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From the moment Genji hit the ground, skidding shoulder-first through a field of sparks, Hanzo ran on instinct.
Genji’s katana had gone flying on impact, and with enemy agents moving in on all sides, he could no longer rely on his bow to protect himself and his brother. In retrospect, he didn’t even remember picking up the sword. It was in his hand, balanced near-perfect—even as a cyborg, Genji was barely any bigger than him—and thrashing its way through flesh and bone before he could blink. Down to his core, Hanzo was calm and centered, functional, powerful. He fought with skills he should’ve forgotten years ago, as if it had been only a day since he last picked up a katana, and the thumping of adrenaline in his ears only pushed him farther into the crush of agents blocking the narrow alleyway. Distantly, he heard Genji cough and sputter something into his comm, but it sounded as if he were screaming underwater. Then the last agent fell, sliced across the gut, and reality sharpened all around Hanzo.
The sword clattered to the pavement. As Lena blinked around the corner, time slowed with her, and Hanzo turned sluggishly to find Genji—powerful, brilliant, half-human Genji—backed up against the nearest wall, wakizashi braced in front of him, and his visor trained on Hanzo.
If the world had been underwater and slow-motion before, the wave crashed over Hanzo’s head then. He fought down a scream and only made a strangled cry as Lena shoved Genji’s katana back toward the cyborg, then started shepherding them both toward the dropship currently making an emergency landing half a block away. It was too loud. His footsteps were too harsh, his vision too bright, and he flinched when Mei and then McCree sprinted into his view from around the corner. Too much, too much. Time came and went in snapshots, roaring all around him, and then the dropship was lifting off and Hanzo was on his knees in the cabin and Genji was—Genji was—
Genji was two feet away from him, removing his faceplate like he knew exactly what Hanzo needed, but it wasn’t enough. He was there, he was alive, but that didn’t take the sword out of Hanzo’s hand or the blood out of his gi, and before his brother could try to comfort him he was dry-heaving onto the floor as he choked on a heavy sob. His head was spinning. Genji kept trying to get closer, maybe to comfort him, but Hanzo lurched away from him, wishing he could scream don’t you see, I’m no better than I was ten years ago, I’ll kill you again and I will never, never, never be forgiven!
And there was an obscene amount of blood. His hands, his clothes, streaked across his face, in his—his long hair, his own katana, smeared in morbid patterns across the dojo floor—
Hanzo buried his face in his knees and screamed.
***
Jesse gave it five minutes, during which he chatted with Genji under their breath and let Ana check him for injuries, before the muffled sound of Hanzo’s harsh breathing was too much to bear. The archer had sequestered himself behind a pile of crates toward the back of the ship, so he had some privacy, even though he hadn’t seemed cognizant of running from his brother and collapsing into panic. Ana was the only healer on this mission and seemed more concerned with physical wounds at the moment; Mei had a concerning gash on her cheek and Genji, well, he had a bad habit of getting thrown into walls. Anyway, even if Ana did have the time to check on Hanzo, Jesse doubted that he’d be willing to talk. Hanzo trusted about as easily as a porcupine.
To be fair, Jesse had never seen a porcupine in the flesh, but he liked to think that he had Hanzo’s trust by now, seeing as they were together in some way or another.
He rounded the pile of crates slowly, making sure that Hanzo’s eyes tracked his movements, before sitting down on the ground a few feet from where Hanzo was crouched. His desperate, gasping breaths were even louder here, almost painful for Jesse to hear. Hanzo was watching him, eyes trained on his left hand like the metal was distracting him, but he didn’t look Jesse in the face and he didn’t try to speak. No surprise there. Jesse waited until Hanzo looked back at his own hands before leaning forward an inch at a time to talk to him.
“Pretty wild mission, pardner.”
Hanzo’s breath rasped in his throat, but otherwise, he didn’t respond.
“No one got hurt, though. That’s just about a damn miracle. Even Genji’s still fightin’ fit, and you know how much he loves pickin’ fights with walls.”
This time, Hanzo stopped breathing altogether as his head pitched forward toward his chest and he started to rock forward and back on his knees. Jesse wanted so badly to reach out and comfort him, hold him, but he forced himself to stay just outside of Hanzo’s space. “T’be honest, picking up your brother’s weapon is a pretty badass move. I’d like to see him randomly start shootin’ arrows next time you’re stuck in a bad spot.”
Too jokey. Hanzo whined like a hurt puppy, but then thankfully started to breathe again. Noticing the way his face scrunched and trembled and his white-knuckled hands clenched in his lap, Jesse changed tactics. “Everyone is safe, Hanzo. The mission is over. Genji is fine, and Ana’s just checkin’ him over now. We’re all gonna be alright.” Silence settled between them again, while Hanzo’s mouth opened and closed as if he were struggling to force words out of his mouth. “D’you need a healthpack or somethin’? Are ya hurt?”
Hanzo shook his head.
“Is there anythin’ I can do for you, honey?”
An awkward moment moment passed. Hanzo’s hands were wringing the air now, rhythmic and taut between his knees and Jesse’s sprawled legs as he rocked forward more insitently. Again, he tried to speak and failed. Yes or no questions, then. “Do you want me to go get Genji? Ana?”
A vehement no.
“How about some water?” Hanzo shook his head. “Do you… can I touch you?”
This time, Hanzo hesitated, and after a tense pause he nodded and tentatively offered his hand—the one with the tattoo coiling down toward it, rather than the gloved one. Jesse grasped Hanzo’s palm between his own, making sure that his touch was firm enough to comfort, rather than irritate, his lover. At first he barely seemed to notice the contact, but then Hanzo’s eyes widened and shimmered with tears, and finally he clutched Jesse’s arm like a rope and used it to tug him forward until they both nearly toppled over.
Any other day, Jesse would’ve laughed. Hanzo seemed embarrassed, sure, but more than that, he was smushing his face into Jesse’s sweat-soaked chest and pulling at his arms and—Jesse’s heart squeezed in his chest—sobbing. He heard the words “hold me,” hissed out from between clenched teeth, and Jesse gave in to the desperate need to do just that. They were both smeared with blood and grime, and Hanzo’s hair came loose as he started to rub his face against Jesse’s chest, and Jesse would give anything to keep Hanzo here, safe and loved even as he fell apart.
“I’m so s-s-sorry,” mumbled Hanzo. “I’m so—I—Jess, you shouldn’t h-have to—”
“Oh, hush. There’s nothin’ to be sorry for.”
Hanzo shook his head harder than was probably healthy, while Jesse just kept rubbing at his back with his metal hand and combing through his hair with the other. “I know, I just… I-I-I should have b-been okay, it’s been ten fucking years, I can’t even hold a sword without—without— this?!”
“It was the most traumatic thing that ever happened to you. Y’made a promise to yourself.” Jesse dropped his voice and leaned closer to Hanzo’s ear, since he knew just how upset Hanzo would be if anyone else heard this conversation. “If there’s anything I know about you, sweetheart, it’s that you hate breakin’ promises. And you’re always lookin’ for more reasons to be mad at yourself.”
“G-Genji was scared of me.”
Jesse leaned back and tilted Hanzo’s head to face him, fingers still stroking the hair at his temples. “Now, I’m sure that wasn’t—”
“No, Jesse, he was.” Hanzo gulped and looked up into Jesse’s eyes. “He got back up after he hit the wall, and when I turned around he was backed into the corner of the alleyway and holding his other sword. Against me. Ready to fight me.”
“Ah.”
On the verge of a fresh round of sobs, Hanzo faceplanted in Jesse’s shoulder. “I’ve always deserved this. I shouldn’t even… I can’t…”
“Hanzo,” whispered Jesse, just loud enough to be heard over the droning engine of the dropship. “First of all, no one in their right mind would look at you holdin’ a sword without reachin’ for the nearest weapon.” The archer grunted; Jesse couldn’t tell if he was agreeing or just grumbling. “Second, it’s over now. There ain’t no time to worry about what you should or could’ve done. We’re all safe. Just stick to thinkin’ about what you can do, like talkin’ to Genji later, because I’m sure he’ll tell you that you’re a fuckin’ badass and that’s all there is to it.”
Mercifully, a spark of his usual pride lit up Hanzo’s dark eyes. “I already know that.”
“Third,” Jesse barrelled on, “is that I love you.”
Hanzo went quiet. Jesse couldn’t tell if he was simply processing his words or planning an escape route, though his hands gripping Jesse’s serape like his life depended on it boosted Jesse’s confidence somewhat. Just as the pause started to get uncomfortable, Hanzo responded. “I already know that, too.”
“Well, y’know, I’m just makin’ sure you didn’t forget.” It was far too late for Jesse to realize that he’d never really said those exact words before, even if he’d been tiptoeing around it for months. Terrible timing, McCree. “Just in case—”
“If anyone threw you into a wall,” Hanzo interrupted before he could lose his cool, “I’d pick up your gun and shoot them in the face twenty times before they could blink.”
Jesse’s belly flared hot with affection at the determination in his lover’s voice. There was honestly something wonderful about knowing just how horrifically Hanzo would shred those who harmed him, even if it was morbid. “It’s a six-shooter, Hanzo, that’s just not practical.”
“Do you doubt me?” Hanzo smirked, and Jesse felt his heart rise by a few miles at the least. As long as Hanzo was alright, his whole world could keep it together.
“Not for an instant, darlin’.”