Hana sat on the concrete floor behind a table, rubbing a piece of cloth vigorously over the steel-capped toe of her combat boot. She could sit on a chair and polish it like she had done with the rest of her armour, but there was just something about handling those boots that compelled her to stay on the floor. 'It's more comfortable,' she explained to anyone who asked, already used to the funny looks she would receive. Whatever – if she had to stay there for such a long time, might as well hunker down and get comfortable.

One major downside of being a frontline mech pilot was the extensive amount of time they had to spend in the armoury. Most other agents had only their body armour and weapons to clean, but pilots like Hana had an extra mech that took forever to maintain in good condition. Sometimes Hana spent so much time with her equipment that Vera would sniff at her and say, 'Motor oil's not perfume, you know.'

Her hands froze when the doors to the hangar slid open, and terse voices broke the quiet air of the armoury.

Speak of the devil.

For some reason, Hana ducked behind the table and poked her head out the side, just enough to see Vera and Jesse walk in. They must've returned from that 'secret mission' together. Jesse was speaking with a sincere gleam in his eye, but Vera glared at the floor as if it had insulted her entire ancestry. Green eyes flickered over to Hana's corner just as she pulled her head back, and Hana waited stiffly for Vera to call her out. But she hadn't been spotted, it seemed.

"I said no, Jesse."

"Listen, I understand your reservations. But if you'd just consider it–"

"If you really 'understand' me, then you'll stop asking. Now."

"Vera–" Rapid footfalls, then a sudden stop. "Look. I know the kind of fucked up shit you see in a gang. I was in Deadlock, remember? I've been through all of that. Just because you were involved doesn't mean it has to mark you forever–"

There was a hard thump that cut off the rest of Jesse's sentence, and Hana's heart dropped. She had witnessed this argument before, and Vera got a little physical…but didn't Jesse promise to drop the subject after that? Hana started to sit up quietly, but stopped when there were no more tell-tale thumps of Vera's fist against Jesse's chestguard.

"Not everyone embraces their 'dark past', asshole," Vera snarled.

A short silence, then Jesse sighed. Hana could imagine the man taking off his hat and running a hand through his grey-flecked hair.

"Blackwatch could use your skills, but–," he quickly added when Vera growled. "That'll be my final word. The rest is up to you."

Hana heard light footsteps towards the armoury's exit, growing fainter before the steel doors slid shut. She had pushed herself up onto her elbows when she received a kick on her sneakers.

"Your shoes are sticking out, dumbass."

She looked down and sure enough, the tips of her shoes were poking just over the table's edge. Hana snorted, then got onto her feet. "Maybe they wouldn't if you taught me to be sneaky, smartass."

Hana watched as Vera snapped off the buckles of her weapon harness and tossed it onto the table. The holstered SMG and pistol clattered on the metal surface, followed by a sheathed combat knife. She unclasped the sleek electronic kit on her forearm – which she used to boost and scramble mechanical systems – and threw it down as well. Hana winced when it hit the table audibly – that kit was Vera's baby.

Grabbing the hand reaching for her headgear, Hana stopped Vera's jagged movements. When she didn't get smacked off, Hana disengaged the armour's locks, and pulled it free of Vera's jaw. She set it down with much more care, then moved onto the remaining armour pieces: chest, shoulders, arms, and legs. When Vera was finally left in just a standard-issue undersuit, Hana cupped her face in both hands, giving her a smile and peck on the lips.

"Welcome home."

Vera closed her eyes, jaw twitching as she fought to keep her simmering anger in check. She had a fiery temper that flared easily with the right provocation, and it earned plenty of red flags in her dossier during her first months in Overwatch. It took her a while to learn how to rein it in, but she managed to stop terrorising fellow agents. It was a tremendous effort on Vera's part, not to mention a little of Hana's as well.

Taking a deep breath, Vera exhaled slowly and opened her eyes again. Her frown lightened, gaze softening. Hana wrapped her arms around Vera's shoulders when she was pulled in for an embrace, nuzzling into light brown tresses. She caught a faint whiff of gunpowder, and the cigar stench that typically came from being around Jesse for extended periods of time.

With a kiss on Hana's cheek, Vera pulled away and sighed, "I feel like hell."

"You look like it too," Hana added, smirking when she got a slap on the stomach. She grasped Vera's wrist when she reached for the discarded pieces of her armour. "I'll take care of it. Go and get some rest."

"Thanks." Vera wore a grateful smile, but didn't move towards the doors. She lifted a hand instead, running a thumb over Hana's lips. "Don't take too long. I'll be waiting."

"Babe, I think sleep is what you need right now."

"And you'll put me to sleep quicker, no?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." Hana's gaze remained fixed on Vera as she winked, and strode out of the armoury with just a little more sway in her hips.

Hana picked up Vera's chestguard and ran her fingertips over the scratches, acutely aware of her quickened pulse and her lack of will to stay alone in this room any longer. She ran her eyes over the scattered pieces of equipment, making a mental estimate of how fast she could go through each of them.

Time for a speedrun.

"I'm back," Hana sang as she closed the door behind her, walking farther into the small apartment-turned-base. "I got your favourite."

Vera spun around in her chair as Hana entered the living room. "Green curry!"

"No, pasta." She grinned when Vera rolled her eyes.

"Just because I'm Italian doesn't necessarily mean I love pasta."

"But you do."

"…I do," Vera muttered, taking the box Hana handed to her.

Hana took her seat beside Vera, looking over the computer screens set up on the table before them. Just a week after Vera's return, Jesse had requested her help on another mission again. It was simple surveillance – keeping watch on a smuggling ring until the local forces arrived to bust their doors down – but Hana volunteered anyway…at Vera's private request.

"So where's Jesse?" Hana asked, catching no sign of him through the camera feeds they had set up around the abandoned warehouses one street down.

"Scouting. Had a hunch."

"Right. He'd better get back before the food grows cold–"

With perfect timing, the comms piece on the table chirped. Vera picked it up and accepted the transmission.

"Vera, any sign of their Number 2 on the cams yet?"

"No."

"Dammit. He's off schedule… Are you eating?"

Hana paused with a forkful of spaghetti still hanging from her mouth. Quickly slurping up the rest of her pasta, she mouthed 'sorry' with a bashful smile.

"It's Hana," Vera said as her partner chewed.

"Oh. Lunch? What'd she buy?"

"Pasta."

"Ah. Well…save some for me," Jesse replied lamely, his attempts at banter having failed miserably. "Wait–, I see him. On his tail. McCree, out."

"You're still pissed at him?" Hana asked when the channel went off.

Vera shrugged. She took a bite of ziti, chewing with a thoughtful expression. "Hm. This is good, but I can make better."

"Of course. You're the best." Hana chuckled when Vera nodded. Tapping her fork on the box, she glanced at the screens again before asking, "So…you never told me. Why'd Jesse bring up Blackwatch again?"

"We work too well together," Vera said flatly. "He liked my performance in the last mission."

"Ah. Well…Blackwatch isn't what it was before, you know. Jesse did promise to stay above board as much as possible."

"They are called 'Blackwatch' for a reason, Hana. And Jesse's promise means nothing. All it takes is one underhanded tactic, then it's a downward spiral." Vera stuffed her mouth with more ziti, muttering, "I won't turn back into a shitty mafioso because of them." She spat the name with disdain.

"But he's right, you know. It doesn't define you. And you'd be using your–" She sucked the rest of her words down at Vera's glare.

"That's right, I'm not letting it define me. That's why I'm in Overwatch," Vera said fiercely. But she calmed down at the sight of Hana's placating gaze, and the hard set of her jaw relaxed. "Hana, I've hurt people," she whispered. "Innocent people. Defenseless people. I don't want to risk doing that again. I don't want to take even the slightest chance."

"I know," Hana replied, equally soft. She had heard enough stories of Vera's time in her family's syndicate to understand what she meant. "I'm sorry."

Vera sighed. "I understand what you're trying to say, but…let's just leave it there, okay?"

"Of course," Hana said with a smile. "Would it help if I said you're already a hero to me?"

Laughing under her breath, Vera leaned in to kiss her. "And you are mine, Hana Song."