Friday, the 13th of January
The Helipad - 6:45pm

"…which ain't to say I wouldn't enjoy that," McCree continued, twirling his Peacekeeper lazily. "But I'd hate myself in the mornin' something fierce. You know the feelin'?"

Fareeha rolled her eyes. "I rarely know what you're talking about, McCree, so this moment makes very little difference." McCree tipped his hat, smiling winningly.

"Aw sucks, cowgirl, ya don' have to go putting yerself down like that."

She sighed, rubbing the area between her eyes. She was already desperately calculating the amount of hours this deployment with her mother would last. Her mother. The words still sounded new on her lips.

Fareeha frowned in front of the helicopter. The rest of the team was already inside of it, save for the ones being left behind at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her mother again, but…

What was there to say? 'How could you let me think that you were dead?' wasn't a bad start. Though he was rarely talkative, she'd noticed Jack Morrison had been even more quiet recently. He knew the guilt better than any, she supposed.

McCree squinted, spitting off to the side. "Ah, ya'll'll be alright. Come on. It's jus' parents." He chuckled, prompting an even more stone-faced Amari in front of him.

The grimace broke when Fareeha felt a hand upon her shoulder.

"Keine Angst, Liebschen," Angela softly intoned, smiling warmly. "She is your mother. These bonds do not break so simply." The pressure on Fareeha's shoulder increased.

She shook the hand off and tried her best to look put-together. Grabbing her helmet, she turned towards McCree and the doctor.

"You will be alright here with the children?"

McCree laughed. "You kiddin'? These young'uns'll have a blast. I guarantee." He mimicked a pistol with his fingers in a move he hoped was charming. Fareeha did not appear to think so.

"We will be fine. I have watched children before. Three should be no problem," Angela clasped her hands in front of her waist and nodded. "Viel Gluck, Fareeha."

Pharah finally smiled, and nodded thanks in return.

"We will see you in three days," was her only goodbye. The doors closed and the helicopter lifted off, bound for Greece.

When the winds died down, and the roar of the blades had faded to a dull drone, McCree let out a whistle, and removed a cigar from his breast pocket. "Man alive, I'm tellin' you doc, I will jus' never get that girl to crack a laugh."

"She is very tense." Ziegler let out a sigh she didn't even realize she was holding in, and rolled her shoulder.

The two of them turned from the helipad, and began to walk back towards to barracks. "Tense nothin' – she's a branch set to snap, and the wind's pickin' up by the second."

Angela found she did not disagree, which always worried her when the person she happened to be agreeing with was Jesse McCree. Beside her, he lit his cigar.

"God damn bad luck if ya ask me," he continued. "Girl needed'a ma a long time ago. Not now."

"What Fareeha doesn't need," Angela began, pausing to look at McCree and make sure her message got through that thickest of skulls, "is to worry about us. We will keep the Watchpoint, and she will return having spoken through some things with her mother. It's most practical to just keep out of her way, not insinuate ourselves further into her problems."

"She needs a whiskey and a laugh." McCree removed his cigar to spit, and Angela took the opportunity to grab the offending object and throw it as far from her as possible.

"Wha-?"

"Kein Rauchen, cowboy. Not on my watch, anyhow."

McCree sighed mightily. "You know, Fareeha's not the only one who could stand to crack open a bottle."

"More carcinogens. Equally impractical." Ziegler yawned, stretching her back. Increasingly she found it felt curiously naked when she wasn't encumbered by the Valkyrie suit.

"Yeah, yeah yeah…" McCree scratched his beard, trying not to reach for another cigar and incur more of the doctor's wrath. "Why'd you say three children, though? Reckoned it was jus' us, Hana and Lucio for the weekend?"

"Oh, don't worry. I counted you too."

Jesse looked over at his teammate to see the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips, prompting grin to spread across his face as well.

"What a strange three days it's gonna be."

"Indeed. Come. Let us see how everyone will be entertaining themselves."

The TV Room - 7:00 pm

Lucio didn't exactly know what Hana Song was yelling, but profanity sounded similar enough in any language for him to have a ballpark guess.

She threw the WiiMote across the room, and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, sinking back down onto the couch next to him.

"Duck Hunt," she spat. "I can't believe you beat Samus with freaking Duck Hunt."

"I told you I was good!" Lucio laughed, muting the TV and putting down his controller. "Weren't you supposed to be a pro-gamer?"

"Yeah! But that doesn't mean I'm good at, like, every game!" Hana wildly gesticulated with her hands. "Starcraft has strategy! It's all about timing and managing the battlefield! This is button mashing nonsense! Freakin' retro games, my hitbox was like… like…!" Hana got her hands back under control, and flung herself over the edge of the couch with a groan. "Blugh! I just lost to a musician. JFKM."

Luico laughed harder, pulling on his skates. "Well, I'll tell you what: how about a rematch later tonight? If you beat me, I'll make sure no one knows that girl-wonder went down like a newbie."

The Korean sat up sharply, staring daggers into his eyes. "Don't. You. Dare. We will rematch tonight and I swear on my life that you will go down, and I'll do it with Samus!"

"Sounds good."

Lucio smiled and Hana felt her anger dissipate. She blushed, moving her eyes to anything that wasn't his face.

Come on. It's not like he was seriously gonna tell anyone, anyway. Hana pushed off the couch, and navigated over to the refrigerator to get a soda. Thumbing her way past McCree's beer, she grabbed something from the back and popped off the cap.

Hana took a sip, before pointing at Lucio's skates with the bottle. "Where are you going?" She asked, trying to sound like she didn't want that rematch right this instant.

"I dunno, just felt like skating around the base a bit." He shrugged. "Still a little new here, ya know? Want to get the layout down."

"We've got all weekend, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's just sorta my thing. You're more than welcome to come along if you want!" Lucio pulled down his earphones, "Rematch later, I swear." And with that, kicked off and disappeared from sight.

Hana sighed, glancing at the character selection screen, illuminating the room. The truth was she felt more at home here than anywhere outside, during the day. It wasn't that Hana didn't love the company of her teammates, but with so many people around (and honestly, Lena counted as nearly three people in the 'company' department), it was sometimes tough to just be alone for a while.

Sometimes she missed when she could just spend a night in, with the Protoss and her thoughts. Alone time was nice. Alone time let her sort things out.

Maybe the skating is his alone time? He was surely being polite when he asked for company. Her brain offered.

Hana shivered. She sipped at her soda, before picking up her thrown controller and falling back down onto the couch. Checking over her shoulder, she selected Duck Hunt from the character select, and began the match alone.

It took ten minutes before she got up to see where the hell Lucio had disappeared to.

The TV Room - 7:30 pm

"Naw, they ain't here. They were though." McCree picked up a half-drunk bottle of Mountain Dew and tossed it into the nearest trashcan. Vile stuff, he thought darkly. Ain't nothing natural to that green.

He navigated his way over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Dos Equis. The fridge had been 's idea, back when she first arrived. Hell, the whole room had been her idea.

"Bonding!" she had yelled, in that distinctive chirp. "We're teammates! Nothing bonds people more than movies and games!"

McCree had scoffed at the idea at first, but it had turned the previously empty, cavernous room into something resembling civilization. Just no civilization he could totally cotton to. It's damn cold, even now.

He cracked open the beer and shrugged. Let the indoor kids have their place.

"You want one, doc?"

"No thank you." Angela leaned heavily into the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

McCree took a sip of the beer and let the silence linger for a moment.

"Whatcha got on yer mind?"

The doctor closed her eyes, as if trying to silence errant thoughts. "Nothing of importance."

"Still thinkin' about Amalia?" McCree plopped onto the couch next to his friend.

No answer. Another sip.

"She'll be fine, doc. I promis-"

"Can we please stop talking about it?"

McCree took a longer swig from his bottle, and looked forward at the television. He got to his feet, moving forward.

"Alright. How about a flick then?"

"Jesse, I appreciate what you're doing, but I do not desire company right at this moment."

"Bullshit."

From the couch, Angela opened her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"That's bullshit. You wantin' to be alone." He opened the box where he kept his movies – the only real movies on base if you asked him – and started to sift through the selection. "Ya know, we ain't always seen eye to eye, but you are my friend doc. And I ain't no damn fool."

"What are you talking about?"

"This. That thing where you close yer eyes and just shut down fer a bit. I've seen you do this weight-of-the-world act before. Made you miserable then, an' it makes you miserable now, and it don't do anyone no good." McCree stood, holding his selection. "So we're watchin' a movie. Gettin' yer mind off yer pals and back to where it should be: on yourself."

Angela shifted uncomfortably, looking to the ground.

"When's the last time you just relaxed, Angie?"

She honestly couldn't remember.

Shaking thoughts of the Amalia family out of her head, Angela met McCree's eyes and smiled. "…alright, cowboy. Have it your way. Let's watch a movie."

McCree grinned in response. "Perfect. Got jus' the thing for us."

Angela looked forward, surprised to find herself a little excited, "So, what film are we watching?"

Jesse turned around with a grin, "Oh, I think you know what film we're watchin'."

Her smile immediately dissipated.

"No."

"Only the greatest movie of all time."

"No, Jesse, stop."

"Amazing performances, a memorable score, an eternal battle of bad n' good."

"Bitte, not again."

He held the box up for her to see, sealing her fate.

"It's-"

"Don't you dare say it."

"…High Noon."

There was silence in the room. In the distance, waves crashed against the rockside.

"You know what? I think I will have a beer."

The Observation Deck – 8:15 pm

When she had arrived for the first time at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, the exact size of the former Overwatch base had not quite sunk in with Hana Song. It was all still so new, you know? Champion of the world, Omnic invasion, a summons from Overwatch… the last few years of Hana's life had been so eventful, that things had just sort of stopped shocking her along the way.

So upon her arrival at the Watchpoint, and her greeting of her new friends, she had never taken the time to map the place out. They were taken to all their missions in the helicopter, and upon arrival things were seemingly always objective-based. 'Where do I go? What do I shoot? Why do I shoot it?' Objectives made sense to her – objectives made sense in a way that people rarely seemed to anymore.

But presently, with almost zero objective in mind, Hana was hopelessly lost. She sighed, leaning her forehead against the glass of the observation deck. She shivered slightly, even through the oversized sweater she'd thrown on. Sweaters were like a hug that never ended. Hana liked sweaters, especially considering her battle gear tended to be far more revealing.

Battle gear… That's right, she was technically a soldier now; a cog in a war she couldn't fully wrap her head around.

Why were they fighting, anyway? To make the world a better place.

Too vague. Tough shit.

Hana frowned. She hadn't had much time to think about 'big picture things', either. She enjoyed being part of the team, absolutely, but it wasn't… was it…

…was it all just a game? People could really die out there. People never died when the only battles she fought involved a mouse and keyboard.

Hana glanced down at the waves hitting against the rock.

And then she heard the skates.

Snapping out of her reverie, Hana put on a smile, and watched as Lucio rounded the corner. She waved as he skid to a stop in front of her.

"Hiya!"

"Hey yourself, !" Lucio panted for a moment, putting two fingers to the side of his throat. "Seen McCree or the doctor?"

"Not at all. They've been like ghosts since the helicopter." She glanced side to side, before leaning in lasciviously. "Think they're up to… you know?"

He cocked his head. "Wait, is… is that a thing?"

shrugged, skipping a little and turning to face him. "I dunno. They go way back I hear. I'm just saying if things get all Boys Over Flowers this weekend, I'm sticking with you." She winked at him, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "You don't have a choice in the matter. It's decided."

Lucio shrugged, taking a seat on the bench behind him. "Well, if it's decided…" Hana laughed, coming over to join him on the bench.

"It is. Don't fight it."

The two teammates took a moment to enjoy the silence of the secluded room, that constant beat of the waves filling the space between them. It reminded Hana of a heart – the thrum of the machine she rode into combat. Sometimes when she closed her eyes inside of her MEKA, it felt alive. It was the all-consuming embrace of being someone that mattered. Who would she be if she didn't have the MEKA? What would she do with her life? Would she still be brave?

She glanced to her left, at the reclining Brazilian. He didn't need a big metal bubble to dive into combat. Hell, Hana wasn't even sure you could consider what he carried a gun. That was bravery. That was heroism.

Hana frowned, prompting Lucio to glance over.

After a moment, he wet his lips, and drew a breath. "It's weird, don't you think?"

"Eh?"

"I mean, The Overwatch thing. A signal from someone we've only heard legends about. Showing up at this place out of the blue. I mean," he scratched the back of his head. "I like it. I love helping people, you know that."

Hana did. She smiled, thinking of how he'd never failed her on a deployment. The Audio Medic had never failed to raise her spirits, even when the tide of battle was turning against them.

Lucio continued, "But… I mean, it's also been kinda overwhelming. One minute I'm selling out concerts in Rio, and the next minute I'm jetting over to Europe for the good of mankind. It all just sorta happened so-"

"-fast?"

Lucio looked into her eyes, noticing only now how deep the brown in them went. It wasn't some dull, dirt brown – there was a spectrum in there. Deep burgundy spreading out from a fiery center. smiled, breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, it was really fast for me, too," she said, "I mean, everyone's great. They're great, but they all have this, like, deep shared history. There's been a ton of times where… I dunno, I just feel like I have no idea what they're talking about. Like I couldn't." She looked at the ground, idly swinging her feet over the ground. Having been presumably designed for Winston, the bench was a degree larger than those she was used to, and Hana had never been a spectacularly tall girl.

"And it's not my English. I get the words, it's just..." Hana thought. "It's all the things they're not saying, I guess. Idk, it's kinda awkward sometimes."

Lucio slapped his knee. "Aw, man! Like that time Torbjorn told that Swedish joke and I definitely didn't get it?"

Hana perked up immediately, turning and pointing. "Oh my god, thank you! Yes! Like that! What was the joke? What was funny?! Just 'Sweden' in general?"

"I've thought a lot about it, and I honestly have zero clue."

"Yeah! Like, I laughed because they were laughing, you know?"

"Exactly! And I was just sitting to the side thinking 'Someone throw me a line here'!"

The two teammates laughed now, Hana doubling over, clutching her sweater to her stomach. Eventually Lucio swiped a small tear from his eye.

"Oh that makes me feel so much better. I felt like such an idiot! Really thought I was the only one."

Hana got her giggles under control. "Yeah, me too…"

When their eyes met, the gaze held a moment too long. No one else in the world would have noticed.

But Hana and Lucio did.

Eventually, she broke eye contact.

"Hey, uh," Hana tucked a hair behind her ear. "…this might be a little weird, but can I show you something?"

Lucio's eyebrows arched.

"I mean… probably?"

The TV Room – 8:55 pm

The outlaw Frank Miller was dead, and Gary Cooper had thrown his sheriff's star into the dirt, determined to leave this dirty town to its fate.

And somewhere along the way, Angela Ziegler realized she was drunk.

Well, maybe drunk was a strong word for it. She wasn't sloppy drunk, mind you, but she was feeling it for sure. Honestly it wasn't that bad.

She was crying though.

"No one helped him…" she whispered, water leaking from her eyes, still glued to the screen. "He stood up for what was right, and they all abandoned him."

"Yeah, if it ain't sure the state of the world," McCree took another swig. "Ain't I shown you this movie before?"

"Yes, but I was never really paying attention." Angela buried her face in her hands. "It's just so sad…"

McCree blew out a breath and took out a cigar. "Jeez, doc, I didn't mean t'make ya more blue."

"No, it's okay, I think anything would have."

"Mind if I smoke?"

"No I… I don't care."

He lit it up, before pointing his Peacemaker at the ceiling.

Ziegler reached for another beer, and leaned heavier into the couch, wishing it could consume her entirely. She felt so useless when out of the suit, but the suit was also what gave her purpose. What was she without it? Who could she help as simply Dr. Angela Ziegler?

Not enough people, was surely the answer. Never enough.

The Dos Equis tasted bitter in her mouth, and she yearned for something German.

"Jesse?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think… do you think people care?" She rubbed her face. "I mean, I know we're doing the right thing, so honestly I'm not really sure if I care whether they care or not, but… I mean…" She trailed off.

"…ya wanna know if it matters a lick?"

Angela didn't answer.

"It does, Doc. I reckon people need heroes even more than they know they do," he smiled, twirling the gun lazily. "Hell, you know that."

"I do." Angela felt her face flush slightly more.

I shouldn't though. Helping people was enough, wasn't it? Ziegler wasn't so sure anymore. No matter how many people you helped, there were always more screaming, dying, being hurt somewhere. It never seemed to end. In the suit or not, it wasn't like she could save everyone, no matter how much she tried.

McCree blew out a plume of smoke.

"Do you know why I became a cowboy?" He asked. Angela looked over at him skeptically. "Ain't a whole lotta cows to herd these days. You ain't never wondered about the getup?"

"Oh, I've wondered plenty."

"Then why'd it happen? Take a stab."

Angela looked forward and weighed her words carefully.

"I think you were young, and you wanted to be someone important. Remembered."

"Ehhhhh, it's close, but no cigar. Lotsa things that make someone memorable. Coulda just shot some folks dressed up like a clown, if'n I really wanted to. Plenty memorable. Why cowboy? Use that big German brain."

Angela turned it over in her head.

"…honor. Cowboys had honor."

He shot her a smirk. "I knew you was one of the smart ones, doc. Yeah, cowboys had honor. Even if you was takin' from people, it wasn't like you took from no one what couldn't afford it. It wasn't meant to be mean or nothin'. You didn't shoot innocents and you never shot anyone in the back. Even your worst enemies."

Angela cracked her neck. The alcohol was really getting to her head now.

"Strange you would have joined Blackwatch then," she murmured. "Not exactly renowned for its ethics, is it?"

"Naw, you got it wrong. That part wasn't about ethics, it was about freedom. I still wanted that sky," he pointed up, through the ceiling. Angela followed his finger. "I could be my own ethics, whenever I wanted. Hell, still am." McCree sighed, putting his cigar out next to himself.

"It's 'cowboy', because when I was a kid, I wanted nothin' more than to be John fuckin' Wayne. I knew he was an actor, long dead before I ever kicked in this world, but he meant something to me. He was a hero when I needed one, and he changed my life. If I hadn't seen The Searchers when I was this high, wouldn't a joined a gang, wouldn't a been a cowboy, wouldn't be talkin' to you right now. And if that had never happened I'd've never known how pretty you frauleins could be," he grinned, pleased with his obvious flattery. Angela felt a smile form, despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. She blamed the alcohol.

"Idiot," she chuckled.

McCree continued: "So yeah, doin' what we do? It does matter, because if one person sees it – I mean really sees it… might just change that person's life forever."

He stood, draining his bottle. For the first time in a long time, Angela had the strangest pull of empathy towards him. For one moment, all she saw was the little boy he had once been, watching movies and piecing together his place in the world. She loved that little boy. She wanted to protect him.

Tossing the empty bottle into the trash, Jesse extended his hand and helped the doctor to her feet. "I do gotta ask though, cuz I never have," he said, "what about your getup? Why an angel?"

Ziegler found her legs and looked up at him, smiling like a little girl. She let out a soft laugh.

"I guess I just always wanted to fly."

AN: As did we all, Angela. To be continued.