a/n: and here's part two! please correct me on any details involving blackwatch, overwatch history, or the general timeline, because i'm just writing based off my limited and mostly flawed mental repository ;;;

WARNINGS: same as last chapter, with emphasis on the gore and blood.

Genji is not dead.

This is the first thing he realizes when his conciousness stirs. The second thing he notices is the pain, a familiar prickle. Fresh and burning, it's almost a relief to his frayed senses.

Genji wants to bring himself to dissapointment or anger that he is still alive, but he finds nothing. There's only a quiet apathy sitting between his ears, pressing reassuringly at the back of his mind. He isn't sure how he feels about this, other than the fact that he doesn't.

When he opens his eyes, he is again in an infirmary room. It's not his old room; though the sterilized smell and distasteful green curtains are familiar, there's a slightly different way that the room is angled, and the window faces a cold wall this time. Dr. Ziegler sits expectantly in a hard-backed chair only feet away from Genji's face. He's unnerved by her presence, feeling as if the doctor had been waiting for him, knowing exactly when he would be waking up (which, with her technology, was entirely possible).

When Dr. Ziegler notices Genji staring blankly at her, her face settles into one of detached concern. She gives him a reassuring smile; Genji says nothing.

"So, Genji. How are you feeling?"

He's surprised that her first words are not along the lines of, "What were you thinking?" or "Why did you do it?", because he wasn't sure he would know how to answer. She'd taken on such an oddly mother-like archetype in Genji's mind, he'd almost forgotten the bitter indomitability of her pose, how she spoke with a planned grace.

There's a pause, and Genji clutches to his apathy like a lifeline. It's comfortably cold, conveniently removed. When he was younger, or even just a few months ago, he might have lied to the doctor, assured her that it was All Okay. Needless to say, he just doesn't care anymore. "I feel terrible."

Dr. Ziegler nods along, as if she was expecting this response. "It is understandable. You are going through difficult times. If you have anything you need to talk about, we are here. It's all going to be better. You are going to be okay."

Genji bites his lip, doesn't ask, "But what if I don't want to?"

Rehabilitation is easier the second time around, if not immeasurably more frustrating. Genji's tired of the blank walls and the vague scent of disinfectant and he wants to get out. (I can't do this again. Please, don't leave me alone with myself.)

Dr. Ziegler slips him a reading tablet to help pass the time, but he can't bring himself to be interested in it. When he was younger (and still in one piece), Genji might have invested in some ostentatious romance novels to spite his brother. But he's not with his brother anymore, and— Haven't I pissed you off enough? I've driven you to fratricide, a new low for both of us. Instead, Genji spends the mornings sleeping, the afternoons preoccupying himself with physical therapy, and the nights awake, heart beating a little too fast until his exhaustion puts him to sleep at dawn.

Whether by the doctor's notice or because they'd heard about Genji's trip up the cliff-side, none of the agents visit him anymore. The only glimpse he'd had of anyone besides Dr. Ziegler and the assistant nurses was Tracer, as she was wheeled past his open door in a hospital-style gurney. From the quick look he'd had at her, Genji couldn't see any visible injuries (excepting bruises and red dust), but she hadn't been moving. He wondered idly if she would be okay.

Days after Genji has regained control of his body, Dr. Ziegler walks into his room with a long stride. She is silent as she puts her tablet down, almost fidgeting with her coat as she approaches Genji.

"Guete morge, Genji."

Genji looks her in the eye. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

The way the doctor stills is answer enough. "I have good news, actually," she starts after a pause. "You will be officially released from the medical wing in about an hour. Winston has arranged for one of the west wing residential rooms to be available for you to use."

There's a beat of silence as Genji takes this in, reveling in the news of his freedom while at the same time, knowing with dread that there would be bad news to follow.

"But there's more to it," Genji offers wearily when Dr. Ziegler doesn't continue. Some kind of catch. No way Overwatch would give him a free body and let him go like that- years of growing up at the heart of an illegal arms trade business had taught him that much, at least.

She sighs. "Yes, there is." She shifts in her chair. "As you know, Overwatch has only provided me the funding and opportunity to heal and augment your body because you are an asset. You have a strong background in combat and extensive knowledge of the Shimada group's operations." Here she sits straighter, looking directly at Genji. "Blackwatch wants to recruit you to help dismantle the Shimada group completely; there's a offensive mission scheduled to depart for Japan in two days. Are you willing to go?"

Genji slumps back into his pillow. In a way, he'd seen this coming, had known it from the first day he woke up in a high-tech military facility. (But a small part of him still begs, no, I don't want to go back, please—) He doesn't want to say yes. But he's defeated now, and a slow burning in his bones reminds him of the council's disgusted faces and he feels anger rise in his throat. It's so raw, after weeks of apathy, that Genji almost doesn't recognize it at first. It's fury. Fury at his brother for killing him, at the elders for forcing his brother to kill him, at his father for dying, at himself—

He avoids Dr. Ziegler's eyes. "I will join them."

He spends the two days before the mission briefing and re-briefing with the Blackwatch squad that has been assigned to this mission. As far as he can tell (and as far as he cares, honestly), Blackwatch acts as an undercover operation within Overwatch, executing rather illegal missions under Overwatch's ruse of heroic justice. Genji might've been bothered by this ideology in his youth, but now he could care less. The dull apathy of the past weeks has been suddenly replaced by a slow, burning rage, which feels almost worse.

Genji sits at the very back of the transport plane when they finally depart. He still feels alienated, not at ease with the other agents or himself. As far as he knows, he can make a break for it after he exacts his revenge on the council and thus, has no need to associate with Blackwatch members. He had only been introduced to the squad he was working with once before a short training session, and had forgotten most of their names. He did remember Commander Reyes, however, surprised that he would be working with such a high-profile Overwatch agent right from the start.

The ride to Japan is shaky and unbearably long, exacerbated by the idle jingling from one of the agent's boots. (Cowboy boots? He looks like a cowboy. How stupid.)

They land on the outskirts of Hanamura and the mission begins without a hitch, Genji being assigned with the cowboy agent to a flanking group. Reyes reminds them of their objective— to sabotage a Shimada-controlled warehouse stronghold and take out as many operatives as possible. Moving out in groups, Genji tries to ignore the pained thudding of his heart as he takes in the port side warehouse, familiarity grinding at his chest. The cowboy gives Genji an odd look, but doesn't say anything, and Genji is thankful. At least this agent's manners aren't as distasteful as his attire.

Genji and his partner move around the back edge of the stronghold, stopping to ambush lone guards and rifling through their pockets for security keys and ammo packs. The cowboy seems quite invested in corpse-looting, fishing a pack of cigarettes from a dead sniper's jacket with a happy caw and tucking it into his belt.

"Reyes always takes mine," he says to Genji as an explanation, thought it really isn't one.

Genji tries not to look too closely at the operatives they execute (with surprising efficiency), afraid that it'll be someone he recognizes. He already made that mistake with the sniper, peeking under her hood to see the face of a girl who once challenged him to an arcade match at a Shimada clan meeting, whose parents were high-ranking Shimada members. Surprisingly, he doesn't feel nauseated. Or much of anything at all, besides the renewed anger at seeing another lose their life to the Shimada clan. (He refuses the examine the logic behind that statement too closely.) Though, the aching indifference he feels is much more horrifying than any grief he's ever experienced.

Genji and his partner round the final corner before the back entrance of the warehouse, where they were supposed to break in. The air is punctuated by occasional gunfire, as Reyes and the rest of the squad engage at the main entrance. The heavy door is unguarded— or rather, was previously guarded, before the cowboy agent had taken out the stationed guards with two excellent shots. Genji steps gingerly over their bodies, trying to avoid staining his armor, waving away encroaching memories of blood and hellfire—

There's a click as the door unlocks to the cowboy's stolen key card, and the agent peeks through the crack in the door, gesturing to Genji that there are three Shimada operatives in view. Genji mouths 'You first' to the agent, before remembering that the cowboy can't see his mouth due to his visor. Genji waves his hand instead, pointing at the cowboy and then the door. Frustration bubbles in his chest as the agent cocks his head, clearly confused.

Before either of them can move, there's a crash from inside the warehouse, followed by the sharp sound of something cutting through air. Genji feels his whole body freeze. He recognizes that sound— too slow to be a bullet, too fast to be a knife. The thunk as it sinks into wood or flesh (it all sounds the same). Only one sane person in the whole of Japan uses a bow in combat. He feels his heart plummet, his breathing pick up.

Vaguely, he hears the buzz of his communicator, Reyes announcing to the squad that they've breached the front entrance of the warehouse, that Genji and Mccree (Is that the cowboy?) better be ready to back them up from the opposite side. He feels light as the cowboy agent- Mccree?- shakes his shoulder, then turns to pull open the door.

Genji stumbles into the warehouse behind Mccree, scared and angry all at once. There's still a ringing in his ears, he hears the thump of arrow against wood, sword against flesh, and he's watching belatedly as Mccree whirls his revolver, taking down one, two Shimada operatives. The third guard rushes at Mccree from the back and Genji recognizes his face, the lines of his lashes— he's the son of a council elder, and suddenly Genji is moving.

His sword slides smoothly out of its sheath, and Genji summons his dragons under his breath, words barely leaving his mouth before he feels a familiar heat scorching his arms. (Idly, he's glad that he can still summon the dragons, after all he's done.) He dashes forwards, and the guard is dead, the line of a sword leaving mauled flesh in its path as it rips his spine in half. There's shotguns popping in the echoing span of the warehouse and Genji doesn't even acknowledge Mccree's shocked expression before turning on his heel and ripping into another Shimada guard who had been retreating from the front line firefight at the entrance. He loses track of himself and Mccree as he angrily tears through the rear of the Shimada operatives' force, cutting down enemies one by one. (Brother, Stop! What are you doing?) There's screaming and blood everywhere—

And suddenly blazing pain erupts in Genji's hip. He looks down with wide eyes to see a thin object impaled in his thigh muscles, burrowing into synthetic flesh. His vision is blurring, mind going haywire, it's him, it's him, killed by my own brother again—

When Genji next comes to lucidity he's laying on the warehouse floor, which is cold and aching against his back. He hears voices, but no gunshots or yelling. Sitting up is impossible, he finds, as he tries and immediately lets out a groan as his leg wound is stretched by the movement.

There's hard footsteps and suddenly Mccree is above him, crouching next to Genji's prone body and squinting at his face. Genji notes lines of blood on Mccree's outfit, and realizes darkly that Mccree would never come in contact with blood in normal combat with a revolver. It's from Genji, from his mindless usage of his dragon-

"Hey, buddy, you went pretty beserk there, y'know."

Genji peers up at Mccree's face as Reyes moves into view. The commander puts his hand on Genji's back to help him stand up, saying, "You've been out for about ten minutes. We can't really patch up your leg without Angela; Amari has done all she can for you. The rest of the squad's waiting near the plane for take off. You think you can walk?"

Genji manages a nod, leaning heavily against the commander's shoulder as they (and Mccree) pick their way across the bloodied warehouse floor. Genji tries his best not to look at the bodies, but there are just so many and the stench is overpowering. Instead he focuses on himself, noticing with dull surprise that the object impaled into his thigh was not an arrow but, in fact, a knife. Was Hanzo not there at all?

He pushes down his nausea until they arrive at the plane, where the sting of his wound combined with the fatigue from wielding his dragon so recklessly flood him and he can barely take his visor off in time to retch onto the pavement. Reyes watches disinterestedly before helping Genji up onto the plane.

Genji's dazed now, and there's a horrible taste in his mouth, but his stomach has stopped convulsing and he thinks he can survive the plane trip back to Watchpoint. Mccree sits next to him this time, and rubs his back as the plane takes off. Genji's leans into the agent's firm hands, weary and drained from the... from everything.

"Boy, you sure scared me back there. Some crazy shit you did with that sword." Mccree speaks in a whisper, which Genji can appreciate. "You sure you're okay?"

Something soft settles into Genji's bones, and he feels latent rage melt away into exhaustion. "I will be," he says.

(And when he makes his way back to Overwatch years later, with Zenyatta in tow, climbing up the cliff side to admire the shore, he thinks, I am okay now. Everything is fine.)

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this, though i think some characterization in this chapter could use some work. i'm not entirely happy with the ending, so i might go back to edit/revise that later. we'll see.

thanks for reading! leave a review if you enjoyed this, and especially leave one if you didn't!