Chapter Text
Three weeks, two days.
Waiting inside could not bring him any amount of meager comfort. Meditation only brought frustration, and despite his state of being words only seemed to be something he could choke on if he thought about speaking to anyone, his mentor included. Solitude doesn't make it any better, truly, but at least out here he doesn't feel as confined. London air is still stuffy, humid, and rain drizzles in a light mist over him, but it's spacious.
It's difficult to tell with how overcast it is, but dusk is settling in by now. He can see a bit of the light fading from behind the clouds from where he's perched on the roof. Three weeks, two days, now going onto a third day.
"Hey."
Genji gazes over his shoulder, watching as Soldier 76 pushes himself onto the roof with a low grunt. It's difficult to make out what 76 is thinking due to the mask, but then, Genji really has no room to talk. Based on the body language, he figures that 76 is likely tired. Tired, but pushing on.
He tilts his head quietly at 76.
"They're askin' for you. Told them I'd make sure you weren't rusting," Soldier says.
Genji exhales a little, not quite a laugh.
It's quiet, save for the light rain. It flattens Soldier's hair, but he doesn't make the impression that it bothers him. Instead, he's crouching next to Genji, fingers folded.
"You coming in or what?"
"I want to be ready," Genji responds, his voice quiet. "So unless there has been further development..."
Soldier 76 grunts and tips his head away. "We're still looking," he says, sounding a little more defeated. "Winston's leading me to believe that Talon hasn't left London. Other than that--"
"Then I will be out here. Thank you."
Silence sinks in once more. Out of the corner of his visor, Genji can see how Soldier curls his hands into fists. Is he angry for Genji's lack of cooperation, or something else? For all of the gruff front that Soldier places, Genji suspects it's the latter.
"If you have something you want to tell me, Shimada, now's the time," 76 tells him.
Behind his visor, Genji closes his eyes, struggling for a moment. Ten years ago, he was emotionally imbalanced, expressing whatever he wanted vocally and physically. The range of freedom had been granted by his father, then by his life being saved by Overwatch. For a time, all he knew was either to play, or to be angry with his situation. He thought to blame Hanzo, and he had for years. He'd moved on, forgiven him, and Hanzo had been right -- that he was not the Genji he remembered. Zenyatta's teachings brought him immeasurable inner peace, and he knew how to pace himself better.
Here and now, it's obscenely harder.
As he hears the Soldier rise, Genji finally says, "I wish you didn't listen to my brother." He breathes in sharply, determined to keep his gaze out to the horizon, because he doesn't trust himself to look at Soldier right now.
"If you want to blame me, then blame me," Soldier tells him, sounding less gruff.
"I do not know," Genji confesses. "I do know it has been three weeks, going on three days since then. We have searched what feels like every nook and cranny of London, and there has been nothing. If you hadn't listened to him--"
"Then it'd be Hanzo I'd be havin' this talk with, and he'd be a lot less pleasant about it."
That earns a quiet, bittersweet laugh from Genji. "I suppose so."
Soldier 76 pauses, then runs a gloved hand through his wet hair, pushing it back. "I'll radio you the second I get anything."
"Thank you."
-=-=-
The moment he knows he's alone, Soldier 76 removes his mask and lets out an angry growl, slamming his fist against the wall. A moment of weakness can be permitted to Jack Morrison, a moment of frustration.
There's always been a mix of feelings since Winston called for Overwatch to be put back together. There'd been the momentary feeling of approval, knowing that none of them really quite stopped what they were already made to do. Jack never stopped being a soldier, never put down his gun, and he isn't so certain he ever will. Yet, the moment he saw old and new faces, there had been something else he didn't expect.
Fear.
It's not for himself. Hell, he's been through this before, and he knows what kind of risks they're in. Everyone knows what risks they've put themselves into by doing all of this. They know what they're fighting for, and they know the danger that lurks, but that didn't stop the fear and paranoia of knowing what could happen. They're a damned fine team and Jack knows it, and yet all it takes is for one slip up.
Just like now.
Three weeks ago, there'd been the indication of possible terrorist activity on a peaceful omnic protest. The last time there'd been any hints, it had just been Tracer who was present to make any attempts to stop it, and Jack sure as hell wasn't going to let it become a damned madhouse again. A fight had broken out between Talon and the present Overwatch team. He hadn't known, damn it, but Reaper had been there, waiting, making sure to surprise at least one of them and it was impossible to not take that personally.
Genji hadn't been so lucky. When Hanzo and Jack heard him screaming, they went, of course they went.
He'd been missing an arm, and his knees mangled. Hanzo told Jack--
"Go! Take Genji! Mark my words, if he does not leave here alive, you will pay the debt for that, Soldier!"
It was a hard choice, but Jack chose to evacuate with Genji, bring him to Angela as soon as he could. By the time he was done, Hanzo was no where to be found. A broken bow, abandoned arrows, and a splash of blood.
Which left Jack knowing that it is entirely possible that Hanzo is dead, or worse.
It leaves him with that fear, knowing that choice may have cost them. It may have cost Genji. The relationship with the Shimada brothers is horrendously complicated and Jack is well aware of that, but the feeling of losing something you'd just gained back is something he can relate to with some degree of empathy.
And this is his team. Hell if he'll let Talon run away with any of their own.
"Jack? Sorry-- Soldier."
The mask is pressed back on, clicking into place. "Go ahead, Winston."
"Athena's caught sight of some movement. I don't want to assume it's nothing, but if Talon's on the move--"
"I know. Point us in a direction, and we'll tail 'em." Soldier 76 starts marching down the hall, knowing he'll regret not informing Genji. "Get me Mercy, McCree, and Reinhardt."
He keeps his pace urgent, the door shoved open as he goes to the roof. When he steps out, it's raining harder, as it does in London.
Slowly, Genji rises from his perch and turns to face him.
"I'm not making you any promises, Shimada. Talon's on the move; it could be your brother. It might not be." Soldier 76 folds his arms. "Just so we're clear."
"It is enough that you told me." Genji steps down from where he'd been brooding, his hands clenched. "I am ready."
Frankly, 76 expects nothing less.
-=-=-
If he were still a complete human, the weather would make it a challenge to see much of anything out in the streets. As it is, Genji has the advantage over most of the others, his vision far from being impaired as he watches their path carefully. In the past, patience was one of his largest flaws, incapable of waiting to do anything than what he wanted. These days, he can afford it, waiting and watching even though in his heart he wants nothing more than to rush in to seek out Hanzo.
"Hell, there's no lighting this in this kinda weather," McCree grouses, giving up on his cigar.
Genji smiles faintly behind his mask.
"You know, I reckon I can't think of many people ready as you are in this sorta situation; hard to imagine I'd wanna find the man who almost killed me in order to save him."
For a long time in Overwatch before it had been disbanded, he'd known McCree. He'd watched him change, not unlike Genji had; while Jesse worked hard to make up for his past transgressions as a criminal, Genji spent years sorting out his anger. It's far from surprising that McCree has mixed feelings regarding Hanzo.
That's only sensible, really.
"I suppose it appears odd," Genji says, still watching from their position.
"You wanna forgive him, that's your call." McCree shrugs. "Far as I can figure, he ain't even apologized to you for the whole nearly murdering you ordeal."
No, McCree isn't wrong. For however much guilt Hanzo clearly bears, there hasn't been an explicit apology, and Genji doesn't think he could ever really hope to expect one. Ever since joining Overwatch, their interactions had been brief, cold, and distant. It was difficult for the both of them, and despite himself all Genji can do is wait until Hanzo is prepared to do or say something, anything.
Genji closes his eyes behind his mask for a brief moment. "Jesse."
"Just sayin', don't much care for his general attitude."
"I know," Genji acknowledges, his gaze unwavering as he carefully observes the streets.
Minutes slowly tick by, and eventually he's able to spot a handful of men moving with caution but still purpose down the road. It doesn't take much for him to immediately recognize that they belong in Talon, and the way they're organized is for a hunt.
It feels as if his heart becomes a stone, sinking to the pit of his belly. "They're heading north in your direction. A dozen men," Genji says through their communication link.
"Noted. Let's follow," Soldier 76 answers.
Genji nods to McCree before he's moving silently through the shadows. Despite the rain and the puddles, Genji remembers his training well enough to make himself almost practically invisible while following. Albeit McCree has less grace, he's had plenty of experience in the world and the previous iteration of Overwatch to know how to cover himself plenty; Genji isn't concerned about being spotted. Not yet.
"They're splittin' off," McCree observes, studying the way the Talon mercenaries branch off into two groups of six. "One group's gonna run into you, old man."
"Then make sure you don't lose the other six."
They're leaving to cover more ground. It is a hunt, a prowl for something. Someone. Genji didn't doubt Hanzo's ability to survive, but whatever happened in those three weeks he doesn't want to imagine.
The group of six pause abruptly, observing something on the concrete ground before it's washed away with the rain. Whatever they murmur among themselves, Genji cannot hear, but it's not his immediate concern. The Talon men leave abruptly, more in a hurry, their intent decisive.
Genji goes to pursue, pausing only briefly to glance over what they had left behind. A streak of blood, faded, draining away into the closest sewage.
It takes every once of will to not tense up, fear flitting through him briefly before he remembers to focus.
"Y'good?" he hears McCree.
Genji can only nod before he's pushing into a faster pace, keeping up after Talon without drawing attention to him or McCree. Abruptly, the group turns a corner into a broader street, their guns clearly out, target nearby. They start to surround a storefront for sports, the glass shattered and clearly already broken into.
The familiar sound of an arrow shoots out, striking one of the Talon men in the throat.
"Go!" another mercenary orders.
It's more impulsive than he has been for quite sometime: Genji breaks into a run, drawing his blade as he rushes at them, slicing into one man's stomach before he can react and ducking away when the others become alert to his presence. From behind, he hears McCree sigh before he's firing from his position, covering the cyborg while Genji continues to push in to clear their path.
It isn't much, to cut them down and let McCree clean up the rest. For a moment, Genji hesitates. It seems too simple.
He shakes his head and steps into the store. Those concerns can wait.
The further he goes in, the more he can see splatters of blood across the floor. His throat constricts, but Genji continues inside until he finds his brother, crumpled into a far corner. Multiple cuts can be seen across his body, bruises darkening patches of his skin and his left foot set into a painful angle. In Hanzo's hands is a bow he'd taken from the store, though horridly pitiful in comparison to what he's usually armed with.
"Hanzo," Genji says quietly.
"Shit," McCree hisses, clicking his tongue as he looks over the fallen older Shimada. "Hey, we found him. You'd better bring Mercy," he announces on their network.
His brother glances up for a moment, then looks away sharply, letting out a shudder. Hanzo says nothing, remaining stoic as ever. It shouldn't hurt, it's what Genji expects, but he says nothing. Instead, Genji crouches by him, touching Hanzo's wrist delicately before the archer pulls from the contact. It doesn't take much more than that for Hanzo to slip away into unconsciousness.
Neither of them can afford panic, yet the feeling rushes through him. Despite how Hanzo had pulled away, Genji takes his hand.
All he can do is wait for the others.
-=-=-
When Hanzo opens his eyes, there's immediately a blinding white light burning into his sight. After he flinches, he growls and rubs his eyes as he shifts awkwardly out of the cot he's been left on. For a moment, he's not certain where he is, if he's still there, still trapped. But then, there'd be no reason for Talon to have given him medical attention, something he's noticed -- several bandages, a few shots for antibiotics undoubtedly, and his foot has been set correctly. Still broken, but braced.
As his eyes adjust to the light, Hanzo notices he's in a concealed glass box. There's a tiny shower and toilet with a cot, but he's otherwise surrounded by glass, cutting him off from the rest of the room. With a touch and a judgment of thickness, he determines that it's bulletproof.
"Genji will be in shortly. Soon as we're done talking."
Hanzo's eyes glance to the side, spotting Soldier 76. With a frown, he sits at the edge of his cot. He isn't certain he's thrilled to know that he'll be seeing his brother, but he suspects he has little choice. "I am listening."
Soldier drags over a stool and sits down, folding his hands together. "Mercy patched you up. Far as she could tell you don't have anything that's going to risk your health. That's the good news."
Hanzo waits.
"You remember what they did to you?"
"A little difficult to forget," Hanzo answers coldly.
"You remember everything?"
There's a pause, and Hanzo closes his eyes as he thinks. Most of the details can be recalled; in general, his time with Talon involved torture and interrogation. He told them nothing, but he realizes that there are gaps in his memory. Not shocking, not when the pain had gotten difficult enough to knock him unconscious.
"No," Hanzo admits.
Soldier exhales steadily. "Ten years ago when your brother first joined us, had an agent with us named Gerard. Good man, good ideals. Talon couldn't stand him and did everything they could to kill him. They failed for a long time. Man was untouchable. Then they got the idea of getting closer by snatching his wife. Sweet woman, loving. When we found her, we didn't see anything wrong and sent her home. Few days later, she killed her husband and ran off to Talon. You've met her; you know her as Widowmaker. Brainwashing isn't something we can account for. Not something I'm willing to risk a second time."
"You think that they've tampered with my mind."
"I think it's a possibility I don't much want to risk. And I don't think you do, either." Soldier stands up from the stool. "It's not a happy arrangement. But we're going to give it a week, let Mercy check on you once a day. Meals three times a day. Visitors whenever, but no one inside your cell."
Isolation after surviving Talon is not a pleasant thought, but Hanzo knows that there isn't any choice involved.
"Tell me you understand why we're doing this," Soldier 76 says, his voice a fraction quieter. Hanzo doesn't miss it, but doesn't call it out either.
Hanzo looks up finally, frowning as he responds finally, "I do. If I am a risk, then it is best to do what you have to." That is something he can understand.
For a moment, Soldier is quiet, staring at Hanzo before he straightens up and nods. "You have your communicator. If there's something you need, alert one of us."
"I will bear it in mind."
With little else to say, Soldier 76 gives one last gaze over Hanzo before he turns and leaves the room. Hanzo lets out a breath of air he'd been holding, momentarily leaving himself unguarded. His brows knit and he rubs the bridge of his nose.
Trapped in a box, looking out, being gazed in -- he can manage it, he knows it, but it's less than preferable after three weeks of enduring Talon.
The door opens, and he remembers to straighten up best as he can.
It's still difficult to look at Genji, everything that he is now. The body language often still is foreign to him, as is his entire body. The implants that he's taken on in order to survive make it difficult to remember who he is. Hanzo feels like looking away from him, but keeps his gaze steady instead.
Slowly, Genji approaches until he's not even a foot from the glass. Whatever he is thinking, it's impossible for Hanzo to tell. Years ago while they still lived under the same roof, Hanzo knew him; his expressions, his tells, every bit of what he was thinking, feeling, and going to do next. He knew his brother, and the man who stands before him is almost a stranger.
"We should not have left you behind," is the first thing Genji says, and Hanzo wants to scream.
"It is what I told him to do," Hanzo says instead.
Genji pauses, disinclined to argue, a strange choice. "I wish we didn't, then. But there is nothing that can be done to take that choice away. I'm relieved you're alive. This... situation as it is now is not what I asked for."
Hanzo's fingers, cut and bruised as they are, curl into fists, but he remains where he's sitting, trying to keep his calm. "I know why it must be this way. Soldier was clear in his explanation. It is sensible."
"Do you truly think that Talon's goal was to make you into one of their own?"
"You don't need to ask me that," Hanzo replies, his tone colder. "There were a dozen reasons I was there."
Genji takes another step closer to the glass. "I am not brushing away what you experienced while they kept you captive. I would not assume to know what they did to you."
"Then I would suggest you pay heed to Soldier's decision."
When silence sinks in, Hanzo feels for a moment that there's something left unsaid by Genji. Whatever it is, he doesn't say it, and holds his tongue. It was fine by Hanzo; this conversation is more than enough, and he silently begs for it to end.
Eventually, Genji reaches up and touches the glass, his palm resting there. It's as far as he can go. In return, Hanzo doesn't budge as he watches his brother.
"Remember, Hanzo. You are not alone here. Should you need something, we are here. It does not have to be from me," Genji tells him, his voice too calm, too gentle, and Hanzo cannot bear it.
The archer finally looks away, refusing to say more. Eventually, he hears Genji depart, his steps sounding deliberately paced, nothing like the easygoing swagger he remembers of his little brother. The door opens.
It closes.
Hanzo lets out a hiss of pain that has nothing to do with the wounds Talon has given him. It's a struggle, but he finds a way to stand for even a moment before he's pressing his palm against the glass where he remembers Genji's had been.