Cole didn’t come up with that name, but it was more amusing for something that was, retrospectively, horribly awkward and grim). After those same meetings, she trailed after Hanzo, chattering his ear off about everything and nothing. Even if he powerwalked, or tried to disappear, that same magnetism that everyone felt when she first arrived seemed to have dug its claws into him, at least moderately. He always ended up staying at least for a minute and thirty seconds to listen to her before he managed to take off. Cassidy had started counting.

Genji, for what it was worth, was absolutely delighted by this turn of events. He had been a bit somber after the bunny party incident, feeling at a loss and shunned by his brother, perhaps, but Hana’s efforts seemed to invigorate him. Cassidy often found the two of them in heated debates about old video games that he himself had only heard about, never saw. Genji boasted about his scores from when he was her age, and Hana always bragged that she’d find those arcades he used to frequent and beat them. And still no matter what, she managed to sniff out Hanzo like a bloodhound whenever he crept past.

After the party, the elder Shimada kept to himself. He knew he acted out, Cassidy could guess, and he was trying to keep suspicion from lingering. It wasn’t working—everyone was more so. Except for Hana, and Genji of course.

“It seems clear that he doesn’t wish to speak with you, or any of us.” Cassidy caught wind of the hushed conversation happening in the medical bay after Hana sprained her ankle following Lena in an agility course. It really wasn’t fair to let her go against their resident time jumper, but Lena offered and Hana, Cassidy was learning, never backed down from a challenge. She had a thirst for knowledge that was refreshing, even if it did make him feel terribly old. But, Lucio, and even the more reserved Daehyun made him feel the same way. Youth was vibrant and it shone on the three of them. Cassidy envied that his life never shared that same spark.

Still, he stopped his mosey in the hallway. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he reasoned that he was just keeping tabs, as he always did.

It was Angela that was speaking. Somehow it didn’t surprise him.

“I understand you’re friendly Hana, but, for your own sake I would give him some space.” Cassidy could imagine the frown in the doctor’s voice, that crease in the bridge of her nose that appeared when she was serious was so familiar a sight that Cassidy could conjure the image on command.

“Thank you for looking out for me!” Hana said back chipperly. “But I promise, it’s fine! I want us all to be a championship team, and he’s also part of it, right?”

“Mm.” Angela bit her tongue. “Your ankle should be good to go. Be sure to stay off of it for the next couple of days.” Deflection. Angie was good at that. And Cassidy noticed, doing it a lot more lately. It made him frown, and he pushed away from the door as Hana thanked her and headed to the door.

However being distracted himself, he nearly ran straight into Daehyun, who had come rushing around the corner to meet Hana before she could try and walk back to their room on her own. Cassidy tipped his hat in apologizes and Daehyun gave his own profusely.

“Oh, shucks, kid. Don’t worry about it. This old man jus’ wasn’t lookin’ where he was goin’.”

“Are you harassing my boyfriend, cowboy?” Hana’s voice behind him was snappy, but playful, and he grinned, turning to her. She was propped up on a crutch, looking just about as sassy and defiant as any twenty-one year old should be. “Naw sugar, jus’ tellin’ him he don’t have to be so formal! Doc got you all patched up?” Hana cheesed at him.

“Yeah! And just in time too—Dae, were you able to get him?” Daehyun nodded.

“He’s in the room as we speak. I was going to come get you!”

“Aw! Thank you! But you know I can get there on my own.” Hana smiled, hobbling closer to Daehyun to pinch his cheek. Cassidy couldn’t help but smile. Ah, young love. He couldn’t remember any crush he had that managed to be this sweet. Daehyun’s cheeks bloomed pink and his eyes softened under Hana’s teasing gaze. “But, I know you just didn’t want to be left in the room alone with him!” Though Cassidy wasn’t sure who the he they were referring to was, Daehyun at least had the wherewithal to look guilty. Hana laughed kindly.

“It’s okay! I told him it would just be me and him streaming today anyway! I better get over there before he tries to run away!” With as much gusto as she could muster, Hana quickly hobbled down the hallway towards her room, leaving Daehyun and Cassidy to watch after her. When she reached the end of the hallway she turned and waved at the two of them, then disappeared on her way.

Cassidy knew that he should be on his way, but… he couldn’t help but ask.

“Who’s she planning to go see? Lucio?” Daehyun looked up at him and shook his head. “No uh…” He looked from side to side, to see if anyone was around, and finding no one he lowered his voice. “That Hanzo guy.”

Cassidy’s eyebrows shot into his hair. “Huh?”

“Yeah… it surprised me too. He’s uh,” Daehyun laughed. “Really intense. But, Hana managed to rope him into joining her Starcraft stream tonight, and when I came to get her, I mean… He was sitting waiting for her.”

Cassidy’s brow furrowed in confusion. Despite literally running from Hana for her insistence of friendship, despite brushing her off every time he ever saw the two of them together, she’d somehow convinced him to play Starcraft with her? Or, at least to watch? How?—Or, more importantly—

“Why?” Cole asked. A beat passed, and Daehyun seemed to contemplate his answer, not that Cassidy was fully expecting one but he stayed in place because when he moved to say never mind, he held up a finger and Cassidy stayed rooted in the spot. With uncharacteristic seriousness, and his voice still soft, Daehyun said:

“Truthfully, I think she sees some of herself in him.”

It was a cryptic answer, one that Cassidy turned over his mind after the two of them parted ways. It didn’t take him long to get online in the safety of his room, nor for him to find Hana’s stream. And sure enough, with a mask covering the lower half of his face, and a baggy sweatshirt covering his arms, Hanzo was in portions of the frame with Hana. The two of them were talking, and Hana was laughing brightly. And even if his answers were gruff, when Cassidy made eye contact with screen-Hanzo, he found that the murkiness that he usually saw there was only but a small trace. Even if he couldn’t see his lips, it was easy to tell when a small smile tugged at him; the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes creased.

Cassidy felt something warm begin to bloom behind his ribs, and he reasoned with himself that that was a good enough reason as any to shut off the stream and try and get some sleep.

Chapter 8: eye of the storm

Chapter Text

Cassidy stared out of the ORCA window with the kind of boredom that only long air travel can bring. This ORCA, unlike the other they traveled to get to Eichenwalde, was a larger model and one that Cassidy still had no idea how Winston got his hands on because it was certainly newer than the one from the good ol’ days. It came with a mobile and small, but still functioning med bay, a few overhead beds that you could pull down for some shut eye, and a tiny kitchen that they had stocked with as much as they could spare for the long flight. It was cozy though still not first class where you were doted on hand and foot; this had to be the third time Fareeha passed him by and he asked her to give him a beer yet she rolled her eyes and kept walking.

“Missy!” He called after her, exasperated. She only flipped him off playfully, which finally prompted Cassidy to get up and stretch his back a little. It popped in several places, making him heave a mighty sigh and hunch like a shrimp to keep it from spasming.

“You okay, cowboy?” A cheerful voice asked behind him and Cassidy looked over his shoulder to see Lucio’s grinning face. Here was one person he didn’t mind calling him that; there was no sneer, nor snideness in his eyes like someone that he knew. He tipped his hat, then gave Lucio a shrug, which made the musician laugh joyously. “I still can’t get over that you actually do that!”

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I got tha hat an’ everythin’.”

“It’s just so… this whole thing feels like some crazy dream. And you’re the craziest part of it. I mean a cowboy? In twenty-seventy—“

“Hey!” Hana peaked her head out of the kitchen area. As usual, she was popping her pink gum, a playful glint in her eyes. “Will you two get in here?”

“Sure thing, bossy!” Lucio teased, strolling up to her, and Cassidy trailed behind, giving a simple, after you to Lucio, catching the taller part of the door slab and holding it open so the two of them could duck into the kitchen. Sitting around the table was, surprisingly, the whole crew for this mission: Fareeha, Lucio, Hana, and himself, obviously—but also Brigitte, who was supposed to be driving the plane (Must’ve put ‘er into auto-steer. Cassidy observed), and one mildly disinterested yet surprisingly hadn’t bolted yet, Hanzo Shimada.

Cassidy never did tell anyone about the instance with the wires. It didn’t really feel like a shared understanding or even mutual agreement, but between that and Hana’s influence, Hanzo seemed more… mellow. He wasn’t paying attention to any of them though; preferring instead to pick at his nails with a book of some kind balanced on his lap. Brigitte however, greeted him and Lucio cheerfully.

Currently they were en route to Antarctica. Winston picked up a signal from an old Overwatch standard radio tower informing them that he’d received a message from an agent that stated she was both alive and in need of aid. Cassidy wasn’t too familiar himself with the details of what happened there, but when the news broke Angela had gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth and began crying. With that in mind, Winston thought it would be best that she come along with them on this mission but…

“I’m sorry Winston. I do trust your judgment, but I have my own moral ethics to abide by.” Cassidy pressed himself against the wall of the catwalk, wondering not the first time how he kept running into such private information that wasn’t meant for his ears. He knew he was Joel Morricone, but, it’s not as though he were planning to write an article about the inner workings of the very small, very much still illegal Overwatch. Still he listened as the two scientists made their way towards him. He’d have to skedaddle in a moment so he wasn’t caught, but for now he stood, bated breath, waiting to see if he could hear more.

“As much as I would love to go along to rescue Dr. Zhou… I cannot if you insist on sending him as part of the team.”

Cassidy already knew who she was talking about, she didn’t have to say the name.

“I understand Angela, but think of it as exposure therapy. I’m sure that he bears no true ill will towards you—“

“You should’ve heard how he spoke to me in Eichenwalde.”

“… You saved Genji’s life.” Winston’s voice sounded smaller, more hushed. “And if nothing else, I am sure he’s grateful to you for that.”

“He accused me of letting Overwatch turn Genji into a bio-weapon!” She said in a whisper yell so angry that Cassidy could feel the heat of it even from where he hid. “He doesn’t know how I opposed allowing Genji to operate as an agent in general, let alone one in Blackwatch! It tore him apart, and he didn’t have to watch that! I did!” Angela let out a sharp breath, trying to rekindle her composure.

“So no, I will not be willing to spend one more unnecessary second with my dear friend’s attempted assassin.”

Winston tried again, his voice as delicate as he could make it. “It hurts Genji more that you won’t give him a chance—“

“I’m sorry Winston, but Genji doesn’t know what’s good for him if he believes that this ill-guided attempt at reconciliation is what he needs to make peace within himself.”

An’ you do? Cassidy couldn’t help but think grimly.

Angela spoke from a place of privilege; her expertise and undeniable existence as an asset to any organization that she entered into always gave her an almost unfair sway and leverage where others may not have that luxury. Most of the time, Cassidy felt that Angela’s vision was good… but it wasn’t infallible. There were definitely some who worshiped her expertise or looked up to her with a sense of reverent hero worship, such as Fareeha did when she was young. However, Cassidy was sure that Angela never had to work in less than ideal conditions. Coworker wise, at least.

He would admit, he too had a habit of deciding what he thought was best and didn’t give a damn about what anyone else thought about it. That’s why he and Genji butt heads so much. He wasn’t perfect but he listened when someone got it through his thick skull that nuance was a dish best served immediately and consumed right after it left the oven. That everyone was allowed their own choices, stupid or not. He was distrustful of Hanzo sure; but Cassidy had worked with worse people. They didn’t have to be friends, nor even acquaintances. They just had to not kill each other. But he was sure Angela never had to deal with that.

That pressure to keep the good doctor satisfied must’ve been getting to Winston, however; Cassidy barely caught wind of his sigh of acquiesce.

“The best I can do is keep you off missions together.” Winston finally said. He heard the gorilla shifting from foot to foot, awkward. “But Genji—“

“I do not want either of them working together unless I am there as well.” Her meaning was clear and before Winston could reply, Angela began to leave, the sound of her low heels heading in the opposite direction of Cassidy’s hiding spot. It was then that he decided he should get going, and he quietly slipped away, back towards the brighter lights of the parts of the base with better company around.

… yet it was Lucio and Brigitte that would operate as temporary medical support should anyone need it.

Cassidy made himself comfortable down in one of the low chairs, spinning it around and leaning his arms on the back of it in a pose reminiscent of a camp counselor.

“Good to see you!” Brigitte said. She gestured grandly to the table in front of them and Cassidy chuckled when he realized that the game in front of them was a jenga tower, with the telltale charade cards that decided your fate laid out in front of them. “We figured we could pass the time by playing a game.” Brigitte said with a sheepish little smile. Hana however looked thrilled. “I ruled at this last time!” She nudged Hanzo with her elbow. “But you weren’t there to see my awesome acting skills!” Hanzo grunted in response, but it wasn’t like the grunts Cassidy was used to hearing from him… one of acknowledgement and not of malice.

“So how do we want to split up the teams?” Brigitte asked.

“Sounds like you n’ our lil’ diva are all fired up.” Cassidy observed, chuckling when Hana stuck her tongue out at him. “Why don’ y’all decide?”

The two girls went back and forth deciding teams, ending with the split of Brigitte, Lucio, and Cassidy against Hana, Fareeha and Hanzo. Hanzo did protest only a tad when he was roped into the antics and Fareeha lamented that Brigitte would betray her to choose Lucio first but Cassidy was still a bit dumbfounded by this whole series of events. Here Hanzo was, sitting with them, and no one was batting an eye. Fareeha didn’t seem to acknowledge him fully, but Cassidy knew she was more practical; a teammate was an asset and personal feelings were secondary. He wasn’t sure if Genji had the talk with her as well, but to be fair, after she said her piece at the first meeting regarding Hanzo coming at all, she’d been relatively quiet on the matter.

Hana assured Hanzo that any time it was his turn she would act for him, he just needed to guess. He grunted again.

Progress was progress.

The game began with relative ease and hilarity was almost instantaneous to ensue. Cassidy learned that he and Lucio were wildly different in the places their brains went regarding certain actions, and how Lucio got “pineapple” when Cassidy guessed “tractor” when the actual word was “pigeon” either spoke to their brains or Brigitte was just a terrible silent movie star. Some combination of the three, was perhaps the case. Hana was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face and Fareeha had to cover her mouth with her hand, desperate to keep a straight face. Sufficient to say, they earned 0 points that round.

When it was Hana’s turn, she quickly showed her acting prowess and her strategic team planning. Fareeha was on the money with every guess she had in their allotted time frame, giving Hana 7 attempts to pull out jenga pieces by the time her charade was over.

“Op~pa!” Hana sang. Hanzo grunted again. “Can you pull out the pieces for me?”

Fareeha and Cassidy probably watched Hanzo the most closely. He didn’t meet eyes with either of them, nor anyone, and without saying a word, he closed the book on his lap and set it to the side. On the string that was Hana’s words and with the deadly accurate precision of one who’s physical prowess had been honed to the perfection of a taut bowstring, Hanzo zeroed in on a loose jenga tile. With the strong, swift poke of his finger, the piece shot out from the packed tower, so fast in fact that it left a dent in the cork board it bounced off of across the room.

“Holy smokes,” Cassidy mumbled under his breath, his admonishment smothered by Lucio’s surprised whoop and Brigitte’s loud gasp.

“Didya see that!” Lucio exclaimed, but Hanzo didn’t even seem to react. Flick by dangerous flick the pieces that Hanzo chose seemingly at random sailed out of the tower as if propelled by combustion, leaving similar dents into the cork board. He nailed all seven, then leant back in his chair, folding his hands over his lap and not looking up at any them.

“That was amazing!” Hana exclaimed, only just barely stopping herself from throwing her arms around the man entirely. Despite the distrust that did discolor Fareeha’s countenance towards him, even she looked mildly impressed. “So seven points on the board for us!” Hana laughed triumphantly and thus the game resumed with more vigor. Lucio’s round for being the charader was mildly successful, Cassidy assumed from dancing he was able to fully utilize the range of motion to get Brigitte to shout “slinky!” with conviction and he then proceeded to almost knock down the tower just from his jubilant jump of celebration. Fareeha’s round went laughably badly—only Brigitte and Cole seemed to get any of her references and Hana was left absolutely bamboozled, and Hanzo seemed to decide that he would only interact if Hana called on him.

When it came time for Cassidy’s turn, that’s when things shifted. Before he could even start moving or grabbing cards to see his words, Hanzo abruptly stood up from the table. Without a word, he left the book he was reading behind and wandered off down the hall to lord knows where. He and Fareeha weren’t totally surprised, and perhaps Brigitte and Lucio looked a bit put out. But it was Hana who really reacted, looking after him with wide, confused eyes.

“Oppa? Hanzo?” She asked after him, but like a zombie he didn’t even acknowledge her. His dark eyes were seeing yet unseeing, like Cassidy had seen several times now, and he disappeared into the further back hull of the ship; a door to a secluded room closing behind him with a soft click.

Hana groaned loudly.

“Why does he always do that!” She huffed. Everyone was sort of at a loss for words, even Cassidy was a bit stumped. Around Hana, it had become slightly easier to think of Hanzo as a person because, after the stream he watched with the two of them together—the times he saw her dragging him around the base after her like an unruly cat—it became apparent that Hana had some magic about her that thawed the thickest ices of Hanzo’s person. She scrubbed a hand through her bangs, messing them up in a way that would be cute if she didn’t look so upset.

Cassidy heaved a deep sigh. He may regret this later, but he felt like some explanation was in order.

He rose from his chair, awkwardly waddling for a moment after straddling his seat for so long, but once he was straightened out, he beckoned Hana to follow him.

After saying as much as he felt comfortable with (and even that was more than he realistically wanted to share), Hana was quiet and that worried him. Though he hadn’t learned all her habits quite yet, from what he saw of her, she was always bright and exuberant; ready to tackle any challenges that came her way.

He asked her if she was okay. She slowly nodded.

“That would make his tattoo make sense.” She quipped lightly, as though she were deflecting. Cassidy’s brows furrowed. “His… wha—?” He’d never seen Hanzo in anything other than shirts down to the wrist. Hana nodded sagely. “You know; yakuza tattoo.” She gestured up and down her arm, as though implying somehow said tattoo went down the length of the entire thing and Cassidy’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He wasn’t sure why any of this information was relevant but.

Oh it’s relevant.

Shuddup. He told himself.

To Hana, he said: “‘M sorry ya had to hear all this from me.” She waved him off, still seeming distant. “I’m glad someone told me.” She said, “I knew something was up between him and Genji. He wouldn’t tell me when I asked.”

“Ya asked him?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“… Yer just brazen, I’ll give ya that. When’er he gives me those eyes… I ‘unno. I ain’t try to ask ‘im nothin’ more than I need ta.” Hana giggled behind her hand. “You’re funny, Cole. I see what Hanzo means when he says you’re ‘odd.’”

Hanzo talked about him?

That was new.

The look must’ve shown on his face because Hana laughed again, slapping his arm playfully. “Let’s go back and play some more! We still have like 10 hours until we get there and if we don’t do something, I’m gonna go stir crazy!”

The rest of the flight, minus that small blip, passed by… Well, Cassidy wouldn’t say easily because like Hana said, he too was getting agitated being cooped up for so long, but it did pass.

Hanzo didn’t re-emerge to finish their game with them, so they decided to essentially start over and reshuffle teams with Cassidy himself as referee. Fareeha and Brigitte made a formidable team; knowing each other so well and closer in age—but the same could be true for Lucio and Hana who got all each other's references. It was a close match that eventually tilted the line over to Lucio and Hana when Fareeha oh so gently, yet accidentally, hit the jenga table with her foot and sent the whole thing toppling down. Everyone had gotten a good kick out of it before they all decided to settle for some shut eye. Thankfully he was too tired to dream much.

He did awake however to violent turbulence, causing him to nearly crash off of the bunk and down onto the floor.

“Tha hell!” He couldn’t help but cry out when the plane jumped again; wildly dipping so quickly that he felt his ass actually leave the bed; suspended in a hover that sudden jerks of gravity brought until the ORCA righted itself and Cassidy slammed back into the bunk.

Similar cries of confusion rang out through the hull, and Cassidy shot up, nearly yanking the bunk door off of its metal hinges to race to the pilot’s cabin.

“Is everyone alright?” He bellowed.

“Peachy!” He heard Fareeha call from somewhere to his left. “Brigitte what’s going on in there?” Hana groaned.

“I don’t know!” That was never a good sign. The entire group pushed their way into the cabin and the first thing they were greeted with outside of the large windshield was rain, sleet, and hail the size of Cassidy’s f*cking fist. Cassidy whistled. “Well, thata do it—“

“It looks like the auto controls have been damaged.” Fareeha peered at the dash; Cassidy couldn’t fly a plane to save his life but he figured a big red blinking symbol over any part of it was probably bad.

“This is bad…” Brigitte said in a near whisper. “I don’t know how to fly manually.”

Cassidy was starting to think that his mama’s god wanted to kill him.

“Can’t be too hard!” Cassidy forced himself to sound cheerful even as the ORCA dipped again, sending all of them crashing into varying parts of the wall. “Hana, yer mech can’t be too different than this right?”

“Waaaaay different.” Hana got to her feet and sat down at the pilot’s chair. Still she started touching a few buttons. “I prefer analog controls. Like…” She flexed her fingers. “Ones I can wrap my fingers around. That’s how I have Toki set up. But this…” She touched another button, somehow the right one because despite the hail and whipping winds the ORCA started to right itself.

“Toki?” Lucio asked.

“Yeah! That’s what I named my MEKA.”

“Cute!” He said sincerely.

“The other problem,” Brigitte interjected, steering the conversation back to the glaring life or death situation at hand. “Is that manual controls require 2 people to fully operate. Does anyone else know how to fly an ORCA even a little bit?”

Cassidy and Lucio both took large steps back and Fareeha grimaced. Hana however, looked over her shoulder, at the shadow in the corner that Cassidy completely missed was a human person.

“Oppa!” She called. “You told me you know how to work one of these things!”

As before, Hanzo grunted. But he didn’t wait for Hana to prompt or drag him over, he brusquely walked over to the second pilot’s seat. His hands flew over the controls quickly; and it was then that belatedly Cole noticed that his nails were painted a sparkly dark blue. Why his brain felt the need to latch onto such a detail at a time like this was… questionable. But the ORCA suddenly groaned, shifting from its downward trajectory and Cassidy let the thought dissipate alongside the fear that gripped his throat.

He found himself standing off to the side to let them work, leaning heavily against Fareeha when they began to clear most of the awful, sudden storm. She was pulling up a video call with Winston.

“Fareeha! How’s the team? Athena just sent in an alert informing us that another polar storm is closing in on the coast!”

“Yes, we’re aware of that.” Fareeha replied dryly. “We have the ORCA handled. Is Dr. Zhou ready for take off? I don’t think we should linger here for much longer, lest the storm pick up speed and we all get trapped here.”

“That was the other thing…”

“sh*t—“ Cole cursed under his breath, gnawing at his lip. “Their communications got blown out?” He wagered.

“The storm is worse on the ground.” Winston explained. “I haven’t been able to contact her for the past hour now.”

Fareeha and Cole exchanged looks. There was no telling what they would run into once they finally hit the ground. And from what Winston briefed them on before they took off near 17 hours ago… it was a storm like this that stranded Dr. Zhou and her deceased comrades here nearly 9 years ago.

“A lil too late ta turn back now.” Cassidy murmured. Fareeha nodded gravely. She turned her head and gazed out of the windshield of the ORCA; hail, snow, and now sheets of ice obscuring the view of the dock and helipad that should have been coming into view by now, each silently hoping that the eye of the storm wasn’t too far behind them.

Chapter 9: freeze

Chapter Text

Somehow they managed to land; the ORCA’s hull scraped across the icy ground with their barely coordinated arrival, skidding to a stop a few yards off of the actual helipad landing spot. To make matters worse, Winston was right: the storm was much worse down here. Visibility through the windshield was completely shot; layers and layers of ice and snow cascaded down on them leaving a thick white blanket of frost in its wake. The likelihood that they would be able to take off and get out of here without incident was starting to look slimmer and slimmer, with every passing moment that they sat there in a paralyzed limbo, causing the panic for Cassidy at least, to start crawling up his throat.

“The first order of business is we need to contact Dr. Zhou.” Fareeha took hold of the reins of this operation as swiftly as a drill sergeant. “If we can’t reach her when the eye of the storm passes over us, then we’ll have to leave without her.”

The prospect was grim. But none of them were willing to argue; none of them wanted to die yet.

“Cole.”

“Yes’m.” He resisted the urge to salute.

“Call Winston and get Dr. Zhou’s contact link immediately. See if you can get her on the line. Brigitte.” Fareeha continued, her serious demeanor only faltering with a little smile when she did salute. “See if you can tinker with the control panel and get autopilot back online. Hana, you have small fingers, see if you can help her.”

“Got it!” Hana said chipperly.

“What about me, captain?” Lucio asked. “What can I do?”

Fareeha grinned. “I want you to prepare the med bay for ice and weather related injuries. We don’t know what state Dr. Zhou might be in when we receive her so I want to be ready for anything. There should be a manual and a few switches you can use to get it configured.”

“Aye aye!” Lucio dashed off. Fareeha let her gaze fall to Hanzo, who hadn’t said anything and had moved out of the way so Brigitte and Hana could reach under the ship’s control panels. “Hanzo with me.” She finally decided. “When Dr. Zhou responds, you and I are going to head out to bring her in. I can count on you.” It wasn’t a question but there was one in her gaze, and just as before, Hanzo grunted in reply. Not agreeing, but not disagreeing either. Cassidy huffed an almost disbelieving laugh; it was almost ridiculous that for nearly a full day that’s the only noise he’s made towards any of them. Fareeha took it with a tight nod.

With the storm raging around them the signal was spotty at best, somehow Cassidy managed to get Dr. Zhou’s communication link. Winston asked how they were and all he could bring himself to say was “Ask us in an hour.” Before he hung up. He pulled up the climatologist’s details, and sent out a call.

It wasn’t answered.

Cassidy felt lead sink into his gut but when he glanced around, everyone was still working as hard as they could despite the circ*mstances. Fareeha and Hanzo were gearing up as best as they could to head outside, Brigitte was stretched out underneath the control panel, not so dissimilar to a mechanic, having Hana pass her wrenches and sockets. They were all working to get them out of here and it would be a shame if they didn’t bring Dr. Zhou with them.

He sucked in a steadying breath, shoving the despair to the back of his mind. He couldn’t throw in the towel yet. He had to believe she would answer.

He dialed again.

And again.

And again.

“Any luck?” Lucio asked, wringing his hands together. He finished up the med bay some ten minutes ago and was standing next to Cassidy, just about as wound up as he was.

“Naw.” He answered gravely. “I’m hopin’ the signal’s just knocked out.”

“The eye of the storm should be upon us at any moment.” Fareeha announced. “It’ll only last for an hour or two and we have to leave then.”

“Dr. Zhou still ain’t answerin’.” Cassidy grit out. He stabbed at the dial again button with the desperation of a madman. Every time the pop up showed him “signal lost” or “no connection” he wanted to rip his own hair out. They didn’t fly all this way to know that she was dead. No way would any of them forgive themselves.

“May I try something?”

Cassidy and Lucio both jumped when Hanzo spoke from behind and his voice was a quiet sort of rumble like the thunderstorms back in the States. What Cassidy wouldn’t give for this to be a storm like that, at least then the chances of survival would be higher.

With few options left, it wouldn’t hurt—not that this was a matter of trust so much as Cassidy was sure he’d break the holopad if he kept it on his person. He nearly threw it into Hanzo’s hands and the archer caught it with relative ease, despite the force of it.

“I will return shortly.” He said gruffly. Then he turned and briskly walked out of the room; to go where, Cassidy had no idea. Lucio looked just as perplexed, and shrugged when they made eye contact.

Not even two minutes later, Hanzo returned. Nothing seemed different about him, nor was there any indication that he’d done anything to the holopad itself. However, when he handed it to Lucio, which then wound up back in Cassidy’s hands, when he dialed Dr. Zhou, it only took a few moments for her bright, worried face to fill the screen.

“Fareeha! We got her!” Lucio cried. He punched Hanzo’s shoulder jovially. “Are you magic! How the heck did you manage that?”

Cassidy too was stunned, perhaps even more so than Lucio, because with just one whiff of the air it smelled just like that day in the abandoned workshop— ozone. At the time, he’d chalked up the smell to the Shimada trying to fry himself but now… What was the excuse?

He and Hanzo locked eyes for a fleeting moment. They were sharp and severe as they always were, and Cassidy found himself studying the flecks of gray in his goatee as the archer’s mouth quirked into the barest traces of what the lunatic subconscious back of his mind could’ve called a smirk.

Hanzo’s eyes flitted away first. Not to Lucio but somewhere in the space behind him. “Trade secret.” He said so gravely that Cassidy would’ve hooted if he wasn’t so goddamn perplexed.

Fareeha rushed over and took the holopad out of his hands, which snapped him out of the weird look he was sure he was giving the man. “Dr. Zhou!” She barked into the screen. “Are you alright? Are you injured?”

“Snowball and I are fine! I’m so glad that we got connected… I was worried you all—“

“We’re coming to your location.” Fareeha cut her off, not rudely, but quickly. “We need to get back in the air before the storm picks up speed.”

“If the connection stays, I’ll try to direct you!” Dr. Zhou said. “But you’re right! Let’s be quick.”

Hanzo and Fareeha, shuffled over to the hangar door ready to head out into the cold and rescue the climatologist, when a spike of anxiety so fierce that it nearly knocked him off his feet left Cassidy reeling. “Wait—“ He managed to rasp when Lucio began to pull the lever to let them out. “I’m goin’ with y’all.”

Both Fareeha and Hanzo stared at him. Then with a quick wave of her hand, Fareeha acquiesced. On any other occasion, he knew she would make him stay put. Deviations from the plan were not things that Ms. Amari liked. Yet, she almost seemed relieved that he said he would go along.

“I jus’ need gear, gimme a sec.”

Cassidy rushed back to the room he’d been sleeping in before the turbulence woke him and jumped from foot to foot into the damn near hazmat suit that was their cold weather attire. He couldn’t explain what was making him feel so concerned. Yet there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that Hanzo was not fine and somehow, he needed to be there to keep this sh*t from going tit* up worse than it already was. His mama used to call this kind of gut feeling intuition, and Reyes called it something along the lines of “warrior’s instincts.” Maybe it was either of those things, maybe it was neither—Cassidy didn’t care. All he knew is that he did not trust the calm way Hanzo was acting right now. Not one. Goddamn. Bit.

“It’s jus’ cuz ya know Genj would want ya there.” He tried to tell himself aloud, grunting as he shoved his foot into the second boot. Deciding against wearing his Stetson and leaving him feeling horribly naked and only a little shy of afraid, Cassidy shoved his rat’s nest of hat hair underneath the arctic exploration suit hood, fixated the goggles over his eyes to protect them from the ice that was no doubt still whipping around in the howling wind and tromped back out to the main hangar, where thankfully the two were still waiting for him. He wasn’t sure how or why he suddenly became Hanzo’s keeper but he would examine and bitch about that once they were safely the f*ck out of this godforsaken icy hell.

“Lead on Ree.” Cassidy said, his voice muffled by all the layers. “Let’s get Dr. Zhou and then giddy on outta here.”

It was only a few minutes into their trek to the abandoned looking base that Cassidy realized part of what was bothering him about Hanzo in the back of his mind (aside from the ozone smell of course):

He wasn’t wearing the right safety gear for the weather.

It wasn’t fair to say that he was fully under dressed; but at the bare minimum he didn’t have his hood up, leaving his exposed ears red in the icy wind. It was that detail that Cassidy’s mind anchored onto—Hanzo’s red, red ears in the icy white snowscape that engulfed his entire peripheral vision. If this was the eye of the storm; supposedly the calmest part of this ordeal, then Cassidy did not want to stick around to discover what it was like at full force.

The Antarctic base itself wasn’t any longer than a 10 minute trek from where they crash landed the ORCA. Buildings like giant popsicle eyesores of bright orange and green came into view; towering over them and the ice sheets surrounding them; the worst of their damage from the elements hard to tell in the whistling breeze. A long bent and broken Overwatch flag whipped in the wind; looking more like a white flag of surrender than the proud symbol of progress they all used to pretend it was. Maybe that was something he should talk to Winston about when they made it out of here—giving themselves a new logo and a fresh start. If his fingers weren’t frozen stiff, and if he had his trusty camera, perhaps Joel Morricone could write a piece on fallen legacies and the dangers of overeager and non-discerning heroism.

But that was just the pessimist in him.

With Dr. Zhou chiming in from the holopad as their guide, Fareeha bravely led them on until they reached what appeared to be a sort of entrance to the main faculties. “W-We’re here.” Her strong demeanor was only diluted by her slightly chattering teeth. “Dr. Z-Zhou, where are you?”

“I’m upstairs in the bunk rooms.” She said, though the cheer in her voice was laced with worry. “I’m coming to meet you all now. Please, wait for me!”

Thankfully the wait was short. After only a few moments, Cassidy heard footsteps coming down a slightly far off set of stairs, and Dr. Zhou, along with a small, floating, chirping robot came into view. When she saw them, her shoulders perked up and she rushed over to them.

“Oh I’m so glad you all are alright!” She exclaimed when she was within full earshot. “Snowball and I were so worried something would happen when you were trying to land. Where’s the ship?”

Fareeha grimaced. “The storm threw us off course and so we skid. We weren’t able to get a direct l-land on the helipad.”

“That-a-way.” Cole managed to get out, pointing into the white abyss from whence they came. The wind was picking up, drawing close to a howl in his ears. The eye must be passing.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dr. Zhou gave them an encouraging smile. “Lead the way!”

Still under Fareeha’s watchful guide, their small group started back towards the ORCA. It was then that Cassidy quickly realized that the wind had been propelling them forward on the way there; now that they were heading back, it was lashing at all of their faces like the sting of a bull whip.

“Why did we come here on foot!” He yelled into the wind, to no one in particular. Trust him to complain when it expended more energy to.

“Less t-talking!” Fareeha yelled. “Move faster!”

“At this rate, the storm may overtake us!” Dr. Zhou cried. They pressed on, even as the ground began to cover over with snow, dusting their ankles and seeping into Cassidy’s thick boots. Thankfully, no water infiltrated but he could feel the cold begin to seep at his toes and that was a bad sign; like a premonition.

A large groan sounded from out of nowhere, different from the shrill winds and like the very bowels of the earth were protesting their trek beneath their feet. Cassidy whipped his head around to see that the wind had battered against that old broken flag post so hard that it finally began to give way. He wasn’t close enough to see the fray of the last metal tendrils that were keeping that old bent thing together, but it groaned again, louder, beginning to flail in the wind. The shrieking, grating metal on metal as it started to come undone sounded like the wail of a siren; its warning finally coming to fruition when it broke off completely and crashed into the ice behind them.

Cassidy couldn’t tell who screamed in shock: himself, Fareeha, or Dr. Zhou. There was too much snow and wind f*cking everywhere to see the ice cracking underneath them like a cartoon, but he heard the splintering and shattering of it acutely; like a boon of death underneath their feet.

“Look out!” Hanzo yelled sharply—and hell, he’d been so quiet that Cassidy nearly forgot he was there at all. When he turned back, all he caught glimpse of was Hanzo bodily slamming into Dr. Zhou like a linebacker, shoving her so hard that she flew into Fareeha and sent both of them toppling into the snow. The ground where she once stood suddenly dropped beneath them, sending Hanzo tumbling down into the depths that were, apparently, beneath them.

“HANZO!” Cassidy yelled.

“The mining caves!” Dr. Zhou gasped in shock, once she regained her bearings.

“The what!?” Fareeha shrieked, voice shrill.

“There was some digging that was done underneath here to explore the underground lakes beneath the surface ice sheet.” Dr. Zhou explained quickly. “I didn’t realize the ice here had become so thin!”

Cassidy didn’t pay attention to any of that—the black hand of fear had taken hold of his chest, seizing his heart so hard that it nearly stopped. He rushed to the edge of the now, jutting cliffside, and peered down into the abyss.

“Hanzo!” He bellowed. “Say somethin’ if yer f*ckin’ alive!”

“Snowball, go down there and see if you can see him!” The little robot whirred on its master’s command, whizzing down into the depths of the cavern to try and find the archer.

“Ree go get the ship.” Cassidy ordered. “Bring it here, do it now!”

Fareeha didn’t question their sudden shift in authority, simply turned and sprinted against the wind back towards the ORCA.

“How far down are the mines?” Cassidy asked through ragged breaths. His heart was jackhammering so hard that he felt it in his stomach; he might just throw up.

“Only a kilometer or so.” Dr. Zhou was biting her lips red raw with worry until suddenly they heard frantic whirring. Snowball shot up from the hole, buzzing around the two of them.

“Didya find him?” Cassidy asked. The little robot whirred again, and Dr. Zhou nodded. “He says he’s found him.” From her belt, she pulled out a gun that Cassidy had never seen before. It was thick, and heavy, with a large orb atop of it connected to a similarly glass-like switch. She turned it with her hand and the gun buzzed to life. “Time for me to return the favor!” She looked at Cassidy.

“I can make an ice slide so you can get down there and find him—oh, what’s his name? I never learned it.”

“Hanzo.” Cassidy said raggedly.

“Hanzo!” Dr. Zhou nodded eagerly. “Slide down and Snowball will lead you to him. Do you think you can bring him back to the slide?”

“I’ll do it.” He had to: if Hanzo died here, it would destroy Genji.

“Great!” Despite the peril, Dr. Zhou seemed cheerful, and perhaps it’s because she was already living on borrowed time anyway. She twisted the switch of her gun again, and then began to fire, fully solid ice beginning to tumble out of its nozzle. Cassidy hardly waited for her to be done; he took off and began to slide, Snowball whizzing behind him.

The underground caves would be an absolutely breathtaking sight if they didn’t feel like the hallowed halls of hell right this second. The towering walls were a translucent mixture of deep blue-black and light blue ice; chasing and interweaving with one another in an almost playful way; up and down the drilled out halls they danced. But Cassidy couldn’t find it in himself to take in any of the beauty. All he could think, as he raced behind the little robot, was how his heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to crawl up into his throat, or if it wanted to sink down into his stomach. Just how f*cking far did the snow drop blow him inward?!

He didn’t have to run for long though. Astride of a giant, long abandoned drill bit, he saw a figure that could only be Hanzo. He was trying to stand, using said piece of machinery like an anchor, and soaking wet from head to foot like a drowned cat. His breathing was so loud and so ragged that Cassidy could hear it before he even got close to him.

“Shimada!” Relief like a tidal wave flooded Cassidy’s body as he hurried closer. “Are ya okay?!”

Surprisingly, Hanzo managed to answer.

“I h-h-h-have br-broken t-t-two ribssss….” Hanzo hissed between his chattering teeth. “A-an-and—“ He looked down, and Cassidy’s eyes followed his gaze. His foot was nearly twisted backward. Bile shot to the back of Cassidy’s throat, but he steeled himself against the inevitable wave of nausea.

“And yer chatterin’ like a goddamn wind up toy. I gotta get ya tha f*ck outta here.”

“It is fine.” Hanzo’s voice was so calm, and so even, so suddenly that Cassidy whipped his head up to stare at him. Just like that look in his eyes in the warehouse, just like earlier when he left their game, his eyes were like glass; seeing and unseeing, almost untethered from the world around them. “You do not have to risk yourself for my sake. You should leave while you still have a chance.”

“f*ck. Off.” Cassidy growled so deep in the back of his throat that not only did he startle himself. but the glassy look in Hanzo’s eyes shattered. Suddenly he was staring into an abyss of deep brown-black eyes, near doe-like if it weren’t for their severe slant. His ears and nose were still red, red, red. And so was the blood beginning to form on the front of his too thin coat, which is what finally spurred Cassidy to take matters into his own hands.

“I ain’t havin’ yer goddamn blood on my hands Shimada. So you can shut tha f*ck up with that self-sacrificin’ bullsh*t.”

In one swift motion, Cassidy crossed the invisible wall between them, grabbed Hanzo by the arm and dragged him forward; manhandling him into his arms. He was cold; far too cold, and he wouldn’t make it if Cassidy kept dawdling.

“Hold on.” Cassidy grunted and he swooped Hanzo’s f*cked up legs from under him, having to square his knees to deal with the sudden bulk of a man much more muscle than fat. God, maybe he did need to hit the gym, if he was gonna have to lug this piece of sh*t around.

Though when his brain decided he might do it again was an afterthought.

Once Hanzo was in his arms, Snowball beeped at him, then raced back off towards the slide. Sheer adrenaline was the only thing that helped Cassidy keep pace with it. Hanzo had gone too limp and too still in his arms and that feeling of dread was making his heart pound much harder than the exertion did.

He reached the base of the slide, and immediately the second problem hit him: how the f*ck was he going to drag Hanzo’s dead weight up there? One wrong yank and there would be bone puncturing a lung. Thankfully though, once Dr. Zhou spotted him, she called somewhere behind her: “Quick! They’re here!”

Like an angel sent from above, a mech that he didn’t recognize flew down the hole to greet them. When the mech was close enough, he recognized that youthful, worried face behind the controls.

“Hana!” He gasped, like a prayer, and even though her mouth quirked into a small smile, her brows were still knit together with anxiety.

Her MEKA touched down and Cassidy rushed over with Hanzo still limp in his arms. His breathing had gone fast and shallow—they needed to warm him up, and fast.

“Your guardian angel! Quick, lay him across my guns, here.” Hana urged and Cassidy didn’t argue, shuffling the large man from his grasp to her’s. When she had him, she shifted her controls up to keep Hanzo cradled in that space between them.

“Don’t worry, I’ve carried a looot of civilians out of danger like this!” Hana tried for jovial. “I’m going to get him out of here and into the ship. Then, I’m coming back for you? Okay?”

“I trust ya.” Cassidy gave her a tight smile, but he meant it. He knew his team wouldn’t leave him here. With a determined nod of approval, Hana took off up and out of the hole, disappearing into the white glade above him.

It was only a matter of seconds before she came back for him. He crawled into the “arms” of her MEKA and arranged himself like Hanzo had been before, but found himself white knuckling whatever handhold he could reach when she took off in the air. Riding a motorcycle was one thing, but having the sting of ice in your eyes and the wind whipping your face so hard that you might go deaf while being several miles in the air, was definitely much worse.

When they touched down, he realized he’d never been more grateful to be in an ORCA in his life.

“Everyone aboard?” Fareeha scanned over the lot of them, then nodded to Brigitte.

“Get us out of here.”

In the time they went to find Dr. Zhou, it seemed that Brigitte’s mechanical prowess pulled through to restore autopilot despite these treacherous conditions. Like a whale breaching the sea, the ORCA pushed out from beneath the clouds of hail, storm, and ice, finally free of this wretched place for good.

“Thank goodness!” Brigitte sighed loudly, once they finally broke out of the clouds. She slumped back in her seat, giving Hana a small fist bump.

“We aren’t out of the woods just yet.” Fareeha said. “How’s Hanzo?”

“He’s not warming up fast enough!” Right on cue, Lucio came rushing into the room. His eyes were wide and worried and the fear came wailing back to the forefront of Cassidy’s mind. “If I can’t get him to warm up, he’ll die!”

For some reason, all eyes fell to Cassidy.

“Tha hell are y’all starin’ fer?” He snapped. But he knew why. Still, no one answered, and he let out a noisy sigh and started scratching a hand through his beard. As clear as the sky surrounding the ORCA, a memory jostled itself loose from the repressed darkness of Cassidy’s mind…

“When’s tha first time ya slept with tha Strike Commander?” Reyes started from where he was gazing off into some far off distance. He’d been doing that a lot lately; endless broody silences that stretched on for miles like a highway; no end in sight. Cassidy didn’t like the look that overtook his face, and so he broke the ice the only way he knew how.

Reyes didn’t seem to appreciate his joke, making a menacing neck slitting motion in his direction that Cassidy laughed off. It rolled down his shoulders like a playful waterfall, and knowing his scary face wasn’t working on Cassidy anymore, Reyes instead let out an unhappy sigh. It was always a gamble, bringing up the blonde haired object of his boss’s affections. Cassidy, at least, was glad they got past the point of Reyes denying it.

“We’ve never ‘slept together’ in the way you’re implying.”

“With tha amount o’ sexual tension between y’all, coulda fooled me.” Reyes glared at him again and Cassidy just waved him on to continue. “If it ain’t the way I’m thinkin’, y’all have at least shared a bed, right?”

“More times than I can count.” Reyes grumbled. “But it was the barracks in our training program. Hardly romantic stuff.”

“Coulda been!” Cassidy answered chipperly. “You coulda—“ He made a jerking motion with his hand and that did make Reyes hit him.

“But there’s gotta be at least ONE time.” Reyes thought for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes, knowing divulging this would bite him in the ass later.

“We’ve slept naked in the same bed before. Happy?” Cassidy whistled. “Naw, boss, ya know I want tha whole story!”

Their laughter carried through the narrow Watchpoint halls, staving off the demons of their pasts for one, fleeting moment.

Buried within that memory, Cassidy knew how to warm Hanzo up. He looked to Lucio. “Take me ta him.”

He followed Lucio out of the main hangar, hardly registering Fareeha calling Winston up on the holopad to report their general status and probably to seek guidance for Hanzo’s condition. When they reached the medbay, Lucio pushed open the doors. A wall of heat like the Savannah slammed into him—must be part of the ORCA’s cold weather protocol. Swaddled in the middle of an operating bed was Hanzo. His lips were slightly blue around their edges, and blankets were piled on him like the leaning tower of Pisa.

Cassidy turned to Lucio.

“Does he have clothes on still?” Lucio shook his head rapidly. “Negativo, cowboy. I cut them off of him best I could so I could see his wounds. Aside from his foot, it mostly seems internal.”

“He said he broke two ribs.”

“How would he know?”

“Trust me.” Cassidy said gravely. “When ya break a rib enough times, ya start to get familiar with what it feels like.” Cassidy was all too familiar with it himself. The most he’d ever cracked at once was 6; and hell it was so long ago that—for once—he didn’t remember that incident. Most of his mental storage space was jam packed with memories of Reyes and Blackwatch, for worse, usually.

There was no use beating around the bush, so Cassidy sighed, and began unzipping the arctic weather suit.

“I’m gonna get under there an’ help warm him up. It’ll be faster. Tell Ree ta see if Winston can find us a place ta land closer by than Gibraltar cuz I don’t think we’ll make it with him needin’ serious care like this.”

Thankfully Lucio didn’t question him. He just bolted out of the room, then came back to remember to close the door behind him, then truly took off. Cassidy listened out for the energetic taps of his footsteps getting further and further away back towards the hangar. When he couldn’t hear the steps anymore, he shucked the rest of his clothes until he was stark naked and bare in the room. Even without the layers, he felt the sweat already beginning to permeate on his brow.

He looked at the shivering body of Hanzo in the middle of the sheets. “For Genji, for Genji, for Genji.” He told himself through gritted teeth. He could only imagine the hell Hanzo was going to give him when he woke up, if he did.

He pulled up one end of the blanket, and shoved himself underneath, pressing in close to the archer. Hanzo’s skin was cold to the touch, and up close and personal now, he could see how his eyelashes fluttered minutely; as though he were caught in the throes of a bad dream. Whatever he was dreaming about… Cassidy wished he would wake up soon.

Even he could admit to the worry eating him up as they sped off towards the horizon, tangling himself around Hanzo at some feeble attempt to keep him warm.

Chapter 10: relief

Chapter Text

Cassidy lost track of time.

There were no windows in this part of the ship and that added to the liminality of it all. Hanzo stopped shivering either an hour ago or a week ago—f*ck if he knew, and f*ck if he cared to be honest. It was hard to tell what part of him started and where it bled into the now wall of warmth that was Hanzo f*cking Shimada.

The memory Reyes told him about played over and over in his mind in an incessant loop, in a way that almost felt voyeuristic—he wasn’t there, to witness it; he was just a toddler on the other side of the world when this occurred, but Reyes had a way with his words that really painted the landscape of whatever it was he was talking about. He was gruff, but he had a vision. In another life, he would’ve stayed in Los Angeles and really thrown himself into theatre. But this life, he was a soldier, a warrior, one that was recently wed but far from home and pressed bunk to bunk with a bright, blonde haired, blue eyed soldier with biceps just as large as his own. One that he got close to, whose back he watched and vice versa. One who he saw hell and back with, and one who he dragged into a lone safe hut in the dredges of Siberia on a failed mission.

He pressed his hands close to Jack, soiling his hands with his red hot blood from the starburst shaped bullet hole that lodged itself in his sternum, in his abdomen, in his leg. Jack wouldn’t stop shivering, and so Reyes patched him up and sought to make it stop—otherwise they wouldn’t survive the night. He’d lugged Jack to the nearest bunk and tossed him on it; caught his head gentle as an almost afterthought lest he crack his whole damn skull open. He was already shirtless, so it was easy enough to tug off his boots and help him shirk his pants, strip him bare in a way that he tried not to pay attention to in the showers in a time that seemed like forever ago against this suspended, terrifying moment. Then Reyes himself stripped down, grabbed every manner of blanket and curtain and covering he could find and pressed himself close. He breathed the smell of that sunshine that always clung to Jack back then, deep. Please. He told Cassidy he thought, when he was already hanging on his words by a thread and the fire’s light was casting the darkest shadows he’d ever seen on his commander’s face. Please let him live.

Maria, I won’t ask you for anything else if you let him live.

And somehow, Cassidy found himself looping the same chant, over and over like a broken record in his mind.

Hanzo wasn’t hairy like he was. From what little sensations Cassidy could feel amid the oppressive heat that swaddled them close, Hanzo’s skin was smooth like a baby’s. Or a seal’s. Whereas Cassidy was sweating buckets, Hanzo was merely glistening, his expression furrowed and pained but his long lashes still pressed firmly together. It wasn’t a restful sleep, but what anchored Cassidy to that bed, still huddled there, still pressed close and keeping Hanzo warm was that the twinge of blue around his lips that hadn’t fully gone away. Every other breath was a strained wheeze, and each time Cassidy felt his heart pound behind his ribs just a little bit harder.

Maria. He never prayed but it almost felt wrong that he didn’t have his mother’s rosary to shuffle clumsily between his fingers at a time like this. I ain’t a prayin’ man—but fer f*cks sake… Don’t do this to him.

Whether “him” referred to Genji, or Hanzo himself… Cassidy left it up to whoever was listening.

Fareeha popped her head in at some point—god knows how long ago—to tell him that they would be changing the ORCA’s course to meet up with a different contact who caught wind of the recall. It should worry him that people were beginning to hear of them, and it should worry him that their whole operation was one set of loose lips away from the UN being on their ass… but Fareeha told him that said contact was a combat medic and suddenly, Cassidy didn’t care. “Where’re we meetin’ them?” He rasped through muffled blankets and Hanzo’s loose hair in his mouth. It fell clumsily out of the tight bun that he had it usually locked in and Cassidy struggled to peek his head out of the covers. If the situation weren’t so grim, he knew Fareeha would laugh at this ridiculous sight. But she crossed her arms.

“Ushuaia.”

Cassidy just gave her a look and she elaborated. “On the tip of Argentina. Thankfully, kind of far off from any government officials because none of us are clear for Argentina except Lucio. He’s going out to meet the contact. The rest of us will stay here.”

“How far away are we?”

“Winston said it’s only 3 hours from Antarctica at top speed. We’ll need to get some fuel while we’re there. Should be in and out after that. But… we’re close.” She didn’t say she hoped, but Cassidy saw the concern knit deep into her brows. “Are you okay under there?”

“Peachy.” Cassidy grumbled, mimicking her earlier sarcasm, from what seemed like eons ago. “I got a crick in my neck and I can’t feel my arm.”

“You’re doing great.” She said seriously. Fareeha started to leave but then paused in the doorway.

“Once we meet this contact can you call Genji? I… Winston told him the news and I don’t think he’ll want to talk to anyone but you.”

Cassidy knew that much but he managed a passable enough nod of acknowledgment that finally had her pushing off away from the door.

It was another eternity until the door opened again.

“—I’ll take it from here. No need to worry, they’ll be in good hands.” The door clicked shut behind the new entree and it was a voice that Cassidy didn’t recognize—so this must be the contact . He craned his neck back as far as he could to try and get a glimpse of them, and seeing him struggle to move, the contact chuckled. It was a pleasant, heady rumble that eased some of the tension bunched in Cassidy’s shoulders.

“Don’t strain yourself so much! I’m sure you’re already sore, laying like that.”

“Ma told me ‘s rude not ta look at someone when I talk to ‘em.”

“A mama’s boy! I like it.” The contact took pity on him and stepped closer to the bed, leaning over so that their face came into view.

Cassidy was immediately struck by how handsome they were; beautiful dark skin and rich, dark eyes, a killer smile on their face. If he wasn’t already so f*cking hot tucked under the blanket like a child he would blush. As it were, he managed a crooked grin in return.

“Jean-Baptiste Augustin. But please, just call me Baptiste.” Baptiste’s smile turned a little mischievous. “I would offer to shake your hand, but you’re a bit preoccupied.”

Right . Cassidy almost forgot, his body had already gone so numb. He understood now why Reyes didn’t count this kind of situation as something sexy because really, this was probably the least sexy way he’d ever been in anyone’s bed ever.

“Let’s change that though!” Baptiste said. His expression grew more serious, even if his smile was still in tact. “I heard that your friend here took a nasty fall.”

Cassidy quickly explained the situation as best he could, biting his tongue to dispute that Hanzo was his friend quickly because that was irrelevant to describing what exactly happened to land them here. The part where he and Hanzo screamed at each other he also forwent, choosing to stick to as much of the concrete and important details of the elder Shimada’s physical well being, or lack thereof, as possible. Baptiste listened to him intently, nodding along with everything he said as he perused the rest of the room, taking stock of the medical equipment they had on hand.

When Cassidy was finished, Baptiste rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I’ll need to remove the blankets to take stock of his injuries, but I’m concerned if I remove any heat too quickly that he’ll go into cardiac arrest. To be honest, I’m concerned that he’s halfway there since he had to be moved so quickly…“ Baptiste’s voice trailed off and Cassidy grimaced. “Should we not’ve moved ‘im, then?”

“No, you should’ve.” Baptiste sighed. “Better in here where we can try and save him, than all of you dead in the Arctic, am I right?”

Cassidy grunted. It was a fair assessment. He couldn’t see much, still spooning Hanzo like this but he did hear Baptiste shuffle around the room, quietly but efficiently, to get a setup in order to treat the patient. It was hard to tell if they were back in the air or not; whether they had already jetted from Argentina or if they’d lingered just to see if Hanzo’s condition would improve. Not wanting to break the threadbare hope that lay in every nook and crevice of the room, Cassidy held his tongue.

After a few moments more, Baptiste’s voice came from beside him again.

“I’m going to slowly take his arm out from underneath the blanket.” Baptiste warned. “If he jerks, hold him in place, yeah?”

“Got it.” Underneath the blankets, Cassidy carefully wound his arms around Hanzo’s torso; not squeezing but firm enough to keep him in place if the temperature change shocked him. Good thing too; the second Baptiste began to peel even a fraction of the blankets back, Hanzo’s eyes began to flutter and a long, low groan warbled from the back of his throat. Cassidy kept his arm firm like a bar, careful not to put any pressure on his ribs. Baptiste didn’t stop working; his hands were steady as a blade, and as precise as threading a needle. Cassidy couldn’t see what he was doing, though he could guess, if the portable IV swaying with the rise and fall of the ORCA was any indication. They must be back in the air then, and who knows how long this detour put them off course.

With the IV secured, Baptiste stepped back, assessing Hanzo. “What’d ya put in there?” Cassidy managed to ask, jerking his chin towards the IV. “Warm saline.” Baptiste said. “We don’t have the necessary equipment on board to do a blood rewarming or transfusion, so I just want to stabilize him enough while I take a look at his other injuries. You said his foot was twisted, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cole said back, feeling his stomach lurch. He’d glossed over that part of his explanation in terms of details; not that he couldn’t remember what it looked like, just, in close quarters to the man and at risk to hurl, he didn’t want to think about it too much. “I’ll need to see it to see if we can twist it back.”

“Twist it back?!” Despite it all, Baptiste let out a laugh. “How else do you think we fix that kind of thing? He’s not a Barbie doll with removable feet.”

“Won’ that uh—” Cassidy struggled for words. “Tear like a ligament ‘r somethin’?”

“It’s already torn, and will continue to tear if we leave it for any longer. I don’t want to amputate it, if we can avoid it.” Baptiste shrugged and somehow Cassidy got the feeling that this really wasn’t a big deal to him. Didn’t Fareeha say he was a combat medic? Honestly… He’d probably seen worse. It was both a disturbing and comforting thought.

“You should be clear to get out from under the covers, now, by the way.” Baptiste said. When Cassidy looked back at him again, he already had his back to him, rummaging around in his bag for other supplies.

“Ya sure he won’ freeze?” Cassidy couldn’t help but ask suspiciously. Baptiste laughed at that. “No worries! The saline will help warm him from the inside now that his outer extremities are pretty warm. You must run naturally hot, only a few hours together shouldn’t have warmed him up as quickly as it did.”

Cassidy felt his face flush. “Well, Ree did say that this room had a ‘polar related injuries’ protocol… Or somethin’ like that.”

“Really?” Baptiste’s voice lilted up, curiosity definitely coloring his tone, but still a bit flat. Must be serious about gettin’ me outta his hair. —Cassidy knew he was stalling, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he was embarrassed to be naked in front of a stranger, or if there really was some part of him that was truly worried. He could admit to that, perhaps. He was worried. If Hanzo died, Genji would spiral and Cassidy wasn’t sure any of them had the qualifications to deal with that . Angela may be a miracle worker, but therapist, even she couldn’t do that. That, and he just spent the better part of 5 hours pressed closer than sin and sweating bullets to keep the bastard alive. That damn Shimada better live long enough to thank him.

With a small groan, Cassidy pulled himself from under the heavy duvets, the coolness of the slightly warmer air around them a small respite before he started sweating again. He felt disgusting, and probably looked it too: his hair a rats nest and the bags under his eyes were definitely deeper than normal; he didn’t need a mirror to know it, he felt it like the ache in his bones. He quickly located his discarded clothes, which were in a pile by the door, and he tugged them on haphazardly. Baptiste didn’t spare him a glance, probably for his privacy, and while Cassidy thanked him, it made his mind drift. How long had it been since someone looked at him in any way that made his skin hot and his blood race? How long had it been since he felt desired ? Because right now, he was hot. Physically. In the gross kind of way that made any fabric that touched your skin one of the worst kinds of hell because not only did it itch, it clung, which made it itch even more.

He would burn these clothes when they got back to Gibraltar.

As he got ready to leave, Baptiste stopped him with a soft whistle. Cassidy looked over his shoulder, hand perched up on the threshold of the door.

“Would you mind sending in one of the other medics? I didn’t catch either of their names, but I’ll probably need an extra hand for this.”

“Will do, doc!” Cassidy gave Baptiste a small salute, then shuffled off towards the main cabin. Out of the windows, he noticed a cloud breeze by, confirming his suspicion they were heading back to Gibraltar.

Heading back home.

He passed Dr. Zhou and Hana locked in deep conversation on the way up to the main hull. When Fareeha rushed to meet him, he paused her with a hand on her shoulder, then peeked into the main co*ckpit to find Brigitte and Lucio also lounging in conversation. Even their youthful grins as they talked about everything and nothing couldn’t hide the tired tug of the adrenaline and fear from the past 6 hours, and Cassidy hated to be the bearer of less than ideal news but—

“Hey, can one o’ y’all head back there and help Baptiste out?” They both stared at him blankly. They must’ve barely met the man before they pulled him onto the ship and sent him in to assess the situation. Cassidy explained who Baptiste was, and divulged the state of Hanzo’s injuries—and if their faces growing pale wasn’t enough, the whole room itself seemed to shudder from the chill.

“I’ll go.” Lucio finally said after a beat, bravely. “When Vishkar was trying to take over Rio… I saw a lot of similar things. I know what to do, mostly.”

“I really owe you one.” Brigitte said, but the weight of everything made it difficult for the joke to stick. Lucio glided off on those skates of his—how he managed to wear them while in an aircraft was in motion was another mystery to Cassidy. But he waved before he turned the corner, so Cassidy and Brigitte waved back.

When he was gone, he turned back to Fareeha.

“Go on.”

She didn’t say anything. Just handed him the phone, already dialing Genji. Cassidy let out a rueful sigh, but he did promise that he would speak to him. Genji picked up on the second ring, and Cassidy stepped into the side room where they played charades jenga hours before, closing the pocket door shut behind him.

“Is he dead?” Were the first words out of Genji’s mouth. There was a threadbare hiss of panic that the receiver managed to catch, and lord knows that anything in the nearby vicinity of him was probably gripped to all hell and cracked under his enhanced strength.

“No.” Cassidy said, and that was true—as far as he knew, Hanzo wasn’t dead in there. In those endless hours when he was pressed close to the archer’s side, the dull thump of his heartbeat was truly what kept him up, kept him from sleeping. The fear that it would stop had a grip on him, one that he hadn’t felt in years.

“He ain’t dead. But— Well. He saved Dr. Zhou.” Cassidy admitted.

“And in doing so, risked his life.” Genji sounded troubled, and yet Cassidy found himself saying. “He acted ‘fore any of us could. I’unno how he knew the ground would break, but… Honest Genj we’d probably be buryin’ both of ‘em if he hadn’t intervened.” A silence stretched. Then, quietly; “I should’ve been there.” Genji’s synth cracked, and lord, he was probably crying. Cassidy was terrible at comfort if he couldn’t see, if he couldn’t touch. He found himself flexing his fingers, looking for the familiar hold on Genji’s shoulder but grasping air. Genji sucked in a harsh breath.

“If I was there, I could’ve saved her. He would not be… broken.”

“Hey now, neither of y’all need to be cut up.” Cassidy protested, gently but firm. “There was a lotta stuff we couldn’t control. But we got a good doc here, and he n’ Lucio are patchin’ him up right now. He’ll be in crutches when we get back.”

“What of the complications with his foot?” Genji lamented, and that was true. “What if he can never walk normally again because I was not there?”

“Genji, how could you have known?” Cassidy said gently. “Even if I gotta get down on my hands and knees with ya, and beg Angie to fix him, I’ll do it. He’s stable, n’ warm, n’ alive, n’ that’s what matters.”

Genji let out a shuddering, haunted breath.

“You’re right.” He finally said. “But know, if I could cry, I would be in tears right now.”

“Ya can’t?” Cassidy asked, taking the hint to change the topic. “No.” Genji chuckled humorlessly, and the conversation strayed into every which way Cassidy could try and comfort his friend while they jetted across the ocean.

At some point, Cassidy found himself humming an old lullaby that his mama taught him, until the other line fell silent and Cassidy found himself dozing off, Stetson tipped low over his eyes like the dip of the sun underneath the horizon.

The ORCA touched down at Gibraltar 36 hours ago. And as far as Cassidy knew, Hanzo hadn’t woken up yet.

Since the landing, Cassidy was immediately intercepted by a distraught cyber-ninja, and the two of them had been treading tracks on the floor in front of the medbay since they got back. Occasionally others would come by to check if Hanzo was out of surgery yet — Reinhardt first, Hana second, third, Fareeha fourth, and then Dr. Zhou fifth… with Hana trailing behind them. Cassidy didn’t dare suggest that Genji get rest, though he knew that his friend should , and after some time he couldn’t bear to keep up the trek. Cassidy found himself in the kitchen.

It seemed like just yesterday that he and Genji sat here at the ass-crack of the night; Genji spilling his deepest secret and regret to him about his brother. Chewing through his cigar filter again, he wondered… if Genji never told him that, would he have actually tried to save Hanzo? Was it pity for how things fell between the brothers that caused him to soften up? Was he seeing some of himself, some of Reyes now in the man holed up in the medbay…. He didn’t know.

He tried to reason with himself that of course he would’ve tried to save Hanzo. He may not like the man, but at the very least he did save Dr. Zhou’s life. An eye for an eye, a life for a life and all that. Cassidy didn’t hold grudges when it came down to what actually mattered. Surely.

He didn’t know why he was having such a hard time believing himself.

It made him restless. After leaving Genji to it at the doors of the medbay, he had been wandering the base in a restless haze, chewing through cigar after cigar. He was running out of his stash fast, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to give Angela’s nicotine patches a try to hold him over once he ran out. With all this hell and highwater that had happened in the past month or so, he felt like all of them deserved their vices; whatever they may be.

He wasn’t prepared to run into Baptiste in the hall on his third-fourth-god, who cared how many?-loop around the base.

“Baptiste!” He said in surprise. “I—Is he awake ?” Baptiste’s face stayed grim for a moment, but suddenly that brilliant smile broke out over his face and Cassidy felt a full body weight slide off of his shoulders.

“Right as rain! — Or, he has been for the past few hours.” Baptiste let out a chuckle. “It was a little intense there in the beginning—we weren’t sure we had enough blood for the transfusions we needed, but as always, Dr. Ziegler is a life saver—”

“Angie helped?!” Cassidy didn’t know why he was acting so surprised. He was sure that even if they wheeled in Moira’s evil ass, Angela would only sigh unhappily and keep the other scientist alive, even if only to have her face justice proper. Baptiste nodded, looking at him a bit strangely, obviously knowing that no real doctor would turn a patient away but Cassidy waved his hand. He was tired of being the bearer of this drama between the brothers, between Hanzo and Angela, the whole kit and kaboodle.

“Don’ worry about it. Long story. Has Genj seen him yet?”

“If you mean the uh…” Baptiste started to kind of gesture with his hands, seeming to not want to be rude but Cassidy could only chuckle himself, even if it was a bit worn.

“Tha cyborg?”

“Er… Yes, I suppose. I didn’t get his name. After Dr. Ziegler left and opened the doors, he pushed right past her, grabbed Hanzo by the shoulders and started yelling at him in… uh. Japanese I think?”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.” Cassidy chuckled again. Even if he didn’t know Japanese he was sure that he could surmise what most of what Genji said to him was. How could you be so f*cking stupid?! or Do you have any idea how worried about you I was?! or even— What if you died, brother?! and Cassidy wasn’t sure Genji would like the answer, his mind reminding him of Hanzo’s thousand yard stare when they were standing in the ice caves underneath the sheet.

Baptiste laughed, awkwardly this time, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Then Hanzo told him that he did it because he wanted to save Dr. Zhou and uh…”

“Genji.” Cassidy supplied helpfully.

“He stopped yelling immediately.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.” Cassidy said again. And surprisingly, he wasn’t. It was almost… out of character for Hanzo to say something like that, but hearing it directly from his brother that he not only did do something good but wanted to… He was sure that Genji was probably still emotional about it now. He’d have to track him down later and see how he was.

“Has anyone else come to visit ‘im?” Cassidy asked, changing the subject.

Baptiste went down the roster of visitors with Cassidy adding in names when he recognized who Baptiste was referring to. So far it seemed Reinhardt dropped by with a bundle of bratwurst for when Hanzo could eat again, and Dr. Zhou with Fareeha to thank him for saving her life (and for Fareeha to apparently commend him for his efforts. Cassidy wondered how awkward that conversation was). Lucio and Brigitte dropped by as a unit but they’d been helping a lot during the surgery as “nurses” so apparently a lot of their visit was spent checking his vitals and readjusting the cast on his leg. Finally, Hana dropped by and that was around the time when Baptiste left to find some food and get some fresh air. Cassidy directed him to the kitchen, though warned him of its probably meager contents, and then found himself making his way towards the med bay himself. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but one his feet seemed to make for him, meandering to the place where his curiosity was the most piqued.

Perhaps he just wanted to be sure that Hanzo was fully out of the woods—he wanted to confirm it with his own two eyes. He stopped in front of the med bay doors, peering through the window to see Hana perched on the bed, not on Hanzo’s lap but they were pressed close, like siblings who stayed up past their bedtime. Hana was showing Hanzo something on her phone and by the looks of it he was listening intently. Just like the day of the party, his hair was down and tucked behind his ears, showcasing his shaved sides and cascading over his broad shoulders, flecks of gray shimmering in the artificial light. It seemed that they took out his piercings for the surgery; and Cassidy found that he looked almost naked without them—or just unbearably soft, homey even.

Seeming to feel his gaze like a sixth sense Hanzo looked up and caught it. His eyes were rich, and deep, even through the grid glass of the window, they swallowed the air wholly out of Cassidy’s lungs. When Hana noticed that he wasn’t paying attention to her phone anymore, she too looked up. When she caught Cassidy’s gaze, she grinned. She turned back to Hanzo and said something that the doors muffled, then she stood, coming back over to the doors.

Cassidy stepped back so she could open them.

“When they let you out of here, let’s stream StarCraft again okay? You’re getting better at it!” Hana called over her shoulder. Hanzo held up a hand in a gentle wave, that small smile Cassidy saw during that stream days before slipping over his face. Hana grinned, then turned to look up at Cassidy.

“Go get him, tiger!” She punched his arm with a little laugh, leaving Cassidy a bit confused at the knowing look she was giving him.

“Wouldn’t a stallion be better? I am a cowboy.”

“Oh, shut up!” Hana giggled. She held the door open for him, and feeling awkward because how could he tell her he didn’t want to actually talk to Hanzo, he just wanted to see that he was awake… Cassidy stepped in.

The doors slammed shut behind him when Hana let it drop, but it was eerily familiar to when he was looking for Hanzo in the storeroom. This time however, Hanzo wasn’t gripping frayed wires and looking more animal than man. This time he was strangely quiet, and somehow… that was more menacing.

Cassidy wasn’t going to back down though, not from this sudden challenge of his wits. He crossed the sterile tile floor and took a seat in the chair third nearest to Hanzo’s hospital bed. Enough room for him to look comfortable, but enough space to bolt if Hanzo decided to lash out like his mind was sure he would. They sat in silence for a long while, each of them occasionally looking up from their folded hands and catching the other’s eye, then hastily looking in the opposite direction as though they were caught for doing something naughty.

It was so childish, if Cassidy wasn’t so pensive he would probably laugh.

Unable to take the silence any longer, the next time Cassidy caught Hanzo eyeing him from the bed, he said. “I should get ya a nail clipper fer yer discharge gift.”

Hanzo furrowed his brow, but it didn’t seem angry just… confused. “Ya got stabby f*ckin’ toenails.” Cassidy elaborated.

“My personal hygiene regime is none of your concern cowman.”

“It is if yer gonna f*ckin’ scratch my leg up like I’m a damn cat tree.” Cassidy protested, and the longer he looked at Hanzo’s face, the more it looked like he was fighting off the urge to make that little smile.

It made something like warmth flutter briefly behind Cassidy’s ribs.

It didn’t register until he got back to his room after Baptiste shooed him out to check Hanzo’s vitals again that he was back to cowman status.

And honestly, that probably shouldn’t make him grin as much as it did.

Chapter 11: life for a life

Chapter Text

Cassidy knew that Hanzo was discharged when he woke up one morning to a bottle of Johnnie Walker Reserve Gold Label whiskey sitting pretty as punch in a dark crimson gift bag at his door. He hadn’t had this in nearly 10 years, and that was after he got his first big payout from Deadlock and he spent all his money on things he still carried to this day: new Stetson to replaced the ratty old one he stole off his pa, bulletproof flask, his signature serape, his favorite spurs, and about six bottles of the good stuff just like the one on his doorstep that he proceeded to drink himself into an impressive stupor.

He knew that whoever gave this to him must’ve talked to Genji; he’s the only one who knew this was his favorite brand—and whoever got him this bottle must have credits to spend because it wasn’t cheap either. The only person (aside from perhaps Hana or Lucio, and damn what either of them said, neither of them looked old enough to even be fifty feet near a bar) who would even have the funds to afford this bottle, was Hanzo f*cking Shimada.

Cassidy popped the cork, guzzled the bottle that very same night, and let himself be okay with it.

It was like some strange, almost parallel dimension truce had settled between the two of them. They didn’t talk, not really. A lot of the times when Cassidy caught the tail end of Hanzo sneaking off somewhere as he did, they bitched at each other if they happened to be in each other’s way. It’s not like Cassidy sought him out purposefully—he wasn’t that bad. But Hanzo kept smirking to himself when he knew Cassidy was looking, and he himself couldn’t hold back any of the snorts or chuckles that occasionally slipped through his facade. He wouldn’t say he was going soft on the assassin but. Well.

Lena serving him yorkshire pudding one day as an afternoon treat at tea seemed a little too on the nose.

He hounded Genji for Hanzo’s favorite drink, and got him a cheap knockoff of some expensive sake in return. Left it on his doorstep wrapped in blue ribbon. If that meant anything.

(It did).

Even the rest of the Watchpoint had decidedly warmed up to Hanzo at this point even if he was still elusive. Now, he would let people catch him in a conversation, hell, sometimes he would even say something to someone that wasn’t Hana and that was a huge improvement. Even he and Genji could exist within the same space for longer than 2 minutes and not end up at each other’s throats! Improvement all around! Well, minus Angela but at this point Cassidy stopped counting her.

The only hiccup was when Genji’s famous, eclectic, omnic teacher, Master Zenyatta arrived on base—but only just. Hanzo became rigid when faced with the omnic’s serene and impassive demeanor, preferring to snap at his serene grace than take to it. That, coupled with the incident where he’d snapped at the monk for being just a tad presumptuous about the nature of why he was constantly an ass to everyone around him (himself included), but that was honestly better than Genji hoped for. No one was expecting Hanzo to take to the idea of getting help with his mental demons easily, but…

“I suppose I hoped he would try.” Genji sighed. Cassidy twirled Peacekeeper between his fingers, grateful from the small respite from their training to catch his breath. Sweat trickled down his brow and trailed down the hairs on the back of his neck and Cassidy pawed at it with his free hand. Sparring always wore him down, especially with people quick on his feet like Genji. “I mean, ya can bring a horse to the river but ya can’t make ‘im drink.”

“Somehow I knew you would say that.” Genji said with a small laugh. Cassidy only shrugged. “‘M jus’ sayin’.” He crossed the distance between them, and as always gripped his friend’s shoulder. He squeezed.

“Give it time.” He said easily. “‘M sure you weren’t a cakewalk ta talk ta either when ya first met Mister Zenyatta, now were you?” Genji laughed in agreement at that, but their conversation was cut short by the blare of the Watchpoint’s seldom used emergency siren. Athena’s voice blared, in that mechanical way it only did when emergency functions overrode her AI.

“EMERGENCY PROTOCOL. ALL AGENTS TO MEETING ROOM A. ALL AGENTS TO MEETING ROOM A.”

He and Genji looked at each other, then as one mind, they dashed out of the training room. What seemed like seconds later they slid into the meeting room, having sprinted all the way there. Lena was already waiting, but she wasn’t looking at anyone, just staring up at the large screens that usually showed maps, mission debriefs, and other data. What was playing now was BBC news footage; their cameras swept over a wide aerial shot of a familiar plaza, zooming in on an even more familiar statue of the former omnic peace-leader, Mondatta at its epicenter. Tents and camps were being pitched up by large swathes of people and omnics alike, as the newscaster droned on about what appeared to be an upcoming protest for Omnic Rights.

It was easy to put together that this was King’s Row. Lena’s main stomping ground.

But that wasn’t what truly drew Cassidy’s attention.

The camera shot changed and it swept upwards, cinematically following some gulls as this news segment ended. But Cassidy would recognize the dark military grade jets flying just out of view of the civilian eye; hovering like sharks just above the small neighborhood.

“Talon.” Cassidy breathed. Genji knew it too; his body went rigid, drawn tight like a coil, or perhaps a bowstring. Wordlessly, he pointed at the second screen. A different news station doing ground coverage was speaking to an omnic with a bright blue mohawk, but Genji’s finger targeted a shadowy figure behind the omnic and reporter. The glimpse of a telltale black ‘T’ insignia that they managed to swivel away from the camera was all Cassidy needed to see. They were already on the ground. They were going to turn this peaceful protest into a violent altercation. But why?

Cassidy found himself drawn back to the cyborg’s ominous words when they all stood together in the dilapidated halls of Eichenwalde Castle.

If there is evil, there is a way.

“What is their goal?” Genji’s voice was like needles. “What do they intend to gain by ruining this demonstration?”

“An’ it ain’t like Talon to be so open.” Cassidy said with a frown. “This has gotta be some kinda set up.”

“We don’t know yet.” Lena was pacing now, completely serious and totally wired, unable to sit still, knowing that her home turf that she so beloved was under attack. “Winston thinks it might be some sort of diversion, though for what I don’t know. They’re probably going to attack sometime tomorrow when the protest starts. At least that’s what our sources say.”

“Tha’s an easy call—I used ta do dirty work myself, so it only makes sense.” Cassidy crossed his arms over his wide chest. “But what I wanna know is, since when did we get inside sources? And who are they?”

The three of them were cut off by Lúcio entering the room with a good natured, if worried, hoot. The musician held open the door for the rest of the agents he must’ve run into along the way and they all filed into the room in varying states of duress. Meeting Room A was starting to get far too small for all of them, yet this close, Cassidy could feel the tension; could smell the grimness of the situation like poison poppies in the air. “It’s all over my news feed! The news hasn’t mentioned the jets yet, but man people are noticing!” Lucio held up his phone and Cassidy found himself, like everyone else, crowding in close to get a glimpse. As he scrolled, dozens of photos of clearer shots of the ominous jets to their full, terrifying scale were being posted. Lucio continued. “Everyone has been talking about how this looks like Armageddon! ”

“I did not know you were familiar with that title!” Reinhardt boomed jovially. Lucio gave him a grin. “It used to be one of my dad’s favorites!”

“Well, whatever they’re up to, we need to be there.” Lena said firmly. There were several nods of agreement among all of them, with Hana exclaiming quietly, “It’ll be a massacre…”

“But we can’t just run in willy nilly.” Fareeha, ever the pillar of logic, reminded them. Her tone was firm but the frown that pulled over her face was largely worried and empathetic. Cassidy knew her too well. Still, duty was duty. “Overwatch is still illegal.” She said, pointing out the elephant in the room.

“But we can’t just do nothing!” Brigitte said. She must’ve just come from doing some repair work since she was twisting a socket wrench between her fingers and her gloves were covered in oil. Fareeha grimaced. “I’m not suggesting we do nothing—“

“I have a plan.” Winston said confidently, and the gorilla entered the room with Baptiste and Angela at his flanks, all the chatter amongst them falling as silent as a tomb. He looked around quickly, making sure everyone was accounted for, then made his way to stand in front of the news broadcast footage.

“It’s true that Talon seems to be making some moves to sabotage this peaceful protest.” He began. “Lena has a few contacts in King’s Row, Iggy—the omnic you saw on the screen speaking with a reporter, and her girlfriend Emily, helping provide reconnaissance.”

Cassidy didn’t realize Winston had a clicker in his hand, but the gorilla pressed a button and the screen shifted from the news broadcast to a 2D flat map of King’s Row. It was a small district, reminiscent of England’s ancient history, and the only neighborhood of London that was considered a historical site and not demolished to make way for fancy new high rises. As such, it left a lot of credence for shady figures, by way of alley, or the narrow buildings—the broken, old subway even being an entrance to the former, now fallen and mostly defunct Underworld where many omnics used to reside. Winston explained all of this quickly and clearly, clicking through slide after slide. After the brief lesson and overview of the map, he cut right back to where he left off.

“Emily began noticing strange activity in King’s Row a week ago.” He said. “The jets hadn’t appeared, but more and more unusually dressed and suspicious men began turning up and lurking around as news of the protest spread. She contacted Lena, and so I have been keeping an eye on things with Baptiste, who has inside knowledge of many of Talon’s operating strategies.” Winston then stepped to the side, and Baptiste himself stepped up to the pulpit. The next slide was back to news footage.

“It would be my guess that the higher ups are wanting to shake things up.” Baptiste said plainly. “There is either something in King’s Row they are looking for, or they’re planning another operation somewhere else in the world that will be a PR nightmare, so they want to use this as a distraction.”

“Where would ya put yer money?” Cassidy asked reflexively. Baptiste grimaced, tilting his head back and forth for a moment. “To tell you the truth? It wouldn’t surprise me if it was a little bit of column A, a little bit of column B. Either way, because we do not have the manpower to take on a full scale assault against Talon, I think if we are to go, we should stick to helping the Red Cross and aiding with civilian evacuation.”

Hearing that made Cassidy grimace. Getting in there and doing reconnaissance and using the protest as cover to figure out what Talon was up to, or hell, even raising some ruckus to drive them out of there was more Cassidy’s style. Protecting the public came with its own slew of problems, none of which Cassidy was particularly keen onhaving to deal with.

So, of course, Winston met his eyes when he said, “We’re creating a strike team!”

“Cole Cassidy, do you copy?”

“Kind of not tha time, Hanzo.” Cassidy tried to keep the growl out of his voice, but given the present circ*mstances he just couldn’t. He was ushering along the civilians with him as quickly as he could; he had the arm of an omnic with a sparking core from a detonation blast slung over his shoulder, and even if he didn’t have their metal body to contend with, he could hear the footsteps of Talon agents fast approaching. It felt like they were f*cking everywhere. Roaches, infesting every inch of King’s Row.

Unsurprisingly, Lena was chosen as the leader of their little mission. She had home turf advantage and she was nearly shaking out of her skin in rage that Talon would dare step foot into her beloved town. Fareeha was chosen for air support, Lucio for med, since he’d dealt with similar situations in Rio between Vishkar and Null Sector. Tank support was a bit of a fight, but they settled on Reinhardt. Hana was rightfully pissed that she would be missing out on the action but Winston’s argument that they didn’t want to blow her cover as an agent with them yet and risk the Korean government’s wrath eventually made her pipe down. And finally, unsurprisingly, and of course because as he kept saying, his mama’s god hated him: He and Hanzo, bringing up the rear.

Genji should’ve gone with them to the front lines but Cassidy didn’t even want to try and contend with the look on Angela’s face. She herself was stationed undercover at a nearby hospital with Baptiste and Brigitte to aid with any injuries or casualties. Genji would support them over there, and he squeezed Hanzo’s shoulder tightly before they parted. Everyone else stayed back at their ORCA stationed far offshore.

When their little motorized life raft made it to shore, they all split up, blending easily into the crowd because, well, no one was really looking that hard, at least not yet. It wasn’t even an hour into the march when sh*t went goddamn haywire.

Half past noon a set pulse blew underneath Mondatta’s statue, obliterating it into several million pieces and hailing chunks of stone and brass into the goddamn stratosphere.Several other charges blew in the surrounding buildings where observers and news teams watched on, and pandemonium set in faster than releasing a bronco out of the gate at a rodeo. Cassidy grabbed the person nearest to him; an omnic, and hit the deck, shielding them from raining buildings. He became a one man army after that and seized the reins of his section, bellowing out orders until his voice was near hoarse. Somewhere in the distance, he was sure Fareeha was doing the same. And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, after the dust settled, Talon agents melted like shadows out of the crowd in full military regalia and hailing machine guns.

This already sucked. Like, a lot, if you asked him.

Undeterred, and back in the present, Hanzo continued. “You will do exactly as I say.”

“An jus who made you captain?” Cassidy snorted. “There’s a dead end over here!” Someone towards the front of the pack called. f*ck, goddamn, sh*t, f*ck . He didn’t have time for this, for Hanzo’s bullsh*t, Talon, none of it. This is why he never joined the frontlines. In Blackwatch he never had to be concerned about the safety of civilians when he could be doing what he did best: taking down the enemy head on. But he came back to do good, to fix what Reyes and Blackwatch broke, to ease his own goddamn consciousness before he inevitably kicked the bucket. This is what he got for caring.

“There are thirty agents tailing you, and there are no alternate routes the way you’re heading.” Cassidy stopped cold in his tracks, jerking the sparking omnic roughly without meaning to. He touched his free hand to his comm. “What?” He kept his voice low, to smooth the panic out of his voice so it wouldn’t raise civilian alarm. “How—”

“I can see them, and your position.” The adrenaline coursing through his body was a petrol fire, making every hair on his arm stand on end.

“Is everything okay?” The sparking omnic asked. Their tinny voice was laced with worry, and Cassidy couldn’t meet their eyes. He looked over his shoulder, towards the sound of heavy armored feet growing louder.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Cole Cassidy. You will do exactly as I say.”

If they weren’t in the middle of a life or death situation, Cassidy would swear that Hanzo’s voice was practically a purr. If his heart wasn’t thundering in his throat, and if he was more than two-thirds of a whiskey bottle deep, maybe he’d even admit to himself that Hanzo sounded hot.

Presently he ignored it. Tried to. “What d’ya say?” Cassidy found himself breathing out.

“On my count,” He could practically feel Hanzo wetting his lips. “You will tell the civilians to duck. You will also duck.”

“Duck- Huh?” The rest of the civilians he was leading by now had stopped in their tracks and were giving him quizzical, maybe even panicked looks. So maybe he wasn’t as good at keeping the panic out of his own voice as he thought. Cassidy looked over his shoulder once more as the first of Talon’s soldiers burst into the alley.

“Oh my god!” Someone shrieked.

“Don’t move!” Cassidy’s voice was rough.

“One,” Hanzo counted in his ear.

The Talon agent at the end of the alley didn’t stop though. He made his own sounding call to the men that must’ve been looking for them down other nooks and alleys to come this way. The sound of more boots racing towards them was thundering. The Talon agent trained his gun at them. The red dot sight on the barrel of his gun zeroed in directly on Cassidy’s chest.

“Two,” Hanzo’s voice was steady in his ear and heaven’s above, he was going to be the death of them. Cassidy was going to die listening to him because the deranged part of his mind that listened to his dick told him to listen to the man purring in his ear over all the good, hard-earned sense in his own head, that was screaming at him to at least pull out Peacekeeper and shoot. Behind the first goon, more and more Talon soldiers swarmed around the bend, guns drawn and aimed—if not at him, then one of the cowering civilians behind him.

“Mommy!” The little girl was sobbing now and Cassidy still stood frozen, bated, waiting. “Do something!” Another woman cried, grabbing his serape tightly in her fists. The Talon soldiers continued to file into the alley like ants descending upon an unfortunate slug and Cassidy’s idiot brain was clutching onto Hanzo’s words like a goddamn lifeline. He was barely breathing, but against his ear, Hanzo’s breath remained terrifyingly steady.

“Three.”

“Duck!” Cassidy roared.

Thankfully, everyone in his small group listened and dropped to the ground like sacks of dead weight. And though Cassidy could hear the rip of dozens of triggers being pulled at the same time, none of the bullets met them. A different roar sounded above them, so deafening that Cassidy felt his ears pop. His eyes that squeezed shut in reflex flew open.

Dragons. Bonafide, blue, snarling dragons flew over them directly into the panicked crowd of Talon soldiers. Some tried to shoot, some tried to run— none of them were any match for the terrifying size, speed and precision of the beasts' gaping maws. Their cries of anguish were nearly as loud as the dragons themselves. They cut through the men like a butcher cut through mincemeat, their blood smattering across the too-close buildings of the alley, raining down on them and probably staining all their clothes to hell. The dragons only dissipated when the last soldier fell, sweeping clean back from whence they came then disappearing into the building that they rocketed from in the first place. When they swept back overhead, Cassidy distinctly noticed that the air around them smelled charged with ozone.

He stood up on wobbly legs—hell, Bambi probably could walk smoother than he did. None of the civilians were faring any better, and as quickly as he could manage, he helped everyone to their feet. The little girl who was crying before was clean passed out.

“You are welcome.”

Cassidy heard the comm line click before he could say anything else.

“Cole, love, do you copy?!”

“Clear as day, Lena, but quit yer shoutin’.” Cassidy hissed. He looked over the pile of rubble he was crouched behind and breathed out a heavy sigh when two officers rounded a corner just out of sight. He cupped his hand over his mouth and the receiver for the comm. After Hanzo’s life saving maneuver, Cassidy managed to hobble his group of survivors to the Red Cross docket where they were evacuating civilians as quickly as they could. The little girl and the omnic he’d practically carried there insisted that he come with them, but he managed to shake himself out of their grasp and was back on the prowl in the ruined, but quieting streets of King’s Row.

“Ya doin’ headcount?”

“Sort of!” She sounded panicked. “Officers are looking to make arrests for anyone with a weapon and they’re being indiscriminate! We need to get out of King’s Row STAT.”

Cassidy sighed, he could’ve figured that much. “We got a rendezvous point?”

“Not right now, it’ll cause a scene. I’m with Fareeha and we’re trying to find Lucio and Rein, so I need you to find Hanzo and go!”

Lena cut her line before Cassidy could ask anything else, and he huffed out a long breath through his nose. It’d been a long time since he’d done a scatter and regroup, but muscle memory was muscle memory, and the mental checklist of criminal intent resurfaced like an old, friend in his mind. Blackwatch was known for clean extractions (until Rialto, anyway, and even then they were all together), but The Deadlock Gang on the other hand…

Wordlessly, he tipped his Stetson down low over his eyes, and he reloaded Peacekeeper, practiced and easy-like. He took in a measured breath. When he breathed out, golden smoke spewed like a dragon from his lungs.

“It’s High Noon.” He crooned out, like an old cowboy settled around his fire for the night. His own personal incantation, and one passed down the Cassidy family line for generations . When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of his reflection in the broken store window across from his hiding spot, and his left eye shimmered red, with a golden skull and bones across its iris.

He checked around the corner once more, and finding no one, law enforcement or Talon alike, he rolled to the next cover, and quickly made his way towards… Well, f*ck if he knew to be honest, but he would figure it out.

He always did.

When he was in an even more sparse area, Cassidy touched his hand to his comm again, switching on autopilot to Hanzo’s channel. “Shimada, do you copy?” He hissed.

Static.

Cassidy resisted the urge to let out an irritated sigh. Of. f*cking. Course.

Even if his sense of direction wasn’t great, the signs leading to the elder Shimada were clear. Talon bodies littered the streets; broken off arrowheads left in bodies like pins in sub sandwiches and a good enough lead as any.

He crept through the now fully demolished King’s Row, away from the blazing setting sun behind him—hardly stopping to take in the hell of it all. He didn’t have time to reminisce that this was once a place, bustling with history and love, good and evil, rich and poor, and now all that was left of any of it were piles of stone and ash. The arrows grew more frequent as Cassidy picked his way through the rubble, and at every rumble or rustle of movement he would duck into deep, gloomy alleyways illuminated only by the blaze of Deadeye burning behind his eyes. He’d never had to use it so damn long but—being able to get the jump on any straggling Talon soldiers made the strain worth it.

It was Deadeye that led to him finally spotting Hanzo; he noticed a figure crouched up on what appeared to be the fourth floor of a halfway demolished building, their body only a red outline in Deadeye’s borrowed vision. The shape of a compound bow, pressed tight to their side is what gave away that it was him and Cassidy tapped his comm again only to be met with more static. Damn this f*cking piece of sh*t—

Breathe. He told himself harshly. To the right of him he noticed a fire escape and Cassidy quickly made his way towards it; pulling himself hand over hand up the rickety metal ladder. It was definitely risky, it was easy for him to be shot down from this position, sure. But, Cassidy had a hunch that Talon would be pulling out of here for now. At least so they could regroup; between Hanzo’s dragons and the rocket barrage he heard thundering in the distance towards the beginning of the fight, they probably had just as many casualties as the civilians, if not more than that.

When he reached the third floor window, the fire escape abruptly cut off, its ends completely singed and broken off from some of the gunfire that hailed down the city only hours ago. Cassidy touched the ends hesitantly with his flesh hand. Cold to the touch. Thank f*ck. And by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be too far of a reach to clamber up the window and get inside. He wasn’t no ninja like the Shimada brothers, but he was no stranger to breaking and entering. He rolled up his proverbial sleeves and quickly clambered up to the top of the broken ladder, then stood only just so on his toes to reach the sill of the fourth floor window. It was a bit of a stretch, but he was a tall man—so long as he got a good grip, he’d be fine.

His metal hand gripped the bricks of the ledge tightly, enough to give him leverage. With his flesh hand he reached and grasped another part of the ledge, hanging there for a brief moment when he managed to secure his grip. The triumph, however, was short lived, and the brick he grasped was loose, and the weight of him pulling down on it finally made it give way and he dropped back to just his metal arm as the brick sailed down to the bottom of the alleyway.

“f*ck!” He hissed. His feet scrambled for purchase against railing under him, and he just managed to get his tip-toes underneath him once more when he suddenly felt his body surge upward, something grabbing him by the serape to help hoist him up.

He tumbled in through the window and landed in a heap with his helper—unsurprisingly, Hanzo. Cassidy didn’t think he’d be able to get the jump on the assassin even if he wanted to, but he was surprised at how quickly Hanzo came to his aid. It took a moment for the two of them to detangle themselves from one another and when Cassidy sat back against the wall, he heaved a grand sigh.

“Ya scared tha sh*t out of me.”

“I could say the same to you.” Hanzo wasn’t glowering, not really, but his voice was definitely more of a growl than the calm purr from before that Cassidy still felt the ghost of tickling his ear. “We gotta get outta here.” Cassidy said. “Has our foe pulled out?” Hanzo asked blithely, flicking something from his pants, and it was then that Cassidy noticed the weeping blood from a bullet shaped wound in his hand.

Without thinking he grabbed Hanzo’s wrist and the man started—jerking in place but it spoke volumes that he didn’t fully pull away, and let Cassidy examine the wound.

“I thought ya were on the roofs, when tha hell did this happen!?” Cassidy demanded. Hanzo let out that weird husky snort laugh that Cassidy was becoming irritatingly familiar with, but the assassin wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“It appears I was spotted from the ground when I granted you your favor.” He hissed, then shifted his shoulder with a small wince, which drew Cassidy’s attention to it. Another bullet wound wept fresh blood onto his dark blue jacket. It was easy for Cassidy to put it together; the bullet shot through his hand and embedded itself in his shoulder.

“Jee-sus, Maria and Joseph—Shimada! ”

“Do not be so loud.” Hanzo said and Cassidy had to mentally restrain himself from throttling him. “Did ya put any biotic gel on it?”

“We need to leave quickly, correct? I’m sure law enforcement is looking for us.”

“Shimada. Do ya even carry gel?” Hanzo ignored him. “Beneath us is a parking garage. I am sure there is a vehicle or two we can borrow.”

Cassidy resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Hanzo.”

“What, cowman?” Hanzo snapped. He met Cassidy’s eyes and they were blazing with a blue fire almost like his own using Deadeye, and Hanzo seemed to notice it too for his body suddenly went stiff. The moniker however, gave Cassidy the courage to press onward. “I’m gonna apply biotic gel ta yer hand and yer shoulder. I ain’t havin’ ya bleed out on me.”

“I thought that your observation skills would be sharper now that you have seen my dragons.” Hanzo pushed himself up to a standing position, his bow tight in his grip. “But they also aid me with my physical ails. I will not bleed out.”

“But yer hand’s still f*ckin’ bleedin’ all over this f*ckin’ carpet.” Both of them looked at Hanzo’s hand, which indeed, had not stopped bleeding. “‘N at bare goddamn minimum I am slappin’ some gel on it.” Cassidy stood too, and without waiting for an answer, he loosened the gel holster from his belt, tugged Hanzo by the wrist again and slathered his hand with the sticky substance. Despite his protests, Hanzo only looked like a mildly inconvenienced cat, and glared at Cassidy as he applied it. When Cassidy reached for his shoulder, Hanzo finally tugged away, and turned with his back to him towards the door.

“We need to leave.” As if on cue, sirens began wailing out on the street and despite it all, it did light a small fire under his ass. He did finally pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.” He drawled, drawing his shoulders up. “But when we get ta…” Cassidy didn’t know where the hell they were going to camp out. He growled in frustration and Hanzo did that little laugh again and Cassidy shoved past him, purposefully, hard enough that Hanzo was physically jostled though not fully off balanced.

“When we get somewhere safe I’m bandagin’ yer got damn shoulder and I better not hear a f*ckin’ word of complaint outta ya. Ya hear?”

“Sure, captain.”

Cassidy looked over his shoulder and glared hard at Hanzo f*cking Shimada.

“And quit f*ckin’ back sassin’ me.”

“What can I say?” Hanzo said quietly as the two of them tromped down the ruined stairs into the parking garage. Hanzo breezed past him, purposefully flexing his mobility by jumping over the stairs and landing in a crouch on the landing. Cassidy wanted to wring his reckless ass neck.

“You make it too easy.”

Chapter 12: bother

Chapter Text

Cassidy wasn’t sure what type of building this was before the bombing, but he was thankful that whoever built it really invested in the concrete ceiling; nearly every vehicle in the parking garage (“Car park!” He heard Lena say cheerfully in his head) was virtually untouched. It gave them a variety of pickings not so dissimilar to a buffet. He said as much to Hanzo, the man only scoffed. After taking a gander around for a few moments, checking underneath a few undercarriages to rule out the possibilities of any other explosives that Talon may have set, they settled on a black family van. It was the only vehicle there that had tinted windows, and that was really what won them over.

“There does not appear to be a spare key.” Hanzo announced after the two of them scoured the outside of the vehicle and peered inside of the tinted glass. “But it would be foolish to assume so.”

“Course.” Cassidy said easily. “We’re gonna have ta do this tha ol’ fashioned way. Ya ever steal a car, Shimada?” Cassidy patted himself down for a moment until he remembered which pocket he left his handy-dandy, highly illegal, electronic skeleton key. He may be part of Overwatch to do good but no organization was truly clean. Besides, it was hell to get his hands on this thing in the first place; he’d had to cash in god knows how many favors to finally take possession of it and he was loathe to be rid of it. And it was worth more than its weight in gold from the sheer number of situations it's helped him out of. Cassidy crouched down and set the key underneath the car to let it work its magic, sitting back on his haunches to wait for it to be done.

In regards to his question, Hanzo shook his head, wryly stating, “That was… more of my brother’s line of interest.”

“Interest huh? Not expertise?” Cassidy began to whistle, groaning a little when one of his knees spasmed from crouching down. He must’ve sprained it from all the times he’d been hitting it on sh*t today; the first blast, Hanzo’s maneuver, when Hanzo pulled him into the fourth floor… Somehow he wasn’t surprised that Hanzo was the cause of 2 of these 3 incidents.

“I was never around to witness my brother’s escapades.” Cassidy glanced up at him with an unimpressed expression. “Ya always been a stick in the mud?”

“I do not see how stealing from random civilians is entertainment.” Hanzo’s voice grew sharper, but not so acidic that Cassidy couldn’t roll his shoulders and let it slide off of his back like water. Hanzo continued on. “However, it does provide more insight into your friendship with him.”

Cassidy snorted and it could’ve been a laugh. “Ya tryin’ ta say I’m a bad influence?”

“No.” Hanzo said, and the surprising lack of hostility made Cassidy look up once more. Hanzo’s gaze was elsewhere; staring out into the dark surrounding them. It was possible that he was keeping watch… more likely that he was trying to avoid Cassidy’s gaze. He opened his mouth, as though he wanted to say more, but seemed to decide against it and closed it, leaving them in oppressive silence.

After a few more moments, the skeleton key beeped triumphantly to the tune of Ring of Fire by good ol’ Johnny Cash and Cassidy fumbled around underneath the undercarriage to yank the key. When he stood, he did so with a groan and stretched, popping his back in a few places.

“After you,” Cassidy gestured to the driver’s side. Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “I thought you would treat me as an invalid.”

“Believe me, I’d love ta.” Cassidy said. He walked around the other side of the van, climbing into the passenger’s side. “But I never drove anythin’ on the left side of the road before, and I’d rather not have some cop try’n’ pull us over on account for me bein’ a right mess. Defeats tha purpose of bein’ inconspicuous.” The easy way Cassidy acknowledged his own shortcoming seemed to take Hanzo off guard, and he didn’t say anything else in reply to that, just wordlessly got into the vehicle behind the wheel. Cassidy noticed him stifle a wince when he shifted his shoulder to bring his hands up to the steering wheel, but Cassidy figured the man made his grave, no harm in letting him lie in it for an hour or two. They pulled out of the parking space, then around towards where the exit should be, via the dimly lit, flickering signs… which was, of course, blocked off by falling debris.

“Ya think there’s another way outta here?” Cassidy rolled down his window and leaned out of the car looking around the desolate garage. Hanzo did the same.

“Over there.” Hanzo pointed towards somewhere in the darkness of the garage. Cassidy tipped his hat up with his thumb and peered as hard as he could. “I’on see sh*t.”

Hanzo didn’t wait for him though, and instead started the car, jerking Cassidy to collapse back into the vehicle as the van kicked into an easy drive. “Though, ya could warn a guy when yer gonna start movin’.”

“My apologies.” Hanzo mumbled, though he didn’t seem too sorry about it.

“Oh! So ya are capable of apologies!” Hanzo finally glanced at him and gave him a withering look. “Are you always this annoying?”

“Depends on who ya ask.” Cassidy turned his head to stare out of the window, to hide the quirk of an amused grin when Hanzo exhaled loudly through his nose. He steered them easily through the dark, and suddenly he was reminded of when they were in Eichenwalde, how Hanzo was somehow able to find a way into the castle, and just as now, then he didn’t have night vision to assist him. Cassidy hadn’t thought much of it then but now…

He turned to Hanzo again. “How can ya see in the dark?” Hanzo continued to stare straight ahead. “How did you see me when you were on the ground and I was on the fourth floor?”

“Ya sure do love ta answer a question with a question.” He grumbled, but thinking of the dragons that flew over his head… it wasn’t too hard to guess.

Out of the garage the sun had fully set, covering the shaken nation with a suffocating blanket of darkness. Though other buildings and towns towards the horizon still had power, it seemed that during Talon’s attack, a power grid was ruptured, leaving this entire section of London completely dark. There was an eerie stillness to their drive. No police officers hounding people down or directing traffic—perhaps that meant that everyone fled King’s Row via the opposite end, towards the river that they traveled up to intercept the protest. Neither of them commented on their good luck, because Cassidy was sure that they both knew there was no such thing, in this line of work, as “catching a break.”

Following road signs led them to a seedy little inn that wouldn’t look too out of place in some horror movie. The signage was busted, and reminded Cassidy far too much of the bent Overwatch flagpole that they spotted in Antartica, and made the familiar shudder of unprocessed adrenaline race down his spine. Yet, the man who was most affected by that flagpole didn’t spare a second thought. Hanzo pulled the van around to the back of the inn where it was darkest and when they climbed out, he crouched down with his bare hands and yanked off the license plates from either end of the vehicle.

“We should have done this in the parking lot.” Hanzo said dryly. With that, he tossed the plates into the woods. Cassidy whistled, watching them sail and make their new home in the underbrush. Hanzo turned to him. “You are the people person.” It was a statement, not a compliment. Still, Cassidy pretended. “Glad ya noticed, Shimada.” Cassidy tipped his hat and Hanzo rolled his eyes so hard that they could’ve easily rolled out of his skull. He rummaged around in the pockets of his dark blue jacket, then thrust some credits into Cassidy’s hand.

“Secure us a room. When you do, open the window and I will climb in that way with our belongings.”

Cassidy could’ve easily made a joke about Hanzo just coming in through the front door, but after everything that occurred in the city earlier today, Cassidy could understand the extra steps for precaution. He didn’t think he’d see the day where he willingly unholstered Peacekeeper from around his waist and handed her off to a teammate, let alone to Hanzo Shimada of all people. But this situation was a temporary truce, if there was such a thing, and despite the general fiasco that this day was, they’d been doing good enough lately that Cassidy could admit, begrudgingly to himself, that he trusted the man.

For the most part.

The Ye Olde Flea inn and tavern hadn’t seen much business in the past few decades like she had when she opened in the many, many moons of yesteryear. No one could remember the original records for when she first swung open her doors to the public, but the innkeeper’s grandfather-in-law loved to claim that through war and famine, droughts and downpours, The Flea was here to stay; each date of origin older than the last. No one had the heart to correct the old man. He even liked to joke that they should consider renaming the place The Roach, but his late wife outright refused and everyone honored her memory by shooting him down whenever he brought it up. It didn’t stop him from trying.

The other thing they hadn’t seen much of were tourists. This inn was so far removed when the roads were redirected to lead into the newer, fancier districts of London such as King’s Row, that the most they got were a lost traveler here or there looking to find a quick stop for the night.

So, what was the poor, newly wedded, par 3 months ago, innkeeper to do when a handsome man with sun-kissed tawny skin, freckles, shaggy brown hair and eyes warm like the setting sun, wandered in, with an alarming amount of blood covering the front of his torn shirt.

“Sir?!” He asked in shock, trying desperately to keep his eyes trained on the man’s face and not to the beginnings of hair that poked out from underneath his collar, visible due to the rips. The man gave him a crooked smile. “I know I must look like a crime scene, darlin’.” And oh, is this what he read in all his romance novellas about that American Southern charm? He could never bring himself to tell his husband about his, ah, interests. But to be frank, the man before him was quite literally sex on legs and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“Unfortunately,” The man continued as he quivered internally in place, hanging onto every drop of honey that fell from his lips. “I got caught up in tha bombin’. Y’all have a telly in here?”

“Y-Yes sir!” He quickly ushered the guest into the cramped and tiny longue and flipped on the telly. Every channel was some sort of emergency news broadcast, and he watched the man study the television carefully. The current reporter was currently talking about a group of what appeared to be vigilantes spotted fighting back against the terrorists.

“Were you at the protest, um, Mr…” He wrung his hands in his apron.

“Morricone.” The man said easily, with a flash of his pearly whites. “But, no need ta be so formal darlin’. Between you n’ me, you can call me Joel.”

“Joel.” He breathed. “Are you injured? Is that blood…?”

“Mine?” He asked, then he laughed aloud. It was a rich, deep sound, that could’ve shaken the Earth’s core and he’d be forgiven. “Naw, sweetheart. I was helpin’ some of the EMTs carry people out o’ the wreckage and got a lil’ more blood on me than I anticipated. I was there covering this event and then everything uh…” Joel laughed again and despite the situation, he seemed cheerful. “Everythin’ went tit* up, as they say where I’m from.”

“I see.” The innkeeper visibly relaxed. “How were you able to make it out of there alive?”

“Luck, I guess.” Joel shrugged, wincing slightly, and the innkeeper immediately took notice. “I have an empty room! If you need one?”

“Aww shucks honey, I don’t have enough credits for a night. But, if yer sure…”

“I insist!” The innkeeper said. He quickly wrapped his arm around Joel’s and tugged him past the bar where his curious husband watched them pass. He showed him all the way up to their honeymoon suite, with a large double bed and a very pretty, vintage bathroom set up. Joel admired the furnishings, making him flush with pride when he praised his key eye for furnishings, then moved to take the credits out of his pocket. The innkeeper held up a hand.

“You said that you were writing a story, so that must mean you’re a journalist, right?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Joel said with a little laugh. “Why?”

“The only payment that I would ask for is for you to write a story about our little inn when you can. I…” The innkeeper hesitated. “Business has been slow here, and as technology advances, people forget about the little places like ours.” He looked down at the floor, feeling a bit silly for his request, but Joel crossed the distance between them, and put a comforting, heavy hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, he noticed that the hand on his shoulder was a metal prosthetic.

“Consider it done.” He said to him sincerely. “I know how it feels ta feel like tha world is just whizzin’ by ya.”

“Yes.” He whispered. “Thank you, Mr. Morri— I mean, Joel.”

“Anytime.” He said with a smile. “But, uh, I hate to be a bother, but before you go, would you mind doin’ me a favor?”

“Anything!” He replied cheerfully. And he meant it.

Anything to keep Ye Olde Flea around for one more year.

It took longer than Cassidy was expecting to get the innkeeper to leave him be for long enough to let Hanzo in. Every time he thought that he had a moment of peace to himself, he would come back up the stairs and ask “Is the radiator warm enough” or “Do you need me to show you how to work the bath?” And while it was incredibly sweet how he wanted to be sure to put on a good show of hospitality for him while he was their only guest, it was also very reminiscent of an overbearing parent who just didn’t know when their son needed some alone time. It made him think fondly of his old Grandma Cassidy, who said she’d always be in his hair even when she passed to the other side. Maybe this was her way of reminding him of that promise.

But after he wrote the note for Emily to inform her that he and Hanzo made it out of the heart of London and instructed the innkeeper to send it off as quickly as possible by post, he was finally granted some peace of mind. Cassidy took in the room around him for a brief moment, before he finally sighed aloud and headed over to the window. He cracked it open, wishing desperately that he still had a smoke, but stepped back for now, to carry on with pulling himself out of his bloodied shirt.

The thump of metal boots on the hardwood gave Hanzo away, but Cassidy wasn’t stupid enough to think that Hanzo did that on accident.

“What took you so long?” Hanzo asked, though he didn’t seem truly annoyed. Cassidy turned, balling the shirt up in his hands the same way one would wind a bandage, and thought he saw Hanzo’s eyes dip down to his exposed chest, before returning to glare back up into his eyes. “Tha innkeeper’s a sweet man,” Cassidy started with a shrug, then tossed the shirt clean into the bin. Hanzo busied himself with setting their belongings into sensible places around the room. His compound bow, already tucked away in its guitar shaped case was set down by the left side of the bed, further away from the door, which must’ve been a silent ownership of that side of the bed. That was fine with Cassidy. He preferred to sleep by the door anyway. Peacekeeper, he set gently on the night stand on the opposite side of the bed, along with Cassidy’s Stetson and serape. Cassidy came over and plucked his Stetson out of Hanzo’s hands. “Pardon me,” He said low, if only to watch the interesting way that Hanzo avoided skin to skin contact like the plague. Cassidy huffed, though he only felt mildly amused.

“Anyway, he wouldn’t let me pay for the room with credits, and instead insisted I write n’ article about this place to help keep it open, as compensation.”

“How generous.” Hanzo said with a sarcastic snort. The last thing that Cassidy was prepared to see was for Hanzo to reach up and tug the golden ribbon out of his hair. His long dark locks tumbled down over his shoulders, and Cassidy glared at him so his thoughts didn’t stray elsewhere. “He’s sweet.” He said defensively.

“He is lucky that all we sought was a place to lay low.” Cassidy let out a huff of surprise. “Yer thoughts sure are dark Shimada.”

“You were thinking the same thing.” Hanzo replied confidently.

“N’’ what makes you say that?”

“You are not looking at me.” That observation did make Cassidy start, realizing that he had been actively avoiding looking at Hanzo for a variety of reasons this very moment. But a challenge was a challenge, and so Cassidy pulled his eyes away from the speck behind the man’s head he’d taken to focusing on.

“Maybe ya jus’ got an ugly mug.” Cassidy lied with the confidence of a swindler. Hanzo only raised an eyebrow at him, then had the audacity to cross his arms under his very distracting chest. Cassidy could admit, only an idiot wouldn’t look and so, taking the bait, his eyes dipped, following the supple line of muscle. When he looked back up at Hanzo, it was just underneath his Stetson’s wide brim.

“Ever heard of a “butter face”?” Cassidy rumbled, lying now to not only himself but anyone in a fifty mile radius.

“Are you going to help me with my shoulder, or shall I assume that you are not a man who follows up on his threats?” Hanzo switched the topic entirely, and if Cassidy didn’t know better, he would say that the elder Shimada enjoyed throwing him for a loop. Hanzo’s face didn’t move an inch.

“Get in tha bathroom.” Cassidy made a shooing motion with his hands, corralling him towards it. “An’ siddown on the tub.”

The vintage bathroom was definitely too small for two large men such as themselves to try and squeeze comfortably into. But, they managed, and it was a bit of a squeeze with Hanzo perched on the tub and Cassidy sitting down on the tiny toilet.

He glared sternly at Hanzo until the man finally acquiesced with a loud sigh and lifted his arms to divest himself of his jacket stained with blood. Underneath that was a shirt that seemed to be made out of some athletic mesh, pressed so snug and so tightly to Hanzo’s skin that Cassidy was sure that he could make out the curvature of every muscle on the man’s impeccable body. For not the first time that day a shot of heat like whiskey slid down Cassidy’s spine. But, he didn’t let his thoughts distract him from the task at hand, from what he promised, so he stared at Hanzo with the most unimpressed glare he could muster. And Hanzo stared right back at him.

Finally Cassidy said, “If its yer damn mafia tattoo that’s keepin’ ya from strippin’, I promise, I don’t give a sh*t. I’ve let ya put this off for long enough as it is.”

Hanzo scowled, but Cassidy seemed to have hit the nail on the head, because he reluctantly began to pull his shirt off from over his head, hissing when he had to raise his injured shoulder to get it off.

“Who told you of it?”

“Hana.” Cassidy said with an eyeroll. “But yer from tha f*ckin’ Shimada-gumi, you think I wasn’t expectin’ ya to have a tattoo or seven?” Not that Hanzo needed to know that he was surprised by Hana telling him about said tattoo or anything. Cassidy carried on. “I used ta have a gang tattoo myself, til my arm got blown off.” Cassidy waved with his prosthetic. “So I get it.”

Hanzo fell silent and dropped his shirt to the floor. The tattoo in question was a beautiful piece of artistry; beginning with a curled flourish around his puffy, round areola and just above telltale scars that sat just so underneath his pecs, over the sharp jut of his clavicle, and down the muscular curve of his biceps, triceps, flexors, and cut off in a beautiful clean line at his wrist. Dark storm clouds like the ones mirrored in Hanzo’s steeliest of gazes swirled through most of it, with one shock of stylized lightning zapping bright yellow through the clouds. All of these gave the backdrop to a powerful, swirling dragon, whose open mouth stopped just at Hanzo’s wrist.

The tattoo however, was marred by the still weeping bullet wound. It wasn’t bleeding as heavily as it should’ve been, so perhaps there was some truth to what Hanzo said about his dragons keeping him from dying, however, there clearly was much to be desired by way of… stopping the blood and ejecting the bullet from his body entirely.

Cassidy popped open the cap of biotic gel.

“Tha gel should eject the bullet in a few hours.” Cassidy said, not that he really needed to explain to Hanzo what biotic gel did because he was sure Hanzo knew. But, whenever Cassidy was in the medical hot seat, it always calmed him down to have someone talk, so—

“This sh*t’s a modern miracle. It disinfects, cauterizes, its got like a mind of its own ta know exactly what ya need to do—n’ the best part is, ya don’t even need a doctor ta yell at ya about yer smokin’ or bad posture!”

Hanzo didn’t reply, even though it was a perfect opening for him to. It seems that being without a shirt had stripped him bare of all of his defenses. All the bravado that Hanzo showed the world had collapsed inward and onto himself; gone were the smirks and sass, gone was the emperor’s glower, and all that’s left was what could be described, perhaps, as the shell of a man.

He hung his head low and his black hair curtained his face hiding his eyes. Cassidy turned away and fumbled under the sink for a moment, finding a few reams of bandages, then decided to start first with Hanzo’s shoulder, since it’d need the most anyway. Cassidy wasn’t sure what expression he was making, especially when he essentially hooked his jaw over Hanzo’s clavicle to slowly begin winding the cloth around him to protect the wound, but he could feel Hanzo trembling in his grasp like a newborn fawn.

It was as though they were stuck in that daydream again; the one that Cassidy kept finding himself drawn into whenever he and Hanzo were alone. The same one as Antarctica, or on the ORCA pressed close together. His mama always told him there was a power in saving a life; a bond forged by her god, for better or worse; more sacred than marriage. It was up to you to nurture it. And maybe that’s where Cassidy’s superstition about saving lives came from. Hell, Reyes saved his life, and here he was still having nightmares about the man years later.

“You do not have to do this.” Hanzo’s voice was so small Cassidy almost didn’t hear it outside of the loudness of his own thoughts. But easily, Cassidy tutted, shifting on his haunches as he continued to wind the bandages round and round. “Oh, hush.” He said. “I ‘on wanna hear none of that mess.”

“But—“

“No buts either. I’ll shoot ya.” He wouldn’t, Cassidy realized as suddenly as whiplash that even if Hanzo asked him to, he wouldn’t.

The moment was shattered the second he tied a knot on Hanzo’s shoulder bandage by an insistent rap on the door. He told Hanzo to stay put, and he carefully closed the bathroom door behind him.

Unsurprisingly it was the innkeeper at the door, but what did surprise him was the letter he held in his hand addressed to him. He thanked him and closed the door, opening it immediately when he saw that it was from Emily. He scanned it once, twice, then opened the bathroom door.

“News from Winston?” Hanzo asked, noticing the letter.

“Somethin’ like that. We’re still gonna be layin’ low, but Emily said her family’s got a cottage up in Scotland that we can hide out in for a few days, since we’re the closest to it.” Cassidy pulled out two train tickets.

“Gotta catch tha first train tomorrow morning.”

Chapter 13: day and night

Chapter Text

The next morning was bright, and brisk, and the two of them looked like vagabonds, but at least they were well rested ones. After gathering up their things, Hanzo nodded curtly and shooed Cassidy downstairs to distract the lovely innkeeper so he could make his escape.

“Are you really sure you can’t stay another night?” The innkeeper looked heartbroken, but Cassidy found it a bit more difficult to don the Joel Morricone persona this early in the morning, especially when he caught sight of Hanzo scaling down the side of the inn from the bar window. He had Cassidy’s hat balanced precariously on top of his head, and had his serape swaddled around him like a large blanket and he looked absolutely ridiculous. Cassidy coughed to cover a snort.

“‘M afraid so, darlin’. My friend is mighty worried about me n’ I gotta get to work on writing that piece for ya, don’t I?” He squeezed the young man’s shoulder and would’ve stroked his own ego with the way the man preened under his drawl, if the black van they stole the day before didn’t come rumbling up to the front of the inn.

“My friend must’ve ordered me a car.” Cassidy said, dryly. Though the window tint made it hard for him to see Hanzo’s face, he could feel the not-so-subtle warning there. Hurry the f*ck up.

“Before you go, take this with you!” The innkeeper handed him a basket wrapped stereotypically in a red, plaid cloth. “An’ y’all do gift baskets?” Cassidy drawled, taking his time just to annoy Hanzo. “I’ll make sure to take pictures when I get somewhere nice.”

He thanked the innkeeper again for his hospitality, then finally headed out, climbing into the passenger’s side. Hanzo, surprisingly, said nothing, though he could tell he was annoyed. He set the basket down on the armrest between them, and Hanzo glanced at it when they came to rolling stops, then looked at Cassidy suspiciously.

For what it was worth, Cassidy only grinned.

The train station was thankfully sparse this early in the morning, and especially after everything that happened the day before, Cassidy understood and was grateful. Still, there was a poor sod working the ticket desk who passed them through without so much as a glance at their belongings. They must not have beefed up security this far out from London, and that was another blessing in itself. Things were almost going too well, but he couldn’t find it in him to be worried.

Yet.

Their cabin was modest but isolated, and had a door that slid shut so they could keep unwanted company out. Hanzo sat down and folded his arms across his chest, gazing out of the train window before they even started moving. Cassidy set himself up for a quiet ride, but suddenly, Hanzo knocked his shoe against his. When Cassidy didn’t respond, Hanzo did it again.

“Jus’ wanted to be sure ya actually wanted me specifically.”

“Who else would I be trying to speak to?” Hanzo said dryly. Cassidy shrugged. “Don’t those dragons o’ yours talk to ya?” It must’ve been the wrong thing to say: Hanzo instantly went rigid and violently looked back towards the window. But, as they were still gonna be stuck together for a bit, Cassidy hummed.

“Sorry, Shimada.” The apology felt foreign in his mouth. “I ain’t mean ta push any buttons. Ya don’t gotta tell me about it.” When Hanzo still said nothing, it was Cassidy who now jostled him with his foot until Hanzo looked at him from the corner of his eyes.

“What did ya wanna ask?”

Hanzo seemed to contemplate if he should continue, but seemed to decide he would, since he cautiously turned back to Cassidy.

“Last night I was checking the news. There were images that clearly showed Fareeha in the air with her rockets, and Reinhardt on the ground.” Hanzo shuffled his pocket for a moment and produced a burner phone, with screenshotted images of articles, all begging the question of who these vigilantes were who were fighting back against the terrorists, and speculations of Overwatch. Cassidy felt his blood run cold.

“However, this morning, the news was practically wiped of the photos.” At Hanzo’s direction, Cassidy opened the browser and the pages were all completely wiped. Names, questions, whole photos and sections were blacked out like a redacted CSI file. Even as they spoke and the train began to pull out of the station, Cassidy watched as another section of an article disappeared. He looked back up at Hanzo.

“I was not aware that we had such prolific hackers on our side.” Hanzo said mildly. Cassidy frowned deeply. “We don't.”

“Then should we be worried?”

“Well,” Cassidy went to the message tab and typed in a number. He wasn’t sure if it was still connected to who he suspected… but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

TO: XXX-XXX

meddling again?

Then, he handed the phone back to Hanzo. “If it buzzes, then we’ll have our answer.” Hanzo simply nodded, then tucked the phone back into his pocket. He was sure Hanzo himself probably had some shady contacts up his sleeve, given that he’d been on the run from his family since the day he killed Genji and running from the yakuza was no easy feat. Perhaps these would be revealed in time.

A silence fell between them as they each ruminated in their own thoughts, stewing silently but not necessarily uncomfortably. The train had begun to pick up speed; a wonder that such an old thing still existed in their modern world, and ran along the ground just as well as it did hundreds of years ago. Out here, the countryside was wide and expansive and buildings were far off specks in the distance the further and further they ventured towards their destination. It reminded Cassidy painfully of home, even if the landscape was far removed from the familiar desert sands.

When he finally glanced at Hanzo, he was also staring out of the window deep in thought. His brow was furrowed, as though he were contemplating something heavier than just passing thoughts, and Cassidy didn’t know why, but he felt as though he needed to pull him out of there.

“Can I… ask ya something?”

“You already have.” Hanzo seemed to be suppressing a smirk and Cassidy just rolled his eyes. “Ass.” He wet his lips then continued. “I wanna know what’s up with you and Hana.”

“I am not sure I know what you mean.” Hanzo said airily and Cassidy kicked his shin in a warning. “Daehyun said that she sees herself in ya.” Cassidy went on and Hanzo went rigid. “I jus’ wanted to see if ya knew what he was talkin’ about.”

Cassidy spent the next minute studying Hanzo’s body language. His shoulders tightened and his nostrils flared, as though he were having an argument with some invisible spector—perhaps himself—in deciding how he wanted to answer. After a minute more, when Cassidy was sure that he should just let it be and pretend he didn’t ask, Hanzo rumbled out, slowly, “I am not sure it is my story to tell.”

“If it’s that personal, forget I asked.” Cassidy said, waving a hand, but Hanzo shook his head. “She has told me that she does not hold any shame from it, but does not like to speak about it since it ‘brings the mood down’.”

“Shoot, I understand that.” Cassidy rubbed his beard, frowning. Hanzo took in a breath. “I will keep it brief and pertinent to your question. She feels as though she is responsible for the death of her former comrades, and as such, believes we are kindred spirits. Though… I have informed her that an accident is not the same as—“ Hanzo stopped abruptly but Cassidy could fill the blanks quite easily.

“What kind o’ accident?”

“It was when Null Sector invaded Korea, after she was first chosen to become a pilot.” Hanzo’s voice was serious and hushed. “She was chosen alongside… I cannot remember how many, but several other streamers who she was familiar with, to be the faces of this new… MEKA program. During the assault, they were overwhelmed, and Hana only had one option to end the attack.” Cassidy had not fully seen Hana enough in action to know what manuever that would be, but it seemed to be a grave decision, especially given the dire circ*mstances of this tale. Hanzo’s voice, if possible, got even quieter. “She was the only one who survived.”

When Cassidy whistled low, it was because he didn’t know what else to say.

The two of them fell silent after that; with Hanzo perhaps feeling he said too much and took to staring out of the window. Cassidy however, turned this information over in his mind slowly. He could almost see it; how Hana could see herself in someone like Hanzo. Bound to things like duty and honor, which were things that Cassidy had very little experience operating on. His own moral compass was chump change to compare to the weight of protecting a nation from an apocalyptic assault, or from being pressured to ensure that a tradition and way of life were not threatened.

But whereas Hana saved a nation and lost her friends, Hanzo killed his brother and gained nothing.

At some point, Cassidy felt a jostle from the man across from him again. He looked up, and wordlessly, Hanzo handed him the burner.

FROM: XXX-XXX

u owe me vaquero 👾

Cassidy chuckled to himself, but he wasn’t sure if it was truly funny. What was she up to?

“The emoji is a bit much.” Cassidy passed the burner back to Hanzo. “But tha’s all the confirmation I needed.”

Surprising no one, Hanzo didn’t even ask.

Once their train arrived at the station, they found a horse and carriage already awaiting them. Both of them were wholly confused when the driver called out to them, but once the magic words of “Emily’s friends?” passed his lips, they climbed in without any further preamble.

The landscape of the area from the train station leading to the cottage was breathtaking; all you could see for miles in any direction were the scenic rolling hills of the Scottish highlands. The cabin itself was quaint; low to the ground with a homey thatched roof covering it, complete with a storybook stone chimney, with smoke already coming from its stacks, indicating warmth. There wasn’t another soul in sight, or any neighbors to speak of, except down the hill and at least a mile away. It was secluded. Peaceful, even. After they dismounted, the driver gave them a cheerful wave and went back on his merry way. Cassidy stretched, with a crooked grin on his face.

“If I woulda known we’d get a vacation outta this, I woulda broughtsome better clothes n’ somethin’ to write with.”

“So you told the truth about being a journalist?” Hanzo inquired. The two of them picked up their meager belongings and started up towards the porch. “Course not. Ya may have seen an article or two I’ve written, jus’ didn’t know it was me.”

“Because I do not know you.” Hanzo said, and Cassidy wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a quip or not. “Look up ‘Joel Morricone’ when ya got some free time. I got a website ‘n everything.”

“Would that not be easy to trace you with?” Hanzo seemed inquisitive instead of judgmental and Cassidy, feeling warm with the beautiful sights and good environment chuckled good-naturedly. “Naw,” He drawled. “There’s very few databases that got dirt on Cole Cassidy. Maybe some other pseudonyms,” He waved Hanzo to go in first after getting the door. “But I’ve kept this name relatively clean.”

Their conversation continued as they made their way inside the cottage. Thankfully, there were two separate rooms with a large bed each, and seemed comfortable enough, even if Cassidy was positive that they were mostly made of straw. The kitchen was quaint; a soft yellow with floral decorative accents on the cabinets and counters, even on the fridge. It was fully stocked with fresh produce, as though someone had only recently departed and left a few things behind, or perhaps that someone stopped by beforehand in preparation for their arrival.

“Maybe Em knows a neighbor?” Cassidy suggested. Hanzo only grunted, but both of them quietly decided to not ask.There should be a healthy amount of suspicion that came with any gift horse’s mouth, but being tired and secluded as they were, perhaps they were more willing to let their guards down, if just for this fleeting moment.

Their early afternoon arrival trailed into a quiet, dusky evening. Out here, the stars were uninhibited and provided enough light that Cassidy felt comfortable enough leaving the light in the singular bathroom off when it was his turn to bathe. It felt like it’d been years since he last took a shower, so he was willing to overlook how he was just a bit too tall for the showerhead—it bumped up against his chest, and the tub was a bit small. “Ain’t gettin’ a soak in here, tha’s fer sure.” He mumbled to himself. But the water pressure was surprisingly nice for a place so rural, and there were already much needed soaps that smelled like the ocean and pine waiting on the tubside, so Cassidy indulged. While not his preferred shower scents (he was more of a citrus man, if given the choice), anything was better than days old blood and grime.

After getting out of the shower, he found that the bedroom he’d chosen came with a few garments to choose from that someone must’ve left behind. Cassidy pulled on a shirt that was a smidge too tight, paired with grey sweatpants that were a tad too short for his long frame, but he was used to it at this point. No sooner than he was dressed did his stomach growl, alerting him to a need that he hadn’t taken care of in some time, yet he lamented the idea of having to cook. But, it was then that he gratefully remembered that the innkeeper from Ye Olde Flea had given them a basket of goodies for the road. It took him a moment to remember where he put it down, but when he found it and lifted the red plaid cloth, he was pleasantly delighted to discover a bottle of brandy and a large bottle of red wine, and an assortment of baked goods ranging from savory breads to sweet scones.

“Shimada!” Cassidy called, eager to share in his good fortune. But there was no response from within the house. He called once more, twice, and then feeling panic seize his throat, he took a steadying breath before he decided that perhaps Hanzo was out enjoying the scenery.

The moment he went to the front and peered out of the screen door, he was thankful he didn’t panic, since there was Hanzo, his hair still a bit damp and faintly stringy from the shower that Cassidy insisted he take first, and his torso bare, which Cassidy understood. If the shirt he was wearing was already tight on his shoulders, no doubt Hanzo would probably rip it entirely trying to pull it down over his pecs. Cassidy pushed open the screen door, and his eyes darted downwards to Hanzo’s surprisingly delicate ankles. At least the pants were the right length on him.

“Ya brooding alone, or would ya care for some company?” Cassidy asked amiably. Hanzo regarded him the same way one would regard a stain on their shirt, but it somehow didn’t kill his grin. “Does this ‘company’ come with something worth my time?” He asked back, boredly. As soon as he said it, he then spied the basket in Cassidy’s arms. Noticing his gaze, Cassidy reached into the basket and found one of the strawberry cream scones. He waved it enticingly.

“Ya were sayin’ somethin’ about bein’ worth yer while?” He teased with a smug smirk, then laughed when Hanzo snatched the scone out of his hands, affirming that he was allowed into the elder Shimada’s space. He let the screen door fall shut behind him and settled into the spot next to Hanzo, setting the basket on the small table between them.

“Never woulda took ya fer a sweets guy.” Cassidy said, pulling out a deli sandwich for himself. “Who says that I enjoy sweets?” Hanzo asked, with literal flecks of strawberry cream dotting his goatee like snow. Cassidy didn’t know if he should laugh or if he should stare at him, so he did both, a warbled chuckle leaving him.

“Shimada, tha first time we met ya were sittin’ on a f*ckin’ ORCA with a cake on yer lap. Where tha hell did ya get that thing anyway?”

“That was not the first time we met.” Hanzo said it nonchalantly, and Cassidy’s brain recalled that odd moment when Hanzo said that and Cassidy could not recall ever seeing him before the cake incident. He said as much, and Hanzo scoffed, not choosing to elaborate further and Cassidy seriously sometimes wished he understood what the hell Hanzo’s deal was. One minute he was snarky and full of wit, the next he was shaking at the very concept of human touch, still other times he would simply stare off into the distance in a world all of his own—like he was on another plane of existence.

So Cassidy did what he did best: he offered Hanzo a crack of the brandy, but he chose the wine. Hanzo popped the cork off with his teeth and drank directly from the bottle, leaving Cassidy sequestered to the brandy but he didn’t mind. He liked a bite to his liquor, dirty like coffee over a campfire and just as warming. He said as much and Hanzo only hummed. So Cassidy, determined now with alcohol coursing like a fire through his veins, tried for a different angle.

“Ya mentioned it back in Germany… but, do ya think really they would’ve left Genji to die if he hadn’t shacked up with us?”

“It would not surprise me.” Though he brought it up, expecting Hanzo to be fiery and full of fight and maybe get some handle on what was normal for him, instead he stared wistfully out into the distance, leaning against the porch railing. The conversation stopped in its tracks, and Cassidy drank in his profile, the way the dim lights down the cottage’s drive as the sunlight fully began to dip below the horizon illuminated his face; dramatically highlighting the shadows and creases of him.

His first study of Hanzo wasn’t entirely fair to the man; clouded by anger, and distrust, and not to be dramatic, but definitely a bit of apprehension, but perhaps this was the first time Cassidy was truly seeing Hanzo. He’d thought the elder Shimada’s nose was like the jut of a mountain cliff; but was there anything more majestic than seeing the peak of a mountain obscured by clouds at the crest of dawn? His eyebrows were severe, but why did Cassidy only just now notice that they feathered at their ends like the wings of tiny birds? Hanzo looked like Genji in Blackwatch; when he snarled, when he let his expression fall flat, and lifeless. But here, and now, with a soft linen towel draped about his shoulders, his dragon tattoo near iridescent in the cresting evening, his hair once again down and fanning his shoulders, and gazing up at the expansive blanket of the stars with a quiet and meditative eye, Hanzo looked practically seraphic.

It was then that Hanzo met his gaze, unaware of Cassidy’s suddenly affected state, and as always, his eyes were dark and heavy; saddled with the weight of all the answers in the universe behind his short lashes. Cassidy felt dizzy. Hanzo resumed their conversation. “In my experience, people do not tend to do such favors as that without a price. But, as you are more familiar with Overwatch’s less than savory proceedings, perhaps I should ask you that.”

Was he? He didn’t know anything but the way the wine brightened Hanzo’s cheeks to a subtle rose. Yet, he hummed, stalling. “I ‘on think Angie woulda let them do that.”

“For her savior complex? Or for the chance to test her new technology?”

“Maybe both.” Cassidy shrugged. He didn’t have much of an answer for that but he suddenly found he didn’t want to talk about this, not now. Not when his stomach was dancing sudden somersaults and his heart was jackhammering like a possessed construction worker behind his ribs and he felt the sudden, strange, and somewhat… novel urge to put his lips somewhere on Hanzo; stronger than the alcohol in the back of his throat or the buzz that had clearly infiltrated his brain. He swallowed, thickly. This was bad.

“Are you alright, cowman?” Surprising Cassidy even further, Hanzo reached for him first, the first time he ever had reached for him, and after a brief hesitation, let his hand gently graze Cassidy’s shoulder. Sparks like lightning whizzed through him at the soft touch and Cassidy nodded quickly. This alcohol must be laced with something, he hadn’t been down this bad in decades.

“Yeah,” He drawled easily, still feigning nonchalance. “Jus’ think tha brandy’s gettin’ ta me more than I thought it would.” He chuckled. “We are drinkin’ on half empty stomach’s though—maybe I’m jus’ gettin’ old.”

“I am older than you.” Hanzo said blithely, but he didn’t seem annoyed. In fact, if Cassidy listened to his stupid dick again like he had a few days before, his gaze almost seemed fond. “It has been trying, these past few days.” Then, softer. “I had forgotten that this sort of peace existed.”

Cassidy was a little confused by that, and his face must’ve said so, because he could instantly see the minor pulls of Hanzo’s expression that were synonymous with him building back up his walls. He wanted to stop him, but when faced with that thousand yard stare, Cassidy found his well of words ran dry.

“I will head to bed first.” Hanzo decided. Without waiting for an answer he swiftly turned away from Cassidy, taking the warmth of his hand with him as he let the patio door behind him fall shut.

Cassidy breathed out long, looking back up at the heavens, trying not to feel like he was missing something important; one small piece of the puzzle that would wrench Hanzo’s house of cards tumbling down and perhaps, enlighten him to whatever method lay behind this… Madness.

Yet, Cassidy knew it was starting to get bad if he found the sober part of his mind in agreement that perhaps he wanted to know, because he almost wanted to help catch him.

“sh*t.” Cassidy dragged his hand up his co*ck painfully slowly, and hissed—he was over sensitive, because when was the last time he’d paid himself any attention like this? The fact that he couldn’t remember truly spoke volumes, but his head was fuzzy enough from the alcohol that he didn’t question it too hard.

He was hard though. His dick was a curved, heavy weight against his thigh, demanding to be touched. And well, who was he to deny it?

His thumb teased the slit, smearing those first few drops of precum over both the digit and the head, letting it dribble obscenely down his shaft. The next slide of his hand went smoother, and he grunted out a puff of air as quietly as he could manage. Even if the rooms were some distance away, he still didn’t want to risk the man actually hear him jerking off. It wasn’t like the Shimada was spank bank material—Or,was he, now?

Cassidy’s mind helpfully and rapidly supplied him the image of Hanzo perched on the side of the tub at the inn, his hair curtaining his face and a look like glass in his eyes.

His wandering thoughts screeched to a halt, realizing that the thought of the man alone was enough to bring him to full hardness. Cassidy dropped the hand on his co*ck in favor of using the non-slicked one to pinch the bridge of his nose. Okay, he could admit, he walked right into that one. But, anyone would agree that Hanzo Shimada was an attractive man, if they were in the occupation of man-loving. Cassidy was sure that he could tell Fareeha, Lena, or Brigitte and all three of them would probably wrinkle their noses at the insinuation. But, anyone else would agree… right?

He felt like he was making excuses yet somehow this internal conflict didn’t kill his boner, so he decided to just continue.

He never liked to jerk himself off hard and fast; life was rough, so it felt nicer to enjoy the simple pleasures; the feeling of soft velvet skin sliding comfortably between his hand, rocking his hips into it slow, easing the org*sm out of himself like winning over the trust of an angry bronco. He wondered how Hanzo did it. Was he in the other room whacking it too? Was it rough and fast and desperate for release? Did he kneel on the bed, or was he prone to sprawling out on the bed like Cassidy did?

As he thought his imagination began to weave images to help him along: laying back on the bed just like this, with Hanzo’s thick, sculpted thighs bracketing his head. Watching him, with hazy, lust filled eyes, jerk himself right in front of him. Wanting to lick and kiss at the rosy tip, but Hanzo was too close, denying him the satisfying stretch of his jaw. Hanzo’s hair would be out, of course, since it clearly did something for Cassidy. One arm pushed up against the bed frame to hold himself steady as he tumbled over the edge of org*sm and spilled on Cassidy’s face and beard.

“Let me clean you up, sugar.” His dream-self rasped and surprisingly, Dream-Hanzo obliged him after smearing some of his spend against his lips. Dream-Cassidy eased open his jaw to accept him into his mouth, groaning deep in his chest when Dream-Hanzo started to ever so gently rock his hips.

And that’s what did it—what sent Cassidy tumbling over the edge and spilling into his fist. He could act shocked, or lament about it, but he was nearly forty now, and there was no point in beating around the bush.

So maybe he liked Hanzo a little more than he wanted to believe. At the very least, he found the man mind-numbingly attractive, and that he could deal with.

Nearly a week passed until the extraction. He and Hanzo quickly discovered that service this far out was spotty, at best, and both of them quietly agreed that they enjoyed the respite from the hectic pulls of interaction on base. It was easy enough for them to stay out of each other’s way. Cassidy found an old typewriter in a small closet-like study room he hadn’t noticed when they first arrived and after marveling that the thing still worked he was easily able to type up a raving 5 star review for the lovely Ye Olde Flea. What Hanzo busied himself with, he didn’t quite know. Whenever Cassidy caught the man around the cottage (when he wasn’t holed up in his room) he was always standing and staring at… nothing really. He always seemed to come back to himself whenever dusk settled over the rolling hills and Cassidy grew tired of the staleness that the quiet brought. He always took sips of wine, gave Cassidy conversation and cryptic answers and left Cassidy in a weird stage of noticing every little thing that was starting to drive him up the wall about the man (in the, once you notice an attraction you can’t unsee it kind of way) and confused, and then Cassidy would jerk off thinking about Hanzo’s thighs or kissing the pretty scars under his pecs.

They didn’t get a warning for when they would be picked up either. One morning Cassidy simply awoke to the sound of jet engines flaring and Hanzo grabbing for his bow, and so he grabbed for Peacekeeper and both of them raced for a vantage point. The cottage was too low to the ground to see who was approaching and all the windows were at bad angles to shoot Peacekeeper out of, let alone Hanzo’s whole bow. After an eye-contact decision, the two of them decided to creep out of the back gate, but relief flooded Cassidy immediately when he recognized the familiar ORCA touching down a few yards away to meet them.

“It’s Lena!” Cassidy yelled over the noise of the engine.

Once the ORCA was “parked”, the ramp was lowered and Lena blinked once, twice, three times, throwing her arms around both of their necks with a whoop of joy. Hanzo was definitely startled by the affection, but he didn’t bolt away, only stiffened, but Lena wholly did not care.

“We were so worried about you, lads!” She exclaimed. “When everything went south, you two were the furthest away from our regroup point so we had to think fast! But it looks like all’s well that ends well.” She bounced back on the balls of her feet, giving them space. Then she looked at Cassidy with a smug little smile. “Did we do any team bonding exercises while your comms were offline?” She asked with a cheeky wink and it was probably already bad enough that Cassidy felt his face flush, so he shoved her, playfully. Hanzo seemed oblivious, or was pretending to be, and after gathering the rest of their belongings that they left behind in the cottage assuming they were under attack, the three of them crossed the small meadow between the hut and the ORCA.

“It will be nice to get back to work.” Hanzo said simply when Lena asked if he enjoyed the time off. Cassidy snorted, bumping Hanzo’s shoulder companionably. “Next time we oughta get a five-star hotel for a vacation.”

“You don’t like Emily’s cottage?” Lena feigned indignance, putting a hand to her chest. “Her grandfather built it from scratch, I’ll have you know!”

“Yer grandpa-in-law’s a swell guy,” Cassidy started. “But tell ‘im next time to build the shower a bit taller.”

Lena erupted into giggles, and with everyone all-aboard and all of their belongings gathered and had for the trip, she closed the ramp up behind them.

Chapter 14: forgiveness

Chapter Text

No sooner did Lena close the ramp and zip back off to the co*ckpit to steer them back towards Gibraltar, were Cassidy’s quiet thoughts interrupted by a literal and metaphorical blast from the past:

“Have you been behaving, Cole Cassidy?”

That cadence, that accent, that motherly tone that Cassidy could recall in the deepest pulls of sleep, so much as he could awake, was a warm mixture of stern, yet fond. Instinctively, Cassidy whirred to face the back of the ship to peer into the shadows—and out from them stepped a woman who was such a sight for sore eyes that Cassidy felt his begin to well.

“Ana!” He cried, and he immediately rushed towards her, crushing her in a tight hug to his barrel chest. Ana chuckled warmly against his shoulder, embracing him back just as tightly, and after a beat or two, she put her hands on his shoulders to take a good look at him.

“My, Cole, are those crow’s feet? You’re becoming much too old, aren’t you?” She pinched his cheek with weathered, calloused hands and her familiar everpresent scent of cinnamon and faint hibiscus wafted from every worn wrinkle of both skin and fabric, channeling his olfactory senses to recall how easily she had molded him like clay. Cassidy often thought of his mama, but when he thought of a true mother, he always thought of Ana. She mothered him in all the ways he needed one to; didn’t let him get away with sh*t, taught him how to hone his Deadeye by teaching him to be a better shot, and gave him the bandwidth to explore the complexities of wanting to good in a world wrought with evil. Without her guidance like a wind in his sails, Cassidy had felt so horribly overwhelmed, and he couldn’t help it; only able to laugh wetly, then hug her tight again, as if to ensure himself she was real.

“I can’t believe yer really here.” Cassidy exclaimed. “For so long I—” Yet, Ana put a finger to his lips to have him hold his tongue. “I know that you thought that I was dead.” She stepped back, putting some distance between them. “In some manners, I would prefer that you keep it that way.”

As quickly as the joy entered his body, it fled like the harsh breeze that battered the sides of the ORCA as they ascended to hide amongst the clouds. Ana continued on, as though nothing happened. “I am simply here to do what is right.”

“An’ me actin’ like yer dead is ‘doin’ what’s right’? Forgive me fer soundin’ skeptical, it’s jus’ that… What sense does that make? All o’ us are criminals at this point, so it ain’t like yer protectin’ us from yer mistakes anymore.” Understanding dawned on Cassidy swiftly, like a punch to the gut. His expression darkened. “Does Fareeha know yer here?”

At the bare minimum, Ana had the wherewithal to look guilty. But, as always, she was easily able to shift the conversation, waving it away swiftly. “As we do not have much time, I want to inform you of what I know regarding Talon’s attack on King’s Row.”

Though Cassidy wanted to press, he decided to let her shift gears, ushering her towards the seat across from Hanzo. He waffled for a moment between the two remaining seats—either next to Ana or Hanzo, and opted to sit next to Hanzo.

He ignored the mild look of surprise on Hanzo’s face, and instead opened the floor to Ana, leaning forward on one knee—at attention. “What d’ya know?”

Quite an amalgamation of things; it seemed. From Jack’s whereabouts (“Tha bastard’s alive?” Cassidy asked, stunned, but the uncomfortable look on Ana’s face told him all he needed to know. “Alive, but… part of him was lost in Switzerland, and it wasn’t any of his limbs.”) to the confirmation of a lifetime; one that Cassidy hadn’t wanted to believe but somehow knew deep in his chest and especially after witnessing how the Talon soldiers they fought in King’s Row acted—Reyes was affiliated with Talon. To what end, she wasn’t sure—but from the times that she met with Jack, he knew. And the man may have been batsh*t in his plots for vengence, but he wasn’t stupid and Jack wasn’t a liar where it mattered; it wasn't in his blood. Reyes was the one better suited towards lying through his teeth: which is why he led Blackwatch, which is why he understood Cassidy, which is why instead of acting shocked or hurt, he only leaned back in his chair and chewed thoughtfully on his lip instead of his usual cigar filter. He wouldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. But it didn’t surprise him. Ana told him she wanted him to hear it from her first, and in some ways, he was glad he did.

“Yet, tha one thing I’on get,” Cassidy finally said when Ana was finished. They would be nearing Gibraltar now, he felt it in his bones and he could tell as the ORCA began to descend from the clouds and out the window the familiar lights of La Linea began to come into view. “Is if Talon knows about tha recall, if Talon knows that we wanna stop their ‘evil plans’ so to speak—then, why tha hell did one of their own help us erase evidence of us bein’ there at the attack?”

After being quiet for so long, Hanzo coughed lightly and brought attention to himself. “Forgive me for intruding.” He said when both Cassidy and Ana looked his way.

“Hanzo Shimada.” Cassidy introduced quickly and Ana seemed to already know, if the smile and the twinkle in her eye gave anything away. “It is good to meet a fellow sniper.” She said kindly. Hanzo’s eyes averted so quickly that if you hadn’t been studying his face like Cassidy had been doing since day one, you would’ve missed it. Hanzo looked at Cassidy. “I did not realize the hacker you referred to was affiliated with Talon.”

“Sombra’s affiliated with a lotta people.” Cassidy mumbled tersely, crossing his arms across his chest. “But she ‘on work for free, n’ that’s why I’m suspicious of it.”

“You speak of her as though you are familiar with her.” Hanzo said carefully. Cassidy shrugged. “‘M familiar with the prices she asks. May’ve gotten ta know her when I was by my lonesome ‘n before tha Recall.”

“It isn’t wise to assume she is truly helping you out of the goodness of her heart.” Ana’s wise words drew them back to the main centerpiece of the conversation. “Be sure to consider it from all angles. What would she gain by keeping you all out of the public eye? What would her employers gain?”

A momentary silence befell the three of them.

“Hanzo, I may need ta see those articles again.”

Hanzo shifted, and the two of them poured over the articles—or lack thereof until the ORCA touched down.

Fareeha met them out on the tarmac after Lena cut the engine. She had a stern look on her face, but Cassidy knew her well enough to know that she was blessedly relieved to see that they were okay. She started forward towards them, but stopped dead in her tracks when Cassidy assumed that she saw her mother behind them, as though nothing was amiss—as though it hadn’t been years since Fareeha last saw her. Cassidy didn’t turn, didn’t look, just kept towards Fareeha. When he was within earshot, he grasped her by her upper arm; friendly, but warning.

“Don’ think ya wanna open that can o’ worms just yet, Ree. Easy girl.”

“Did you know she would be coming?” Her voice was carefully measured, though not calm. Cassidy shook his head. “Naw. She was on tha ORCA when me ‘n Hanzo got aboard.”

“Is she staying?”

“Negative.”

“Then why bother to come at all?” Fareeha pulled her arm out of Cassidy’s hand roughly, but unlike what Cassidy thought, she didn’t go to face her. She about-faced and walked briskly back towards the hangar until it seemed she couldn’t take it anymore and broke out into a run. The only other thing that followed was the slam of the door behind her once she got inside.

Hanzo appeared like a spector beside him.

“I take it ya get tha feelin’?” Cassidy couldn’t help but remark mildly. Hanzo hummed, folding his arms across his chest, but it was looser, didn’t seem as guarded. “They are related?” He asked and Cassidy hummed. “Ana is Ree’s ma… She was like a ma ta all o’ us but…” Cassidy tilted his head back and forth, watching as Winston appeared from the hangar and fell into step alongside Ana as they went off to somewhere more secluded to speak, it seemed. Lena waved to the two of them, then headed off in her own direction. “Walk with me, Han.” The nickname slipped off of Cassidy’s tongue so easily, that for a moment, he almost forgot himself. But before he could say anything, or apologize for being so familiar with him, he watched in real time how Hanzo’s shoulders relaxed. How his back subtly straightened. Saw the catch of a small smile tug at his lips, but a motion so minute that Cassidy could easily believe that he imagined it.

Hanzo nodded, acquiesing control of their stroll, and so lead them, Cassidy did. It ended up being a sort of lap around the perimeter of Gibraltar, wherein Cassidy caught Hanzo up with some history. Explaining the names he had probably heard (Jack, Ana, Reyes) and the situation that Overwatch was left in. Though he didn’t think Hanzo was stupid enough to not know certain things, like the PETRAs act or the public-eye version of the downfall of Overwatch; even some lesser known opps, as he mentioned once such as Rialto, the dynamics and internal strife he would have no way of knowing and thus, Cassidy indulged. It almost felt like talking to a therapist, because for once, Hanzo seemed nonplussed, and nonjudgemental. Occasionally he would ask a clarifying question—never for the things that Cassidy himself had trouble remembering (like dates, thank his mama’s god). But by the time they circled back around to the hangar, Cassidy had told him all that he possibly could that was relevant.

“Yer takin’ all o’ this mighty well.” He remarked as they went up the stairs towards the Watchpoint’s interior.

“It is nothing to take, only to hear.” Hanzo said with a wisdom perhaps even beyond both of their storied years. “And I am quite familiar with the strifes of leading a powerful organization.”

“Tha’s true!” Cassidy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Though, ‘m sure all o’ this feels like jus’ child’s play to ya.”

“It feels eerily familiar.” Hanzo’s voice was grave and despite it, Cassidy chuckled again. “Ya want anythin’ from tha kitchen, Han?” Now that he was given silent permission, it was almost as though his mind wanted to find reasons to test the endearment on his tongue. It tingled his lips like the carbonation of a sweet seltzer on his tongue, and the small twitch of Hanzo’s mouth he got in return made it burn sweeter.

“I wonder if Hana was able to fulfill my request.”

“Yer request?”

“She asked me to stream with her awhile before everything occurred.” Cassidy didn’t tell Hanzo that he knew, because some part of him was surprised that Hanzo was telling him this at all. Perhaps something had shifted between the two of them; at least to the point of being somewhat friendly, nevermind what Cassidy’s stupid heart and stupid, stupid dick thought about it. “And part of her bribe was that she would get me ingredients to make sushi.”

“I love how ya admit ta not bein’ above bribes.”

“Only if the trade in question has worth.” Hanzo upturned his nose and that roused the biggest laugh out of Cassidy yet, and the two of them made their way into the kitchen, thick as thieves. He was almost in too good a mood; and so it was probably about time that the universe put an end to that.

Fareeha sat dejectedly at the kitchen table. Her eyes stared forward, not really focusing on anything, and her usually trim bob was a wreck as though she’d raked her hand through it several times already.

Sensing that he was needed to bring his other best friend back down to earth, Cassidy took a sit down beside her, leaning his foot against the table leg to push the chair back just slightly to a teetering rock. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Hanzo easily fade into background noise, opening the fridge to search its contents for his promised prize.

But for now, Cassidy turned his attention to Fareeha.

“Talk ta me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Her voice was angry, but it wasn’t angry at him, perhaps angry at the world, if he had to guess. Cassidy wouldn’t blame her; couldn’t even, even he was upset but he wasn’t blood. He didn’t know what Ana would do once she finished speaking to Winston. Would she go back to Egypt and disappear back into the alleyways of Cairo? Would she join Jack on his inane quest to bring Reyes to whatever the hell justice he thought he deserved? It was hard to say. When Cassidy didn’t take the bait; Fareeha sighed, dropping her head into ready hands rested on her knees.

“I told Brigitte that she was here.”

“Yeah?”

“She asked me if I had forgiven her yet.”

“Well…” Cassidy didn’t want to ask but, it was a place to start. “Have ya?”

“No.” Fareeha’s voice warbled with unshed tears, but she refused to let herself cry, Cassidy knew her well enough by now. She stopped crying when she was a teenager, when Ana first started becoming distant, when she first started saying seriously how she wanted to be part of Overwatch. Cassidy remembered it easily as yesterday, easily as breathing, and remembered the hurt in her eyes whenever her mother pushed her away.

“How can I? I… I never felt like her daughter, Cole.” Fareeha’s voice finally cracked. “I felt like an inconvenience, at best. She got distant from me, my dad. Then she got shot and just… Vanished.” She breathed out deep, composing herself, then leant back in her own chair, looking up at the ceiling as though it held answers. “Not a phone call. Not even on my birthday.” She blew out long like the stream of smoke Cassidy wished he had. Then, “I wish I could hate her.”

Cassidy let the admission hang for a beat, two. Then, “Would hatin’ her make ya feel better?”

“Don’t.” Fareeha held up her hand. It was then that she looked over, seeming to notice for the first time that there was someone else in the room with them, hearing this intimate conversation. Hanzo had a way about making himself small, and made himself as silent as the mist settling on a graveyard, but to Cassidy’s eyes, not nearly as dour. He had taken off his blue, bloodstained jacket and laid it carefully over the chair of another table near them, and had rolled the sleeves of the one linen shirt they found at the cabin that was in his size up, so as to not wet them as he began to work. It seemed that Hana had held up her end of the bargain—Hanzo managed to unearth a rice cooker from somewhere in one of the cupboards Cassidy never peered in, and he’d already seemed to have carefully measured out some rice. Neither he nor Fareeha seemed to register him turning the faucet on and off to wash it, but when they became aware of him, he’d already had some sort of vinaigrette set to the side and he was in the process of cutting thin slices of fish.

It was like a storm suddenly encompassed Fareeha; Cassidy watched in real time as the darkness swept across her eyes.

“What’s your take then, since you’ve been eavesdropping this whole time.”

“Ree.” Cassidy hissed. “I brought him in ta the kitchen with me—I ain’t know ya’d be in here.”

“But he could’ve left.” Fareeha bored holes into him, but Hanzo didn’t seem perturbed. He carried on, slicing little delicate miniature filets of what was perhaps salmon and laid them delicately out on the tray. The knife he used was one Cassidy hadn’t seen around base before in any of the many times he’d scoured through the kitchen, so it must be one of his own. “Well, Hanzo?” Fareeha pushed, and slowly, Hanzo set his knife down. “Do you think I should forgive my mother for what she’s done?”

Hanzo did not turn to face them.

“I am not a worthy judge of that.” He finally said, so quietly that something in Cassidy’s chest ached with the sort of pain that came with every nightmare he’d had about Reyes. Fareeha however, too caught up in her own pain and frustration, didn’t seem to notice. Or care. She bullied on.

“I understand your decision to carry out the orders set to you, even if it was at the expense of someone you hold dear.” Fareeha studied Hanzo, watching as he slowly picked up the knife again, slicing ever delicate filets once more. The rice cooker beeped cheerfully, and he set the knife down once more to attend the rice. Fareeha continued. “But Genji is your blood. You don’t deserve his forgiveness.”

“Ree.” Cassidy said sharply again, even if it fell on deaf ears. He knew she wasn’t talking about Hanzo. Hanzo still wasn’t looking at them and Cassidy was having a hard time deciding how he should cease this conversation before Hanzo pulled into himself again and Fareeha lashed out with words she couldn’t take back.

It was these words that made Hanzo turn. His deep eyes were unreadable, his body language stiff.

“Can you say with certainty, Fareeha Amari,” Hanzo’s deep voice was a slow crawl; careful but deadly. “That if Helix deemed your mother to be an international threat, and you were told to remedy the situation, that you would not take action?”

“I—“ Fareeha looked at Cassidy but he pointedly avoided her gaze. She was a big girl now, and she picked this fight. Cassidy had already done his time being an asshole. She returned her gaze to Hanzo, her face becoming stone cold. “She’s my mother.”

“But you hesitated.” Hanzo’s observation was painfully poignant. He turned back to the sushi preparation, and doused the rice with the vinaigrette. He mixed it gently, seeming to pay no mind to the heat of the freshly cooked rice. He gathered some into the palm of his hand, beginning to shape it into the form of a little log between his palms. “You hesitated because you are aware of the oath you took to uphold your duty.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Hanzo’s voice was light with the question but its weight was undeniable. “Then I will change the question: how willing are you to disobey? Are you willing to die to protect her?” Hanzo set the perfectly formed sushi log onto an awaiting wooden tray, then set a perfect little dollop of wasabi onto the top of it. He laid the salmon cutlet on top of it, pressing down so it would adhere. He continued on, almost nonchalant. “Willing to shirk acceptance from your superiors for someone who has already pushed you aside?” Fareeha stared. Hanzo glanced at her over his shoulder, starting the methodical plating process once more with a small handful of rice in his hand. “You are the perfect soldier Amari-san. You have been trained well in every field. But relationships are complicated, and oftentimes, a vice.” Hanzo sighed wistfully.

What he said next took both Cassidy and Fareeha aback.

“I debated for six months over whether or not I should take the life of my brother.” He spoke about it with a purposefully constructed nonchalance that Cassidy found he could immediately discern. Fareeha, as it were, fidgeted in her chair.

“In those six months I was told my brother was a monster who was a threat to the clan and our very way of life. Reckless. Unyielding. That he would bring about the assured death of everything our father, his father before him and so on worked for. ‘Shape him up’ was my initial goal, but Genji did not take to it. It left me with few options.” Hanzo placed the second completed sushi onto the wooden tray. Then onto the next, perfectly timed with his pause. “So, I made a choice.”

“The wrong one.” Cassidy murmured, more to himself than anything. It wasn’t fair of him to cast judgement, even if he didn’t mean it negatively; after hearing this tragedy, now from both brothers, the implications were clear: there was no way out of it unless blood was shed, either one of them with their heads awaiting the guillotine. If Genji killed Hanzo, like he’d struck out to do then—would this guilt be eating him alive the same way? Would Overwatch have saved Hanzo instead? The what-ifs that swirled Cassidy’s mind were probably no different than either Shimada at any given point in time, and having to deal with those thoughts at all hours was killing them, both of them.

This time when Hanzo glanced over his shoulder he met Cassidy’s eyes. The dark look of the abyss did not greet him, but instead, a deep, heavy sadness that encompassed him like overflowing waterfalls, and a look that Cassidy was recognizing more and more often that shone like a discarded star. Just as quickly, the open well of emotion dried up, and the distant, nochalance was there once more when Hanzo’s eyes fled. Did he mean for Cassidy to see that look? Or could he not help it?

“I do not expect you to sympathize with my decision. It is good that you don’t, and I hope you never come to a point where you must make that choice, Amari-san.”

Silence settled across the room, and it wasn’t long before it became too much for Fareeha. She didn’t look at either of them when she left, and though he should go after her, Cassidy found himself rooted in place. He watched Hanzo’s hands; strong and calloused, storied and practiced, shape log after log of rice. There was something about this equation that was… lost in translation however, and before he could stop himself, his lips were moving before he could think out what he truly wanted to say.

“Forgive me fer pokin’ tha bear so ta speak,” Hanzo hummed in acknowledgment, allowing Cassidy to go on. “But from everythin’ I know about gangs—hell the mafia and yakuza, whatever, ain’t family and keepin’ true to one’s own a big deal?”

“In the Shimada-gumi, and for many yakuza clans, “family” is not who is related to you by blood but those who have an oath to the clan.” Hanzo was finished with the remainder of the rice, and took to the remaining cutlets of fish, which he began to slice further and arrange in a methodical yet elegant flurry into little bunches of flowers. It was easy to tell that Hanzo was used to the grip of a blade, his posture was relaxed, and his motions were quick and strong, as though they were a mere distraction as he spoke.

“Genji recanted his oath, and thus he was no longer “family.” As long as my father was alive, he was untouchable as the master’s son and despite everything…” Hanzo set the knife down and stepped away momentarily from the board, suddenly his breath was sharp and rasp and it seemed as though he were trying to collect himself.

Cassidy backpedaled. “Ya don’t gotta answer, Han.” But Hanzo pressed on.

“Despite everything, my father still favored him as heir apparent.” Hanzo’s voice was a quiet, wheezing rasp. “After his death—”

“Tha clan could do as they wished.” Suddenly it dawned on Cassidy.

Hanzo returned to the finished sushi platter, picked it up carefully, and set it on the table in front of Cassidy. It was simple, but beautiful, and seemed relatively high quality—not that he would expect anything less from Hana, chief ingredient procurer. Hanzo did not sit however, and instead looked off out of the large kitchen windows into the light of the waning sun.

“My father bought me a shiba inu when I was 10 years old. I named him Yoshiki.”

“Tha’s a beautiful name.” Cassidy said kindly, and he meant it, still trying to follow the trail of breadcrumbs Hanzo was leaving behind. “Does it mean anything?”

“Righteous Honor.” Hanzo said wistfully. Cassidy couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. “Seems like ya.”

“He was a good dog.” Hanzo continued. “The very best companion I could ask for—the only friend I had for…” Hanzo’s voice grew softer. “Many years.” He turned away from the shining light of the window, his hands curling into a tight fist. When he met Cassidy’s eyes, that look was there again.

That overwhelming grief.

“I was forced to kill him at 15.” He didn’t shed tears, but Hanzo seemed damn well close to it and Cassidy felt his heart drop like lead to the pit of his stomach. This pain, this loss… it went deeper than just Genji. Hanzo breathed out and it was shuddering, like a frail curtain in an unforgiving breeze.

“It… It was to teach me that even the most loyal of companions can become traitors if the clan deemed it so.” Hanzo closed his eyes. “It was a lesson I have never forgotten.”

Because that’s what led ya ta kill him. Cassidy didn’t think a gunshot hurt as much as this; and this was only a fraction of the underbelly of what was laying there.

“What offense did the dog make?” Cassidy couldn’t help but ask, and a small, humorless smile came to Hanzo’s face. He finally began to move, and surprisingly did not leave, only sat down across from Cassidy and picked up a single piece of sushi between his fingers. He regarded it, as he regarded the question, then said as he popped it into his mouth—

“Barked at an elder out of turn.”

Chapter 15: gentle

Chapter Text

Fareeha never really apologized to Hanzo for what she said in the kitchen that day. Perhaps, even if she was growing to respect him as a person, there was still that lingering doubt that led her to saying it… or, it was more than likely that she was ashamed of herself for lashing out like that because of her own troubles and didn’t want to bring it up. But Hanzo’s honesty did seem to move something in her: Cassidy caught the two of them in casual conversation outside the medbay when it was his turn to get examined for the bi-annual physical—or, as casual as Hanzo could be when he was locked into a conversation for longer than five minutes and started to get antsy, like Cassidy could tell he was. But, he couldn’t do much more than wave at the two of them before he was ushered into the main bay by Angela.

An hour and some odd minutes later, according to the good doc, Cassidy had lost two pounds of muscle mass, despite the non stop action of the past several months since Hanzo arrived. “It’s because you aren’t eating enough protein.” She chided, looking through the rest of his medical records. “And you probably aren’t sleeping enough either.” Cassidy rolled his shoulders, then shrugged. Angela tutted. “You really should take better care of yourself, Cole.”

“I know, I know. Ya give me tha same speech every year.” Even though he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a doctor after the original Overwatch fell apart. “And you still aren’t listening.” She poked his forehead with her pen and her voice was dripping with forced sing song cheer. “But, I suppose some things will never change.” She let out a huff of a little laugh, blowing blonde messy bangs out of her face, and suddenly Cassidy picked up on it—just how tired the good doc looked, with the dark circles under her eyes.

“How are you, Ang?” He asked, and he should be more offended that Angela looked surprised that he asked, but he let it go. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, probably to decide how honest she should be with him, then finally set her clipboard down on the workspace behind her. She took off her glasses and rubbed the space between her eyes.

“Lately, things have been… trying.” Angela said. She didn’t meet his eyes, despite Cassidy’s searching gaze. “I have been starting to doubt myself. Not my expertise—but the opinions I’ve held on those around us.”

“Ya mean Hanzo, don’t ya?” Cassidy deadpanned, somehow expecting this. But Angela surprised him by shaking her head.

“I have already come to accept that my opinions about him will not be shared with the rest of our friends.” It almost shocked him how… cold her voice was. He’d never heard her sound like this before, and he wondered if this was a side of her that existed even back in the golden age, or if this was a new side of her born out of age and ‘wisdom.’

“You ‘n I were on tha same page when he first got here, I’ll admit.” Cassidy said. He wasn’t proud of it, and the further and further removed from those early days and the more and more he got to know Hanzo, the more ashamed of himself he found that he was. He’d judged the man harshly and unfairly, for a situation, that he was now understanding is more complex than the black and white way that Angela still viewed it. But unlike her, he had opened himself up to learn, and opened himself up to being proven wrong. And he would admit it: he was wrong. Horribly wrong, about everything. He couldn’t blame himself for getting the wrong impression, but it seemed almost… childish to hold onto it as fiercely as the good doc was.

“We were.” Angela agreed. “Spending time with him seems to have made you sympathetic to him, and I don’t blame your kind heart for it.” She looked back to her files for a moment, then glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “I simply am not convinced that he came here to do good for the sake of it.”

Cassidy paused, floundered for a moment. Grasping at straws, he asked, “Is makin’ up fer killin’ his kin not an act o’ service, now?”

“It’s selfish.” She said factually, as though she had cracked some code that allowed her to carry on with her prejudice. Cassidy couldn’t help but regard her as though she’d grown two heads. “So…” He said slowly. “Him shovin’ Mei outta the way down in Antartica was selfish?”

Angela huffed, seeming frustrated. “What I’m trying to say, is that I am not convinced that if it came down to saving an innocent life or one of our own that he would act in a way that would prioritize the potential victim. His priorities lie within appealing to Genji, and not for the sake of being a better person. I find it difficult to trust such an individual.”

Cassidy let out the most exasperated sigh that he’d ever heaved in his entire life. “Angie, do ya hear yerself?”

“What?” She looked defensive. “You asked, and I am simply stating my opinion!”

“By that logic, ya shouldn’t trust me either then.”

“Cole, I have always known you to be a good person. Why would I assume—”

“If ya put me in a room with you and a random civilian and told me that I had ta shoot one o’ ya to save my own skin, Ang I’m pullin’ the trigger. And it ain’t at you. And it damn sure ain’t at me.”

Angela was staring at him now as though he were the crazy one and Cassidy was convinced this was the most ridiculously obtuse conversation he’d had in his life, bar the time that Genji managed to convince him to streak for a beer in Blackwatch and bar the other time he got into an argument with his mama about whether or not dogs could see ghosts. It was hard to even take it seriously, even though he knew that Angela was quite serious.

“More than that, Ang, it ain’t fair for ya ta ask him to be tha perfect, redeemed man.”

“It wasn’t fair of him to strike an enemy whilst they were still down.” Angela countered. This must’ve been things Genji told her years ago when the wounds were still fresh. “It isn’t fair of him to accuse me of endangering the wellbeing of my own patients.”

“Naw, maybe it ain’t.” Cassidy agreed, but it was through clenched teeth and huffed breath. “But yer sayin’ ya don’t trust him because o’ tha what, tha…. reasonin’ behind why he wants ta change? If a rich person buys a room for a poor person ta feel good about themself, are tha poor gonna care that they did it for tha ‘wrong intentions’?” Cassidy reached for his shirt that lay forlorn on an unused exam table and pulled it back over his head. “Or are they jus’ glad someone paid for their room for a night?”

Angela didn’t say anything for a long moment, and during that time Cassidy stepped back into his jeans. As he was refactoring his signature BAMF belt buckle, Angela said, quietly.

“You’ve changed quite a bit in these past few months, Cole.”

Her words clung to him even as he meandered out of the med bay to let Fareeha know it was her turn for examination. He watched as she clapped Hanzo on the shoulder and Hanzo gave him a nod once she left, but seemed to be done with talking for a while, seeming grateful when Cassidy gave him an easy nod back. Cassidy opted instead for

It didn’t feel much like he was changing—if he was honest, he felt more like himself than he had in a long while.

Thankfully, the worldwide panic from the attack on King’s Row died down, and they spent several weeks keeping their heads low, Winston tentatively began to reinstate missions again. It was back to the usual business; reconnaissance, perhaps a secured file delivery or two, nothing major. Though there were some complaints (Reinhardt and Hana especially), Cassidy found that he was enjoying the respite from things truly hair raising. The only thing that was keeping him from truly relaxing was well…

The usual suspect.

Hanzo f*cking Shimada.

It would be one thing if it was because it was just the throes of his crush (and god, it was one wasn’t it? He tried to talk himself out of the feeling at least twice but then he’d catch a glimpse of that hint of levity that carved its way through the severity that was Hanzo f*cking Shimada by way of an off-color joke or a thoughtful hum of that nickname—Han—and then Cassidy’s heart would thunder like rail tracks in his ears and he’d remember, god no this was almost more mortifying than a silly little infatuation) chasing its tail around his mind. It’d be another if they even hit some sort of milestone involving this, or a milestone in tearing down the Great Wall that still guarded the elder Shimada despite nearly everyone on base growing to the point of fondness towards him. Hana was glued to his side, along with Daehyun who seemed much less intimidated by Hanzo than he was before (if Cassidy had to guess it probably had something to do with Hana’s recent charity stream where she managed to coerce Hanzo into wearing rabbit ears for the latter half of her show; just offscreen Daehyun was barely able to keep his giggles to himself), and Lucio, Brigitte and Lena had all brightened up to him even if he was still off most of the time, they took it in stride. Even Zenyatta seemed to be having some effect on Hanzo—Cassidy heard from Genji that they had their first guided meditation session only the day before yesterday. And speaking of Genji—

“Howdy, pardner!” Cassidy slung a long arm over the cyborg’s shoulders and grinned when he felt them tremble joyfully from a playful laugh. “I still cannot believe you exist sometimes.”

“‘N I still can’t believe ya thought I was from Texas tha first time we met.” Cassidy sassed back and Genji only laughed just a little harder. “Forgive me,” He said sincerely. “It is just all of the “wild west” is Texas to me.”

“Texans give tha rest o’ us a bad rap.” Cassidy complained, and he finally slid off of Genji’s shoulder. “‘Everythin’s bigger’—yeah, a bigger headache.” Even without access to seeing his face Cassidy knew Genji was amused. “Where’re ya headed?”

“I am actually on a supply run for Baptiste.” From the pocket of his hoodie, Genji produced a shopping list of sorts, and when Cassidy peered in closer he could see it was an eclectic mixture of medical supplies, and homey comforts. “Not sure what rum has ta do with necessary provisions.” Cassidy raised an amused eyebrow at Genji who just coughed. “Well—we all have our vices.” Genji said lamely and Cassidy knocked his shoulder. “Awh, hell, Genj I’m just pullin’ ur metal leg. Have a good trip!”

“Actually,” Genji said before Cassidy could meander off. “I was wondering if you would… come with me. Unless you have other plans?” Cassidy made a show of thinking about it, but then gave the ninja a hearty grin. “Naw, ain’t got nothin’ better ta do. We jus’ headin’ over to Miss. Linea?”

Genji nodded, “I still don’t know why you call it that.”

“Well, she’s real pretty, ain’t she? Especially at night from here an’ ya see all tha lights from ‘er like lil’ stars?”

Genji chuckled. “That is true.” The two of them fell into step next to one another, out to the “company car” for lack of better word—the only real ground vehicle they had that was inconspicuous enough to blend in with everyday foot traffic. Brigitte and Fareeha were usually the ones who manned it; not having particularly outlandish looks and no bounties or recognition to their name (well—Fareeha would get a small taste of it now, even with Sombra’s interventions), but every now and again some of them would take to the city. It got cooped up being on the Watchpoint all the time, and it was nice to ride with the windows down and feel the salty, Mediterranean breeze brush across your face.

Genji drove them carefully, but not without speed. It seemed you could take the recklessness out of the man all except for his driving—but he was a good driver and Cassidy didn’t mind it one bit. It was only when they reached the outskirts of the first major village, did it make sense to Cassidy why Genji wanted him to come with. The cyborg let out a long sigh, then reached up as they waited behind a large box truck to pull his face plate off. Paired with his hoodie and sweats (so as not to get the denim caught in the metal of his legs), Genji looked startlingly normal. Cassidy divested himself of his hat and serape, digging in the front drawer of the car to draw his hair back into a small ponytail and undid a button or two of his flannel to give himself a more tourist-y look. You couldn’t really take the country out of the man, but you’d be surprised at how easy it was to blend into a crowd of people even if you looked close to your own wanted poster.

Genji leaned back in the seat of the car as they finally made it around the truck and came to an easy cruise.

“So you n’ Baptiste huh?” Cassidy finally broke the silence. Being able to see Genji’s cheeks flush and eyebrows knit together in adorable self consciousness was definitely a treat Cassidy wasn’t used to. “Been gettin’ awfully close lately, haven’t y’all?”

“Not without reason.” Genji finally said after wetting his lips. “Angela and I… haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately.”

“Not ta be rude, but I can tell.” Cassidy said flatly, thinking on his own conversation with the good doc this morning. Genji nodded curtly. “The fact that I have still not had a mission with my own brother after Eichenwalde… I know it is her doing. I have tried to talk to Winston about it, and he listens. But I think he is concerned that if we upset Angela too much she will leave us.”

“I mean, ya ain’t a doll Genj.” Cassidy frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “She can’t have ya all to herself.”

“I do not think it is because she wants to keep me.” Genji’s face grimaced at the thought. “I perhaps think it is because she still does not trust my brother, and thinks she is protecting me by keeping us apart.”

“I mean, I’ll tell ya it’s because she ‘on trust Hanzo.” Genji glanced at him, seeming a bit surprised at the sour turn his voice had taken, as though it were a surprise that Cassidy felt this way at all. Maybe it was. He hadn’t really had a moment to spend with Genji since before King’s Row, and even since then, the two of them had been constantly paired on separate operations—mainly because Cassidy kept getting shacked up with Hanzo. He quickly caught Genji up to speed from his conversation with Angela and Genji’s frown was so deep that it was the first time Cassidy realized he had frown lines at all—because despite the scarring, Genji’s face had always held a youthful edge. But looking at him now, all of his suspicions were confirmed the other way; there was no way to mistake the brothers. Their anger was twin flames, and Cassidy was almost itching to see if their looks of happiness could be siblings as well.

“I have never known Angela to be vindictive.” Genji finally said. “Ya shoulda seen her when she found out about Moira.” Cassidy said dryly.

“Perhaps she is convinced that Hanzo is another Moira.” Genji’s voice shifted from angry to contemplative, and he rubbed his chin, one hand still steering them easily down the winding country roads to reach their destination. “That we have allowed another evil doer into our midst.”

“I’d get it if we were keepin’ Han a secret from her.” Cassidy missed the way that Genji’s eyebrows climbed into his hair, hearing the nickname. “But we ain’t. —‘N it doesn’t help that the bastard can’t go on one goddamn mission without nearly givin’ me a heart attack.”

And that was the problem with Hanzo f*cking Shimada.

Every mission, every recon, the man found a way to break something, to bruise something,to nearly get his ass f*cking killed and it was reaching the point of actual concern to Cassidy. Eichenwalde itself was a stroke of fool’s luck, but King’s Row—leaving himself open like that enough to get shot and then having to (essentially) be manhandled into medical treatment? Antarctica, nearly dying under the ice for literally no reason. The mission the two of them went on right after King’s Row, that was pure reconnaissance—all they needed to do was try and see if they could get wind of Talon’s next moves by being undercover security at a gala…

“—‘N some-f*cking-how, ya know what I see when I whip around? I see that bastard with a fork stabbed through his hand! A whole fight breaks out, and a drunk lady f*ckin’ spills her whole goddamn wine down the front of my shirt—and tha’s tha only good shirt I own Genj! I’m draggin’ yer brother outta there by tha scruff of his neck, throw ‘im in the car ‘n skedaddle! —’n get this,” Cassidy holds up a hand before Genji could interject. “When I ask ‘im what tha Sam hell happened back there, all he does is shrug. Shrug! I still ain’t got a f*ckin’ clue what tha f*ck tha fight was over! Nearly blew our whole damn opp!”

It would’ve been a funny story, given any other context. Getting into a glorified bar fight with rich nepo babies, and ruining a good shirt with expensive dark red wine, having a cute little hairbrained chase out of there—like an old Tom and Jerry cartoon, perhaps. But Cassidy was noticing a pattern. A dangerous pattern. It didn’t seem like Hanzo was purposefully sabotaging Overwatch; quite the contrary. He was doing more than perhaps necessary to aid them in their goals; saving not one but two agent’s lives in his short stint here. But the person that he really seemed to be working against was…

“I swear, Genj, it’s like tha man wants ta kill himself.”

Genji didn’t reply for a long moment, and more silence fell across the car. In fact, they didn’t pick up this particular thread of conversation until they were finally in La Linea’s city limits and had pulled into a parking garage. Cassidy got out, popping his back, and Genji stretched out, slinky like a cat.

“You have been on more missions with my brother than I have.” Genji started slowly before Cassidy could direct them towards the elevator which would provide them entree into the mall above them. “Do you truly think that he’s acting like…” Genji couldn’t finish his sentence. He looked lost there, with his chocolate brown eyes downcast; like a forlorn child, swaying under his own weight.

“I wish I could say it was an exaggeration, or a hunch.” Cassidy said quietly. “I never told ya what happened when me n’ Han first met.”

Genji’s brow furrowed. “When I introduced you to him?”

“Naw, we met before that.” Genji looked even more confused. “When?”

“Cake gate.” Cassidy said, thinking back to it. “After that hell o’ a meeting where I yelled yer head off, Winston asked me ta check the ORCA on Lena’s behalf ta make sure it was ready to go. I get there, n’ ya wanna know tha first thing I see?”

“My brother?”

“Sittin’ on top o’ tha ORCA eatin’ a f*ckin’ strawberry shortcake.” Genji huffed out a startled laugh, like he couldn’t believe his ears. “I didn’t expect him to be a fan of sweets, by tha way.”

“Hanzo has always had a sweet tooth.” Genji replied sagely. The two of them started for the elevator. “With a figure like that?” Cassidy couldn’t help but blurt; all of the heat of his wet dreams up to this point arresting him like a hot flash before dissipating quickly into mist of sensation. This time, Cassidy did catch the smug little smile that came to Genji’s face, but he feigned innocence when Cassidy narrowed his eyes at him.

“What?” Cassidy challenged. Genji waved a hand. “Go on. What happened when you met?”

“Well, I asked him what tha everlovin’ f*ck he was doin’ up there. ‘N then he gave me sass, so I told him I would shoot ‘im. Got out Peacekeeper n’ everythin’. ‘N y’know what he said?”

Genji stepped into the elevator, then leaned against the side of the wall covered in mirrors. Cassidy stood the opposite of him so they could face each other. He didn’t say anything, so Cassidy barreled on. “He told me if I was gonna shoot ‘im, shoot ta kill.”

“That sounds like him.” Genji said quietly, somberly. “Knowin’ ‘im now, I’d think so too. But that’s tha thing Genj, he stuck his f*ckin’ chest out to give me a clear shot.”

This, seemed to floor Genji and his eyes dropped to it just as the weight of that sentence dropped on him like a ton of bricks. But after saying this, it was like a dam had opened up in Cassidy; of all the things that happened between him and Hanzo that he hadn’t wanted to or been able to bring to Genji’s attention. That elevator ride up to ground level may as well have been a lifetime; because Cassidy told him about Antarctica too—how Hanzo had so easily told him to leave him behind to perish. He remembered that day, cradling the phone to his ear, how Genji had wanted to cry, but it was almost worse when faced with the true anguish that spread across the cyborg’s face.

They didn’t speak on anything else—at least not for awhile. They made it up to the large, glass mall and went about checking everything off of Baptiste’s list—even the rum. Genji was even nice enough to buy him cigarettes in lieu of his usual cigars, and on their way back, Cassidy cranked down the windows and let the smoke sail out onto the soft breeze. He sighed contendtedly. “This is tha life.” Cassidy said, mostly to himself. “Those simple pleasures. Gimme a good smoke ‘n some whiskey and a nap, and I’ll be happy.”

Beside him, Genji leaned back in the driver’s side. The wind whipped his dark black hair around and he ran a hand through it thoughtfully, letting the soft strands run like silk through his fingers. “Should I dye my hair again?” Genji quipped. It was an innocent enough question, and Cassidy looked over at him, regarding his hair. “Ya don’t usually wear it out.” He said slowly, and Genji chuckled. “That is true. It has been many years since I have, but I was thinking that I should, for myself.”

“Han said tha last time ya dyed yer hair it was neon green.”

The smirk that came to Genji’s face at the apparent mention of his brother made Cassidy narrow his eyes. “‘N wha’s that look for?”

“That is the third time today you have called my brother that nickname.”

“‘N what about it?” Cassidy couldn’t help but get defensive—but he had an awful idea about where this conversation was going.

“Oh, nothing.” Genji feigned innocence, but the teasing mirth in his eyes was impossible to miss. “Have you called Hanzo that? To his face?”

“Yeah.” Cassidy mumbled. “Maybe like once. He ain’t mind it so—”

“He didn’t?” Genji raised an eyebrow at this. Then, “You two must be getting awfully close.”

“Well, since Ang won’t let ya hang out, I guess I’m filling in.” Cassidy replied dryly, but he averted his eyes, back out of the window. They were back on the winding country road again; not a cloud in the sky, with the backdrop of the shimmering ocean blue beneath them as they climbed higher and higher back towards the mountains where the Watchpoint was hidden.

“This is a far cry from when he first came to the Recall. It almost sounds like you like him.”

Cassidy felt his tongue tie behind his teeth. He let the silence hang for a moment—not too long, but long enough that Genji realized he was stalling and looked over at him, questioningly. There was a hint of worry in his gaze, concerned that he had pushed his teasing just a little too far. Cassidy gave him the most sheepish reassuring smile he could muster.

“An’...” Cassidy breathed in deep, let the smoke fill his lungs and ground him; steel him for what he was going to say next. On his exhale, he began, quietly, “What if I did … y’know…” He floundered for a moment and felt like a teenager all over again. “Like yer brother?” The insinuation was delivered too plainly to pretend it was something else.

Genji answered immediately, his voice soft and weighty with some complicated emotion. “Then I would ask you to be gentle with him”

Chapter 16: clarity

Chapter Text

Most of the rooms at the Watchpoint that they’d decided to straighten up enough for operation were functions of necessity: dorms (obviously), the medbay, the room he and Hanzo had cleared out which now served as the general armory, the kitchen—which was still woefully sparse, the labs but those had been operational even before anyone showed up for the Recall, and the training room which saw the most action of any of said rooms. Even the area they’d carved out as a living space was only so because there was a TV in there—Cassidy sat in one of the beanbag chairs just the other day when Lucio roped him into an impromptu jam session, and he’d had a crick in his back for at least three more after. But a few days after their resident cyborg brought the monk and his teacher, Zenyatta, back from Nepal, he’d suddenly come into the kitchen were mostly everyone was ambling about for scraps like hungry dogs, and announced that the meditation room was now ready to receive them.

Mind you, Cassidy wasn’t sure what he meant by “meditation room” until he set his eyes on the room himself and curiosity arrested him enough to stop and peek as he passed it by. The room was a pale yellow, like the glimmer of the sun just under the horizon on a crisp winter’s evening, and fairy lights draped sleepily from the ceiling, criss-crossing overhead, reminiscent of clotheslines that swayed in Italian breezes. They provided a soft ambient glow alongside various candles of different fragrances that were strewn about the room, on top of soft white bookcases, or elegant wooden low tables. Plush carpets that would probably feel heavenly under bare toes were angled tastefully about the room, and low pillows of all sizes were arranged in varying piles. It was perhaps the coziest room that Cassidy had ever stepped foot into, and he was almost in shock at how much care had gone into its loving construction. Where they had the money for this was a mystery, but never mind that.

Floating in the center of this calming space and emitting soft, sonorous hums of meditation was Zenyatta. Small orbs, no larger than the average palm floated around him in a distinct melody all of their own, one at a time bumping up in time to Zenyatta’s hums like a metronome. Cassidy turned on his heel, ready to leave the monk to it when his calm voice called “Cole Cassidy?”

Cassidy spun back, slow on the heel of his boots. “.... Mr. Zenyatta?” The monk’s laugh was calming; it didn’t feel mocking, only kind. “No need to be so formal. I am glad that you are here. Would you care to join me for some meditation?”

And well, Cassidy didn’t want to brush him off, since he was new on base, despite his hesitations about meditating, so he simply said, “Shucks, I’d be honored.” Because it would be, to meet the man who changed his best friend so much and for the better. He toed off his shoes by the door to be polite, and padded across the, now confirmed, heavenly soft carpets in his holey socks, to sit in front of the monk on a few of the strewn cushions. The room felt impeccably clean and soothing, yet he felt like he was somehow too dirty and under dressed.

If omnics could smile, Cassidy was sure he was sporting it. He settled himself down easy, then crossed his legs, closing his eyes. “I ain’t too sure how this… meditatin’ works.”

“Open your mind.” Zenyatta supplied helpfully. “Take in the sounds and scents around you and focus on becoming one with the universe.”

Cassidy didn’t quite know how to explain that he needed clearer instructions than that to get going, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful, so he kept his mouth shut. The sonorous humming began once more, and Cassidy tried. Tried to focus on the humming, and its delicate cadence, but now that his eyes were closed it reminded him of all the times his mama dragged him to that derelict Catholic church that was a block away from their home to pray to a god he swore wasn’t listening. He tried to focus on the scents—the candles had to be some sort of vanilla or jasmine, or perhaps hazel wood? He couldn’t put his finger on it. But it did remind him of the soap he’d been forced to eat in school for cursing too much. And when he tried to stop focusing on the room and the smells and the feel of the carpet underneath his toes, his mind instead decided to supply him with the very raw image of his arm being blown off. Pain like molten lead shot up all his nerve endings like a wildfire.

“f*cking Christ.” Cassidy hissed pulling open his eyes and blinking back tears. He hadn’t had a phantom pain spell that bad with his prosthetic on in… god, years probably. He was so used to the damn thing; lugged it on and off, was so used to its weight that it didn’t register how heavy it was to him anymore. But he felt it now; his nerves were screaming.

Seeming to notice his distress, the hums came to a slow. Zenyatta lifted his head, subtly so, but showing that he was observing him now.

“Sorry, phantom pain,” Cassidy grit out. Deciding there was no other way around it, he fumbled around for the connecting ports and hissed again, louder, when he disconnected them and tossed his arm off. It sailed into a pile of pillows and he let out a deep breath, using his flesh hand to wipe away at the sweat the pain forced to gather on his forehead.

“Do not apologize.” Zenyatta said serenely. “The Iris has a habit of calling out to machinery, regardless of its sentience.” He hummed again, and one of the orbs floating around him left its little flock to come towards him. It hovered there, like how Snowball hovered over Mei’s shoulder, but this felt much… different than the healing he’d felt from any other medic on the field. Moira’s healing felt cold and tingled; shifting deep in his cells unnaturally and made him want to vomit every. Single. Time. Angela’s felt more clinical—akin to taking a shot to chase down pain killers so they’d numb you faster. She hated when he described it like that, but he only spoke the truth. But somehow, this little orb was funneling a full body warmth into him. It reached into his soul and traveled like a slow honey, coating his firing pain synapses with softness… Like a duvet, like cotton. Like his mama’s hands in his hair after a nightmare telling him that the Lord would protect him and that everything was alright.

Cassidy realized he was staring at his arm a beat too late, and tore his gaze away to look at Zenyatta.

“How are ya… Doin’ that?” He asked. Zenyatta’s chuckle was just as musical as his meditating hums. “How indeed.” He replied mysteriously, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he said. “I am glad to finally meet one dear to my student.”

“Shucks,” Cassidy felt his face flush in slight embarrassment at the high regard and he cleared his throat. “I ain’t much, jus’ glad that ya could help talk sense into him when I couldn’t.”

“But if it were not for you, I do not think Genji would have been open to my methods. I thank you, deeply.” Zenyatta bowed his head and Cassidy waved his hand. “Naw, trust me, it was all you! He really came back a changed man, ‘n for tha better.”

Silence lapsed between them, only for a moment. Then, Zenyatta spoke again.

“I hope it will not be presumptuous to say,” He began. “But it seems that you are also dear to the other Shimada heir as well.”

Cassidy’s eyebrows climbed high into his hair.

“Pardon?” He sputtered. “Ya… Ya mean Hanzo?”

“Unless there is another Cole Cassidy on base.” Zenyatta said coyly. The orbs that were floating around him—sans the one still soothing his reactive nerves—dimmed and fell back in place, hovering about the monk’s neck, like those chunky beads he saw in old textbooks in school that depicted others like him. It was fascinating to say the least, to see something so traditional adapt to the form of one so obviously advanced—no different than seeing Genji wielding a sword either, perhaps. “He has come to see me several times since my arrival, on Genji’s behest. He speaks of you… often.”

“I’m sure ta bitch, no need ta be nice.” Cassidy couldn’t help but say immediately, still finding it difficult to wrap his mind around the idea of Hanzo talking about him to anyone at all. They were becoming closer, yes, but that didn’t mean they were anything other than coworkers who got along slightly better than everyone else. So what if Cassidy was the only one who seemed to hold a conversation with Hanzo—Hana could too! So what if he got sent on most of this past month’s reconnaissance with Hanzo, that was Winston’s doing to keep his word to the good doc. And so what if he had a slight infatuation. The man was a wet dream on legs, if you could overlook his personality (not that Cassidy truly was these days but that was a different conversation he wasn’t quite ready to have with himself yet, not so early in the game, and never mind what he said to Genji which was barely anything at all, only the passing insinuation that Genji could interpret however he liked—)

“As a third party, it would seem that he values your companionship a great deal.” Zenyatta said sincerely, halting Cassidy’s mind in its tracks.

“In fact, I am glad that you have come to see me today, to see if my assumptions were correct.”

“Assumption?” Cassidy’s brows dropped back down into a furrow. “Assumin’ what?”

If omnics had breath, then the hum that Zenyatta let out could’ve been a sigh.

“Genji hoped that I would be able to guide and mentor his brother towards self-reflection and enlightenment while I was here, the same that I was able to accomplish with him.” Zenyatta began, folding his hands across his lap. “And while I made no promises; for I cannot force one to become a pupil of the Iris if they are not willing, I did promise him that I would see to Hanzo’s mind.Tend to his soul. Discover what darkness and attachments he still holds against the collapse of their relationship, so perhaps, in time, they can repair it.” Zenyatta let out the hum-sigh again. “But, this is a far greater circ*mstance than I feared.”

Cassidy, somehow, knew that it would be. He’d been thinking it since King’s Row and he’d been thinking it on every mission since. There was something all of them were missing about what was going on with Hanzo. One piece of the puzzle that would unravel this thread of why Hanzo’s standoffishness was worse than just an awkward quirk. More debilitating than guilt, or regret. But what—

“To be blunt,” Cassidy held his breath. “I am deeply worried that the times Hanzo is with us are far more fleeting than the times he isn’t.”

It was a wrap-around porch of a way of saying what he meant, but Cassidy cupped his chin and thought on it for a moment.

“How do ya figure?” He finally said, bracing himself.

“It is just a hunch.” Zenyatta clarified. “But in the few sessions that I have had with Hanzo thus far, I cannot help but worry about him.”

As he spoke, Zenyatta smoothed the lower half of his tunic down then picked some stray lint from it bringing it up to the slits that were perhaps his eyes and examined it closely in the light. Then, he held his hand out to Cassidy.

“Let me illustrate.” Zenyatta said, and so, Cassidy leaned in to peer at the tiniest bit of dust he could barely make out against the gray.

“Do you have allergies, Cole Cassidy?”

“Mm… Naw, not that I can think of… Wait—Cats.” He said. “I always forget, cuz I don’t tend ta be ‘round ‘em too often, but Brigitte loves ‘em. Every time she and Ree go down ta La Linea, she always finds one ta pet, and I always end up sneezin’ ‘round her, even if there don’t look like there’s any fur on her.”

“By themselves, allergens are quite small.” Zenyatta said. He brushed the lint off and it fluttered away, disappearing into the air particles around them. “They can cause momentary discomfort, such as the fur you cannot see that clings to our friend, or even a small particle such as the one I showed you. To some something so tiny can still cause the body to react.” Zenyatta paused for affect. “But—it is livable, is it not?”

After a beat, Cassidy replied. “I suppose so… Though, I usually just walk away when I start gettin’ too irritated.”

“Precisely!” Zenyatta clapped his hands softly together, the metal of his palms making a soft clang. “When Genji first came to me, he was dealing with sudden, overwhelming problems. Perhaps, if I were to continue to equate it to an allergy, it was as though he were in a room with hundreds of cats all at once and could not see the way out. I was able to connect with him within the Iris, as the Iris tried to connect with your arm, and able to guide him out of the room with many cats, or allergens, to help him see his body as a living, breathing, functioning whole, instead of intangible metal parts to replace what he had lost.

“But, I fear that the problems within Hanzo are borne through years and years of silent suffering. Repression, even. Harming Genji was perhaps the straw that finally rendered the proverbial camel motionless. But, this allergen, this pain, Hanzo has become adept to operating with, instead of letting it tear him apart. It has become livable, even if that does not mean he is living.”

As he finished his sentence, Zenyatta finally called back the orb that was pulsating with its yellow glow around Cassidy’s arm and Cassidy held his breath to see if the pain would sear his nerves once again, but thankfully it seemed that the feeling had passed—or the Iris realized his metal arm wasn’t sentient on its own. Whichever, he wasn’t sure. Cassidy reached across the other pillows to retrieve his discarded prosthetic and carefully slotted it back against the grooves of its connection nodes. He hissed as the nerves reconnected and he waved his arm a few times to allow his body to recalibrate to it.

As he did so, Zenyatta continued.

“It is when those little things build up that they become a problem.” He said. “People speak of how their allergies become worse with prolonged exposure. Or, sometimes they find that some things they could do before are things they can no longer do without discomfort. How long do you think it would take before your cat allergy became unbearable?”

“I ‘unno.” Cassidy said, his voice becoming hushed. “I ain’t really test it out, ‘n I don’t really plan ta.” Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully. “When many find things that bring them discomfort, they avoid it at all costs, and in some manners, I think that Hanzo is doing the same.” Cassidy could agree with that—he nodded.

“But perhaps, since coming to Overwatch, he has found less and less places to run from it.”

“From what?”

“Everything, perhaps.” Zenyatta mused. “From his guilt, or his demons. Perhaps the one place he has left to retreat to is his mind.”

Cassidy let that hang. Let it wash over him like the tide. Thought about the spark plug. Antarctica. Yoshiki.

Finally, he whispered, “Then how do we… help him?” Cassidy looked down at his own hands, lacing his flesh hand between his metal one. He knew why he was so invested, but when put like this it almost seemed… hopeless.

“We cannot force him to.” Zenyatta reminded him. “But, I think if there is anyone who could, it would be you, Cole Cassidy.”

Cassidy started. “Why me?”

“Because of everyone, Hanzo seems to be the most willing to be here. He does not balk or hide from your presence.” Zenyatta said gently. “Genji has noticed it as well.” He explained when Cassidy gave him a look that surely read ‘how are you so sure?’

Cassidy almost didn’t want to believe that—and he didn’t want to let that get to his head either. He thanked Zenyatta for the meditation and the conversation, standing and collecting his boots from the doorway. Though his back was turned, it didn’t stop him from hearing Zenyatta say softly, “I pray, that you will know how to, when the time comes.”

Chapter 17: undercover

Chapter Text

Zenyatta’s words turned over and over in Cassidy’s mind, even days later when he was called from his mindless lifting session to meet with Winston and Hanzo in his lab. He paused in his reps and thanked Lucio for the relay, with the musician giving him a wide smile before he dashed off to other errands. Cassidy wiped the sweat from his brow and heaved himself up from the press bench. He knew he shouldn’t work out without someone to spot him, lifting as many kilograms as he was, but he just wanted some time to himself to mull over everything. Save him from himself. What could that possibly mean? In some senses, Cassidy understood, and to be fair to himself, he’d been doing it since Hanzo had come here. Dragging his sorry ass out of twisted situation after twisted situation, whether the man wanted it or not. But… Zenyatta’s words struck a chord deeper than that… as if Cassidy was the only one who’d be able to reach into the miasma plaguing Hanzo’s mind and grab him from the depths of suffocating within his own guilt. But, if his own kin, his own blood couldn’t do it—then how could he? Would Hanzo even let him?

These thoughts, as many things that were larger problems than just “shoot it between the eyes” trailed Cassidy like a bad odor; like a plague, and had kept people quite distant from him these past few days. Perhaps that was why Lucio dashed out after being met with his mean mug. He needed to snap out of it.

As he thought, his feet carried him down the familiarly treaded halls of the Watchpoint, without him taking in much of the sights. If you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it a thousand times before, and knowing he was being summoned wasn’t putting much of a pep in his step either. But still, whether he wished it or not, he arrived to the crisp double doors of Winston’s lab, ratty and sweaty plain white tee and all. For the sake of it, he pushed a hand through his sweaty, tangled hair and lamented that he should’ve stopped to at least freshen up before he contaminated all the cultures with his own funk that Winston probably had growing in there, but he snapped himself out of it. He knew that his brain was a mess if he was worrying about what other people thought of his appearance.

He pushed open the heavy doors with his hands, and nearly smacked them straight into Hanzo, who was quietly contemplating the gallery wall of photos that Cassidy had been awed by when he first reentered this room months and months ago. Except, where Cassidy was sure his own eyes gleamed in fondness at every face he recognized in photos, all that he could see in Hanzo’s eyes was the blank contemplation of mild curiosity. He didn’t even flinch when the door swung by him quickly and hit the opposite wall, nor when it came careening back towards Cassidy, who had been the one who’d jumped seeing him.

“Han!” Cassidy sighed heavily. It’d been days since they last spoke as both of them had been caught up in their own thoughts but, well. “Scared tha life outta me, as usual.” Hanzo didn’t look at him. “Its a wonder that you are an agent if you are always so startled as you say you are.” Ouch. Okay. Hanzo must be in a bad mood today. But he’d never let that deter him from making friendly before so—

“Which ones are ya ooglin’?” He stepped close to Hanzo—not close enough to touch him outright, but their shoulders brushed companionably, and something in him loosened when Hanzo didn’t jerk away from him, like his tone suggested he would. He instead, jerked his chin towards a large group photo that was in the center of the little wall of memories. Cassidy followed his gaze. “Ah—damn, that picture we took…” He ruffled a hand through his beard. “Damn, Han, I can’t remember.”

“You are still younger than me.” Hanzo reminded, and though it wasn’t singsong, it could’ve been. Cassidy imagined that inwardly Hanzo meant it that way. “But see, yer acrobatic.” Hanzo did finally look at him fully for that remark, with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “When ya fall, or jump offa somethin’, ya can easily right yerself. Me on tha other hand—I’ve hit my head more times than I’m impressed ta say. Pro’ly got brain damage, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“With the way your mind operates, I am inclined to agree with you.”

“Oi .” Cassidy made contact and elbowed Hanzo’s side and surprising him, managed to get a soft huff of a chuckle out of him. It wasn’t the half-hinged, half-mocking things that he was used to from months before, no, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in the slightest of smiles that sent warmth singing through Cassidy’s chest.

“Ya ain’t supposed ta agree.”

“You looked much younger, in this photo.” Hanzo uncrossed his arms to point to where the younger, tinier mirror into Cassidy’s life was. He had just gotten his hat in this photo; she looked less worn and had nearly 0 signs of his clumsy efforts at restitching through the bullet holes she’s sustained over the years. He didn’t have anything by way of a beard, just a ridiculous little soul patch that he refused to grow out for years until sense and mortification finally won out over whatever sort of ‘cool’ he thought he was. His smile was a bit bigger, his eyes were a bit brighter, his shoulders a bit straighter. Yeah, those were your twenties for you. Nearly two decades later he didn’t feel nearly half as spry.

“Ye~ap.” Cassidy exaggerated the agreement with a pop of his lips. “Reckon I couldn’t’a been more than… what, 21? 22? Maybe 25, if I’m bein’ generous.”

“And is that little girl standing beside you…”

“Ree in tha flesh!” Cassidy confirmed with a hearty laugh. “Though, she’ll give ya hell for callin’ her little.”

“We all start small.” Hanzo said sagely. Cassidy let out a chuckle of his own. “With you? Doubt it. Bet ya came out o’ tha womb stocky.”

“Testosterone is a magical thing.” Hanzo said dryly, and the two of them let out a small chuckle each at that. With permission granted to continue his amiable platitudes, Cassidy walked Hanzo through the rest of the group photo. The woman behind Fareeha with a hand on her shoulder was obviously Ana (obvious by the tattoo on her face, Hanzo pointed out). Angela next to her (“N’ sometimes I wonder if tha good doc gotta youth serum back there—she still ain’t look nearly as old as she is.” Cassidy said, followed swiftly by “Thirty-seven is not old, cowman”

“Tell that ta my achin’ back then.”), and the man that Hanzo had heard once or twice mentioned, Jack Morrison was next to her. Hanzo didn’t have much recollection so Cassidy gave him the safe for work overview and Hanzo nodded along. On the other side of the photo was Reinhardt, Torbjorn (“Brigitte’s father. He mostly stays in Sweden now with tha rest o’ his brood.”

“How many children does he have?”

“Honestly, Han, at some point ya gotta stop countin’. Cuz I sure as hell don’t remember.”), and Reyes looking dark and stormy as he always did at the far end, just a little bit off from everyone else. Hanzo didn’t ask about him too much, and somehow, Cassidy found himself grateful. He didn’t want to open that Pandora’s box again, on top of everything else his mind was swirling on and on about lately.

He was in the middle of regaling Hanzo with some story involving one of the other agents in the background of the photo, and a heist he and Genji went on to steal his earbuds and piss him off back in the good ol’ days of yore , when they were interrupted by a very familiar voice clearing their throat:

“Good evening, gentlemen!” Winston greeted cheerfully. Both Cassidy and Hanzo turned to him and offered their own greetings in return. “Follow me, please!” The trailed after him towards his many many monitors; and it seemed that Mei must’ve been in here sometime recently, as it was looking particularly devioid of clutter and empty peanut butter jars.

“I’m assumin’ ya got a new assignment fer us.” Cassidy said, wanting to cut to the chase. Though he was still acting nonchalant, he still couldn’t help but assess Hanzo out of the corner of his eyes. He didn’t seem open , but he never did around other people, not really. Cassidy just didn’t realize how stark the difference was until he up and had Zenyatta walk him through it.

“Yes, something like that. It is a reconnaissance mission, as usual.” Winston said. He sat down at his computer and tapped a few tabs open. Somewhere in the background their lone printer booted up and started to print out one of the documents he’d opened, so Cassidy and Hanzo could only watch as he ambled to the back to collect it. When he returned to them, he turned to Hanzo, and directly handed him the document he’d printed. Cassidy could see why—it was fully in Japanese. Instead of bothering to try and make any sense of it, Cassidy watched Hanzo’s face as his eyes quickly roamed over each line. Line after line of text his eyes flew over, and Cassidy watched as they got darker and darker. Watched as the document began to minutely shake in his hands.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped back up to Winston when he was done.

“Where did you get this?” His voice wasn’t fully a growl, but, it was nearly there. Winston grimaced, or as much as a gorilla could grimace, and turned back to his computer. “Athena received this encrypted message 14 hours ago.” He began. “From a sender by the name of Asa Yamagami.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Cassidy, but seemed to mean the world to Hanzo. His whole body froze as still as a statue, and his eyes widened so suddenly that Cassidy was concerned he’d pop a blood vessel.

“Asa… Sensei….” Hanzo said so quietly that it was but a puff of air—taking the wind out of both his sails and his lungs.

“What does the note say?” Cassidy prompted. Hanzo didn’t reply until Cassidy jostled his shoulder, and suddenly his eyes refocused. He gasped like he’d just resurfaced from drowning and Cassidy and Winston shared a look .

“The Hashimoto have overtaken Kanezaka.” Hanzo said in a flurry, stumbling over his words. “She… They need help.”

“Tha Hashimoto?” Cassidy asked, and he angled his body towards Winston. He didn’t know what the hell was running through Hanzo’s mind right now, but he’d probably have to track Genji down to get the full understanding of what was going on—which he couldn’t do if he didn’t understand the situation. Despite his emotions longing to pay attention to Hanzo and his near inevitable breakdown, he turned on the agent side of his brain that was ready to assess every asset of data he could get his hands on.

When Hanzo didn’t speak to elaborate, Winston stepped in.

“The Hashimoto are another powerful mafia group. It seems they pulled into power when Blackwatch helped dismantle The Shiamda.”

“sh*t.” Cassidy said with a self-depreciating chuckle. “I’m assumin’ they’re worse?”

“Well, as far as we know, The Shimada never offered to work with Talon…?” Winston glanced at Hanzo who wordlessly shook his head, still staring at the document as though it held the answers to the universe within its pressed ink. “But, it seems that The Hashimoto don’t have such… ah, hesitancies.”

“For what?” Cassidy drawled. He rubbed a hand through his beard. “Drugs? Weapons? Tha usual?”

“We aren’t sure. Asa’s letter is unfortunately quite short, and is mostly addressed towards Hanzo and Genji.” Winston said. “Specifically asking them for aid. I am not sure how she found out about the Recall, which is, I’ll admit, troubling. But we need to keep on top of Talon’s movements so we can understand how to dismantle them for good.” Winston looked at Cassidy, a determined gleam in his eye.

“Normally, I would opt to send a more experienced agent, but… because of Blackwatch’s operations in Hanamura, Genji would be too noticeable.” Cassidy nodded. “But Hanzo…” Winston turned to him, even though he still wasn’t looking at either of them. “Is it true that no one has seen you alive in 10 years?”

Cassidy’s eyebrows climbed into his hair. Even higher when Hanzo silently nodded.

“I have… Changed much, since I was last in Japan.” Hanzo said in that airless whisper. “But I always went back. Just once. Every year for—“ He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Cassidy turned back to Winston. “Lemme just cut to tha chase. Ya want me, ‘n Han, ta go ta Hanazaka—“

“Kanezaka.”

“Wherever so that we can spy on these yakuza f*cks ‘n whatever deal they got goin’ on with Talon, ‘n then come back without gettin’ caught, right?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Winston said, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Truthfully, this is a dangerous operation. Japan isn’t the same as Europe—we don’t have many allies there.”

“Not even this Asa person?” Cassidy asked, a bit sarcastically. Winston shook his head. “We haven’t cleared her as being fully on our side.”

“So why should we trust her information?”

“Asa-sensei would not lie about this.” Hanzo said, threadbare. “It is… My fault.” He said even quieter, but Cassidy couldn’t engage that thought; not yet. He barrelled on. “So, if we’re busted—“

“It’s very likely it could be a month or more before we could extract you, unless you found a way out on your own.” Winston’s voice was grave. “In fact, it is better if no one even knows you’re there at all.”

Cassidy had been on a number of stings like this in the past—not when he was fully new into Blackwatch, but closer in step to when things fully started to fall apart. Consequently, he was used to sticking it out on his own, hiding out or meshing so hard into his undercover persona that it was almost like another life that he had to crush and tuck away when he was finally able to come back. He couldn’t count how many faux friends he’d lost, and relationships he’d abandoned in its wake, hell, once even a wife on the altar; but those ops were usually done alone. He’d never had to do one with a partner and… given the recent circ*mstances he was very skeptical to do this with Hanzo.

The look must’ve shown on his face, because without warning, Hanzo crushed the letter in his palm. He whirled on Cassidy, his expression twisted into that same snarl he remembered from the generator room months ago.

“You assume I cannot do this.” Hanzo growled and Cassidy held his hands up in defense.

“I ain’t say nothin’ like that, sugar.” The endearment rolled off his tongue so fast that Cassidy barely registered that he said it. “Yer jumpin’ to conclusions.”

“You are not the only one who knows how to read body language, Cole Cassidy. As familiar as you are with mine, I am with yours.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that Hanzo was watching him. Of course he was—Hanzo was watching everyone. But acknowledging that Cassidy was familiar with him was…

“Like I said, I ain’t say that.” Cassidy ground out. “I know yer a capable man, Hanzo. I wouldn’t trust ya ta watch my back if I didn’t believe in yer skills.”

“Then there is a catch.” Hanzo snarled. He stepped into Cassidy’s bubble commandingly, and shoved his finger against his face—directly at his nose, in fact. “Otherwise, your nose would not twitch like that. It only does if it is in disbelief.”

“Gentleman—” Winston’s voice was engulfed and singed in the fire of Cassidy’s temper flare. “What do ya want me ta f*ckin’ say?” He snarled back, ignoring Winston entirely.

“The truth!”

“Okay, fine, I’m f*ckin’ worried about you, dipsh*t!”

That was somehow the worse of the two evils that he could’ve said. Hanzo jumped back as thought Cassidy were a hot stove, scandalized from his feathery brows down to his panicked, near fighting stance. “You asked!” Cassidy threw his hands up, exasperation at its finest. “Ya can’t look me in tha eyes and tell me you’ve been at tha top of yer game this past month, Han. Ya broke a rib like two weeks ago!”

“And it will heal.” Hanzo was being purposefully obtuse, and Cassidy huffed through his nose, utterly, thoroughly frustrated. And it was a wonder how they were having such a pleasant conversation when Cassidy first walked in, but now they were back to shouting at each other like six year olds. Winston seemed absolutely helpless on what to do, since neither of them were listening to him, so he kept quiet. But from the corner of his eyes, Cassidy could see his head flickering back and forth between them, like he was watching a particularly riveting tennis match.

“I ain’t worried about whether or not yer stupid motherf*ckin’ goddamn wounds heal, Han, I’m worried about us gettin’ caught and tortured by yer old playground buddies cuz yer not up for bein’ on yer A-game.”

“Do NOT tell me what I am and am not capable of, cowman! I do not need your pity.” Hanzo spit the word like an angry viper, but despite his shouting, that one strange endearment—cowman—rung like chimes in Cassidy’s brain. Maybe that’s what made him hesitate—hesitate for long enough for Hanzo to take that silence as fact and he whirrled on Winston, eyes blazing with a near ethereal blue glow. “Give me the necessary materials.”

“Han, can ya just calm the f*ck down for two seconds—“

Winston sputtered. “I—”

“Now.” Hanzo snarled. It spoke volumes to poor Winston’s character that he only turned and scrambled to grab the manila folders that he had laid next to his monitors. He glanced over them briefly, before he handed the one that seemed to be Hanzo’s to him. He snatched it up without hesitation and without another word, spun on his heel and stormed out of the lab. All the tension in the room blew out with him, punctuated with a slam of the lab’s doors.

Cassidy felt all the fight in his lungs leave him as quickly as a gale.

“‘Fore ya say anythin’, I ain’t mad at ya.” Cassidy beckoned with his hand for the folder and tipped his hat back with his thumb as he skimmed its contents. Fake ID, passport, a brief write up of what role he was supposed to be playing. Cassidy whistled lowly.

“Pretty put together for just 13 hours of prep.”

“I am considering asking Emily to join us full time.” Winston said, with a sliver of pride in his voice. “She jumped on helping out when I asked for her assistance.”

“Ya asked a civilian how to make fake passports?” Cassidy stared at Winston and the gorilla let out an awkward laugh. “She works at the Civil Aviation Authority in London.” He said, by way of explanation, and Cassidy just hummed. He looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, just trying to gather himself. Then he looked back to Winston.

“Ya see what I see, don’t ya?”

“Regarding Hanzo?”

“Yeah.”

Winston sighed unhappily. “Well, I’m sending you with him because—“

“Yeah, yeah. I’m his keeper.” Cassidy didn’t hate that title, as much as his tone may have implied, but he supposed his anxiety was taking the form of irritation. He thanked Winston for his time, and told him he’d work something out to make sure they didn’t die and then moseyed out of the room.

He looked in every nook and cranny of the base; high and low, but there was no sight of Hanzo after he left the lab. It was as though he vanished into thin air.

Athena woke Cassidy up bright and early at sometime around 2am.

The sun hadn’t even thought about rising from the heavy quilt of the horizon. The only thing that Cassidy could make out from his window as he set about his morning routine, were those ever present city lights taunting him with the looming reminder of normalcy that was always just out of reach. He never allowed himself to linger on the thought. Instead, Cassidy turned his back to the window, and concentrated on the task of buttoning his shirt up in the dark.

The base was alarmingly silent when he traversed its halls to make it out to the hangar. From what he understood, he and Hanzo would be driven down to La Linea, where they would take a train to the closest airport in Jerez de la Frontera. From there, posing as civilians, they would get on a one way flight to Japan, and from there, travel to Hanzo’s old stomping ground: Kanezaka. Cassidy wasn’t thrilled at all of the travel that they would have to be doing just to get there; let alone the prospect of a one way ticket until they could be successfully extracted… which is something it seemed that no one had worked out yet. The more Cassidy thought about it, the more and more a feeling like lead began to settle into his gut. But, as with many things in his life, he decided he’d trust the process and quashed those feelings like a bug.

His thoughts came to a definitive halt when he finally pushed open the doors to the hangar. It was almost like dejavu to look up and see Hanzo perched on top of one of the ORCA’s wings again, in a deep gray business casual suit and his hair swept up into a tiny bun, no ribbon. Unlike the first time they met he didn’t have a cake on his lap.

Cassidy called, “Han! What’re ya doin’ up there?” There was none of the malice he previously had that first cake gate on his tongue, yet… Hanzo said nothing. Didn’t even spare him a glance. Only stared out of the hangar doors, as though trying to grab hold of the horizon with his eyes.

It was only when they reached the airport that Hanzo started to loosen; if only slightly. After going through baggage claim, Hanzo stopped him from going to their gate with a tug on his sleeve. Those butterflies that had been trampled in the wake of their argument the day before, and his focus on the task at hand, fluttered back to life to full force and when he looked at him quizzically. “Yes?” He asked, holding back the endearment that so desperately wanted to fly off his tongue.

Hanzo made a face—probably disliking the accent he was using and something about that made those butterflies in his stomach dance more. “I have not eaten since breakfast yesterday.” He said. Cassidy tutted. “We should definitely get something to eat before we get on the flight.” Despite his cadence being all wrong he gave Hanzo a smile. “Is there anything that looks good to you, Abe-san?”

Referring to, of course, Hanzo’s cover name: Kenta Abe. It didn’t suit him; not in the slightest, but Cassidy was becoming well trained to staring at the corners of Hanzo’s mouth for even a hint of upturn. They quirked, and it was more than enough. Cassidy’s grin was blinding. Cassidy knew that every agent had their own particular way of getting into character whenever they were on a mission—it was almost like roleplay, but much less sexually rewarding. Some psyched themselves up, or talked to themselves in the mirror, but if Cassidy didn’t know better he would say Hanzo was a natural. At the sound of his mispronounced moniker, his shoulders hunched, ever so slightly, and he pushed at the glasses that sat delicately on the bridge of his nose. Instead of hiding it, a small smile that Cassidy could only describe as bookish came to his face.

“It’s Ah-be, Mr. Powers.” Hanzo corrected gently, doing his best to lighten his accent enough so that it appeared that he was someone who perhaps, grew up in a country outside of Japan but still held onto that heritage. Cassidy preferred his regular voice better. “But I think you’re getting better with it.”

“Soon I’ll be a professional, if this meeting goes well!” Cassidy, aka Chandler Powers said with a wink. “But relating to food, whatever you want is fine. I can put it on the company card, y’know?”

“That restaurant looks appealing.” Hanzo pointed across the way to what appeared to be a small chain noodle restaurant and Cassidy hummed. “Lovely!” He encouraged. “Let's get in that line then!”

After standing in line for 30 minutes, getting noodles and eating them with more unnaturally polite conversation, such as two business associates like themselves (or their personas) would be having, Hanzo and Cassidy made their way back to the airport gate, just in time for boarding. Cassidy wouldn’t say he felt entirely better about how this mission would go—but having the Hanzo he was beginning to know by his side instead of the one who pulled into himself and lashed out like how he did yesterday, or on previous missions, did something good for his psyche.

The flight itself was good. It almost felt like a game—the two of them making polite conversation as though they were mere business associates who didn’t have to worry about things like slinging guns or calling dragons. After boarding they were directed to business class, in a row of two, giving them a certain level of privacy; the whole thing was a quiet affair. It almost restored Cassidy’s hope in this mission.

But then they landed.

The moment they got off the airplane and headed to baggage claim, Hanzo froze as stiff as a statue.

“Mr. Abe?” Cassidy asked, touching his arm gently. When that didn’t work to bring him back to earth, Cassidy stepped closer into his space. “Hanzo? What’s wrong?” He asked, lowly, so only he would hear. But even then Hanzo didn’t respond. It was as though he were under some sort of spell. Cassidy followed Hanzo’s gaze out into the airport. Statues of hard light depicting various aspects of Japanese culture were displayed around the room, dazzling and shimmering in the cool moonlight that flooded through the large floor to ceiling windows. A large chandelier dangled overhead, and when the moonlight hit it, it was as though it were a disco ball in the middle of the dance floor with tiny fragments of light scattering like petals across every available surface. It was hard to pick out which direction Hanzo was looking in that made him pause—at least until he spotted a figure standing by a dragon statue closer towards the exit of the airport. It was hard to make them out, but they were oddly alone compared to everywhere else in the airport that was bustling. They were holding a sign that Cassidy couldn’t read—mostly due to the fact that it was in Japanese.

“Them?” Cassidy asked, his voice still low. “Is that Asa?”

“No.” Hanzo finally managed to croak. If it was possible for a man of his size to be small, then Hanzo was doing his absolute best to shrink into himself. “Is that a goon?” Cassidy asked, more urgently. He wasn’t even sure if Hanzo knew what he meant by goon but—

When the person by the dragon statue noticed the two of them looking in their direction, they started forward towards them. Cassidy could see Hanzo physically jolt, and not knowing what else to do, Cassidy grabbed ahold of his wrist in an iron grip. “Stay with me Han.” Cassidy said in that quiet voice. “Come ta baggage claim with me.” He tugged, and even more surprising than the panic, Hanzo let him lead. They turned their backs to the approaching stranger—a move that they probably shouldn’t do if it was one of those yakuza thugs they were supposed to be avoiding, but one that was necessary. Hanzo’s eyes refocused once they were facing the luggage train again.

They secured their bags without much incident, but the second Cassidy turned around again, he was staring face to face with the stranger from the dragon statue. It startled him, he would admit, how they got here so quickly, but now that they were in the light, Cassidy could study them better.

They were tall and lean—almost ballet like, like someone he remembered—with a severe expression that wasn’t dissimilar to the ones that both Shimada brothers wore when Cassidy first met them. Their hair was braided long and carefully laid across their shoulder, kept together by a silk purple ribbon that almost looked similar to the one Hanzo wore when on missions.

If this person was anything, this was someone from the brother’s past. Cassidy knew it. Hanzo knew it too—and Cassidy couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing or not.

The sign that the person held, now that it was closer, Cassidy could make out that underneath the large swathes of Japanese text, were the words in English: “Welcome, Kenta Abe & Chandler Powers” With the obviously randomly generated name of their business printed underneath it. Seeming that there was nothing else to do but acknowledge them, Cassidy sucked in a breath and stepped forward first, holding out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet ya!” He said, emphasizing the brazen, genuine American-ness of his persona. He looked over his shoulder at Hanzo, who was still seconds from a breakdown, but pulled himself out of it to meet Cassidy’s eyes. Cassidy let his gaze soften, just for a moment, just to remind Hanzo that they were playing pretend; that the sooner they got this over with they could longue in their hotel and plan their next moves. That he wasn’t alone . And for once… Hanzo seemed to reach out beyond the glass that was separating them to allow Cassidy to shoulder even a fraction of it.

Hanzo stepped froward and bowed politely to the stranger, repeating back Cassidy’s greeting in Japanese. The stranger smiled politely, tucking their sign under their arm and took Cassidy’s hand. “A pleasure.” The stranger said in heavily accented English. Hanzo took over, gesturing to them. “This is Miss Yayoi.” He said. A Yayoi wasn’t mentioned in the briefing notes he looked over while they were on the flight—perhaps that’s why Hanzo was shaken? But… that didn’t explain why Hanzo already knew their name… aside from knowing them from before. Cassidy’s brow furrowed, but he tried to smooth it out with a wide smile.

“She will be… escorting us to our hotel?” Hanzo asked, eyeing her, and Cassidy instantly knew—he was suspicious too. Yayoi bobbed her head, but she did not smile. It was such a small thing, but it worried him.

She turned to Hanzo and then spoke in Japanese. Hanzo nodded slowly, then looked at Cassidy. “She said to bring our luggage and follow her.”

Should we? Cassidy wanted to ask Hanzo, but he bit his tongue.

As they exited the airport and into the cool breeze of the night out to Yayoi’s car, Cassidy caught a glimpse of a few stragglers lingering around the doors and gates.

He didn’t like the look of that tiger insignia on their jackets. Not one bit.

Chapter 18: pity

Chapter Text

The first night after they landed, Yayoi drove the two of them to their hotel, then promised she would be back the next morning to show them key locations for their trip, and finally, handed Cassidy a neatly folded envelope. She left as quickly as she’d appeared at the airport; the only trace of her remaining being the scent of her perfume. Lilacs, maybe, but Cassidy was sh*t with flowers, so who could say?

He’d opened the proffered note, and unsurprisingly found it to be entirely Japanese. Hanzo took one look at it and then went white as a sheet. He didn’t say anything, didn’t translate just like he hadn’t with Asa’s note back on base, simply aboutfaced and marched to one of the two ensuite bathrooms and slammed the door behind him. Cassidy heard the click of the lock, then running water so loud that he was almost worried the pipes burst. When he came up to said bathroom door, banging on it to see if Hanzo was okay or if he could just come out and tell him what the hell this note said, he got no response. About ten minutes after that the water completely shut off. Cassidy even got down on his hands and knees to see if he could see anything underneath the small strip that separated the bathroom door from the floor—but was disappointed to find it flush with the hardwood.

He paced in front of the bathroom door for a solid two hours before jet lag finally caught up with him. He fell asleep, jet lag finally taking its toll on him, and awoke to Hanzo standing over him, wide eyed and watching him like a hawk.

“Jee-zus!” Cassidy jumped, smacking his head against Hanzo’s forehead in his leap of panic, but Hanzo didn’t even flinch. Cassidy reeled back—was his forehead made of concrete? “Yayoi is here again, Mr. Powers.” Hanzo said carefully in character, as Cassidy rubbed his forehead. “I will invite her in, and have set your belongings in the bathroom so you may shower, if you wish.”

“I—uh. Thank you…. Abe-san.” Cassidy fumbled, only slightly, remembering Hanzo’s alias only at the last moment, still jarred by Hanzo’s horror movie villain stare. He finally moved out of Cassidy’s field of vision, and headed to the door. He didn’t move until Cassidy began to, so with no other choice but to face the world, Cassidy dragged himself off the couch where he’d passed out on and into his separate room and bathroom, leaving both door’s ever so slightly ajar. He didn’t trust being fully naked, if Hanzo was inviting Yayoi in—he didn’t fully trust her either, but he’d honestly, fought in worse conditions. He choked it up to mounting paranoia from Hanzo’s rude awakening, and turned on the water.

From out in the living room, the door to their suite clicked open, and he heard Hanzo greet Yayoi in Japanese, then shut the door behind her.

They spoke idly for a few moments, and still not miraculously fluent, Cassidy gave up listening and shucked his clothes, stepping carefully into the blessed heat of the shower. When he did, he was startled to hear the soft bits of conversation suddenly switch into English.

“If you wanted to speak without prying ears, we could’ve used Thai.” Yayoi’s voice sounded much different in English, from the polite and soft intonations of Japanese he’d heard of her before, wall muffling or no. Hanzo scoffed—then said a bit louder, maybe even perhaps for Cassidy’s sake—“My Thai is not nearly as conversational. And if anyone is listening, they would know it was you here.” There was a pause. Then. “The hotel is bugged.” It wasn’t a question.

“It is as you say.” Yayoi said, softer. Cassidy had to strain to hear her. “It would do well not to speak too freely. The Hashimoto have eyes and ears in every inch of this city.”

The conversation cut off there, as Cassidy cut off the water. Damn. So they couldn’t speak plainly even if they wanted to. Cassidy desperately wished that Hanzo translated the message before they left the Watchpoint, because the longer, even by the minute, that they stayed here, the more Cassidy was convinced that this whole thing was a set up.

But he’d walked into worse situations, and he’d walked out of sh*t that should’ve killed him. So he did what he did best: roll his shoulders back with the punches.

He dressed quickly, and found only Yayoi sitting in the living room. He raised an eyebrow. “Has uh… Mr. Abe gone to the restroom?” Of course, still under their ruse, she didn’t say anything in reply, feigning a language barrier. All she did was nod her head towards the door—where Cassidy presumed Hanzo went. Why the f*ck he’d gone off on his own was troubling to Cassidy, especially after everything he just heard. Did he leave someone he didn’t trust in the room with their potentially confidential items… or did he go after Hanzo who hadn’t had a good head on his shoulders since the day he stepped foot into Overwatch.

Stupidly, perhaps, Cassidy didn’t think twice about going to the door.

When he reached the lobby, Hanzo was, unsurprisingly, nowhere in sight. He was able to make it through a conversation with the front desk staff, asking if they’d seen his “coworker” (which they were, and technically, nothing more than that) and if they knew where he was headed. And while, they did confirm they saw Abe-san (Hanzo), they hadn’t a clue where he was heading. Said that he looked a bit stormy, so they even hesitated to greet him on his way out. Cassidy thanked them for their time and headed out of the hotel and into the somewhat busy streets.

When they’d arrived last night, the streets were deathly silent—not even taxis were really seen on the road, and in Yayoi’s small smart car they hardly passed any others, aside from those that were clearly affiliated with the Hashimoto’s. At least, Cassidy assumed. They weren’t very shy about making their presence known, it seemed. Tiger insignias were everywhere, even as Cassidy bobbed and weaved between the now bustling streets—his height the only thing that was giving him advantage to try and look for where Hanzo had ducked off to. Eventually, he spotted him—at a lone ramen stand that seemed to have somewhat less business (marginally, by comparison) than the other food stalls nearby. How Cassidy knew it was Hanzo? Well—all he had to do was catch his gaze.

Hanzo stared at him the whole time he fought his way through the crowd of people until he was standing astride him once more, and only then did Cassidy notice that his shoulders had begun to relax. “There you are, Abe-san.” Cassidy said easily, letting that mask slip on, and in tandem Hanzo’s did the same. “Yayoi and I were waiting for you back at the hotel.”

“Ah… My apologies.” He said, his brow knitting. “I meant to return before you were finished your shower. You did not—”

“I came on my own.” Out of view from anyone around them, Cassidy shifted closer to Hanzo until their wrists brushed against one another. He didn’t care if Hanzo thought he was crazy. He just had a bad feeling, and he couldn’t even talk about it. “Can you tell me more about the history of this place?” He asked him—not knowing how else to ask ‘fill me in’ in polite people speech. Hanzo’s brows knit together, but before he could say anything, the ramen shop owner interrupted them by calling out Hanzo’s number. He held up a hand to Cassidy, pausing their conversation, then pushed his way through the crowd. A moment later, he returned, holding up a small takeaway bag that seemed to hold two bowls of ramen. Cassidy’s eyes brightened and despite the tension, Hanzo gave him a tiny, near invisible smile. It was good enough for him.

They made their way from the ramen stand to a quiet nearby park, which surprised Cassidy—given that again, someone they both were wary of was back at the hotel. Hanzo seemed, for the most part, unbothered, but it was a role Cassidy was truly beginning to understand that he was good at playing. The minute ticks that he was able to catch onto before he smoothed them out were the only giveaways to the state of his mind. The bunch of his shoulders when someone brushed by too closely, the clench of his jaw as he scanned the people around him, a subtle shift in his gaze that was accentuated with a barely there crackle of blue in his irises. Hanzo was on edge. Cassidy was too.

They sat down at a relatively secluded bench with a beautiful overlook of a manmade lake and didn’t speak—at least not yet—instead, focusing on their food. Swans and ducks bobbed like little boats on the calm water’s surface, and if Cassidy squinted he could make out the shapes of fish swimming idly in the water’s depths. Hanzo stared out into this lake for a beat or two, then without looking at Cassidy, said, “It is likely that this is a set up.”

“No kiddin’.” Cassidy dropped his proper accent in favor of his usual drawl—he’d been putting it together for some time now. “I jus’ can’t decide if yer friend is workin’ for them or not.”

Hanzo shifted uncomfortably. “It… Would not surprise me.” He finally bit out, but he looked like it gave him hell to say it. After another moment he elaborated. “She… used to work for my family.”

“Damn.” Cassidy whistled low. Another beat passed. “I meant what I asked earlier,” He said, lowering his voice. “Wha’s tha story with the Hashimoto here?” Hanzo breathed out long, deep. “To keep it succinct, they are the clan who were responsible for my father’s death.”

Cassidy felt his jaw drop open. “Holy f*ck.” He couldn’t help but exclaim, and Hanzo gave him a surly look, but it didn’t seem to be directed at him. “I should say allegedly, for his death was formally announced as ‘sudden heart failure.’ Though, I am not sure who was paid off to ignore the small bullet hole in his kimono.” Hanzo looked away from him, his voice getting softer and softer. “As you already know from Genji, the clan floundered for awhile after that. After I… took care of Genji and abdicated, I presume Blackwatch came in to sweep up the remaining mess of what remained of the Shimada-gumi. Thus, it became easy for the Hashimoto to take over our strongholds. They are not as prominent in Hanamura now, from what I hear. Genji and I’s hometown. Last I heard other factions were fighting for power there—and more than that, it is too large an area to run efficiently.”

“Didn’t yer family though?”

“I said efficiently.” Hanzo said tersely. It seemed the more he spoke about this the more irritable he became. The information was invaluable though, so Cassidy did his best to hold his tongue. Hanzo continued. “Here in Kanezaka, they remain unchallenged.”

“With more of Talon’s manpower, they could pro’ly get Hanamura under their thumb.” Cassidy observed. Hanzo shifted, looking more and more troubled. “That is what I assume but… Asa’s note—”

“Are you two boys lost?” A voice cut through their soft conversation like a knife, causing he and Hanzo to both look up. Standing before them was none other than one of those Hashimoto thugs—tiger insignia, overconfident swagger and all. Cassidy felt his jaw try to set, but he remembered his place and easily smoothed himself out. He gave the man an award winning, all-American grin.

“Why, my companion and I were just having a bit of lunch.” Cassidy carefully got Hanzo’s attention. “Isn’t that right, Abe-san?”

Hanzo did not take the bait. He glowered at the man, as though he wanted to rip his head off.

That was not good.

When Hanzo didn’t say anything, Cassidy laughed, awkwardly, to try and cover for it. The man paid him no mind. “Someone like you,” The gangster said, jutting his chin out at Hanzo. “Should know better than to be around this area.”

The next thing Hanzo said was in Japanese—and it was more of a snarl than it was words. The gangster replied back, equally hostile, and the two went back and forth until they were near shouting at each other and drawing stares from those just out of Cassidy’s field of vision. He saw the gangster subtly begin to move his hand towards his back pocket and that’s when he quickly stood up. His height was the great divider between the two men and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Gentleman.” He said, putting on as cool a demeanor as he could muster. “There’s no need ta fight.”

The gangster shoved Cassidy’s hand off and said something with a sneer towards him, in a tongue he very clearly didn’t understand. Hanzo did and it took nearly every ounce of strength in Cassidy’s flesh hand to keep Hanzo from straight lunging at the man. “Han.” He whispered sharply. “Let it go. It ain’t worth it—whatever he said.”

“Yes, listen to your American, Han.” The gangster crooned with a mocking laugh. The usage of the nickname, despite the fact that it could’ve been easily explained away by Cassidy being the one to break character to say it, made Cassidy’s blood run cold all the same. Beneath his hand, Hanzo went unnervingly rigid.

A loud voice called from somewhere near the edge of the park, and though the gangster looked annoyed, he called back to it some sort of affirmation. Quick as lightning, he pulled a switchblade from his back pocket and flourished it—flashy, but with some modicum of talent. He brandished it at the two of them.

“Watch your backs.” He warned. “Next time we meet it won’t be so lucky.” Cassidy didn’t say anything in return, just focused on gripping Hanzo in place. The gangster spit at their feet, then resheathed his blade, stalking off towards the edge of the park. The second he was out of eyeshot, Cassidy started moving, dragging Hanzo along behind him. The archer didn’t fight it.

Cassidy didn’t stop his determined march until they were passing through an alleyway and Hanzo suddenly planted himself and pulled himself out of his grip. Cassidy whirled on him.

“What tha f*ck was that back there, Hanzo?”

“It does not concern you.” Hanzo bit back and Cassidy, for what it was worth, let out a disbelieving snort. “Doesn’t concern me now? When I’m standin’ right next ta ya ‘n yer almost blowin’ our cover?”

“There was no cover to be had.” Hanzo shouted, loudly, reverbreating the rogue boxes, trash cans, and other debris around them. “They know who I am.” His voice was ragged, like he was barely holding onto whatever sanity he had left. In the shadows of the tall buildings above them, Cassidy could see that each ragged breath Hanzo let out, blue sparks were nearly igniting on his tongue. “This is a set up. You need to run—get out of here while you have a chance—”

“Ain’t a chance in hell I’m leavin’ you here, Hanzo.” Cassidy said sternly. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Ya should know me better than that by now.”

“Then you are a fool.” Hanzo sneered. “And I will not wait for you to come to your senses.”

“Tha hell does that—” Cassidy couldn’t even finish his sentence because quick as a whip, Hanzo turned and sprinted out of the alley.

“Hanzo!” Cassidy called after him in disbelief. Hanzo didn’t even stop, and so, cursing, Cassidy ran after him. What the hell did he think splitting up was going to do? Why couldn’t he just f*cking talk to him like a normal person?! Cassidy followed the winding and weaving alley to its end—unsure if Hanzo had ducked down any one of the side passages or not, and was enveloped by the brilliant light of midday and suddenly was faced with the fact that somehow, he was at the train station and more than that—somehow there was a crowd of people on all sides.

f*ck. Cassidy swore to himself and he spun around in place. From every angle, nothing looked familiar—hell, he didn’t even remember Kanezaka having a train station when they first were driving from the airport last night. Surely they would’ve passed it, right? Where the hell was he? And more importantly—where the f*ck was Hanzo?!

Cassidy was lost at the train station until nearly dusk. At first, he rushed around with vigor; trying to find any hide or hair of Hanzo he could grasp onto—but it became more and more apparent that either Hanzo had shaken him off hours ago, or he’d gone a completely different route down the alley that they talked in and Cassidy’s split second delay had cost him dearly. At this point, he just wanted to get back to the hotel. He didn’t have a clue if Hanzo would be there or not—but he was hungry, and irritated, and lost, and he couldn’t even speak the damn language, and he left his f*cking phone in the hotel room when he’d rushed out to find Hanzo in the first place!

A nice cab driver took pity on him, after seeing him wander around for perhaps the millionth time, and he allowed Cassidy to climb into the back.

“‘M sorry I don’t have any money on me.” Cassidy said, though he wasn’t even sure if the man would understand him. He seemed to well enough—a couple of “Don’t mind!”’s did the trick, and Cassidy sagged into his seat, grateful for the break. He managed to figure out well enough how to describe the hotel to the cabbie and the man gave him a thumbs up, then pulled out of the station into an easy cruise.

After a few minutes, Cassidy sat up a bit straighter to undo a few buttons of his shirt. It was way too hot in this car—almost to the point of being suffocating. He tried not to look too bothered by it, even though he was acutely aware of the sweat trailing down his back and the back of his neck, making the stark pressed shirt he was wearing stick and cling to him in a way that felt chalky on his skin. But it wasn’t long before the cabbie made eye contact with him in the rear view mirror.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” The man apologized. He gestured to the dash. “Is broken.” At the explanation Cassidy hummed. “It’s okay.” He said. The man reached down into the bottom of the passenger side, now that they were stopped at a red light, and out of thin air it seemed, produced a water bottle. In the heat of this vehicle, it looked cool and crisp, and with no reason he could see to forgo it, Cassidy accepted the water bottle graciously with a stilted ‘arigatou’ coming from his lips.

The bottle’s perforated edge snapped satisfyingly and Cassidy tucked the bottle’s cap in his palm, curling the rest of his fingers around the bottle’s neck. He tilted his head back and tipped the refreshing liquid down his throat, humming in satisfaction when the cooling sensation traced down his esophagus.

After he finished, he set the bottle down on the seat beside him so he’d remember to take it with him when he exited the cab. He didn’t think anything of it when he began to feel his eyes start to droop—today had been a long, trying day, and he still didn’t know where the hell Hanzo was. That was something he could worry about… later…

The panic he should’ve felt at his limbs beginning to feel numb was a distant thought as whatever the bottle was laced with pulled him under.

If he was awake, Cassidy would’ve seen the driver smirk at his slouching, induced dead-weight state as it collapsed over onto the rest of the backseats. If he knew Japanese, he would’ve understood that when the driver picked up a cellphone to make a call, that he said: “Target A has been subdued. En route to The Chapel. Over.”

Chapter 19: hanzo's ladder

Chapter Text

Cassidy’s head was…. pounding.

It was a dull ache like a migraine, nestled deep in the back of his skull and partially behind his corneas. He found his eyelids hard to pull open; weighed down by some invisible force that also made his limbs feel like lead. Did he fall asleep in the cab? He had to have—just after he drank that water—

Reality hit Cassidy like an ice bucket. Because Hanzo was right. They’d been set up. And they walked right f*cking into it.

With his eyes closed, he was able to better focus on the voices he suddenly noticed swirling around him, even amid the drug-induced headache. They sounded far… Not fully up on him, but definitely in the same room, and echoey, as though they were some place with a high ceiling. Place with a high ceiling—even that small bit of information was good. One of the first things Reyes taught him about being in a hostage situation, as the hostage, was to assess as much as you could without drawing attention to yourself as possible. Know thine space and know thine enemy, or something like that. They’d run a few hostage drills as part of his training before they formally let him out on the field, and while Reyes himself actually looked quite uncomfortable at the prospect of roughing him up, Moira had no such qualms and gleefully made it far too realistic. He never thought he’d thank that evil bitch for anything—but if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have felt half as calm as he did right now. Perhaps, as his mama always said, everything happened for a reason.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that. For now, he had to assess what he knew.

He shifted, slowly—hopefully slow enough that it would only seem as though he was stirring in his sleep and not fully awake just yet. He felt something rough scrape against his flesh hand’s wrist. Rope, most likely—or zip ties. Either way, he was probably bound around his ankles too and he carefully didn’t move them so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. High ceiling… The Hashimoto were a yakuza organization—even if they were a bit of a far cry from the high class organizations that he was familiar with from the movies, or even from Genji and Hanzo’s upbringing. As such, the likelihood that he was in some warehouse somewhere on the edge of Kanezaka was a high possibility. That was good though; because that meant if he was able to get out of here, then he wouldn’t be too far from civilization or help. He just had to figure out a way to break loose from his bonds, get his hands on a gun, and his Deadeye could take care of the rest.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep, Agent Cassidy.” An unfortunately familiar feminine voice ordered. Cassidy cursed inwardly. Looks like he gambled wrong on that Yayoi woman—and that was his fault, he wasn’t usually in the habit of being optimistic. It was more likely that he was too worried about Hanzo to give a damn, and that royally f*cked him, probably.

He slowly managed to pry open one of his eyes. The light f*cking stung. His eyes sweeped what little he could make out with the pain still swimming his vision. Whatever the hell they’d drugged him with wasn’t wearing off, even though he had to have been asleep for at least… Well god, he actually didn’t know how long he’d been out—and that was worrying. Still, from what he could take in, they weren’t in a warehouse like he thought. The walls and floors were made of concrete, with large, looming pillars that could’ve been holding up the entire weight of Kanezaka atop of them, for all he knew—in hundreds of rows that seemed to go on forever in any direction. It wasn’t until he shifted his eyes as far to the left side of his peripherals as he could and glimpsed the giant, gaping hole of a storm drain tunnel that he realized with horror that they were underground, in a cistern of some kind. The murky, dark water he could spy underneath the soles of his captors’s feet only proved his theory. And speaking of his captors, aside from Yayoi, there appeared to be at least 15 or 20 men idling around like this was some bad beat-em-up style arcade game. They all had varying weapons on them—Cassidy could make out some with baseball bats and pipes, and damningly familiar bulges of glocks probably hidden under their tiger-branded jackets. sh*t. Getting his hand on a gun was going to be harder than he thought, and even if he did managed to take them all out… how the f*ck would he get out of here?

The thungs drunk in the realization of his impending doom that was certainly showing on his face; some even began to snicker, before they were silenced by the sharp stares of what were probably their superiors. One of the men; the only one that was clad in a suit and tie and looked completely out of place in both this place and among his men, nodded at Yayoi to continue. Her eyes even from far away were like shards of glass.

“Your companion is on the other side of you.”

f*ck.

Unable to help it, Cassidy whipped his head to the side of him, the speed washing a wave of nausea over his body like a thunderclap. Lo and behold, Hanzo f*cking Shimada was tied up to a sad little plastic chair, just as he was. It seemed he either hadn’t crawled out of the tides of the drug like Cassidy had yet—or like Cassidy, he was keeping to himself and assessing their situation. At least Cassidy hoped. God he hoped he wasn’t—

“He is not dead.” Yayoi said, as though she were reading his mind. “The Shimada’s dragons are particularly powerful. I would know.” She said, ominously. Cassidy recalled that Hanzo said that she did used to work for the Shimadas, but why she would know about Hanzo’s dragons, intimately, as she seemed to, didn’t help him feel any better. “Even if they are currently quite despondent to their host.”

Those words are what seemed to light something like a firecracker under Hanzo’s ass. His eyes flew open, crackling and glowing with that eerie blue light, and his mouth immediately twisted up into a snarl. Three of the men rushed over when Hanzo began to strain and struggle against his bonds, grabbing him harshly to keep him still.

Cassidy wanted to call his name, but no sound came out of his mouth.

The suited man looked at Yayoi, and she bowed her head, stepping back so that he could step forward, and as she did, the man began to speak. In Japanese, of course, and Cassidy feared that he would be left out of the conversation until Yayoi looked him in the eyes.

“If it were not obvious already, your arrival to Japan has been orchestrated by us, The Powerful and Illustrious Hashimoto Clan.” She said, translating for the man. “We have already spoken with Talon and were provided the weapons and information that we need to continue to expand here in Kanezaka, and already have plans on how we shall bring Hanamura under our thumb. In return for their generosity, we have been asked to aid in the destruction of their most annoying foes, Overwatch. Using the footage that we saw during the preemptive strike on King’s Row—“

An’ that explains Sombra’s mettlin’. Cassidy thought grimly. This was much, much worse than he thought—and as the man continued to gloat (through Yayoi) it became abundantly clear that the only reason the man was divulging this much information in a comically unhinged monologue like he was a cartoon villain, was because he was planning to execute them. Who would they tell? No one—not if they were shot like dogs underneath a city that no one would be able to go looking for them in. It sparked the fire in Cassidy that they had to get the f*ck out. But how?!

“It’s high noon.” He murmured in a panicked whisper under his breath. His whole body shuddered with the power of Deadeye awakening in his veins. Would it help him escape? Maybe. If he played his cards right maybe it’d help him find an exit.

“—We were able to determine that while formidable, there are not enough of you to create a true threat. Numbers will always win in a game of war. Just as those silly Yokai warriors are nothing but a silly memory, so too will Overwatch be in the wake of our divine purpose.” At the mention of this, Yayoi’s face twisted and Hanzo looked up from where he’d returned to bowing his head. It seemed that this was news to both of them—however, Yayoi was quick to smooth out her expression.

“But how to get Overwatch to Japan? The Hashimoto are no fools. We will not enter the world’s stage just yet, young as we are. But if we were to ensnare Overwatch in our jaws in our homeland, then there would be little anyone could do to stop us. We own Kanezaka.” The man paused with a flourish, and then made a grand show of rummaging around in the inner pockets of his suit. With flourish, he produced a printed document. Cassidy couldn’t read what it said from where he was tied, but the man passed it off to Yayoi. She took it in one hand, then began to read:

“My dear pupils. It has been nearly a decade since you have stepped foot on Japan’s shores, and it is with a heavy heart that I reach out to you now, in my time of crisis. The city of Kanezaka is under siege by our old foes, The Hashimoto. They have kidnapped my husband, Toshiro, and they have killed my daughter, my lovely Kiriko. Perhaps it is only you two who I can turn to now, to avenge the land of your forefathers.”

The man in the suit held up a hand to bid Yayoi stop, and understanding hit Cassidy like a freight train—this was the letter that Winston and Athena had received from Genji and Hanzo’s teacher—Asa. This was the letter that made Hanzo spiral further into his own misery—that somehow, his abandonment of the Shimada ‘crown’ led directly to the demise of his teacher’s child, and the sorry state that this city was in. This was the catalyst to the set up. Yet in all their desire to help, none of them could see through the ruse.

Cassidy felt his eyes drawn to Hanzo, who looked so rigid that he could’ve been a marble statue. Just like they always did when he pulled into himself, his eyes were glassy and unseeing, staring listlessly at the ground, his hair barely concealing his expression but still falling in front of his eyes as if to shield him from the pain. If Cassidy could’ve reached out to hold his hand—or touch his shoulder, he would’ve. But the grip of the men holding him down seemed to increase, their arms beginning to minutely shake from the force of trying to hold Hanzo down. Cassidy wished that gave him hope. Instead it dropped a lead weight onto his chest.

“Yes, we were the ones who bid Yamigami-san to send the letter to your superiors.” Yayoi continued as the man continued to speak—but the more and more Cassidy looked at her, the more he could see her eyes beginning to darken with something like a barely contained fury. “While we were hoping for both Shimada heirs to appear before us, so that we may both deliver on our word, and satisfy our benefactors—I have no doubt that once Hanzo Shimada is dead, his brother will come looking for him. Then, we will have finished the job that he started once and for all!”

Loud, raucous laughter suddenly erupted and filled the room with a shrill, wheezing music. But it wasn’t coming from the suited villain.

As if he were in a horror movie, Cassidy slowly turned his head—everyone turned their heads, to stare, wide eyed, and perhaps a bit horrified, at the guffawing, trembling form of Hanzo. f*cking. Shimada.

He’d thrown his head back, his long hair whipped back from his face as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed . The men holding him down looked positively scared sh*tless. Cassidy felt his mouth drop open.

“H—” He hesitated, as Hanzo’s laughter began to devolve into wheezing hacks that shook his broad shoulders. He threw his head back again and it was then that Cassidy saw the tears.

“Hanzo!” Cassidy cried, despite himself.

The suit man, thrown completely off by this display, angrily said something in Japanese to Hanzo. If Cassidy guessed, probably something akin to “What’s so f*cking funny?” because if he were in his shoes, trying to give a comic book villain speech, that’s probably what he’d say too. But Cassidy couldn’t even find it in him to see the humor in this, not even his own thoughts—whatever sanity that Hanzo had been iron-gripping since he first stepped foot onto Watchpoint Gibraltar was completely null, void, and out of the proverbial window.

“Nothing but… my own miserable… existence… is funny.” Hanzo pushed out raggedly through his teeth. When he locked eyes with the suited man, his iris were a complete cerulean blue and glowing so intensely that it almost hurt Cassidy’s eyes.

“Aren’t you going to come kill me?” He asked in a growl when no one made a move. “Have I not suffered enough at the hands of fate? This dream has gone on long enough! End it!”

With a wave of suit man’s hand, one of the goons that was holding Hanzo down let go of him to rear his hand back and sock Hanzo in the jaw—so hard that Cassidy felt bile in his throat hearing the crack. But Hanzo did not break then. When he bared his teeth, blood oozed from his gums.

“That…. is not nearly hard enough….” He goaded with a growl. “You will have to do better th—” His next sentence was cut off with a sock to the stomach and Cassidy’s panic reached a fever pitch. He started struggling against his bonds, willing the rope to fall into a crevice of his metal arm so that he could use it to snap it in half. No such luck—but he kept struggling, almost fruitlessly. He had no plan for what he would do when he freed himself—all he knew was that adrenaline was pumping a poisonous co*cktail through his veins that was strangling his lungs and he needed to get Hanzo out of here if it was the last thing he did.

Some of the goons must’ve seen his struggle—because all Cassidy could hear echoing his ears amid the gruesome sound of punches bruising skin and breaking bones, was laughter. Haughty, dark laughter.

Cassidy had never felt so powerless in his f*cking life.

It felt like an eternity before they finally stopped. Hanzo’s breathing was just as ragged, but it had taken on a sharp, whistling edge that Cassidy didn’t like. At some point he’d looked away—down at the floor, struggling with his bonds, while they beat Hanzo bloody. He couldn’t bear to witness it. But his head snapped up, when he heard the sickeningly familiar co*ck of a safety off a gun.

Standing before Hanzo was one of the bigger goons, with an even more, ridiculouslylarge gun—clearly compensating for something. His smile was ugly and cruel, and the only thing holding him on a leash from firing seemed to be the word of the suit man. Hanzo’s eye was swollen shut, a dark, purple bruise marring his handsome face and his goatee and thin moustache were soaked in blood from the blows to his face. He spit at the goon’s feet, in some Last Stand worthy defiance that would’ve been cool in an action flick but chilled Cassidy down to each individual cell.

The suit man, who had been quiet throughout the beating, was looking on with a triumphant smile and instructed the goons holding Hanzo to force him to his knees. Execution style truly was the mafia way. The men wrenched Hanzo from the chair he was tied to, one of them taking a foot to the jaw in the process and Hanzo earned a whack over the head for that one. There was more Japanese that went over Cassidy’s head, and then men dragged Hanzo along, forcing him down on his knees in front of Cassidy’s chair. If he wasn’t so sure that the man was completely unhinged and gone from their realm of reality—if Cassidy wasn’t so f*cking terrified that he was going to be forced to watch Hanzo die and be unable to do a goddamn thing about it—he would’ve joked that this wasn’t how he foresaw Hanzo getting on his knees for him.

The big goon stood behind Hanzo, aiming the gun down at the base of his skull.

Yayoi, from beside the suit man, spoke up. “Is… there any final words you have, Shimada Hanzo?” Cassidy seemed to be the only one to catch the minute way her voice wavered.

Facing Cassidy, the softest of whispers left Hanzo’s lips—as though they were only for him .

“It is finished.”

Cassidy’s bellow was nearly louder than the thunderclap of the gun’s fire. He could almost hear it whistling through the wind as it barrelled faster than the human eye could see towards Hanzo. But to Cassidy, with Deadeye, it was as though it was in slow motion. Every moment they’d shared these past few months—good, bad, stupid, ugly, funny, you name it—whizzed by like an old polaroid reel in Cassidy’s mind. There wasn’t anything he could seemingly do to reverse this—was this the true culmination of every time he thought to himself that his mama’s god hated him?

It was. Surely.

But instead, several things happened at once.

As if out of a fairytale, and something Cassidy could only see thanks to Deadeye’s borrowed vision, a glimmering purple mist caressed the air around the bullet. It would’ve been unremarkable, if a bit odd—if the bullet didn’t ricochet off of the mist, then careen back towards the large gunman. It lodged itself between the gunman’s eyes and like a giant log in a forest far away, the man stumbled, then crumpled to a heap on the floor.

The suit man cried something in indignation and several of the goons cried out the same. The purple mist that had stopped the bullet morphed and twisted in the air until it finally shifted into the form of a slim, snakelike dragon. It was much different than Hanzo or Genji’s, given how small it was—but the resemblance was there, and Cassidy’s eyes whipped up. Yayoi was standing with a fan outstretched, more mist shimmering around its jagged edges.

The goons noticed her at the same time. A collective roar thundered through the cistern, and Cassidy didn’t need to know Japanese to know what they said was “Traitor!”

Yayoi twisted the fan in her hand, rapidly chanting some Japanese under her breath, and two more dragons swirled from the mist of the fan, followed by a slash of it downwards at a goon charging her with a baseball bat. That man too dropped like lead, and it renewed Cassidy’s efforts to struggle against his bonds. Hanzo was still kneeling, unseeing once more, and it wasn’t helping that the suit man was yelling and directing more goons to take them all out.

A bullet whizzed by Cassidy’s cheek and the only thing that saved him was rocking hard enough to the side that he was able to tip his plastic chair over. Even that still wasn’t enough to free him and he writhed on the floor, desperate to break through the rope—harder when one of the goons approached him and others started to grab Hanzo’s despondent body. Cassidy only just barely caught sight of the purple mist swirling around his body, but suddenly it felt as though teeth were gnawing through the ropes holding back his wrist. The second they got loose enough, Cassidy ripped through them with a bellow, giving him enough leverage to grab an ankle of a charging goon and yank hard dragging the man to the floor with him.

They wrestled as the purple mist continued to zip around him and then, he was yanking his ankles free. He punched his assailant in the stomach, then rolled to his feet to kick the man’s head like a soccer ball—he went limp after that.

The second goon charged Cassidy, this time with a bat, and Cassidy used the advantage of his prosthetic to grab the metal bat mid-swing. He crushed the aluminum between his palm, and using it like a lasso, he yanked, dragging the man in to punch him square across the jaw and make him stagger. The man’s grip on the bat slacked and Cassidy yanked it out of his hands. He co*cked his arm back and smashed the bat over the man’s head and he too dropped.

With his range of motion restored, and adrenaline screaming through his body, the rest of the fight became a blur. At some point he took a bullet to the shoulder, almost in the same spot as Hanzo back in King’s Row, but his body hardly registered the pain, he was too wound up. He finally reached Hanzo and grabbed the man by the shoulders.

“Han, wake up!” Cassidy bellowed.

The second he touched him, Hanzo’s head flew back once more. This time the glow that he saw before overtook his entire iris and sclera, until it was practically a pillar of eerie light coming from his eyes. He opened his mouth, and more blue light spilled out of it. From underneath the rips in Hanzo’s long sleeve, Cassidy could make out the dragon tattoo lighting up like a Christmas tree—and the display made nearly every person in the room halt.

“Cassidy-san, run!"Yayoi’s voice shot through the air like a bullet but Cassidy was frozen in place, horrified when Hanzo began to snarl Japanese in what could only be described as a triple layered voice: one high and feminine—shrill like a siren’s wail. The second deep and masculine like the bowels of the earth and shaking the ground with the force of it. The third, and nestled somewhere between them, was Hanzo’s—crying out and hoarse. Saying what Cassidy didn’t know, but the rumbling under Cassidy’s feet didn’t stop.

Blue horns made of light manifested on Hanzo’s forehead and still snarling he began to levitate. Swift as the wind, Yayoi materialized by Cassidy’s side and her nails dug into his arm, yanking him.

“Wh—What’s going on?!” Cassidy yelled.

“His dragons are taking over!” Yayoi yelled back. “We have to get out of here!”

But it was too late. High in the air and close to the ceiling of the cistern only the deep voice was speaking through Hanzo now and his arms outstretched. The rumbling under their feet only intensified. Pieces of ceiling and parts of the pillars around them began to collapse under the immense pressure. With one final snarl, Hanzo drew his arms in towards himself and Cassidy watched in horror as a tidal wave of water rocketed through the storm drain.

And as the screams of the Hashimoto thugs sounded around them, the only sensation that Cassidy felt was drowning.

Chapter 20: last heaven

Chapter Text

A tidal wave of water slammed into him and Cassidy gasped—the wind completely knocked out of him by the force of, essentially, a concrete wall. Water surged into his every available orifice like an angry cyclone as it climbed higher and higher, far too quickly to be the result of a simple storm. It rose until it kissed the cistern’s ceiling; worming its way into Cassidy’s nose, mouth, ears and lungs. He choked on what little air he had left as the vision began to go black at his periphereals. I can’t die like this! He thought in a panic, but he couldn’t manage to pinwheel his arms against the devastating current that was dragging him and everyone else in the room under. Tha damn drug—He managed to think as he fought for air. The sudden exertion that trying to fight his way to Hanzo had made it surge more violently through his veins and now that his feet were off the ground and he was being thrashed around like a ragdoll by, essentially, a sentient ocean, he was powerless to try and fight against the current.

Just as his eyes began to slip closed, succumbing to the terrible misfortune that had befallen them—a pocket of air hit him like a bowling ball and struck life into him; akin to a lightning bolt striking a lonely tree.

Cassidy’s eyes flew open.

He gasped, loudly, in the air pocket, and thankfully his aching lungs were filled with the blessed oxygen that was suddenly swirling around him. How —?

Cassidy’s thoughts halted when his oxygen-deprived eyes began to focus—taking in that it wasn’t just a pocket of air that was swirling around him—but air that seemed to writhe and twist in the current. As it twisted, a flutter of iridescence startled him, and it was with wonder that he realized that the air swirling around him was made up of scales . Hanzo—it had to be Hanzo. But the last time he saw Hanzo’s dragon’s, they had been ripping through Talon soldiers, maiming them by desicrating limb by deplorable limb. The bubble around him, aside from the blessed cool air that was fueling his every breath, felt surprisingly… gentle.

After another beat, the swirling scales unfurled only just to reveal a dragon’s head nestled among them. It was slim with long curling horns, and large, iridescent blue eyes that reminded Cassidy of an illustrious Blue Moon. One of it’s long, tendril-like whiskers reached out and caressed the side of Cassidy’s face, and he felt his mouth simply… drop open. Because what other reaction should he have?

Hanzo is right. The voice that curled through Cassidy’s mind was warm and soothing, the way a lazy ocean laps at the beach, and sounded like the feminine undertone of the triple layered voice Hanzo spoke in before the waves came crashing down. You are quite handsome.

The feminine dragon seemed amused at his awestruck expression, and if dragon’s could smile, perhaps it would’ve. It tucked its head back into the furl of scales around him that made up the air bubble and it swirled tighter around Cassidy, beginning to propel itself not up towards the ceiling of the cistern, but down towards the sewer drain that the water erupted forth from with an unnatural speed and propulsion. They zipped through the flooded waterways, careening left and right through layers and layers of passages that Cassidy realized he’d have no hope of navigating even if he had been able to take out all of the Hashimoto thugs on his own. As they traveled, the water level dipped less, and less, until Cassidy found himself standing at the entrance of the sewer tunnels. The dragon that had saved him from drowning dissipated into a fine mist without a trace.

A sense of relief floodedevery fibre and nerve ending in his body—he was alive! He shouldn’t have been; no, in any other circ*mstance, he should’ve been swimming with the fishes, literally . But he was alive, and whole, and all he had to show for it were a few scratches, bruised and aching lungs, and burning nostrils. Maybe his mama’s god was answering her late prayers of ‘ please watch over my bull-headed son’ after all.

It only took a few minutes, standing in the bright sunrise that had begun to climb high over the trees and forest that surrounded this drain, for lead to settle in his stomach again. Where was Yayoi? Had she made it out? More importantly, even, where was Hanzo?

The latter question was answered before the first—behind him, Cassidy heard a thundering surge of water and he just barely had time to turn around before he was suddenly slammed with an unprepared armful of Hanzo f*cking unconscious Shimada. The water had practically spat him out of the tunnel like a disgusted fish, then dropped down with clothes-drenching splash the moment the man was out of it’s magical grip. Cassidy didn’t even have time to be annoyed with it. He quickly arranged Hanzo on the ground, rolling him over on his back and pressing his flesh fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. A long moment of pressing and shifting and hoping, praying beyond hope that Hanzo was still alive… He felt a dull thud under the pad of his fingers.

“f*ckin’ Christ, Han.” Cassidy couldn’t even pretend to be mad with the way his throat was strangling his voice with tears that had begun to run thick down his cheeks. “Ya absolute piece o’ sh*t.” Now that he knew Hanzo was alive, he carefully guided his corpse-like body to sit up. He banged on his back a few times, until Hanzo blearily coughed up some of the water that worked its way into his lungs.

Distracted by Hanzo as he was, Cassidy didn’t hear the crunch of leaves underfoot until the two bodies were practically hovering over him. Cassidy was only tipped off by their shadows and he jumped, spinning quickly to get Hanzo behind him—but despite it all, his body visibly relaxed when he realized one of the figures was Yayoi. She was absolutely drenched and was ringing out her hair over one shoulder, letting it drip down onto the grass. Her expression still hadn’t changed, except for a slight downturn of her lips that could’ve been described as pouting. Next to her was a shorter woman, but that was nothing on the toned curvature of her biceps and triceps, let alone the sword strapped to her hip. Though Cassidy didn’t know for sure, somehow he knew in the back of his mind that this had to be Asa Yamagami—Genji and Hanzo’s teacher.

“Good ta see ya made it. Ya really had me goin’ there.” Cassidy said, conversationally. Knowing that the two didn’t mean to harm him, he simply turned back to Hanzo, and the two women followed suit, crouching beside the Shimada heir. Yayoi shook her head. “I did not mean for things to escalate that quickly.” She said softly, but she didn’t apologize. She seemed similar to Hanzo almost; fully aware of her duty, and uncompromising in its completion, even should it pain her.

“Though I did not know that they had taken your daughter, Yamagami-sensei.” She glanced at Asa from the corner of her eyes. “If I had known, I would have approached this operation very differently.”

“There was little that could be done, given the circ*mstances.” Asa’s voice was gruff, yet there was a hint of kindness, perhaps even melancholy hidden within it. “I did not hope to reunite with my best pupil this way. But, we cannot weep over the hand that fate has dealt us, only rise to the occasion.” Asa met Cassidy’s eyes. “What you have witnessed today is something I have never seen before, however, Hanzo has always been more in tune with his dragons than most. They are as much apart of him as he is of them.”

“I could sense that they were fighting within him.” Yayoi said so quietly that Cassidy almost didn’t hear her. But he did, so he turned to look at her quizzically. She shook her head, withdrawing into herself. In her stead, Asa began to speak.

“Yayoi-san is more familiar with the ways of the Shimada-gumi’s dragons than most. It is both a blessing and a curse to be a dragon caller.”

“Dragon caller?” Cassidy said incredulously.

“The dragons are spirits of the ancient world.” Yayoi whispered. “They cannot come to our plane on accident. Someone must bring them here and so I… Was trained to do so. … Perhaps when Hanzo awakens, if he would like to share, he can tell you what was done.” Cassidy could tell that this was all a touchy subject—for everyone involved—and that didn’t matter as much as figuring out their next moves, and so he said so. Asa took in his words with a determined nod, then looked off towards the sunrise—to the east.

“The Hashimoto have been blindsided by this interference and it will take them time to regroup. They also will have Talon to answer to, and this failure could turn the tide in our favor. However, at this current moment, all three of you are presumed dead.” Asa looked back towards Cassidy. “It is imperative that we evacuate you and Hanzo out of this area as soon as possible.”

“Yamagami-sensei has prepared shinkansen tickets to Hokkaido, and has already alerted your companions to what has happened here tonight.” As Yayoi spoke, Asa produced two crisp tickets from the folds of her hakama. “From Hokkaido your team should be able to extract you.”

“But what about y’all?” Cassidy said, worry creating a deep crease in his brows. “‘M thankful for tha generosity—trust me, but… Y’all’re riskin’ everythin’ ta help us…” He couldn’t bring himself to ask why because it was obvious: despite how much Hanzo pulled into himself and pushed everyone else away; despite how he considered himself to be an irredeemable monster who no one could ever care for or love—time and time again, the people in his life proved him otherwise.

“The ill will I perhaps bore towards the Shimada was neither Hanzo or Genji’s fault.” Yayoi said firmly. “What happened to all of us is a tragedy. But we do not have to rewrite that same history.” Suddenly she reached out and grasped Cassidy’s hand and squeezed, tightly. “Yamagami-sensei and I know that Hanzo is an honorable man. You have come the closest to helping him realize it, more than either of us have ever seen. Please. You are his only hope.” Staring at her, Cassidy felt Zenyatta’s words echo in his head.

“I think if there is anyone who could do it, it would be you, Cole Cassidy.”

Hefting Hanzo over his shoulder, he bid Asa and Yayoi well wishes and safety, promising that he’ll let Overwatch know to keep them in their contacts loop, which both seemed to greatly appreciate. He then began a trek down to the station, by Asa’s direction, which was situated at the woodland’s edge only a mile or so from the sewer drain, Cassidy still doesn’t know why him. Why, of all the people who cherish him dearly, Hanzo had looked at the man who had cussed him out from the moment they met and decided that it would be him who could save him from his internal cage. But if he decided to hand Cassidy the key… then he may as well use it.

They were able to get on the train without incident. If they were closer to Kanezaka and civilization, Cassidy would’ve felt the target on his back; would’ve probably had the cops called on him for carrying an unconscious man like a sack of potatoes through a train terminal. However, the fact that the Hashimotos took them all the way out to… well, wherever the hell they were (since Cassidy couldn’t read the signs and they were in a rural enough area that English on signs didn’t seem to be that common) was a silver lining. The station was practically devoid of all life, and he managed to stumble through a conversation with a bored attendant at a stand to figure out their tickets and get on the train to Hokkaido.

Cassidy eased Hanzo down into the seat across from him—the entire train all to themselves, but still, he tugged the privacy curtains that faced the aisle shut.

Cassidy crossed his arms over his chest and settled in. They could talk when Hanzo woke up.

Hanzo awoke sometime around noon, when one of the train attendants came by with complementary lunch. The rumble of his stomach made his dark eyes blink open blearily, and Cassidy tried not to vibrate out of his own skin just seeing that they weren’t glowing—and that for the first time since this whole debacle started, between cake gate and now… that Hanzo seemed more present than he’d ever been.

They ate in silence. Cassidy kept stealing glances at him, unwilling to push until Hanzo was ready despite how hard it was to hold onto the thoughts that were threatening to bubble over the cauldron of his lips and out into the open when they weren’t welcome yet. And the more Cassidy didn’t say anything, the more that Hanzo began to fidget—not saying anything himself or creating any indication that he knew Cassidy wanted to talk until the same attendant circled back around to collect their plates from them. Hanzo thanked her, the Japanese on his tongue hoarse and soft. The woman nodded, then closed the curtain again, leaving them to only stare again at one another.

Hanzo finally cleared his throat.

“I must admit to you,” Hanzo hesitated, his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and his dark eyes were darting every which way around the little booth they were holed up in, seemingly unable to meet Cassidy’s eyes. “This whole time… I have... “ He paused again, frowning deeply. Cassidy put a hand on Hanzo’s knee— the flesh one—and rubbed soothing circles into the bone with his thumb.

“Spit it out, Han.” He whispered, not unkindly. “I ain’t gonna judge ya. I jus’... Non’ o’ us can help ya if ya don’t tell us what’s eatin’ ya up like this.”

Hanzo still paused, his shoulders were trembling minutely and with his metal hand, Cassidy reached out to touch him— to steady him. Hanzo shrunk back.

“Do not—” Hanzo said, and Cassidy stopped, both reaching forward and rubbing circles into Hanzo’s knee. Hanzo let out a shaking breath.

“This whole time… It has been a dream.” His voice sounded so defeated, so hollow.

Despite it all, Cassidy pushed. “A dream?”

“I suspected that it was so when Genji first came to me. At the estate.” Hanzo was taking slow, steady breaths, seeming to try and will himself to calm down but he could see how it was failing from the way Hanzo’s leg began to bounce and shake. Cassidy wanted so badly to just reach out and wrap him in his arms and hold him until he stopped shaking, until he was breathing steady again, until he was fast asleep against his chest.

“I watched Genji’s life drain from his face. I watched the light leave his eyes. It could not be possible that the metal creature standing before me was him. It was impossible.”

“But it was , Han. It is.” Cassidy’s voice sounded rough with some complicated emotion, even to his own ears. “Genj is breathin’, and movin’, and alive.” Hanzo shook his head, but Cassidy pushed again, more desperate. His hand reflexively clenched on Hanzo’s leg. “Han, he’s here. And you’re here with him.”

“It cannot be possible.” Hanzo’s voice was quieter still and as he spoke, Cassidy felt something wet drip onto his warm hand that still laid frozen on Hanzo’s knee.

“I thought I would… play along.” Hanzo said after a long beat. He didn’t reach up to wipe his eyes, instead he let the tears rain. They fell softly onto Cassidy’s hand in a quiet pitter-patter. “If I were to be given false hope in order to atone for my transgressions, then it was a punishment I would accept. If I robbed the happiness from my younger brother’s life, then why should I be happy in death? I pushed him away. Everyone. You were all… figments of my imagination. I wanted to believe that.” Hanzo let out a ragged breath, more tears falling, the rain crescendoing into a pour. It was almost hard to make out what he was saying between his desperate gasps for air. “After some point, I did not know how my imagination could conjure such visions as this.”

“We ain’t visions, Han.” Hanzo’s hesitancy be damned, Cassidy began his soothing rubbing on his knee again with his thumb, making no move to leave but no move to press any closer either, despite how much he might’ve wanted to. Hanzo’s comfort was more important. “‘M flesh n’ bone.” He squeezed again. “Jus’ like you.” Hanzo was quiet for a beat more. Then he finally said, almost too soft for Cassidy to hear:

“I began to doubt that this could be just a dream several months ago.”

“When?”

“After Hana’s party.”

“Why’s that?”

“I was never a creative man.” Hanzo finally lifted his head to return his steady gaze, despite the tears that were still streaming down his face. They still spilled as they kept eye contact, over the valleys and dips of his strong cheekbones, down the wrinkles that were slowly becoming more apparent on his severe features, pooling into the soft creases of Hanzo’s underused smile lines.

“I do not think I could come up with something as ridiculous as a cowman with a metal arm hating me on my brother’s behalf.” The jest was light, Cassidy let himself chuckle at it, let this small moment of humor smooth out the rigid lines of his shoulders. Hanzo did the same. “Hey now…”

“Without a sense of fashion or reasonable dress,”

“Han—”

“Stubborn as a mule.”

“As though you aren’t.” Hanzo finally snorted at that, knocking his knee gently against his own. “If I truly imagined you, I would have at least styled you better.”

“Don’t sass me.” Hanzo laughed softly, but slowly the light in his eyes died. “I could not have imagined someone so… so… you.” Hanzo’s voice went quiet again, and he looked down at the hand still resting on his knee, at the thumb still rubbing circles into it to ground him. “I do not deserve you, Cole Cassidy.”

“If there’s one thing knowin’ you has taught me, Han,” Cassidy swallowed hard, then lifted his metal arm again to brush some hair from Hanzo’s tense brow, let the cool of his fingertips skate down his cheek in a touch so reverent that Hanzo’s whole body shuddered.

“Ain’t no right path to redemption. Ain’t no real way to fix what ya broke. But if a gift horse looks ya in the eyes, you’d be a damn fool to look in its mouth.” Hanzo stayed quiet. Then he began to nod, slowly.

“One of your cowboy words of wisdom?”

“Ain’t just cuz I’m a cowman, Han.” Cassidy let his metal thumb rove gently across Hanzo’s cheek, and he almost started when he felt the other man lean into the touch. “No.” Hanzo brought his hand up and covered the hand on his cheek with his own, lacing his fingers between the cool metal. Cassidy’s synthetic nerves allowed him to feel the squeeze.

“You are much more than that.”

The pitter patter of snow against the windows of the shinkansen was as comforting as a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He and Hanzo had been sitting in silence for a long while after the emotions welling within them became too much to verbalize and they could no longer coherently convey the raw weight of what layers had been shed between them in these past few days, let alone past few months.

Kinslayer. Former Yakuza. Shimada. Genji’s brother. Hanzo. Han. With every layer, Cassidy knew that whatever drawing him to Hanzo was stronger than just a simple infatuation, or a crush. He couldn’t help but wish it was one—of all the emotions he’d experienced during his meander through life, he’d never felt a care—no, a love that ached so succinctly as the one that was building behind his ribs for Hanzo Shimada. And it seemed in some measure, Hanzo must feel the same. He wouldn’t have said what he said if he didn’t.

Despite their lack of conversation, their hands never strayed from one another, clasped tightly in the dangling space between them in that tiny booth. It was aching Cassidy’s shoulder something fierce, but he wouldn’t let go for the world, and he could tell that Hanzo had no interest in doing so either. When the train finally pulled to a stop, they exited together, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

They were intercepted at the somewhat more crowded station, crawling with tourists, by a lovely, seemingly older omnic. Their model wasn’t one that Cassidy ever remembered seeing before in all his travels, and the omnic’s arm sparked only a little as he waved the two of them over—even faster when they nearly walked right by him.

“You two must be our lovebirds!” He cooed, and Cassidy felt his face flush. Hanzo’s hand in his didn’t drop, so he tightened his hold, and didn’t argue against the insinuation. Seeing that they made no move to deny it, the entire omnic’s being radiated a sort of… satisfaction—the same kind that Cassidy always felt whenever he did something that made his grandfather, Cassidy Sr. proud. The omnic nearly chattered their ear off about how they were greatly indebted to Asa-sensei and how they would do anything to help her in a time of need. He led them over to his ox-powered jitensha, or carriage, and bade the two of them to hop in.

“After you.” Cassidy said, and with a small eye roll, but the tug of a smile on his lips, Hanzo climbed in, Cassidy not far behind him.

“I meant ta ask.” Cassidy said quietly, as the omnic led the ox down a winding country path towards their lodgings for the next few days. “Ya took a beatin’... pretty bad back there.” Cassidy forced his mind away from the thoughts of the blood soaking Hanzo’s beard and teeth; the wild look in his eyes as he snarled at the men who’d held them captive. At this, Hanzo hummed contemplatively.

“I believe I mentioned that the dragons ‘take care of’ physical ails.” Even though Cassidy really should press more, he just found himself chuckling, shaking his head. “Fine. Keep yer secrets then, Shimada.”

“I only speak the truth.” Hanzo said innocently, and somehow, that just made Cassidy laugh harder. There should be no reason to find any of this funny—just 12 hours ago, they’d nearly died. But pressed close to Hanzo in a rickety old cart, on their way to some rest and relaxation and safety most importantly of all, Cassidy just couldn’t help the incredulous amusem*nt that welled in his chest. Hanzo didn’t seem to understand what was funny, and honestly, Cassidy couldn’t give him an answer, laughing louder the more Hanzo protested his unexplained amusem*nt.

It turns out that the place the omnic was taking them for their stay was an old converted onsen inn. There were hardly any visitors, and only one of the baths still had that blessed volcanic water flowing to it, but it was small, and cozy, and removed from near most of the modern technology that Cassidy had grown wearily accustomed to. He was thankful for the reprieve; for the return to simple living. The elderly omnic led the two of them to the largest room he had yet to offer, and offered to launder their ruined clothes, exchanging them for simple, plain black yutakas. Hanzo looked right at home in his, with his hair still down and cascading about his shoulders, and his shoulders relaxed from their conversation and from the weight of bearing everything alone seeming to lift, if only slightly, off of them. It would be a long time before he no longer designated himself Atlas… but Cassidy decided he had time. They both did.

Just before the omnic left, he informed them of the old video phone and showed them its manual operation. Cassidy was content to just watch Hanzo marvel at the old machinery, as he cradled his chin with his palm. As the omnic finally deemed them settled and took his leave, Cassidy couldn’t help but say, “Ne’er took ya as a lover of antiques.”

“I have to like something about you.” Hanzo said so easily, so readily, that Cassidy sputtered, wholly unprepared for the shameless, silly flirt that rolled off of his tongue. “But yes, I have always been fond of them. I thought you would presume me the ‘type’.”

“I think it’s more fun gettin’ ta know ya tha ol’ fashioned way.” Cassidy said defensively—but at this, that soft grin bloomed like summertime on Hanzo’s face.

It didn’t take him long to follow the omnic’s instructions, and after they fiddled with it for a bit, it wasn’t long either until Winston’s face overtook the tiny screen.

“Hanzo? Cassidy? Can you all hear me?”

“Clear as day, big guy!” Cassidy said with a grin. Before Winston could say anything there were several voices in the background that began to chatter at once; ones that they were only able to see once Winston stepped out of the frame. Immediately, the camera was bumrushed—the faces that Cassidy saw first were Genji, Hana, and Lena in succession, all trying to shove each other out of the frame.

“Aniki!”

“Cole!”

“Oppa!”

“Are you two alright? Was anyone hurt?” Fareeha bodily pushed Hana and Lena out of the frame, much to their protests. In the background he could hear Mei politely asking if they could sit so everyone could see them too, and though Cassidy wasn’t surprised by this response from their team—their friends —he kept his eyes trained on Hanzo who seemed quite… affected. His hands were bunched into the yutaka covering his legs, minutely trembling. Without thinking, Cassidy reached over and put his hand over Hanzo’s, which made him start. In all the times that Hanzo looked at Cassidy, he’d never truly seen the swirl of emotions that raged like a tempest inside of him; they were always clouded and hidden. But this time, looking at him as their friends bickered in the background, Cassidy could make out the indecision, the small hint of fear, the self-depreciation… but what was outshining all of them was the gratitude. Hanzo twisted his hand under Cassidy’s and latched on tight, lacing their fingers together like they had on the shinkansen.

It was that small act that gave Cassidy the courage to finally interrupt.

“Alright, alright y’all! Lemme speak!” The other end became hushed, each of them finally sitting and allowing Cassidy to address the room. He spared most of the details—he didn’t have the energy to regale every single thing that happened over a tinny little line like this one. But he did get the important information across—mainly that Talon had some new friends, but thankfully (hopefully) they would be out of commission for awhile.

“Tha most important part o’ this though—relates ta Hanzo.” Cassidy said. Hanzo’s face whipped to him, shocked and startled, and everyone on the other line seemed quizzical. “To my brother?” Genji asked, tentatively. “Ye~ap.” Cassidy popped the ‘p’, to punctuate his point. “Specifically—as Han’s closest confidant, I’m electin’ that he takes a long break. I’on feel comfortable sharin’ all the details, at least, not without his permission, but… it would be good for him to reconnect with tha world a bit more than he has been lately. He… needs it.” Even if Cassidy didn’t feel like he could fully articulate what he wanted to say, still he squeezed Hanzo’s hand in his own, just out of view of the camera. Murmurs broke out among the rest of the agents, at least, until Zenyatta spoke up from the corner near Angela. “That is an excellent proposition, Cole Cassidy.” He clapped his hands together, once, then turned to address the rest of the room. “I support this trajectory, provided that we allow Cole to stay with him and oversee his care.”

There were no interjections that Hanzo “wasn’t” an invalid. There was no sneers or jeers, or any negative sort of publicity that Cassidy was sure this sort of proposition would’ve garnered just a few months before, perpetrated by himself most likely (and it was still difficult not to feel sick thinking about his previous actions—yet as he told Hanzo on the train; he wouldn’t look his gift horse in the mouth. If the gift was learning to be a better man, then he was never too old to learn).

“What do you want, aniki?” Genji finally broke the contemplative silence that had fallen over all of them. All eyes fell to Hanzo, who squirmed for only a moment under their genuine concern and sympathy. And it was an even longer moment before the words seemed to melt from frost like his tongue:

“I have been…” He hesitated, searching for a word, finally settling on, “Terrified, of being a burden to all of you. To those who have aided Genji’s care when I could do him nothing but usher in harm,” He pointedly looked at Angela, who held his gaze for a moment, then averted her eyes to the window behind her. “To those who raised his spirits when I was absent.” Hanzo met everyone’s eyes in turn, letting his eyes rest finally on Cassidy’s—and who gave his hand another squeeze. Hanzo squeezed back. “There is no words that I can express to ever repay the kindness and generosity that you have shown him, and it is a debt that weighs… heavily on me.” He let out a shuddering breath, clawing for the words leaving his throat but still not stopping, no, just as during the cistern, it was as though now that Hanzo allowed the words to escape him, now they wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop.

“It was easier to pretend that it was a dream. To flee the responsibility that Genji asked of me—to forgive myself for what I have done. I do not think I… can. At least, not yet.” A single tear dropped like a crystal from Hanzo’s eye and Cassidy had to mentally force himself to stay still and not drag the elder Shimada into his chest. “But each of you has shown me the same kindness when I did nothing to deserve it. Each of you has taught me that perhaps life is not so unforgiving as the upbringing Genji and I shared was, even if I did everything I could to discourage this… hope from budding.” He let out another shaking breath. “I… believe I finally understand why Genji bade me to return to Overwatch with him.”

Hanzo suddenly let go of Cassidy’s hand, but he didn’t stray far. Instead, he pressed his face to the floor in a deep bow—one that was so deep that it was partially cut off by the camera’s small lens. “I cannot stand on the same ground as all of you as equals yet. But I swear on the blood and honor that I have left within me, that I will become a worthy agent, companion, friend, and brother. I will earn my place here. I will not take advantage of the time spent healing myself, if it is granted.”

“Of course it’s granted.” Winston’s voice startled Cassidy out of the moving display, and when he looked back at the camera, he found he wasn’t the only one wiping mists of tears away from his eyes—and he knew the full story. There was something surreal about seeing Hana cling to Daehyun and Lucio, or about Reinhardt holding a reverant hand over his heart, or even Brigitte and Fareeha dabbing at the tears that they were trying to hold back.

“Agent Shimada, we brought you to Overwatch on Genji’s recommendation because he believed in you. And even in just your few months here, you have become an important, irreplaceable part of the team to all of us. We’re more than just a team. We’re a family.”

The word shuddered through all of them—Cassidy could see all of their affected states. “And family would not ask you to push yourself to your breaking point.” At this, Winston met Cassidy’s eyes. “We’re counting on you to look after him, Cole!”

“Loud n’ clear, big guy.” Cassidy gave him a flimsy little salute, and the watery laughs he got in response filled some void in him he didn’t realize needed to be filled. Much of his time at Overwatch before the whirlwind that was Hanzo f*cking Shimada had been spent in doubt. A hellish worry that scalded the back of his neck with the fears and anxieties that plagued him even as he tried to look towards the future—the fear that they would all be doomed to repeat the same mistakes of Jack and Reyes in their heyday, despite positioning every fiber of him to stand against it. And things were far from perfect: it would take a long time before Anglea truly accepted Hanzo for who he was; a changed man who made decisions with grave consequences. Before Hanzo’s demons of the past were truly laid to rest. Before Cassidy stopped having nightmares about Reyes. Before they even got the Hashimoto out of Kanezaka.

But they turned off the little video phone after waving their goodbyes, saving all of the logistics and planning and agent-ing for another day. Hanzo finally sat back up from his bow, and the two of them basked for a moment—letting the reality of this moment truly wash over them.

Surprisingly, Hanzo was the one that spoke first.

“There is still one thing, I think, that will reassure me that this is not a dream.” Cassidy raised an eyebrow. “‘N wha’s that?”

Hanzo didn’t answer immediately—he didn’t have to. As they were already pressed close, it was easy for him to lean forward through the scant space between them, gently pushing through each invisible barrier that circ*mstance had placed between them.

Kinslayer.

He cupped Cassidy’s cheek.

Former Yakuza.

And in turn, Cassidy’s hands drifted to his waist.

Shimada.

Hanzo leaned in.

Genji’s brother.

Cassidy’s eyes closed.

Hanzo.

The press of their lips together could’ve felt like a lot of things. But to Cassidy, it felt like sinking. It had weight to it; one that couldn’t possibly be reduced to words.

Han.

“That,” Hanzo’s hand thumbed against Cassidy’s beard, his voice a near shaking reverence after they pulled apart. “Was better than anything I could’ve dreamed.”