Seattle, Washington

He ran as fast as he could through the streets of Seattle, taking every shortcut he knew to get back home. He cursed his luck for getting detention on the one day he needed to be home early. Not only that, but the stunt that landed him there wasn't even his fault to begin with. The fact that this also made him miss the bus home was the bitter icing on a very nasty cake.

'I'm gonna get you for this, Sammy, I swear.' Cursed the eleven-year-old boy.

Through alleys, shops, and backyards he ran, with no signs of stopping until he reached his home. A barrage of sounds bombarded his hearing. The rushing air made for a continuous undertone while his heavy breathing and footsteps provided a rhythm. This symphony of energy and work continued for another few minutes until, eventually, it came to an end as the child had finally reached his destination.

The two-story house stood proud and welcoming before him as he braced himself on his knees and caught his breath. He stood just down the path from the brown door of the big, blue abode. Shrubbery surrounded the property like a protective wall that the boy's parents thought would be a subtle, yet effective way to keep the neighbor's dog from relieving itself all over their front lawn, and it did.

Once his pulse had retreated to safer levels, the child straightened back up. With his mind re-oxygenated and he could think clearly once more, he walked towards the front door to his family's home, each step taken with purpose. It was also with each step that his excitement grew, because today was a very special day for him.

He reached the door and carefully opened it. It was by shear will power that he managed to keep himself from just ramming through in a roar of excitement. Slowly he stepped into the suspiciously quiet house.

"Mom?" He called out. "I'm home."

He was only met with silence.

The eleven-year-old dropped his school bag by the stairs then proceeded to search the lower floor for any signs of his mother. He stepped into the living room, only to find everything as it should be. An ornate fireplace stood in the far wall, opposite the door way. The Sofa sat along the left wall, underneath the window that looked out over the front lawn, and the T.V. hung within a recess in the large bookcase that took up most of the right wall, shelves lined with varying volumes ranging in topics. The young boy never understood why his parents always bought those books when they could just download each and every one of them on their tablets. He didn't understand why they continue to even make books.

Before he could further contemplate the continued existence of books, he found himself being lifted off the ground by a pair of strong arms with a yelp of surprise.

"Ahhh! Got ya, you little sucker!" Came deep, masculine and familiar voice from behind. This was then followed up by raspberries to the boy's neck. This caused him to burst out laughing at the ticklish attack.

"Dad! Ha! St-stop! Hahaha!" The child forced out. Mercifully, the attack was short lived.

"C'mon, Jess. you're getting sloppy, buddy." Said the brunette man as he was joined by a red-headed woman. Meanwhile, the boy, Jessie, caught his breath for the second time in ten minutes.

"I'm not…getting sloppy...you're just too…too good." Jessie managed to get out between breathes.

"I'm not that good, champ." Dad retorted. He then steered his son's attention towards the carpet laying in the center of the room.

"Look here. What do you see?" The older man asked. Jessie took one last breathe before speaking.

"Mom's carpet." He answered with a mirthful smirk.

Dad rolled his eyes while mom giggled.

"Wise guy. Seriously though, what do you notice that's off about the carpet?"

Jessie pointed a focused glare at the carpet, scanning it for any anomalies before locking in at the tassels lining their side of the carpet.

"The tassels." He finally said.

"What about'em?"

"The bunch near the corner. They've been rolled back, while the others are pointed towards the door."

"That's right. A sure sign that something or someone was here. Now the couch."

Jessie once more focused as he aimed his sights on the plush couch. He looked it over multiple times but failed to find anything.

"Give." Jessie claimed defeat.

"Look at the throw pillows."

He focused on the two square shaped pillows. One sat leaning against the back, while the other was, as jessie noticed, propped against the far armrest.

"The one on the armrest?" He asked. Dad smiled.

"Right again, sport. That's where I was hiding. You see, because the armrests are so low, I spun the pillow to hide the ol' dome." He finished with a finger tap to his head.

This bewildered Jessie as he looked back to the couch then back to his father.

"Wait a minute. Dad, if you were there, how'd you get behind me?" The eleven-year-old enquired.

The older man smiled as he pointed back at his hiding place.

"I pulled the couch forward just enough that I could squeeze my sorry butt behind it. Then, I made my way to the other end, and when you zoned out on the shelves, I struck."

"Aaahh, man!" Jessie groaned, letting his head roll back in frustration. His mother embraced him from behind before speaking.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll catch him one of these days." She reassured him before letting him go.

Then dad threw an arm around Jessie's shoulder before giving him a loving squeeze.

"Look on the bright side, buddy. Not everyone has an army ranger for a dad that they can learn from. Trust me, by the time you're eighteen, you'll already be a one-man army." He reassured his son.

This was received by a chuckle. "Yeah, right."

Dad just shook his head in faux-disappointment. "Well maybe not with that attitude." They all laughed at that.

"Alright, boys, enough horsing around. It's time for dinner. Now, seeing that your dad's back from deployment, I decided to make your favorites: Chicken Cordon Bleu Lasagna." Mom said, effectively steering the conversation towards the kitchen.

The thought of their favorite dish had both Jessie and his dad standing at attention. They both loved mom's chicken cordon bleu lasagna. It was a well-known fact that she was an amazing cook, and both males were reaping the benefits.

"Good idea." The two said in sync.

As they headed towards the kitchen, mom spoke up once more.

"By the way, honey, didn't you say you were gonna come home early to see your father? How come you were late?" She asked curiously.

Jessie's eyes went wide.

"Uuuuuhhhhh…"

The incessant beeping of a 6:45 alarm is enough to drive anyone to murder. Jessie groaned from under his sheets at the vile instrument. He hated waking up this early, but he had school to get to, so he reluctantly reached a hand out from under his duvet and smacked the alarm off before rolling himself out of bed with the grace of a painter in an earthquake.

It had been a few months since his father retired from the military to be with his family and was able to smoothly integrate back into civilian life. Thanks to his past experience as an army ranger, he was also able to find a well-paying job working for the west coast branch of Helix Security International, who's office was based in the soldier's home city of Seattle. Jessie was particularly happy to have his dad back, the young boy still receiving lessons every now and then from his hero. His mother was also more relaxed since her husband was now around to help support their family.

Jessie started slowly making his way towards the bathroom, however he was quickly interrupted when he had tripped and fell over, hitting the floor with a weighty thud.

"Ow. That hurt." He grumbled as he looked back to find what he had tripped over, only to find one of his shirts that he left carelessly lying around.

'So that's why they make me clean my room.' Jessie mused.

Now more awake from his little fall, the eleven-year-old got back on his feet and padded out once more towards the bathroom to freshen up.

Fifteen minutes later and Jessie was as fresh as an eleven-year-old could be at seven in the morning. He reentered his room and took a silent moment to contemplate his bed. He could almost swear it was calling to him.

'Oh, Jessie boy, the bed, the bed is calling.' He sang sadly in his head, silently wishing he could dive back in and go back to sleep. With a half-lidded expression and a grunt of disappointment, Jessie turned towards his closet to get dressed.

Soon, the eleven-year-old was climbing down the stairs, as ready as he could ever be to face another day in the life. Unfortunately, you can never truly prepare for everything that life will throw at you, as Jessie was about to learn as he made his way into the kitchen.

He didn't expect his parents to be there, considering how quiet the room was on his approach. This struck him as odd. His parents almost always talk when they're at the table together, but not this time. He found them sitting at an empty table, staring at the glass top. No food, no coffee, and no conversation. They didn't even notice Jessie walk in. Both adults too deep in their own thoughts. This worried him. They were just sitting there doing absolutely nothing, hands either folded on the table top or steepled in front of their faces.

There was also tension permeating the air, thick enough to slice. The discomfort with this situation only escalated when he noticed their expressions. Jessie had never seen his parents so thoroughly defeated, especially his father who was normally active, energetic, and positive. To see him like this threw Jessie for a loop.

Deciding to break the silence, Jessie spoke up, trying to catch their attention.

"Morning." He greeted.

His parents looked up in surprise, not having noticed their own son enter the kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Morning, champ."

Their replies were half-hearted. Their eyes lacked the sparkle that they usually contained, and their smiles were barely smirks, lacking any warmth what-so-ever before disappearing out right, once more, and the two adults return to their thoughts.

Jessie was really worried now, seeing how lifeless his parents were.

He trekked around the kitchen and grabbed what he needed to make himself a bowl of cereal, all the while thinking about what was going on with his parents. Sitting down at the table with his food, Jessie started eating, all the while fighting off a sense of foreboding. Between every bite he would look up at his parents, who barely moved since he walked into the kitchen.

The young boy couldn't take it anymore as he spoke up, again.

"Is, uh, is something wrong?" He hesitantly asked.

Both their heads snapped up in his direction again, and this time, Jessie got a good look at them.

His mom's eyes were slightly bloodshot and swollen, clear indications that she had been crying.

His dad looked sick. His skin was paler, and his breathing was slightly strained.

Jessie was getting scared now.

They both attempted a warm smile, trying to assuage his worry, but it came up short.

"No, honey. Everything's fine. Just a bad night." His mother said.

"Don't sweat it, buddy. Nothing to get worried about."

The young boy was clearly not convinced.

"It doesn't look like nothing." He said.

"Jessie…" His mom began with a sigh but was cut off.

"Mom, you've been crying. Dad, you look sick. Something's definitely happened. Please. Tell me. I wanna help." Jessie pleaded.

His mother wanted to say something, but his dad held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, gaining her attention.

"Loraine, he needs to know." He spoke gently to his wife. After a moment, she nodded her understanding as fresh tears began to spill from her eyes.

Jessie sat there quietly as he waited, his breakfast completely forgotten.

His father turned his attention to him and began addressing the eleven-year-old.

"I need you to listen carefully, Jessie."

Jessie was all ears.

Jessie stood in the hallway of his school as he grabbed what he needed from his locker.

Cancer.

His father, his idol, had been diagnosed with a fatal case of cancer.

Jessie's mood that day had completely bottomed out. He didn't want to talk to anyone, or be involved with anything. He even ignored his friends who picked up on his sour mood and just wanted to help. All he wanted was just to be left alone until he went home.

Luck, however, was not on his side today, it seems.

An arm just landed roughly around his shoulders, and, sadly, Jessie knew exactly who's arm it was. His mood broke through the floor.

"Michaels! Wassup, pal?" Sammy Hopkins greeted mockingly.

Jessie didn't flinch, but his ire was quickly rising. Unfortunately, the bully kept talking.

"So listen, I got some homework that's due after lunch, and I forgot to do it. Now that idiot Mr. Jacobs is riding me about this already, and I'm so not in the mood for his bull. So I need you to do it for me."

Jessie closed his locker and made his way down the hall, completely ignoring Sammy.

"HEY! Don't you walk away from me, Michaels!" Sammy grabbed Jessie by the arm and yanked him back. Jessie was just as stone-faced as ever. The bully glared.

"Are you deaf, punk!? I said I want you to do my homework!" Sammy raised his voice.

Jessie was getting even more annoyed.

"Leave me alone, Sammy." Jessie replied, monotonously. Sammy scoffed.

"Oh? Or else what, Michaels?" The bully challenged.

Jessie was now getting angry.

"I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

"Aww, you're not in the mood? Did baby wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Sammy mocked.

By now, other kids caught on to the exchange and were watching closely.

"You're an idiot." Jessie sighed, and made to turn away again, but was spun around by an angry Sammy.

"What'd you say, Bitch!?" The bully fumed.

"I said, no one's impressed by your swearing." He replied flatly.

"Is that right? Well, maybe I should make you swallow your teeth then, how about that, huh?" The bully threatened.

"Leave him alone, Sammy!" Came a girl's voice from the captivated crowd.

Sammy looked back to see Carla, Harry, and Lee. Jessie's friends.

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, girly?" The bully sneered.

The pony-tailed girl was about to give him a piece of her mind, but stopped when Sammy was suddenly and violently rammed, face first, into one of the lockers. It was enough force to break the boy's nose and leave a small dent in the locker's pristine surface. He fell to the ground before grabbing his broken and bloody nose, a look of shear pain on his face.

There wasn't a single jaw that hadn't hit the floor. They all stared at Jessie who was quietly making his way down the hall towards his next class.

He had no tolorence for Sammy and his tough guy act. Jessie had other things on his mind. Namely, the fact that his father was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to save him.

The beeping of the heart monitor set a grim back-tone to the room. The sterile white walls and bed sheets were not inspiring hope and confidence. The smell of antiseptic is enough to make one sick, despite their medicinal function. Jessie didn't want to be here. He wanted to be everywhere but here. He wanted to grab his family and make a run for it; to leave the hospital and all their problems, and go live a happy life.

If Jessie's dad wasn't the one connected to the heart monitor, in the sterile white hospital room that smell of antiseptic, he would have done just that.

The twelve-year-old stood by the only bed in the room, letting his mother and her slowly growing belly have the seat. He was heartbroken as he watched his dad, lying in bed, as he breathed through a respirator. His skin was paling slowly, and hair was all but gone at this point. He looked like death and it was nigh-impossible for the two other family members to bear.

Still, the dying man soldiered on. Defying the estimated time of death of his physician by a few months, his steadfast nature remaining strong and true. Despite this, it was clear his time was soon, and the mother-son duo had been visiting every chance they could.

Jessie had zoned out of the conversation between his parents, losing himself in his thoughts. Currently, he was coming up with a list of people he would happily replace his dad with. Sammy Hopkins was holding the number one spot.

"Jessie." The strained voice of his father broke Jessie out of his thoughts.

"Dad, what is it? What do you need?" The twelve-year-old fussed over the older man.

His dad smiled at this before grabbing his attention, again.

"Listen." He waved Jessie closer. "I'm not gonna lie to you, champ. I haven't got much time left. Right now, I need you to be strong, you hear? I need you to be strong for your mother and your new sibling. They're gonna need you, pal, so you gotta make sure you're there for'em, understand?"

Jessie nodded. This wasn't fair. His dad had been through so much, and gave so much. Why did he have to be the one to suffer like this? His mother as well. A couple of months after his dad was diagnosed, his mother discovered she was pregnant. She has to go through three full trimesters without her main source of support. Jessie was ill equipped to fill the sizable shoes his father was going to leave behind.

'I think I'm gonna be sick.' The twelve-year-old thought to himself.

"I know that this must feel daunting. Believe me, I understand, but you're gonna have to power through it. Just remember, if it ever gets too much, don't forget that the two of you are not alone. Your uncles and aunts will be there to help you. You'll always have family to help you. Remember that the Michaels family are a tight bunch. We never leave are own hung out to dry. Got that, buddy?"

Jessie sighed. "It's not fair." He said quietly. "Why does it have to be you?"

The man in bed gently took his son's hand into his own and gave it a loving squeeze.

"That's life, buddy, and I doubt I'm the only one."

"It's still not fair."

"I know, champ, I know."

The wet grass glimmered across the field, providing a contrast to the amount of grey that there seems to be, from either stone, sky, mood or emotion. The heaven's wept openly on this day as rain came pouring from the sky.

His eyes haven't deviated since he had first seen it laying on the table at the end of the room they had just vacated. The immaculate finish of the royal blue surface shined, beautifully contrasted with brass handles and ivory trim. It shimmered even more due to the rain water that soaked it from the frame up as it was carried towards its final destination by four men adorned in formal dress uniforms and hats. They proceeded in a slow, synched and steady gait; they had to show him maximum respect. He watched as they carefully carried him along the cobblestone path.

He held her hand which laid on his left shoulder, trying to give her as much strength as she was giving him. He hadn't left her side since the news was broken to them a few days ago. He promised him he would be strong for her, and to be there for her. However, his resolve was being tested severely. His eyes kept threatening to spill, but he kept them in check. They needed to support each other during these terrible times, and if he broke, so would she. He would never let that happen. He will live up to his standards, and he will protect his loved ones.

…But it was hard…

…so very hard.

The precession soon flowed off the cobblestone and onto a patch of green as it approached a freshly dug, rectangular hole that measured down to six feet in depth.

His heart sank, seeing his final resting place. His eyes stung once more, but clamped it shut.

Once he was placed on the lift that would lower him down into the earth, they all gathered around as the pastor spoke his words, words that truly described him in the best of light, as it should, for he had earned that right. The pastor continued, and his heart tightened even more but remained steadfast. She needed him to. The pastor soon finished, and the bagpipes began to play their song of loss and melancholy, followed by the ever-so-appreciative 21-gun salute. He had fought for this country and everyone within. He deserved no less. The arm that had remained around his shoulder throughout the day's journey brought him in closer, and he returned the favor by giving her hand another long squeeze, both communicating their support for each other.

The lift came to life and began to lower him.

He continued to fight his traitorous eyes and his hurting heart.

She let a few drops fall from her gaze.

Deeper and deeper he was lowered, and deeper and deeper their hearts sank, until he was finally laid in his final resting place. The bagpipes continued to play as the lifts were removed. They stepped up to the hole, taking a moment of silence in his honor, before allowing an intricate bouquet of roses to join him at the bottom. One white rose, one pink rose, one blue rose, and one black rose, surrounded by eleven red roses. They picked them out themselves for this day, to communicate to him what he meant to them.

They stepped back and watched as the hole began to be filled.

He could not hold them back anymore as his eyes had finally spilled over, followed by a quiet, choked sob.

She stood behind him and wrapped both her arms over his shoulders and around his torso, and pulled him gently into a strong embrace. He couldn't help it as he leaned back into her. He could feel her growing orb of life behind his back, being very careful not to harm it.

As the hole had been filled, they all started to leave, but they stayed a while longer, watching the freshly packed dirt. The rain continued to fall. Their tears continued to fall. However, her womb continued to grow, and so would he. He will be the man she- no -they needed him to be. He will make them proud.

He will make him proud.

Soon they turned away, and began to make their way home. As they began their trek, he gave his final peace.

'Goodbye, dad.'

Jessie was all over the waiting room, borderline panicking as he waited for the news.

It had been a few months since his father's funeral, and although he had not gotten over the loss, he was doing better, as well as his mother who had went into labor a few hours ago. Luckily, they decided to move her into the hospital, the night before, when the expected due date approached. That was lucky as her water broke a few days earlier than anticipated. Now, Jessie was pacing all over the waiting room waiting for the whole ordeal to end so he could see his mother, as well as his new baby brother.

Ever since his father told him of his new role as the man of the house, the thirteen-year-old had been doing everything in his power to live up to the title. He was virtually his mom's shadow, constantly by her side and fussing over her. It was endearing to the pregnant woman, but also a tad bit irritating. She was pregnant, not paralyzed. However, though she would never admit it, she did find an advantage in her son's constant fawning. Like any other child, Jessie was not one for studying and homework. His grades were above average at best. His mother knew that if he applied himself, he could do much better in school. After careful consideration, she decided to exploit her newly discovered advantage.

"Jessie, don't worry about me. Worry about your studies. I'd hate to be the reason you flunked out of school." She said when Jessie tried to help her up the stairs.

Apparently, it worked.

Jessie's grades skyrocketed, nearly shell-shocking his teachers. From above-average scores to top of his class, Jessie did everything he could to make sure his mother didn't have to worry about him. Jessie's mother was elated, knowing fully well that son could be a capable student. However, after a while, she realized something so left-field that she had to address it. Her little plan was starting to misfire when she noticed that Jessie was studying TOO MUCH. It was becoming worrying to the pregnant woman, much to her surprise. So, by following the same strategy that brought him to this point, she figured out a way to balance him out.

"Listen, sweetheart. As happy as I am to see your grades so high, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're studying way too much. It can't be healthy. Why don't you go have fun with your friends more, or pick up a sport? There's more to life than just fussing over me and studying. Your little brother's gonna need you fit and healthy so you could play with him."

That seemed to have done the trick as Jessie realized what his mother was getting at. So, he began to give her some space while still being close in case she needed him. He also started seeing his friends more, and to his mother's slight bewilderment, started engaging in parkour, also known as free-running, and proving himself quite adept to it. He would perform random maneuvers in and around the house to entertain his mother whenever she becomes struck by a bout of depression. She had a harder time after the funeral due to the hormonal and emotional rollercoaster that comes with pregnancy.

"Jessie."

His head snapped up in surprise, looking towards his uncle James and aunt Jenny who were going to watch him while Jessie's mom was in the hospital. Uncle James was his dad's brother.

"Relax, kiddo. All this pacing and worrying isn't helping anything. Seriously, at this rate, you're gonna be an old man by the time this whole thing blows over." He said with a mirthful smirk.

Jessie just sighed.

"Can't help it." He muttered.

"I'm sure everything will be fine. This isn't her first time." Aunt Jenny spoke up.

"You heard her, Jess. Sit down and take a load off."

Jessie sighed, conceding to his uncle's advice and sitting down.

The young boy couldn't help himself. He knew it wasn't his mother's first time in labor, but it was for him. Knowing his mother was in pain and there was nothing that he could do to help except to wait was driving Jessie up the walls.

The waiting itself was absolutely agonizing. They've been waiting a good four hours as it is.

'How long does this usually take?' He thought in frustration.

He placed his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands before letting out a sigh in worry.

The sudden weight of a hand on his head caught him by surprise. He looked up to see his uncle James giving him a comforting smile.

"Don't worry, son. Your mother's just as tough as your dad. I would know, believe me." He finished with a chuckle and a rub to the side of his jaw, remembering something that afflicted that portion.

Jessie managed a small smirk before letting it drop and returning his gaze towards the ground.

'She'll be fine.'

Two hours have passed before a nurse came by and passed on the news of a successful delivery. Jessie had been napping when it came. He was relieved, to say the least.

"Can I see her?" Jessie asked, or rather pleaded the nurse. The nurse herself simply smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

"Of course you can. She's waiting to introduce you to your new little brother." She said.

Jessie's eyes widened.

"My little brother!?"

'My little brother.'

Jessie stared at the little bundle in his mother's arms. He looked so small and fragile, wrapped in a hospital-issued blanket. Jessie just stared in awe at his little brother, who his mother had named Danny.

'Little Danny Michaels.' He thought wistfully.

His mother was exhausted, but elated, as she conversed with Jessie's uncle and aunt. To the thirteen-year-old, she looked like she'd been through a battle which, in hind sight, she had. He didn't mind it though. So long as she's fine, Jessie wouldn't have to worry.

'Thank god it's over.' He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jessie." Came his mother's tired voice, snapping him from his musings. He looked up to find her smiling at him.

"How're you doing, sweetheart?" She asked gently.

Jessie matched his mother's smile as he spoke.

"Don't worry about me, mom, I'm fine. It's you who I should ask. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Mom giggled before replying.

"I'm fine, honey. Just tired. Giving birth is never an easy thing, you know."

"Yeah, I guess so." The teenager said, sitting closer to his mother.

"So, what do you think? Did I do a good job?" She asked her son, playfully, presenting his new baby brother to him.

Jessie looked at the little bundle of joy sleeping in his mother's arms. His tiny chest rising and falling in slumber. He could just see a small tuft of brown hair on his head, and from what he had heard from the adults' conversation, he apparently had his mother's eyes. She had blue eyes, which meant that Danny also had blue eyes. Jessie didn't care though. To him, his little brother was perfect in every way.

"Yeah, mom. You did a great job. He looks amazing." He answered with sincerity.

Mom looked down at the bundled-up child, eyes expressing nothing but pure love for her baby boy.

"He does, doesn't he? …Your father would've been proud."

Jessie's smile faded slightly at the mention of his deceased father. He knew his mother is still hurting from the loss as much as he was. Maybe even more. He leaned forward over the bed and placed a loving kiss on his mother's head before sitting back down next to her bed.

"I'm sure he is, mom. I just know it."

"Yeah…he probably is. Thanks, sweetheart." She said, looking back to her first-born.

"You're welcome, mom."

"You think you can be a good big brother to your little brother?"

"I know I can."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It was at that point that the nurse peeked in.

"I'm sorry to disturb you all, but I'm afraid visiting hours are almost over, and the patient needs her rest." She announced before leaving once more.

Uncle James stood from his chair opposite Jessie.

"Alright, gang. You heard the nurse. Let's pack it up and let these two grab some shut eye." He then turned to Jessie's mom. "Don't worry, Loraine. We'll be back tomorrow morning. We'll even smuggle you some pancakes in Jenny's purse, how about that?" He finished light-heartedly.

"Nice, big, blueberry pancakes just for you. We know how bad hospital food can get." Aunt Jenny quickly added. Mom giggled at the two.

"You sure ain't whistling dixie, babe. The stuffs all kinds of nasty; right up there with those military M.R.E. things. Trust me we'll be doing the woman a favor."

They all had a good laugh before Uncle James and Aunt Jenny said their goodbyes and started making their way out of the hospital room.

"Hey, Jess. You comin', kid?" The older man asked when he noticed the teen wasn't following. Jessie nodded before answering.

"I'll be there in a sec."

"Alright, then. We'll be outside." With that, they two adults left the room.

Now that the mother and her two sons were the only ones left in the room, Jessie spoke up.

"You sure you're okay, mom?" He asked, voice tinged in worry.

His mom couldn't help another smile.

'He's still worrying about me.' She thought appreciatively.

"I'm absolutely fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about me. The worst is already over, and we're surrounded by trained doctors and nurses. I'm pretty sure I'll be fine."

"I hope you're right." He sighed. The older woman adopted a look of concern.

"Jessie? What's wrong, honey? Why all this worry? Why so nervous?" She asked, her motherly instinct on high alert.

Jessie fidgeted.

"…It's just…I…I read online that there are possibilities of…um…c-complications." He confessed. His mother, despite her tired state, realized what he was referring to.

"Oh, sweetheart." She sighed in sympathy. She then shuffled over slightly and patted the vacant spot next to her for Jessie to join her. Confused, the young boy climbed onto the bed next to his beloved mother. She surprised him when she adjusted her hold on his baby brother to free up one of her arms, pulling her eldest into an embrace, making sure that his head was right over her heart. Jessie couldn't help but return the embrace. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief at the familiar sensation of warmth and safety that comforted him many a time during his thirteen years of life.

The sound of her heartbeat lulled him; his stress and worries fading away, powerless against the safety, comfort and adoration that only a mother's love could give. For a moment there was nothing but the muffled beat of her heart beating below his ear. Soon, her soft, gentle, and angelic voice came through, joining the life-giving rhythm.

"Can you hear it?" She simply asked.

He nodded against her chest.

"Does it sound healthy?"

He nodded again.

"Does it sound strong?"

…and again.

"Good. That's exactly how it'll sound the next time you see me. Do you understand, sweetheart?"

Another nod.

This earned him the sensation of soft lips on his head as his mother gave him a tender, loving peck. They spent the next moment in a comfortable silence, him still cuddled up and listening, and her rubbing his back in their embrace.

They soon parted, and Jessie climbed off the bed. Mom spoke up again.

"You better get going, before your uncle starts calling you a 'mama's boy' or something." She said with mirth. Jessie laughed before adopting a look of false worry.

"Uh Oh. Guess I better get going then. Bye mom. See you tomorrow." He quickly gave her one last kiss on the cheek before running around the bed to plant a gentle one on his baby brother's head. After that he made for the door.

"Bye, honey. I love you." She called out just as Jessie opened the door.

"Love you too, mom. Goodnight." He returned with a smile before closing the door and leaving the hospital feeling elated and content.

He couldn't feel anything anymore.

He couldn't feel the chill of the hospital interior.

He couldn't feel the weight of his uncle's hand on his shoulder.

He couldn't feel his extremities.

He couldn't feel the grim atmosphere that had befallen the building.

He couldn't feel his own heartbeat.

He couldn't hear anything, either.

He couldn't hear what the doctor was saying.

He couldn't hear his uncle replying in anger.

He couldn't hear his aunt crying.

He couldn't hear his baby brother calling.

…

He couldn't hear her heartbeat.

…

His mental faculties had failed him.

His body was unresponsive.

His emotions were confused.

They had failed him.

They had failed them.

They had failed the baby.

Worst of all, they have failed her.

The world around him began to tilt forward.

There was a pulling sensation.

The walls and doors were replaced by ceiling and lights.

Air rushed past him.

Impact.

Everything went black.

The doctor's words were the last thing to go through his head.

"Mrs. Michaels had suffered from cardiac arrest last night, and has tragically passed away."

Location: Unknown

Jessie shot up fully alert and tense, ready for a fight. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his lungs were heaving as they tried to supply the oxygen needed. His eyes quickly scanned his surroundings for signs of hostilities only to find himself inside what looked like a church.

He looked on in confusion at the empty rows of pews that were neatly split into two columns down the middle of the main room. He was sitting on the ground propped up by his left arm. The beige marble tiling felt cold under his palm.

Jessie checked himself over, confused further at the sight of his adult body.

'Wait. Wasn't I just….' He began thinking before realization dawned on him.

Memories. They were all his memories from his childhood. From the day his father came home to the day his mother died.

A sharp pang of pain struck the twenty-three-year-old, having remembered the worst moments of his life. The images of his mother and father smiling flashed through his mind. The ex-soldier grimaced at the fact that he had to relive those horrible times.

'It felt so real.'

Pushing away his dark thoughts, Jessie stood up off the marble floor and dusted his hands, only mildly aware that his hands were clean, and the floor was devoid of all dust particles. Now off the ground, he took another good look around at the mysterious location.

'Nice place. Love the décor.' He mused, admiring the church. The walls were painted a pure white with added flake to make them shimmer in the light of the sun that shined into the holy construction through a massive domed skylight. The ceiling surrounding the glass skylight was covered in a beautiful mural that Jessie did not know anything about. Other wall decorations hung from the walls symmetrically. One wall mirrored the opposite. At the end of the aisle, there stood an altar that was bare of everything save for a white sheet that covered the surface. A ten-foot-high golden cross stood behind it. Behind the cross was a huge floor-to-ceiling window that further shined light into the room and giving the giant ornament an ethereal, golden glow.

Looking behind him, he found the front doors, and walked over. It never occurred to him just how quiet this church was, however, as he walked, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the chamber-like room truly emphasized just how empty it all felt. There was no other sound. There was no mood. There didn't even seem to be an atmosphere. There was no life, what so ever.

'It's quiet in here. Too quiet.' He then smiled to himself. 'Never thought I'd get a chance to say that.'

Moments later, he reached the doors. A large set of mahogany doors stood as the church's sole entrance point. They stood a good seven feet tall with gold, ornamental handles and hinges. He grabbed the handle and tried to open them, but they wouldn't budge.

"Seriously?" He said with ire.

He tried again, with the same results. He then tried once more, but with more force. It still wouldn't give.

'Great, I'm locked in.' He thought, giving the door a kick in frustration. All that did was result in a small echoing boom that further emphasized the deathly silence.

He let out an irritated sigh as he realized that he was not going to leave through the front. He turned around to go find another exit but stopped dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat in shock at what he saw.

A Casket now laid on top of the altar.

"…the hell…?" The former lieutenant muttered.

Its sudden appearance unnerved him. The altar had absolutely nothing on it when he first saw it, and he did not hear or see anyone else, especially if he was standing at what seemed to be the only set of doors in the entire chamber. The casket now occupied the surface, and suddenly becoming the center of attention.

Jessie didn't dare move. He also couldn't look away from the unholy container. It wasn't just it's sudden appearance that scared him, it was the fact that it looked unnervingly familiar.

Painted a deep royal blue, equipped with brass, and trimmed in Ivory, his father's casket gleamed in the sunlight. Combined with the golden glow of the cross, the image was simply too surreal; too unnatural yet beautiful.

With utter will power, Jessie managed to get himself moving. Slowly but surely, he approached the altar. The last time he saw it was back at his father's funeral, before it was buried beneath six feet of dirt.

That was over eleven years ago. The casket looked as fresh as the day it was made.

Step by step, Jessie got closer and closer, until eventually he stood before it. He eyed it closely, unsure if it truly was his father's. He slowly reached out and grabbed hold of the brass latches, and unfastening them. He didn't know what he was doing, but gut feeling dictated that he open it. He had to be sure.

With the latches undone, he grabbed the lip with both hands, and promptly hesitated.

'Do I really wanna do this?' He mused, unsure if he wanted to see what was inside.

Steeling his resolve, he took a deep breath and held it before quickly flipping the lid open.

He released the breath as his beating heart began to calm down from the anticipation.

The casket was empty. He was only greeted by the padded, ivory silk of the interior.

Jessie let out a sigh, frustrated that there was nothing to clue him in on the casket's mysterious appearance, but also glad that he didn't find his father's body inside. Closing the casket, he gave the blue box another cursory scan. His gaze landed on the plaque that was mounted on the body, between the two brass carrying handles. Leaning down, he read the name printed on it…and his eyes went wide in surprise, seeing that it wasn't his father's name on it, or anyone else's for that matter.

JESSIE D. MICHAELS

"What the fuck!?" He whispered to himself as he slowly backed away his casket, absolutely unnerved and very worried.

"What the fuck is right."

Jessie spun around in an instant at the voice that came from behind him.

His jaw promptly hit the floor, unbelieving of the sight that greeted him.

"Surprise, surprise, buddy."

Jessie didn't know what to think. The man in front of him looked exactly like him. Same brown hair, same brown eyes, same built physique, he was even wearing the same clothes that Jessie was currently wearing. It was like staring at a mirror. It was that uncanny.

It scared the shit out of him.

"No way. No FUCKING way." Jessie said in disbelief.

The doppelganger smiled.

"You better believe it, otherwise we're gonna be here all day." The second Jessie said.

Instinctually, the real Jessie reached behind his pants for a gun only to find nothing, much to his dismay.

"C'mon, man. Do you really wanna start a firefight inside a church?" The new arrival said disapprovingly.

"Who the hell are you!?" Jessie hissed, not willing to stand down while this clone was here. He didn't trust anything now, not even the furniture, seeing as they seem to appear or disappear at will.

The other man maintained a calm demeanor as he spoke once more, sticking his hands In his pockets.

"Me? I'm everything and/or nothing you want me to be. I could be your subconscious, your will to live, your fighting spirit, maybe even the voice of logic inside that skull of yours." He shrugged. "Either way, at the end of the day, I'm you."

"What?" Jessie was thoroughly confused right now.

"Let me explain." He began walking around, inspecting the room. Jessie's eyes never left him for a moment.

"You see all this?" He turned around and walked backwards while lifting both arms to emphasize the large chamber they were in. "All this isn't real. Nothing." He stopped and dropped his hands. "As we speak, we are NOT inside a beautiful church of gold and white and what-not, and that is not our dad's casket with our name on it." He finished by pointing back towards the altar.

Jessie watched his so-called subconscious closely. He was finding everything he was saying hard to swallow.

"…So where….?"

"We're inside your mind, right now."

"What!?"

"You heard me."

"Inside my mind."

"Yup, and I can prove it."

"I don't trust you to prove anything to me."

"You won't believe me without proof, yet you don't trust me to prove it. You just brought this whole thing to a stand-still. Congratulations." The new Jessie pointed out in an irked tone of voice.

Jessie conceded that he may have just made things more difficult for himself.

"Alright. How?"

Jessie two smiled.

"Easy. Just imagine something inside this room, anything you want."

"Are you serious right now?"

"DEAD serious."

The way his twin emphasized the word 'dead', for some strange reason, sent shivers down Jessie's spine. Pushing any morbid thoughts out, he hesitantly focused on the task at hand, closing his eyes as he imagined something that would make or break the other man's claim.

"Yeah, now we're talking!" The second Jessie cheered making the real Jessie open his eyes to see for himself.

'You have got to be kidding.' His jaw hung open and he was left dumb-founded, yet again.

"Nope. I'm not. Clearly, you're convinced, now." The doppelganger replied.

"How'd you…never mind." The real Jessie wondered how the other man read his thoughts, but then remembered that he was his subconscious and/or his common sense.

Jessie was now a believer as he stared in awe at the gigantic, carbon copy of Doomfist's gauntlet. In addition to the enlarged glove, one side of the church had been extended further and higher to accommodate the enormous glove comfortably. It walls were even painted and decorated, and there were no signs of recent construction, what-so-ever.

Jessie two chuckled.

"Go big or go home. Shit, this thing was a massive pain in the ass to begin with, the hell's it gonna be now?"

Jessie one sighed.

"Don't know, and I don't really care, right now." He stated before sitting down at the nearest pew, rubbing his face with both hands. "So, tell me. Why am I here?"

The other man joined him as he spoke.

"You're in a coma right now, standing at death's door."

Jessie was, once again, surprised.

"A coma!? What the hell happened!?"

"Try to remember."

Jessie blinked, and then focused on his memories, trying to remember the last thing that happened to him. For a moment nothing came to mind.

But then…

…It all came rushing back.

The market place.

The hitmen.

The car chase.

The crash.

The alleyway.

The samurai and the ninja.

The warehouse.

And…

"Ahh!" Jessie recoiled as a sudden sharp hit of pain had erupted in his head, behind his right ear. Instinctually, his palms flew up to apply pressure to the source, hoping it would dull the pain. After a moment the pain quickly receded until it was gone. His heavy panting soon began to slow down as well.

"Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, I know." Came his voice from beside him.

Jessie looked up to the second as the other man continued.

"Just so you know, that was the watered-down version. If it was the real deal, this whole thing we're in would have come crashing down because of the trauma."

Jessie looked back towards the ground, leaning onto his knees.

"Holy shit." He muttered, still panting heavily from the ordeal.

"What's holy is the fact that you're still alive. You always were a stubborn man." He finished with a smile. This made the real Jessie chuckle tiredly.

"Of course. I'm a Michaels, ain't I?" Jessie returned the smile.

"That you are."

"So, I'm in a coma?"

"Yup."

"How long?"

"Don't know."

"Am I gonna make it?"

"That's up to you, buddy. Do you want to go back to the real world?"

"…I don't know. It's been shitty, so far."

"Hmm. You miss mom and dad." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course, I do."

"You wanna see'em?"

"Yeah."

"Then get in that casket." He said, pointing at the blue container up ahead.

"What?" Jessie was stumped.

"Mom and Dad are dead. No undoing that. Nothing could ever bring them back, and you know it."

Jessie did know it. It still caused him no less pain and grief to hear it. He would never show it out in public, but Jessie missed his parents severely. The ten years they had been gone were the hardest years he ever had to endure, and he was still twenty-five years old. He still had another eighty years to go, at least. It would be another eighty years of nothing but hardships. He didn't know if he could handle that.

"If you wanna end this hell you've been living; If you wanna see your parents again, all you have to do is walk up to that casket, climb in, I'll seal you in and you'll go gently and peacefully. All of this will end, and you can see your parents again."

The dying man's eyes snapped to his twin.

"…You can't be serious."

"As serious as cancer."

Jessie's eyes locked on to the royal blue container on the altar. Having been given the option to bring his hard life to an end, with the added bonus of being able to see his parents again, the temptation was strong.

'To see mom and dad, again. No more heartache and no more troubles. All I have to do is get in…but…'

"…I can't."

The other Jessie looked to him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"And why is that?" He asked, even though Jessie knew he knew the answer.

"I got a promise to keep."

"Figured."

Before Jessie could say anything else, his doppelganger stuck his arm in front of him, clutching something in his hand.

"Here."

Jessie looked at his hand and smirked, taking the proffered cigarette and accepting a light. They sat there in an oddly comfortable silence for a while, smoking their cigarettes.

…

…

"You know, I was hoping you weren't gonna do it."

"Then why did you tell me?"

"You had to know. Voice of logic, remember? Logic requires data, and you need to know your options."

"Life or death."

"That's the gist of it."

…

…

"Aren't you also my subconscious?"

"Like I said earlier, I'm everything and nothing you want me to be, and that includes your subconscious. Which reminds me."

Jessie two then pulled out a phone and handed it to Jessie one.

"I don't know where we are, but apparently, your little brother's nearby."

"How'd we figure that?"

"He was talking to you while you were memory surfing. Use the phone to play back what he said."

Jessie looked at the phone. It was unlocked, and only had one app. It was laughably simple.

"Before I check this, I gotta ask. What's with the phone? Or this church? Or even the casket?" He asked his twin. He had been wondering why his faculties had presented themselves in such a manner.

"Easier on the brain. Don't forget, you're still in a coma and your head took a beating. Think of it as a warm up period before your mind's back to 100%." The other man stated.

"Makes sense, I guess." He then opened the app. There was only one audio file which, presumably, was his brother talking to him. His thumb hit the play button and, surprisingly, it didn't come out of the phone's little speaker. Instead, it emanated from the air surrounding them. Jessie began hearing Danny speak.

"…Jessie?" Came the melancholic tone of his little brother. He sounded utterly defeated.

"I…uh, I hope you can hear me. The doc said there was a chance you could; that it might help." There was a short pause.

"She's really good. She should be 'cause she saved you…back in numbani; the warehouse." Another pause.

"We almost made it. We almost got away, but...but then I went and tripped over myself…and you got shot." Another pause fallowed by a small sniff.

"There was a lot of blood, jessie, your blood, from your head. It was bad. Really bad. If Overwatch didn't show up…." A sigh.

"There was a moment where your heart stopped, but then Mercy, the doc, she did this super cool, gold, healing magic thing with her staff, and brought you back!" There was a moment of excitement in the ten-year-old's voice as he talked about your rescue. It was still a bit of a shock for Jessie to hear that, for a short moment, he was clinically dead.

"But that was a week ago. We're now at this old Overwatch base in Gibraltar. You've been asleep the whole time we've been here, and haven't woken up, yet. The doc did everything she could…but so far there was barely any progress. Apparently, the ball's in your court, big bro. It's up to you to wake up." Another pause, longer than the others, followed by another sniff.

"Please, Jessie. Please wake up. I know I'm a Michaels…but I still get scared without you. I'm not strong like you. I don't know how to fight." Yet another pause.

"I really hope you can hear me. I love you, bro…and I miss you."

The recording ended.

The second Jessie was the first to speak up.

"At least he's safe, and it's only been a week, not two years or any of that bull." He said in an uplifting manner. The real Jessie stood up and started pacing.

"Doesn't matter if it was a week, two years, or a goddamn millennium. The fact is, he needs me and I'm not there for him." He said. He was not happy hearing his brother so grim.

"Technically." The second Jessie clarified.

"Technically." The real Jessie agreed.

"Well, get out there and cheer him up, then." The doppelganger told him.

"How do I do that?"

"Front door's over there." Jessie two said, pointing over his shoulder at the mahogany doors at the front of the room.

"I tried. They won't budge." Jessie one voiced his frustration.

His twin didn't say anything. He simply tossed his host a set of keys.

"Take these as well." He then handed him a pair of sunglasses. Jessie looked at his twin, lifting the glasses in silent enquiry.

"It's a little bright behind those doors." He simply informed. Jessie didn't prod further, taking his word for it.

Walking towards the doors, Jessie put on the shades, and grabbed one of the keys given to him. There were three, and they were all identical. Reaching the mahogany slabs, he inserted the key into it'd designated slot under the gold handles. It went in smoothly and willingly, and when he turned it, there was the very satisfying, heavy sound of the lock releasing.

'So much better than electric locks.' He mused. He could hear his twin chuckling behind him, still on his pew.

"Close the door behind you, will ya?"

"Sure."

Jessie turned one of the gold handles and opened the door. He recoiled and winced as he was nearly blinded by the shear intensity of the light shining behind it.

"A little bright, huh?" He called back at the man still seated.

"Yeah, a little bright." He answered in mirth.

"I'm such a smart ass." He muttered, before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Watchpoint: Gibraltar

By now, the padding on the chair he'd been sitting on had probably permanently settled into his shape. He had been sitting on it all day, every day for the past week since they came back from Numbani, and since then, he had sat vigilant over his older brother who had been comatose since suffering a GSW to the back of his head. They all held on to some hope that he would wake up soon. The fact that the shot that had left the ex-soldier in this precarious situation did not penetrate the skull was a miracle. In addition, the brain wave scanner was showing clear signs of activity with no irregularities, which means there was a good chance of him making a full recovery when he comes out of his coma.

As for the younger of the two brothers, He had been very quiet for much of the time they had been here. Dr. Zeigler could still tell that he was still struggling with guilt over what had happened. He continued to blame himself for his brother's demise, though not as much as when they first arrived, as Angela had allocated a good amount of time since to console the child and assuage his sense of culpability. She had been largely successful in this endeavor, but traces remain. She brought him most of the way, but now, only the man in question can truly alleviate the young boy from his blame, once and for all.

"Has he even gone to the bathroom?" Genji asked quietly. He was sitting on a stool next to Angela. At the doctor's insistence, he had come in for a check-up. If she was going to resume being the head physician, she will need to keep her files on all current agents up to date. Genji was the second. Angela had checked over tracer first after the adventurer had sustained injuries in London.

The doctor sighed as she glanced at the ten-year-old, then back to the cyborg before her.

"He has, but only because I reminded him. Even then, I had to give him doctor's orders. This situation with his brother is affecting him harshly." She replied, matching Genji's volume as she worked. Genji watched the little boy as he sat quietly, waiting for his brother to wake up.

"According to Winston, they are all they have. You cannot fault him for remaining by his brother's side, especially considering the current situation and everything they had suffered in Nigeria. Their bond is strong, and it shows."

"Indeed. I pray for the two boys, every day. They do not deserve to be in this situation. No one does."

"If only the whole world shared your sentiments, doctor." Genji said, looking back to Angela.

"If only." She sighed again before finishing up. "All done, Genji. You can put your chest plate back on."

"Let me guess: I'm as sick as a dog?" He asked humorously as he reattached his chest plate that covered up his mangled torso underneath. This made the doctor smile.

"Indeed, you are a complete and utter biohazard, and must be quarantined and put down as soon as possible." She returned his levity, and they both shared a light chuckle.

Their moment, however was cut short as a series of rough coughs originated from the occupied bed nearby. The noise had Danny up and alert within a moment's notice.

"Jessie!? Jessie!" He then looked back at the good doctor. "Doc! He's awake, hurry!"

Angela for her part was already equipped and making her way towards the prone man, with Genji close behind. She gently pulled Danny to one side and began to examine the now awoken Jessie. First thing she did was flash a small beam of light into his eyes, watching as they dilated.

"Jesus H. Christ, what's with all the bright lights?" Came his groggy response.

Doctor Zeigler put the light away, ignoring his comment. She then brought out her stethoscope, placing the pad onto the older Michaels' broad chest.

"Breath." She ordered.

Following orders, Jessie began taking slow deep breathes. It was a little uncomfortable due to having a dry throat, but he managed to get his coughing under control. Genji stood by Danny, a comforting hand on his shoulder. The two watched on, waiting for the all-clear from the doc.

The doctor removed the tool and proceeded to hold a finger in front of his face.

"Please follow with your eyes only."

He did. He kept his head still while his eyes followed her dainty digit as it moved up and down, then side to side. She dropped her finger afterwards once she was satisfied with the results.

"What is your name?" She asked, making sure his memory was intact.

"Jessie David Michaels."

"When were you born?"

"August 17, 2052." He answered obediently. This wasn't the first time a doctor had asked him these questions to make sure his mental faculties were intact.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Running for my life with my little brother. We were being chased by mercenaries who wanted us dead. We ran through the city streets until we ended up at a warehouse where we thought we lost them, but one of them got the jump on us. I was able to hold him back, but then I lost my footing. I tried to get up quick to get out of dodge, I wasn't quick enough, and I got shot in the back of the head."

Angela hummed, satisfied that her patient was going to make a full recovery.

"Well, Mr. Michaels, I can confidentially say that you are going to be just fine. Welcome back." She finally spoke with smile, happy that Jessie was going to make it through without issues. Danny let out a sigh of relief while Genji relaxed his stance. He gave Danny's shoulder a small pat before removing his hand all together. Danny noticed this, and his inner fanboy went ballistic, though he made sure it didn't show.

"Thanks doc, though you can drop the whole 'Mr. Michaels' noise. 'Jessie' is fine." Jessie replied with a tired yet appreciative smile. He then looked to his right, seeing his little brother looking safe and sound, which relieved him to no end.

"Danny." He called him over. Danny was at his brother's side within the blink of an eye.

"Right here, bro. Always have been." He said, fixing Jessie with a genuine and loving smile. He too was beyond relief knowing his older brother was finally awake and healthy.

"Don't doubt it, little buddy. How've you been fairing? Did you get your own scars yet, or did the doc do too good of a good job patching you up?" He asked, returning the smile. Danny chuckled while Doctor Zeigler smiled at their banter.

"Nah, I'm fine. You were the one who did all the work. All I did was follow you, or fall over."

It was only because the two brothers were very close that Jessie was able to pick up on a near-unnoticeable change in Danny's voice near the end of his comment, and it set off alarms in the older man's head, though he didn't show it. He would have to have a word with Danny in private about it, later.

"Glad to hear it, champ. Don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." Jessie said as he placed a hand on his little brother's head.

It was then that he noticed the third figure standing behind Danny, brows rising in recognition as he eyed the cyborg.

"I remember you. The ninja from the parking lot. Kenji something, right?"

The man in question took a step forward and spoke.

"It's Genji, actually. Genji Shimada." He replied, bowing slightly in greeting. "May I ask how you know this?"

"Easy. Boy genius here is a big Overwatch fan." He smiled as he ruffled his brother's hair, and then chuckled as Danny subsequently swatted his hand away.

"So we've heard." Genji said with a nod.

"Yeah. Anyway, thanks for the assist back there. We'd probably both be dead if it wasn't for you. Both of you. We owe you big time." He said as he sat up, taking note of the hospital gown he was wearing.

"On the contrary. We're the ones who owe you." A deep voice had caught everyone's attention. Over by the med-bay door, Winston had just arrived with Tracer in tow, catching the tail-end of Jessie's conversation with Genji.

The ex-lieutenant quirked a brow at the fuzzy scientist.

"How'd you figure that?"

The new arrivals approached the group, Winston with a confident and friendly smile, and Tracer with look of curiosity and intrigue. The former began to speak.

"Allow me to explain, Mr. Michaels…"

"Jessie."

"…Jessie. You see, when you stopped Talon from stealing the Doomfist gauntlet, back at the Heritage Museum, you prevented the possibility of a fourth Doomfist. Understand now? You saved the world from a very serious threat." Winston's words oozed enthusiasm.

"Glad to hear it, I guess." Jessie responded, a small smile working its way on to his face.

"Indeed. Unfortunately, it also means that Talon aren't happy with you two, to say the least." Winston frowned.

"That's something I don't get." Jessie began. "The heist was a bust, so why waste resources on petty revenge? On two no-name civilians, none-the-less." He asked in a contemplative frown of his own.

"To send a message, mate. You two would have been hailed on the news as 'eroes. If ya suddenly popped up cold-blood and quiet, then everyone will know to stay away from Talon." Tracer spoke up this time, voice grim as she answered the older Michaels.

Jessie supported an elbow, and massaged his temples with his free hand. He let out a sigh of frustration at their precarious predicament, and Danny looked very worried.

"So, what now? We can't go back. The city's too hot." Jessie asked as he crossed his arms. He was still tired from his coma, and was in no shape, physically and mentally, to figure out their next step of survival.

"I believe you should stay here." Came the doctor's gentle voice. "It is simply too dangerous to be on your own, out there."

"I agree. Talon may send more mercenaries after you. You handled yourselves amicably back in Africa, but your luck will clearly not last." Genji added, not liking the brothers' odds if they were left to fend for themselves, again.

"It could be worse. Reaper could decide to deal with them himself." Winston replied to Genji before diverting his attention back to Jessie and Danny. "If he gets involved, then you two are as good as dead. It'll definitely be a lot safer for you to stay here with us."

"Plus, it's not like we're lacking space, right? Seriously, even the fuel stores still have room for a good five or six each, easy. We can put you in one of the old officer's quarters, if ya like." Tracer tacked on with a chipper note. Her upbeat personality alleviating some of the tense mood.

"It would be better than fighting for our live, or looking over our shoulders every time we hit Salem's or something." Danny decided to add his two cents. He then walked off to one side.

"Guess that settles it. We're moving in. Not like we really have a choice." Jessie remarked, putting a smile on everyone's faces. They made their case, and if Jessie was being honest with himself, he had no idea what him and Danny would have done if they hadn't accepted the offer to stay.

"Glad to hear it. I'll show you around once Angela clears you." The gorilla scientist offered.

"Actually, he should be fit enough to leave med-bay now." Angela stated before addressing Jessie. "Just take it easy for a day or two, and make sure to come see me in the morning for a final check-up, am I clear?"

"Crystal." The twenty-three-year-old nodded. "Now, has anyone seen my pants?"

"Heads up!" with a side-long glance, Jessie lifted his arms, not even turning his upper body, and caught the bag that Danny saw fit to toss his way. It was one of their bug-out bags. With a care-free sniff, he unzipped it to find all his clothes inside.

"Thanks, little buddy." He said. Before he pulled out his clothing, however, he reached into one of the smaller side pockets and pulled out a pair of ear plugs, much to the bewilderment of the Overwatch members.

"Now, before we do anything, I'm gonna have to ask all non-essential personnel to please vacate the room and reach minimum safety distance. This is not a drill."

Now everyone was flat out confused, save for Danny who simply stood there with a neutral expression.

"Uuuhh…" Winston was going to say something but was cut off.

"Trust me on this one. You don't want to be here for this." The former soldier stressed to the others. Eventually, they conceded and left the room.

Jessie sighed, put in the ear plugs, and faced his little brother.

"So, Danny."

Danny looked to his older brother, face still blank.

"Yeah, bro?"

Jessie adjusted the ear plugs.

"Guess we're staying with Overwatch, huh?"

…

…

…

Slowly but surely, a very big and very bright smile grew on the little boy's face, his eyes betraying the sheer excitement that he had been keeping under lock and key the whole time. He was virtually bursting at the seams.

Jessie checked his ear plugs one last time.

'Fire in the hole.'

Location: Unknown

He always wondered why he wore that mask, but figured that it was for added intimidation. If that was the case, then it was working.

Echo-1 was terrified.

"I'm very disappointed, captain." The feared mercenary began, his voice deep and unnatural. "I sent you to do one simple job…and you screw it up. Again."

Echo-1 swallowed as he stood at parade rest before Reaper. They were in a meeting room with an elongated table in the center. The captain stood on one side, while his boss stood on the other with his arms crossed and one of his shotguns lying on the table top between them.

"All you had to do was squash two bugs. That shouldn't have been trouble for a former army ranger. Hmph. Army ranger. Whose dick did you suck to get that promotion?" Reaper continued, mocking the last remaining member of Echo Unit.

That comment had admittedly hurt the captain's pride.

"I'm sorry, sir. We almost had them, it's just…" Reaper had cut him off before he could finish.

"Quiet." The dark cloaked man hissed.

"Yessir."

"I don't know who's the bigger fool, here. You for getting beaten by civilians, or me for giving you a second chance." The masked man had started slowly pacing up and down the length of the table.

Echo-1 couldn't help but eye the shotgun that laid before him on the table, with the business end pointed in his direction. He had a bad feeling and was very, very scared. Reaper continued.

"Not only did I give you a second chance, but I sent you more men, as well. Not only that, but it also took you a week for what should have been a ten-minute job." He stopped in front of Echo-1 again, turning his head to look at the captain.

"Tell me, captain. Why is that?"

EEcho-1 nearly collapsed from fear.

"W-We underestimated them, sir. They turned out to be armed, as well as crafty. A-And they also had explosives, sir. They were far better equipped than we had anticipated." The Echo-Unit captain attempted to explain his failure. This resulted in a growl from the Merc.

"Yes. I heard they blew up their apartment, killing three of your men in the process." Reaper shook his head. "None of that matters, now. Needless to say, you failed me, Captain. Severely. Not only are the targets alive, but now they've connected with Overwatch. As you can guess, this information irks me."

"Sir, with all due respect, this new Overwatch is nothing more than a bunch of misfits reliving their glory day. I'm positive I can lead a team in to eliminate them and the targets." Echo-1 tried explained, trying to earn a chance at redemption. However, Reaper wasn't having it.

"Denied. You fucked up enough, captain. I won't let you embarrass me or this organization more than you already have." He picks up his shotgun off the table. Echo-1's heart rate skyrocketed. "You're lucky I don't think you're worth the shell. Leave." Reaper's tone was stern and ice cold when he finished. Echo-1 said nothing as he quickly left the room with his tail between his legs.

"Idiot."

"Oui. You should have sent me." Widowmaker walked in just as the captain left.

"I didn't think they were worth your time."

"And yet they continue to breathe."

"Don't remind me." Reaper sat down in one of the numerous chairs surrounding the conference table. He contemplated how two simple targets became so very bothersome. "It's not worth sending anyone else after them at this point, especially since they shacked up with old friends."

Widowmaker contemplated her team mate, then spoke thoughtfully.

"They certainly have proven themselves. I'm almost tempted to hunt them myself."

"They're not worth it. I'll send out a kill order to anyone who sees them; We'll let them come to us."

"Is that wise?"

"They're civilians. They're harmless. And if they do start acting up, then we'll take care of them, ourselves."

This brought a small smirk to the spider's lips.

Watchpoint: Gibraltar

It took them a good half hour to vent Danny's inner fanboy, and it really did need venting. Even with ear plugs, the torrent of excited chatter could only be dampened, but never stopped. Luckily for Jessie, having lived with Danny since the day he was born, He had grown accustomed to his brother's Overwatch rants, and so took this one in stride.

They were now in one of the residential blocks. Judging from the décor, it was meant for officers and other higher-ups. Jessie found out soon after leaving the med-bay that Danny managed to grab all their belongings before they left Numbani. Him and Genji had split from the group to collect everything while Mercy and someone named Hanzo carried Jessie back to their transport, which Danny described as a whale, much to the confusion of his older brother.

Right now, Jessie and Danny were following Winston. The gorilla was giving them a basic tour of the facility, mainly the amenities, Winston's lab, the housing area, and others. It was well past into the evening when he guided the brothers to their allocated room so that they may get some rest.

"Here we are." The scientist had announced with a smile. The group had come to a stop before a simple blue door with a numbered plaque bolted to the surface, the numbers 25 shining brightly.

Opening the door, the three of them walked in. The two brothers were left dumbfounded by how limber their host was as he easily squeezed through the opening. Inside the room, there were twin beds with navy blue covers and the Overwatch logo printed on each, cream-colored walls, a window overlooking the water, a white chest of drawers by the door, a white desk with a computer terminal, and another door.

"This room used to belong to twins who were nigh on inseparable. Climbed the ranks together and both earned an officer's position here, back when the base was still active. That's what the old personnel files said, at least. I personally never met them. Anyway, it's yours now. Only room here with twin beds. There are the crew's quarters, but we haven't gotten to it yet. What do you think?" Winston stepped aside to let the brothers appraise the room.

"MINE!" Danny dove for the far bed; his pick of the two available. He landed flat on to the mattress, which then promptly bounced him back up and over the farside of the bed, disappearing behind it followed by a thud and grunt.

"I'm okay!" Came Danny's quick response, leaving the other two laughing at the display.

"Yeah, it's pretty good. Cozy." Jessie answered the scientist as he dropped their bags by the desk.

"It's yours for as long as you need it." A curt reply from Winston.

"Much appreciated." Jessie looked back to Winston with a grateful nod.

"Thanks, Mr. Winston!" Danny called back, a thumbs-up appearing from behind his new bed.

"You're welcome, but please, it's, ahem, just Winston. No need for the 'mister'."

"Guess we're all forgoing titles today." Jessie added indifferently.

"Guess so." The friendly gorilla then pointed at the space of wall next to the front door where two touchpad consoles were installed. "This one works the lights, and this one is an intercom. The terminal also has one built in. Athena updated the contact information, so you can find everyone currently on base listed on screen. There's also an open channel feature in case you wanna talk to everyone. You can use it to talk to me or anyone else if you ever need help with something. The PA is out of order for now. Apparently, something got in behind the walls and messed with the electricals, but we'll sort it out." He sighed. "Well that should be it then. Any questions?"

Danny, having climbed back onto his bed, raised his hand.

"Who's Athena?" He asked.

Realization struck Winston as he remembered that he forgot to introduce his A.I. assistant.

"Oh, where are my manners? I completely forgot." The scientist then looked up towards the ceiling with a smile. "Athena, why not introduce yourself?"

The terminal screen came alive with the image of the stylized A that was Athena's logo, catching the two brothers by surprise.

"Of course." Athena began, her voice carrying a synthetic undertone and an African accent. "My name is Athena. I am the Watchpoint's integrated Artificial Intelligence. It is a pleasure to meet the two of you."

Jessie was surprised at this development, while Danny was ecstatic.

"Cool! An actual A.I.!" The young prodigy jumped off the bed and approached the screen. "What do you do?" He asked, overjoyed to learn all he can, and Athena was happy to answer him.

"I currently assist Winston with his scientific endeavors as well as correlate all mission related information and operational data. This includes up-to-date files of all Overwatch agents currently active. In the past, I was originally created to collate all data received through the communication hub before Overwatch's disbandment." She answered proudly.

Danny was in geek heaven.

"Holy smokes…So you control all computer systems here?" His awe could trigger a Geiger counter.

"No. My capabilities are limited outside of data collection and communication. The only other major system I have access to is the MV-261 Orca flight controls. Other than that, I am constrained to my terminals within Winston's laboratory, formally the main control center for the communication hub. However, although I am limited laterally, my ventral reach is far from sub-optimal."

By the time Athena had finished her explanation, you could practically hear Danny's prodigal mind milling through the information he was given; all 183 I.Q. points working away at the new wealth of knowledge.

Jessie deadpanned at his star-struck little brother.

"Looks like we ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon. Talon or not." He stated, making Winston chuckle.

"Guess not. Alright, Athena. It's probably best if you gave them some space for now. Heh, the poor little boy looks like he's about to burst with excitement." The scientist dismissed.

"That would be wise. That is a mess I would rather not clean up." With that, the terminal screen blinked off and Athena was gone, however Danny's wonderment did not fade.

"She even has a sense of humor. Her algorithm is amazing!" He muttered.

"That it is." Winston chimed in again. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to make yourselves at home. See you in the morning." With that, Winston made his exit, squeezing through the small door with as much skill, grace and ease as when he first entered.

"Thanks again, Winston!" Danny called to the retreating gorilla.

Jessie watched him leave until the door closed, which elicited a sigh from the older Michaels. He pocketed his hands and turned to watch his baby brother let out his inner fan boy, once more.

"Oh man, oh MAN! WE'RE ACTUALLY STAYING WITH OVERWATCH! THIS IS A DREAM COME TRUE!" He turned to Jessie and spread out his arms. "Shoot me now, so I can die happy."

Jessie wanted to share in his brother's excitement. He really did. Sadly, he was only able to manage a small smirk, showing Danny that he was happy for him.

Seeing his big brother so out of it was enough to temper his energetic mood.

"You okay?" He asked curiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jessie replied tiredly, then sat down at the foot of his new bed.

"You don't look fine, bro."

"I'm just tired, buddy."

"After a week-long nap? I don't know."

Jessie wiped a hand down one side of his face, then back up and then over his scalp.

"A week in a coma can still take it out of you. Look, champ, it's just stress from everything we've been through since the museum, so don't worry about it. I'll bounce back from this."

Danny looked like he wanted to argue, but decided to trust Jessie on this.

"…Okay, bro." Danny nodded.

"Besides, you're the one I'm worried about." Jessie's voice took a somber tone. Danny's brows lifted in surprise at having been made the center of attention.

"Me?" His confusion showed.

"'All I did was follow you or fall over'. Now, I'm no mind reader, but that sounded to me like you were blaming yourself." Jessie pointed out.

Danny's shoulders sagged as he averted his gaze. He may have been ten-years-old, but he was smart enough to know that Jessie's words were true. He did blame himself for what happened to his older brother, and guilt was firmly set on the little boy's shoulder.

"'Cause it was my fault you were shot." Came his quiet reply.

Jessie sighed, knowing that Danny need his big brother now more than ever. Shifting over, he patted the newly opened space beside him, silently inviting his little brother to sit with him.

The melancholic child accepted the offer with no hesitation or fanfare, as he slowly made his way to the bed in a slow gait. Once he sat down, a protective arm found it's way around the young prodigy's shoulder, pulling him into a half embrace.

"Listen, Danny. What happened was not your fault." Jessie began as he tried to assuage his little brother's burden.

Danny opened his mouth to rebut but was cut off.

"But it WAS! If I didn't slip, then you wouldn't've tripped over me and then shot. Danny, you tripped because I pushed you to move faster. It was my fault you fell over, little buddy."

Danny watched in wide-eyed bewilderment as Jessie completely hijacked the conversation and was speaking for the both of them, complete with matching facial expressions and gestures. What he found really interesting was how spot on the whole thing sounded.

"Well, I should've been more careful. I should've sped up. I should've been more aware! Danny, you're a ten-year-old, not an army ranger! You weren't trained to handle all that stuff we've been through. You held on like the champ you are, right 'till the bitter end. I don't know about you but I'm damn proud of you. You kept your cool where others – kids or adults – would've needed fresh underpants and a pacifier. You showed endurance that would've impressed my old drill sergeant, and trust me when I say that's high praise. But like I said, you're still young. You're not supposed to impress military men who scream in your face for a living, let alone run for your life and make it through to the other side. Maybe, but you should've made it through too, bro. But because of me, you nearly died – wait, scratch that. You DID die. For the longest minute of my life, you were dead. There was blood everywhere, and you. Were. Dead! Thank god almighty that Overwatch was there to save you, and thank god again that you came back, because I don't know if I could've made it through this without you. I wouldn't know what to do."

Jessie gave his dumbfounded little brother a loving squeeze.

"Well guess what? You don't have to know what to do, 'cause I'm still here, little buddy. All you need to do is work your computer wizardry and embarrass me at math, while I fight the bad guys with blazing guns and cheesy one-liners, and look good while doing it. So, for the love of all that is holy and sacred, stop whining, relax and smile, 'cause I'm still alive, I'm still in one piece, we're both safe, and best of all, we're with Overwatch. Turned out you were right. They're still kicking, AND they saved our lives. This has to be a dream come true for you, huh, champ? Oh, and there's a freakin' talking gorilla scientist in body armor. Mind equals blown."

Once Jessie finished, the two brothers sat there in silence; Jessie relaxing, while Danny processed what happened.

…

…

…

*Snort*

Jessie gave Danny a side-long glance. He watched as his brother's body began to convulse, the snort giving way to chuckles giving way to all out laughter, with the older Michaels joining in. The two laughed at Jessie's theatrical display, effectively eliminating his younger brother's dour mood all together.

Half way through their tittering, Danny threw both arms around his older brother's torso in hug, absolutely happy that he was alive, and he was here with him.

Jessie wasted no time returning the hug with gusto. He was happy to be alive, and that his brother was safe; that they were safe.

And for the time being…

It's all they could ever ask for.

Back at the lab, Winston was met by Angela and Lena waiting for him around his computer, upstairs. From what he heard before they noticed him, he deduced that they were talking about their new charges and the events that predated their arrival at the watchpoint.

The scientist noted that Angela had forgone her lab coat while Lena left her goggles and gloves back in her room while the chronal accelerator was lying idly on one of the computer surfaces.

Lena was the first to speak.

"How'd they like the base?" She asked about Winston's tour.

"I think they're taking to it quite well, actually, if Danny's oohs and ahhs are anything to go by." He answered with an enthusiastic smile.

"It's to be expected from the little one. The beauty of childhood. However, dear Jessie does not carry such an advantage." The doctor said. Winston's smile fell faster than an anvil in high gravity. He sighed before speaking.

"Bless his soul and give him strength. The whole tour, he was keeping up appearances and being polite. Whether or not it's for his brother's sake or for ours, I have no clue, but that man is putting up with so much. Their being here just seems to add more weight to the already substantial load he seems to be carrying on his shoulder."

"Well, other than a safe place to lay their heads, there really is nothing more we can do for them." Tracer pointed out.

"Lena's right. As much as I would hate to say it, our resources leave much to be desired. Providing for two more only adds undue stress to what we have." Angela supported.

Winston sat on his tire as they spoke. Once they finished, he chimed in.

"Well, we can't kick them out, now, can we?" The gorilla said.

"We didn't say that. We just said that if they're staying here, it's better if they moved their weights around instead of sitting on their 'ands, wankin' their days away." The brunette clarified with a highly suggestive gesture.

"Crude. I'll see about putting them to work. With their talents, I'm sure they would prove useful."

It was here Angela had a brainwave.

"Why not make Jessie Michaels a field agent? With his military training, and how he handled Numbani, he could prove well adept." The doctor voiced here idea with ardor. An extra field agent meant that they can cover more ground, help more people, and progress their end goals of saving the world even faster.

"Never gonna happen." Lena shook her head as she shot down the good doctor's idea with much contrite.

"Why not?" Mercy asked with a frown.

"He made it painfully clear, back at the heritage museum, that he would much rather stay off the front lines. '…Leave the heroics to the real heroes' he said. The only reason he helped us back there is probably because of frontline pressure or something. Being' stuck in the thick of it might've forced his sense of duty to flare up, or something. That aside, can you really expect him to leave his brother's side to travel who-knows-where and fight baddies? We may 'ave saved their lives, but he still doesn't know us or trust us enough to leave his little brother alone with us. Strewth, he probably won't leave'em with anyone short of the lord, with how bloody close they are." Lena finished with a sigh of frustration. Angela looked sympathetic.

"Too true. They are all they have, here. Ach du lieber Himmel, warum muss das Leben so schwierig sein? [Good Heavens, why must life be so difficult?]" The doctor muttered in her native tongue.

Angela wasn't the only one frustrated. They all were. A world of eight billion is in danger and only six are trying to save it. With limited numbers, limited resources, an unlimited number of things that can go horribly wrong at any given moment, and civilians to look after, they have more than the lion's share of work to do.

"Talk about rock bottom." Winston muttered, eliciting a hum of agreement for the two females. The trio settled into a comfortable silence as they contemplated their conundrum.

"I need to give Hanzo a check-up." The doctor said as she dismissed herself.

"I need to get back to work." Came Winston's dismissal.

Tracer sighed.

"I need a pint."

It was now well into the night, and all within were to themselves, letting the beautifully clear night and cool breeze grant them respite from the complications and contraventions that would have to be attended to during daylight hours.

Within the quiet sanctuary of room 25 of the officers' quarters, however, Jessie Michaels had no such reprieve as his mind proved incapable of resting. The lights were off, and it was dark inside the room. Young Danny was fast asleep, the sound of light snoring, the only indication he even existed within the darkness. To Jessie, unfortunately, sleep proved elusive as the older Michaels was left wide awake, unable to calm the torrent of thoughts that had prevented him from achieving slumber.

He stood, fully clothed, leaning against the wall beside the door, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. He listened carefully to the sounds of his sleeping brother, letting the subtle noises focus his runaway thoughts. Ever the mother hen, the older of the two couldn't help but worry over what they should be doing next. Their old life is effectively gone, thanks mainly to the efforts of Talon who would definitely be waiting for them to surface again, just to make another attempt at their lives.

'Dammit.'

Jessie quietly stepped outside of the shared room as not to wake his little brother. Once outside, he wasted no time leaning against the wall before allowing himself to slip down into a seated position.

His mind continued to reel as he went over everything he knew. He considered many options; one after the other. Each one had its pros and cons, and each one sounded good and bad. The main factors here were his brother and this new Overwatch. No matter what happens or what choices he'd make he could never, and would never, leave Danny behind. He had made a promise to his parents that he would look after him, and he would stand by his word.

Then there's Overwatch. In the past, Overwatch was a well-funded organization that had reach and jurisdiction all over the world with an endless supply of man power. That, however, was no longer the case here. This new Overwatch was nothing but a ragtag motley crew of idealist and hopefuls trying to jumpstart one of those Russian Svyatogors with car batteries. They've got a lot of work to do, and Jessie would rather not get involved for the sake of him and Danny. Unfortunately, this brings them back to the main issue at hand for the two brothers. Without these people, they would be dead before the year was out.

'Between a rock and a hard place…fuck.'

Jessie sighed as he fished out his lighter from his back pocket. He sparked a light and was about to meet the flame with the end of his cigarette.

"Ah wouldn't do that if I was you." The deep baritone voice caught him by surprise. He turned his head only to find Jesse McCree standing nearby, wearing on olive flannel shirt, and his thumbs tucked into the pockets of a pair of well-worn jeans. On his head sat his Stetson, with the front tilted up. Jessie and Danny met the man during their tour earlier, but he didn't say much. He only offered them a 'Howdy' in passing. Right now, he eyed the older Michaels with a cool, knowing look, before nodding up to the ceiling.

Jessie looked to where the cowboy was gesturing, and promptly extinguished the flame of his lighter. The green eye of the overhead fire alarm glared at him for even thinking about lighting a cigarette indoors.

His attention reverted to the other man when he spoke up again, this time with a small smirk.

"C'mon." He began, gesturing dawn the hall with his chin. "Ah know a good spot where we can smoke in peace." He then reached down beside him and picked up something that Jessie did not notice was sitting there: A guitar case. As McCree made his way down the hall with a gait of confidence and ease, Jessie decided to take him up on his offer and got up to join him. He had nothing going for him at that time, so what did he have to lose?

"So, ah hear you and that brother o'yours got Talon's tussles in a tangle."

The two men had made their way outside into the crisp night air, then towards a small open patch of grass with an unguarded cliff edge overlooking the water. They had brought over a nearby crate to sit on. After that they both lit their choice of smokes and sat in what Jessie felt to be an oddly comfortable silence. It felt odd to him because he did not know the man sitting next to him at all. After a short while to let themselves relax, the former outlaw spoke up.

Jessie regarded him for a brief moment before answering.

"Not exactly a smart thing to do. Then again, I had no say in the matter."

McCree nodded his understanding, as his gaze remained over the expanse of water before them. He took a drag of his cigar before he spoke up again.

"Well, from what ah hear, you handled yourself pretty well, all things considerin'."

Jessie scoffed.

"If you call getting shot in the head 'pretty well', then I don't wanna know what you consider to be bad." He then took a drag of his own cigarette.

"What ah consider to be bad is the stuff that causes this crap." He emphasized by lifting his bionic arm for a moment before dropping it back down. He continued. "The fact that you made it through, and with a full recovery? Well, shit. Sound's like a good day to me. Be thankful for that, 'cause it might not happen a second time." He finished in a thoughtful tone.

Jessie considered his words for a moment.

"I got lucky, I guess."

"That you did, partner. So…what're you gonna do now? Can't just be plannin' t'sit there with your thumb up where the sun don't shine." He enquired. This just elicited a tired sigh from the younger man.

"I honestly don't know. We can't stay here, that for sure."

McCree raised an eyebrow at Jessie.

"Ain't nowhere safer than 'ere, son. It'd do the two of you good not to go skedaddlin' off to lord-knows-where where Talon can easily find you." He said in a level tone.

Jessie took another drag.

"Staying here isn't doing anyone a favor. You guys have your hands full just trying to set up a stable operation here. I mean, it's five or six of you, plus one A.I., in a base that needs a full company of specialists to be fully operational, trying to save a world that probably doesn't deserve it, from itself. If I'm being honest, it sounds to be like you guys bit off more than you can chew." The former soldier said with a small hint of exacerbation in his tone.

McCree watched him with a level gaze and a stoic expression as he went over what he had just heard. After a moment of silence, Jessie started to feel uncomfortable with the former agent's gaze. After another moment, the silence was broken.

"Sounds like you and the world got history." The gunslinger stated.

Jessie looked to him in mild irritation.

"Yeah…I do."

"Care t' share?"

"Nope."

"Fair enough. So, you don't think we can do it?"

"Not without a metric shit-ton of help."

"If that's the case, then why not toss your weight in?"

"HELL. FUCKING. NO." Jessie replied incredulously. "I'd honestly rather leave it to you guys, and keep out of it altogether. Besides, I gotta brother who's depending on me."

"Judgin' by the look in your brother's eyes, I'd say that he'd want you to help." McCree pointed out Danny's enthusiasm for Overwatch. Jessie sighed.

"He's ten. Of course he still believes in heroes."

McCree lifted another brow.

"And I'm guessing you don't?"

"…Not anymore." Jessie tone was heavy with defeat.

The two Americans fell back into silence, content to just sit there and let the nicotine do its job. Whatever stress either man had was carried away by the breeze in a plume of smoke, exhaled from their lungs.

After a while, McCree broke the silence as he reached down beside him, once more, to the guitar case he had brought with him.

"You play?"

This shook Jessie from whatever reverie he was in.

"Hm? Play what?" He asked, hearing the Cowboy fiddling with the latches before bringing up an acoustic guitar. It was a Gibson, single cutaway with a sunsetburst finish, and equipped with a pick guard. It showed its age. Signs of wear could be seen all over. The finish was slightly faded, and the guard had plenty of scars on it, signs that it had been faithfully providing its owner with sweet music, while the owner, in return, had looked after it. Even though it looked like it's been through a lot through out it's years, it was still clean, tuned, and carried a shine. McCree held it by the neck as he passed it over to Jessie.

"Six-string."

Jessie took the proffered guitar, giving it a once over and appreciating the instrument before placing it on his leg, ready to play.

"Yeah. Kind of an unwritten obligation when in the military." He said as he gave it a few test strums.

"Well then, why not play somethin'? Should help clear your head. It's like my grandpappy always said: 'Jus' sit back, and let the strings sing your troubles away'. It's why I got the ol' girl. Never in my life have ah heard bullshit from the ol' bastard's mouth. Wiser than Sittin' Bull, I'll tell ya." McCree finished as fond memories of his grandfather put a smile on the gunslinger's face.

Jessie considered his words, again.

"You sure it'll help?" He asked.

"Give it a try if you don't believe me." McCree answered.

With sleep still nowhere in sight, Jessie figured he might as well have a go. When he thought about what song to play, an old tune seemed to come naturally to the forefront of his mind. It was a piece he learned from a fellow soldier who learned it from his grandfather who was a veteran.

Jessie inhaled as he placed his hands on the strings, feeling them taut and ready to play.

Seeing this, McCree got comfortable, letting his gaze wander up to the beautiful night sky.

Jessie exhaled.

The first note filled the sky.

…

'Good Lord, my faith is fading,

It seems all Hell has come a-knocking at my door,

I'm gonna sleep with one eye open,

'Cause it seems clear, you don't come around here no more.

Lord, I've played the hand you dealt me,

Lord, I played 'til my gambling days were done,

My enemies are gonna feel my heartache,

Blazing down the barrel of my gun.

Nails in the Churches,

Nails in the dust,

Nails in the coffins,

In peace we may rust,

One by one,

One by one,

Burning down the barrel of my gun.

Now my heart is scarred and twisted,

Like the roses on the graves,

Buried, like each sorry fool,

Standing in my way,

I'm held in chains of darkness,

There's only ashes in my bowl,

I'll save a bullet for the devil,

When he comes to take my soul

Nails in the Churches,

Nails in the dust,

Nails in the coffins,

In peace we may rust,

One by one,

One by one,

Burning down the barrel of my gun

(Guitar solo)

Nails in the dust,

Nails in the coffins,

In peace we may rust,

One by one,

One by one,

Burning down the barrel of my gun

Burning down the barrel of my gun.'