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They had never meant to be in London, legally. Not that it mattered to anyone in Blackwatch. Reyes had never been concerned with things like that, even after the thousands of meetings with the Strike Commander to remind him that laws-- Did in fact, “matter.”
Jesse hadn’t been concerned either. Despite the ever rising political tension in Kings Row.
Though finding trouble had always been his speciality, he really should have thought it through-- Just once.
Instead, he finds himself cornered by an Omnic, something armed to the teeth. While Jesse had encountered more Omnics than he could count, this was
supposed
to be completely covert. He had been given strict orders not to engage, despite still being armed as always.
He had debated running, though it had only ended in one of the many twisting alleyways that made up the area. Jesse had come here to scout out the area, he had thought it would be easy, in and out-- Just like every other recon mission.
He weighed his options. He could try and fight, and risk exposing Blackwatch to the world, every dirty deed, and every secret--
That would be his last resort.
McCree in his youth, had been known for his ability to slip out of dangerous situations, using his smooth charms, or simply running away. He doubted an Omnic would fall prey to his accent, and crooked grins.
His attempt at escape had been blocked. Though everything after that had become a blur.
Jesse remembers searing pain in his arm, he remembers the black fabric of his serape stained even darker by blood. It takes a few moments to click in that it is his own.
He stifles a cry, holding what’s left of his arm to his chest, shoving his serape against the wound to at least attempt to stop the bleeding.
His right arm had thankfully been spared-- His aim steady long enough to destroy the machine that had attacked him. A single
pop
echoing loud enough to make his ears ring.
He bit on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, unable to focus on anything but how much everything
hurt.
Jesse was a grown ass man, he had been hurt more times than he could care to remember, but all he could think right now, was home much he wished he was home-- Back at the Watchpoint, where Dr. Ziegler could tell him he was just fine, and patch him up like always.
“Commander--”
“I thought I said no comms--”
“I need… I need help real bad, Gabe.” Jesse grit out, squeezing his eyes shut, his attention slowly starting to fray. “There was an O-Omnic. Didn’t think it would… “ He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, he couldn’t even look down at the damage that had been done. There was silence on the other end of the comms, and for a moment, McCree was sure that the Commander had turned his comm off. The slow creep of panic worked up his spine as the reality of the situation started to sink in. He was alone in a foreign country, wounded gravely, and unable to contact anyone that would be able to help him. He let out a shaky breath.
“Commander?” His voice was soft, nervous-- As if he was afraid there would be no answer.
“Don’t worry, kid. I’m sending my best guy,”
“I-I’m not your best guy?” His lips twitched into a semi-smile, relief clear on his expression. (He only prayed help arrived soon.
“Of course you are, Jesse.”
A small huff of a chuckle left him. Something akin to affection curling in his chest. It was nice to have some comfort in a situation like this. “I-I’m sorry. I thought I’d be able to handle it..” He murmured, leaning against the alleyway wall, slowly sliding down until he was seated, Peacekeeper clattering to the ground next to him.
“I know you tried, kid. That’s all I needed from you,” There was some unknown tone hidden in Reyes’ voice, something he couldn’t identify, and didn’t care to.
“Commander Morrison is--”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what he has to say about this,” Reyes cut him off, he could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. If he had it in him, McCree would have laughed at the familiarity.
“I’m sure you’ll care w-when he drags ya to his office to monologue,”
McCree flinches when he hears metallic footsteps echoing nearby-- He realizes he might have to move to a safer location. He groans and pushes himself to his feet, moving deeper into the alley, concealing himself behind a dumpster. It’s uncomfortable, it stinks, but it’s safe. (Safer than where he had been before at least.)
“Jefe, I hope whoever you’re sendin’ is quick,”
He had always thought of himself as a realist, and losing an arm wasn’t an injury that was easy to come back from. If the injury itself didn’t kill him, the blood loss certainly would.
“You don’t trust me?” The voice answered back, “You make fun of me for overthinking, but it is good for something,” Reyes told him, followed by a moment of silence. “He’s close.”
McCree nodded to himself, wrapping what he could with what he had, letting out a low pained noise as he attempted to tie the cloth off.
The area around him started to fade, until as far as he knew, the world ended and began in this alley. Jesse let out a sigh, relaxing against the wall-- If this was it, he might as well be comfortable.
Something dropped onto his head, causing him to look up, taking a few moments to focus on what was in front of him. Glowing red, and silver metal-- Panic flashed through his system before recognition settled in. Genji.
“You dropped your hat, cowboy.”
He blinked a few times, trying to figure out what he meant. Genji had found his hat, and brought it back to him. If it had been any other time, he would have been touched. Jesse simply stared at him, unable to formulate a proper response-- Though the other didn’t seemed too bothered by his silence.
“Reyes had me follow, just in case you decided to get into trouble,” There was something soothing about hearing Genji speak so casually during all this-- his arm wrapping around McCree’s waist to help him up.
“O-Of course he did,” Just like Reyes to think of everything. Sometimes he thought that man had some sort of psychic abilities to know when the cowboy would need his help. He had been correct so many times, it was almost infuriating-- Well it would be, if Jesse’s life hadn’t been saved because of it.
McCree staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on the other, despite his legs not being the part of him that was wounded. The world spun around him, the only anchor on this plain being the steady weight of the arm on him, and the low tones of his friend’s voice. He couldn’t remember if Genji had ever been this talkative before. Though part of him recognized it as a way to comfort him.
He was the chatter box of their duo, making light of everything, and everyone, even if it earned him a scolding in the process. It was worth it if it got a few laughs out of the more stoic members of Blackwatch. (Excluding Moira,)
It was instinct to talk, and fill the air with useless noise, silence was far too deafening. Jesse could never understand how anyone could stand it. It was nice, not being the one to fill the silence.
“Thanks,” He murmured, under his breath, so soft it might have been drowned out by the sound of the world around them. Jesse could hardly keep anything straight in his head. There wasn’t much else besides pain, and the creeping coldness of London. (Or were they back at Gibraltar?)
Genji didn’t answer right away, caught up in thoughts he had no way of knowing. McCree had saved his life on more than one occasion, it was instinct that he would do the same for the cowboy. Blackwatch was tightly knit, each of them misfits in their own regard. It made sense for them to be-- Outcasts by occupation.
Despite their relationship being nothing but turbulent since the very beginning, it had all gone to forge a close bond, trust build on trust. Genji hadn’t known trust when he had arrived, he had been thrown out by his family, and a more literal extent, his brother. He was all sharp edges, and anger, something not many were willing to put up with. But somehow, this stupid cowboy had gotten close to him, even with the walls built to keep people from hurting him again.
Genji trusted him. Very, very hesitantly-- But it was there. McCree had done nothing but prove himself trustworthy.
To an extent, Reyes had also earned that same trust. Steadfast, and while he was demanding-- He expected nothing but success from his agents-- He was also patient (somewhat), and loyal to a fault. He had stood up for Genji time, and time again, when the Strike Commander had wanted him punished for his actions.
“I’ll work it out,” Reyes had said.
As soon as Morrison was out of earshot he had grinned at Genji, and pat him on the back. “I would have done the same thing.” Reyes had assured.
So when he was asked to assist the duo on recon, it was an instant yes. They had more than earned the right to his willing assistance. (Unlike so many others)
McCree’s thanks wasn’t necessary, to Genji, he was doing something he ought to-- repaying a debt that grew by the day. Dr. Ziegler may keep his body alive, but it was those around him that gave him reason to keep living, as loosely as he defined it.
His mouth felt dry, unable to think of an answer to articulate his thoughts, but came up short. How could one define such a complicated reasoning in a few short words? As if McCree would be able to understand him anyway.
“
Mondainai,”
Genji murmured back, “It would be a shame for you to lose something so important,” He would have cringed if he could have, though his slightly ironic statement earned a laugh from his companion.
“It would be,” Jesse agreed lightly, before his body stiffened. “Wait-- Peacekeeper… “ He cut in, looking over his shoulder as well as he could manage.
“Do not worry, I will retrieve it.” He promised, though it seemed like the promise was lost on McCree. He simply nodded, focusing on keeping his feet in front of him. Survival was more important, he told himself-- Though he desperately wanting to run back, and get his precious weapon. Just like McCree to trust him with getting his gun back.
Genji couldn’t remember it ever being
not
with the cowboy. It reminded him of the relationship he had with his own weapon. “Almost there. Are you still with me?” He questioned, noticing how Jesse’s feet had slowed significantly. There wasn’t much either of them to do but put pressure on the wound, and hope for the best.
McCree woke days later, his head aching, but alive. His arm didn’t hurt-- Due to the drugs that had been pumping through his system. Thankfully it seemed like Dr. Ziegler had been the one to care for him, instead of Moira-- He shuddered at the thought.
Vaguely, he recalls Genji coming to his aid, talking to him, supporting him all the way to the dropship that had come for them. He glances over, a small stuffed bear had been placed on the side table, no doubt given to him from Fareeha-- Along with a few other cards, and a balloon from God knows who. Jesse didn’t have the attention to read them.
He didn’t dare look down at his arm, pointedly keeping it out of sight. McCree fades in, and out of slumber-- He gets a few visitors throughout the day, giving their condolences, and well wishes, though Jesse hardly cares. He lost an entire
limb,
how could their words help him feel any better?
He knows logically, they only want to help, but he doesn’t have the patience for it. It was his own damn fault for thinking he would be fine on his own, for thinking he would be able to outrun a machine. If only he had been smarter, better,
anything--
Reyes comes in, his beanie off, and clutched in his hands, but he looks relieved. He had no doubt been overtaken by his own guilt, if he knew anything about the man, it was his tendency to take responsibility for absolutely everything that went wrong.
“Glad you’re still with us, kid.” He breathes, closing the space between them to hug McCree, holding him tight as if he was still about to slip away.
“Me too,” He finds himself saying, though he isn’t quite sure yet. Reyes updates him on everything, trying to keep things normal, though things are pointedly
different.
“Angela says she’s working on a replacement,”
McCree drops his gaze. Right. They still had to deal with the aftermath. It wasn’t just politics this time.
“That’s mighty nice of her,” He answers with a small smile, though its weak compared to his usual boterious smiles. Reyes watches him for a long moment, debating on what he could say to comfort him-- But nothing he can say, or do will be enough to help him through this.
“I’m sorry,” Reyes tells him, now unable to face the other man. It’s obvious by his expression that this weighs heavily on his shoulders, like so many other losses.
He purses his lips, watching the Commander for a long moment, “It’s my fault, Jefe. I musta been thinkin’ about somethin’ else.” McCree tried, “You know how I clock out sometimes.” His words don’t do much to reassure the man, and he quickly retreats out of the room, leaving an air of tension behind him.
He finds himself dozing again-- Though when he wakes, his hat, and Peacekeeper and neatly placed among the things on his side table. How someone had snuck a weapon into the medical wing was beyond him, but he has an idea of who would be able to pull it off.
Mondainai, cowboy.