almightythirst | Open Post

If one didn't know the additional details, it would seem very dull indeed. A veritable walk in the park. But the similarities are there, and Hanzo cannot help but step forward, eyes narrowing slightly.

"And a dark fog?"

A meaningless detail, unless. Unless it was the strange dream. And if Jesse had managed somehow to share that dream with him, then either they were more strongly linked than he assumed, or it was a vision in fact. Something neither of them could afford to ignore.

Even if they did part ways at this point.

Jesse snaps to attention at that, staring at Hanzo with a quickly dawning realization.

“You had it too.”

What does that mean? Jesse takes a moment to reach out with that inner awareness of his, but he doesn’t feel anything else supernatural around. Just the man standing across from him, who he is always so keenly aware of even without trying.

“Is this somethin’ that happens to vampires?”

He doubts it even as he says it. That dream had been so intensely personal to Hanzo. Even not understanding all of it, he knows that. So if Jesse is seeing it too, then what this is likely has more to do with the two of them than the greater vampire community. Still, he can’t help but ask to be thorough.

"You ask that as though I have spent enough time with other vampires to know," he replies, though whatever snide tone the words might have held falls slightly flat in the face of that answer.

The same dream. It had been the same, for both of them. That spot in his chest burns, and he wonders for a moment if it's the same place as that wound Jesse had taken just a few nights prior, from the Reaper.

“Well you’ve had longer to figure it out than some of us here.” Jesse throws just enough sass in there for it to be detectable, but he’s otherwise just as thrown by the whole thing.

“Did it make any sort of sense to you? That thing followin’ you in the woods, and…”

And the arrow. He resists the urge to touch his chest again. He’s healed up since the attack, so any lingering pain has to be a result of the dream. But what did it mean that Hanzo had dreamt of being shot in the same place Jesse had been, both by the Reaper and Hanzo himself?

“… the rest of it?”

"...only that the path ahead is dangerous. Which, knowing our kind, says almost nothing."

Danger is ever-present in the world of the undead. Hunter, fellow vampire, and other denizens of the night, all might wish their end for a variety of reasons. Although there is a small detail.

"I don't recall seeing you. And yet you saw me."

"It wasn't like I was watchin' it from the outside. I was... seein' it from your eyes, I think."

He'd seen what Hanzo had seen, and felt a muted version of what he must have felt. If there was any other insight he had into the dream, Jesse hadn't been privy to that either.

"Felt like I was the one dreamin'. But I knew it was you, at the same time."

He looks down at where his cigarello is dropping ashe onto the floor, and he huffs as he turns to go find a sink to put the embers out in.

"Guess you must've been thinkin' real hard about the future when you fell asleep last night, and it snuck up in your dreams."

He starts the tap and puts the cigarello out in one quick burst of water.

Is that really all it was? His imagination, his anxiety, bleeding through unbidden? That would be the more comforting option, truly. Hanzo lets out a small huff, eyes lowering as he considers.

"And you felt it. Saw it. As if it were your own." His lips twist wryly. "It's little wonder to share another's blood is so forbidden, if such doorways might be open. We are a secretive lot by nature."

To have not even your mind's dreams hidden from another...it's quite the vulnerable position to be in.

"That's what this is?" Jesse turns and leans on the counter, arms folded over his chest. It's embarrassing he hadn't thought of that sooner. The nature of this dream hadn't been unlike the moments they had shared blood in the past. Visions, memories, thoughts and feelings...

They've gotten themselves in real deep with this, seems like.

"Who made that decision anyway? That it's forbidden? There's no way to police that when all the vamps won't talk to each other."

"Certain things are known, even when you do live among others of your kind. Do not reveal yourself to humans, lest you be hunted." Common sense. Things any vampire maintained to survive, especially in this day and age.

"Similarly known is this. The deeper the bloodlines run, the more ancient the vampire, the stronger the blood. The was meant to prevent younger vampires from usurping strength they were not ready for."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Do you know who the best swordsman in the world fears?"

Is that what Jesse has done? Has he gotten stronger than he should have through this exchange of blood? It’s not like he’d taken it by force, but the thought still troubles him. As for the other side-effects… they have to be manageable. Maybe they'll fade as he and Hanzo spend more time apart, which seems like an inevitability now.

“I’d say ‘the second best,’ but I got a feeling this is one of those trick questions.”

Jesse isn't wrong, in that regard. Hanzo shakes his head, all the same.

"No. He fears the worst. He cannot anticipate what the fool will do, and all the master's skill and training will matter little against someone who does not care what should be done. And in so doing, that fool might be the end of all."

A young vampire with no sense of proportion, given the power of an elder? The results would be quite similar, he expects.

"Suppose that makes sense. But I haven't gotten much more powerful than any of you at this age, have I?"

He assumes not, but it's not as if he's had anyone else to compare himself to. When hunting vampires, he'd always operated on a very loose understanding of his quarry's age. The general idea had mattered more than the specifics.

"And I bet there are some people who wouldn't mind this." He taps his head and then gestures between them, indicating the bond. "Dunno, but it seems like the sort of rule people use to make sure they're the only ones doin' a thing for their own reasons."

"And do you mind...this?"

Again, Hanzo looks as though he's guarding his thoughts very carefully, his expression neutral at best. But beneath, there's that sense of sharp anxiety. The dread from the dream, the anticipation that whatever danger was foretold might yet come to pass.

And there's that sympathetic pang in his chest, or the phantom of it.

Does he?

Jesse mulls it over for a moment, considering Hanzo's expression as he does. What is the other man hiding? He's not showing his true feelings for a reason. Does he feel so strongly about this himself?

"... It hasn't been that bad."

He doesn't exactly like the idea of anyone being able to just waltz into his mind whenever, but it doesn't seem to work like that. Far as he knows. Rather, it's more like a sort of intimacy. A mutual give and take.

"Do you?"

A mutual give and take, but Hanzo is rarely in the giving mood. Too long he's spent having to guard himself, keep things secret to keep himself safe. Distance and silence were his allies, and intimacy of any sort was a risk he could scarce afford.

For a few nights, it had almost seemed as though he were wrong.

But now?

His dark eyes flick away, arms folding tensely across his chest. "It hardly matters. There seems to be little we can do about it now."

Well, that's answer enough on its own. And it's another explicit sign that the wall between them is back in place, rebuilt and reinforced. And there's nothing uncertain about Hanzo's body language, even if his answer is evasive.

"If we stop sharin' blood, it might ease up." He looks down at his metal prosthetic and picks at something caught in a seam of metal.

"Will probably stop altogether if we go our separate ways."

There. It's out there. No more of this uncertainty.

"Perhaps."

Or perhaps the bond would last, despite distance and time. Hard to say. There was no one to ask, no one who knew their condition better than they had managed to live it, thus far. And it's only partially the point, as it is.

It's an out. Jesse's all but laid it out for him to take. He understands, then. He must. Hanzo's gaze shifts towards the laptop for a moment, yet untouched, before lifting his gaze once more. Taking in Jesse where he stands in the moonlight.

Almost a year now. Almost back where they began all of this. He should have killed Jesse that night, rather than consign them both to this. One in a list of mistakes made over the decades.

"...you should return. To your allies in Overwatch. They might aid you in ending the Reaper once and for all," he adds quietly, after another moment.

Yes. The Reaper. His own shot at some kind of redemption, righting an old wrong. But what else is there for him in Overwatch? His sense of justice had never aligned so cleanly with theirs before, and things are even more complicated now.

A year ago, Jesse had lived for the hunt. Now, he's looking at someone who had, for a moment, given him something else. Not all of it had been good, or welcome.

Still, he doesn't want to let it go.

But he will.

He watches Hanzo right back. Memorizing his profile in the dark and remembering what it had looked like to see, for a moment, a smile light those features up.

"What are you going to do?"

"I do not know." His eyes close for a moment. "...Perhaps it is better you do not know, either. Should they decide to come looking for me."

He doesn't believe Jesse would give away his whereabouts willingly, not anymore. But with that connection between them, and how many of them would sooner see him dead or a tool for their own use...he might not have a choice.

Funny. This journey of theirs had started with the intention of proving which of them was correct. And despite winning that wager in the end, Hanzo feels no vindication in that fact. There is only the knowledge that he is, indeed, better off alone in this world. Or at the very least that those he cares for are better off without him present.

Genji lives. But clearly he is managing well enough without him. And Jesse...he would do better without him. He could perhaps find a path in this life that suited what he has become.

This is for the best. There must be satisfaction in that, if nothing else.

He might not mean it that way, but to Jesse’s ears—already primed to have accusations thrown his way, nevermind that Hanzo has been so restrained about things thus far—it does sound like he doesn’t fully trust Jesse to keep his confidence. Anger and hurt tear through him in a quick flare, flickering on his face before his expression hardens.

Probably Hanzo meant something much more benign. The logical part of him knows that. But guilt will do as it does, turning a harmless word into something that can draw blood.

“I don’t have any plans to tell anyone your secrets.” It comes out sharper than he’d intended.

It’s all compounded by the fact that Hanzo clearly doesn’t intend to take his brother up on the offer, so Overwatch isn’t even on his radar. What does it mean that Jesse can’t even guess what he’ll do instead? For all he knows about Hanzo, there’s still so much distance between them.

Inevitable. That feels like the right word for it. Like this was always meant to happen.

And of course, it is inevitable that at the first sign of raising hackles, Hanzo responds in kind. The words spill out before he can stop them, cold and sharp.

"What you are planning does not matter. Is that not clear enough?" One hand gestures around them, at the situation. Far broader in scope than either of them had been prepared for. For all their plans and intentions, they surely had not meant to wind up where they were now.

The bite to his expression is gone again, after but a few moments, expression stilling. "...we are facing a storm, McCree. Move with it, or against it, but it will do as it will. If we are parting ways, it is better that it remain so."

Fighting should make this easier, Jesse thinks. Sometimes it does, when it comes to goodbyes. But their sharp words tossed back and forth make this situation feel no better. If anything, he just feels more hollow after being shown how far they’ve moved away from the intimacy they’d had not long before.

McCree. Back to last names now.

“… Suppose you’re right. Guess this is it then.” He can’t look at that neutral expression on Hanzo’s face anymore. He goes about gathering his belongings instead, most of them already laying close together. The computer is where Hanzo had left it the night before, untouched. Jesse puts it back into its case.

“You want me to say anythin’ to your brother when I see him?” He shoulders his backpack and shifts the laptop case in his grip. His back to Hanzo as he looks out into the night over Hanamura.

He’ll need to check the train schedule. Make sure he isn’t followed. Check into a hotel in Tokyo, maybe, while he figures out where to go next. To debate whether or not to call that number.

Back to last names, to looks that don't connect. Back to drawing those walls up against the desire to reach for the other and seek comfort. There will be no room for that in the days to come.

In fact, what needs to be done seems to become more and more clear. He can only run from Talon so long. But perhaps...

"Tell him that real life is not like the stories our father told us. And he was a fool for believing it so." And with that, his tone becomes the same imperious, chilly intonation that it had once been, a year past. Let Jesse remember that night, shed his guilt, and leave with some knowledge that this was the right call to make.

Even if for one night, maybe it hadn't been.

“Bet he’d rather hear that straight from you.”

It would be a shame to see Hanzo throw away this chance to reconcile, whether he takes Genji up on his offer or not. And he suspects the younger Shimada would be in a better position to talk some sense into his stubborn brother about his capacity for redemption. Hanzo could be happy one day, if he allowed it of himself; or if not that, content at least.

“But I will anyway. Sure he can find you if he has somethin’ else to say.”

And with that, there’s nothing keeping Jesse from leaving. He swallows down any protests that threaten to slip off his tongue and turns back towards Hanzo to take one last good look at him. Beautiful and distant as ever.

“… Take care of yourself.”

He tips his hat down low over his eyes and walks past his sire to the door.

Still so much left unsaid. That bond remains in their blood, regardless of the distance between them. It will linger with him, much as he wishes he could cut out of his heart entirely.

More the fool he, for allowing someone in in the first place.

But once Jesse is gone, he goes to work. His weapons are accounted for his cold precision. Then, he locates a burner phone. He still has a number of contacts to make, and not much time to do so. If Genji found him here this quickly, others could as well. He just had to make certain he was found by the correct people, first.

Helping Overwatch is the correct course of action. Of course it is. Jesse will undoubtedly come to the same conclusion. But within their ranks there would only ever be mistrust. He would be hampered, restricted, and distracted by his closeness to Jesse. But there is a way to aid them in a way few could, supplying them with valuable information that could save lives.

All it will take is giving Akande exactly what he wants, at long last.

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