A familiar serape rested around Jesse's neck, and he let out a quiet laugh. He hadn't worn it since back in Deadlock, even then he hardly wore it. It seemed fitting though, especially in case they came across any survivors. Tracing his fingers gently up and down the body of the peacekeeper, he slipped it into his holster.

The nostalgia left him conflicted, and as he looked down to the metal arm, he tugged the corner of his serape around it. Heading out the door, he ignored the looks from Lena and Amelie, both of whom evidently hadn't seen him in over a week. Continuing onwards, he spotted Jack stood by the exit, leading onto the roof. It had been a while since the pair had fought together, hell Jesse had never even fought outside the ranges so he was almost certain he would die. But he considered it worth it should it happen.

It felt lonely, he was half expecting a reassuring squeeze or something as he stood there, waiting patiently for them to leave. The pain was still there, and he wouldn't deny the fact he was blinking back tears, but he persevered. In the end, he'd already moped around for a week, and if he didn't get out now he was probably going to stay there forever. Not that he could complain, it would be fine in his books, but he highly doubted that they'd appreciate him dying after they'd fought a whole war already. Then again, how bad could flying really be?

Twenty minutes later, and he would willingly take all that back, along with saying flying in a military helicopter at god knows what speed was absolutely terrifying. They were about to land, and he was certain he would have a heart attack. Jack sat there with a small amused grin on his face, and whilst he was glad he was enjoying his pain, he really wasn't sure it was worth it. Of course, they weren't the only ones, however they were allowed to fly along so they could minimise the death toll should they be targeting Jack next in revenge.

As they touched down, Jesse let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding, and almost threw himself onto the ground. Sure, now he was going to have to fight any remaining omnics, but it was better than the impending doom he could've faced just mere minutes before.

Line after line of men stood before them, and the sight was incredible yet terrifying to see. So many had turned out, the rescue operation was bigger than anyone ever anticipated. It was all on Jack, and as he nodded, they all split off in a frenzy. But as he traipsed after the commander, he soon noticed they were heading right to the heart of the explosions, right to where Gabe had decided murder was perfect. Many followed after them, beginning to retrieve the bodies, and it dawned on Jesse that this was why Jack wanted him to go. To get the body that they both theorised they would never get to see. As he got closer, he realised they all seemed to be getting paler and paler. Ashen skin, they looked as though they'd had the life sucked out of them.

The omnics however, seemed to have different plans. A bullet soared past Jesse's head before he could quite register what was going on, and fumbling for his peacekeeper he yanked it out. Fanning bullets like second nature, he dove to the side as another appeared. Other men joined in, firing as the opposition fell to the ground with yells of anguish. That's when he spotted it, a shadow floating around the men.

Ducking below it, he could've sworn he saw a face, felt things he was certain he had never felt before. Memories flooded his head, conversations with omnics, Jack kissing him, the letters, it only continued. This was certainly not a human, but if it wasn't human what was it?

"Jack?"

He murmured under his breath, turning to the man.

"It's not human."

"I think it's Gabe."

"But Gabe killed himself!"

"He ain't dead yet. No idea what he did, but we ain't gonna make it out if we don't sort this."

"Prove he isn't dead then! Do not mess with me Jesse, you are treading on thin ice."

Jack hissed, continuing to fire at the omnics heading there way. They were persistent, but it only continued to fuel the anger at the pit of his stomach. He wanted to be sure all of them died, he couldn't bear to just let them live after they'd taken him.

"The letters. Eighteenth o' this month, you said ya loved him an' that if we were to win the war ya were gonna make him yours."

"How the hell-"

"Flew through me. Learnt a few things. Word ta' the wise, don't fuck someone over the desk again. Disgustin' if ya ask me."

"Now is really not the time!"

Jack hissed, throwing himself out the way of a stray grenade. The final few fell to the ground, and the group continued onwards, spotting rubble on the ground. Two bodies before them, hand in hand. A horrifically bitter sight, yet a depressing reminder of how even in the heat of the battle people could be brought together.

But as they were taken away, the air got thicker. Dust, rubble, destruction before them. And finally, the end. No words could describe the absolute destruction before them, this was obviously where it all began. Jack seemed to realise it too, as he spotted someone moving in the rubble. Moving forwards, they pulled it back as if there were no tomorrow to reveal a face that had haunted Jesse's dreams ever since their victory. Something inside him snapped, and in mere seconds Gabriel was out the rubble and on the ground, a gun pointed in his face and a foot on his throat.

"We meet again mi vaquero. But it won't be that easy to kill me." (mi vaquero meaning my cowboy)

He hissed, a smirk on his face. Feeling his foot fall through his body, the man materialised a few seconds later right behind him. A hand grasped at his throat, and a choked sob escaped his throat. Spinning around, trying desperately to get his gun out, he straddled the other man. Gun at his throat, Gabe only kept the sadistic smile on his face.

"Kill me, see if that brings him back."

"I can't believe I ever loved you."

Jack's voice rang out, and Gabriel looked over at him in terror. Stepping forwards, Jack's armoured foot rested right beside the other man's head. No remorse was present in his eyes, only anger and hatred.

"Jack-"

"There's nothing more to it. You killed so many, you're trying to kill more. And to think, I was planning to marry you when the war ended."

"Jack they mislead me!"

"Yet you're still willing to murder more of them. Explain that to me then."

"I can't, there's no explanation."

"Do you see what you did! You blinded me, hell you've ruined me! If the deaths mean nothing, remember what you did to me. The man you supposedly loved. Or was that a lie too?"

"They lied, said they'd help me. Told me to join you, kill as many as I could and they'd spare me. I thought you were out of there, I didn't know-"

Pressing the butt of the gun closer, Jesse only allowed a glare onto his face. He almost seemed to shy away, terrified of what fate could await him. It felt wrong, being the one besting the man who once trained him, but then again he couldn't quite blame himself

"I don't know what kind of fool you take me for Gabriel Reyes, but I know that's a damn lie."

"They said they wouldn't kill you if I did it!" He yelled, trying desperately to throw Jesse off him. "They convinced me that being a dead man would be better than losing you. Twisted me, fucked up my head, I don't want to die again Jack. Please don't do this to me, do anything you like but please, I'm begging you."

Black smoke left the other man's lips, and before Jesse could stop him, Jack had slammed his foot through his head. A grimace fell onto Gabe's face even though Jack's foot seemed to slip right throug. The area his foot slipped through seemed to fade into smoke briefly before solidifying, and Jack clenched his fists at his side in frustration.

"What have you become Gabe..."

"I have no idea Jack."

He whimpered, and Jesse couldn't be sure if they were real tears or not.

"Take him away. Gabe, don't fight it. If you don't want to die, this is your one chance."

Jesse pulled himself up silently, holstering his gun with a sigh. Had he not spotted the arrow in the tree, he would've marched off in frustration. Letting out a sigh, he knew exactly who it belonged to. Strolling forwards and pulling it from the bark, he began to examine the area. That's when he spotted it, a tattooed arm stuck out from the rubble, trying to pull it away. Discarding the arrow, he almost ran over, tossing bricks to the side until he saw his face.

Beaten, bruised, scabbed over in some places, the face was almost unrecognisable. But he couldn't deny the fact he would know those eyes anywhere as he hauled the smaller man out. It came as second nature, trecking back through the wreckage in a bid to catch up with the last few soldiers. To catch up with Jack. Spotting the familiar jacket, he pushed onwards before hearing Hanzo begin to murmur in Japanese.

"Tasukete, tasukete kudasai!" (Help me, help me please!) He begged quietly, digging his fingers into Jesse's chest in agony.

He almost broke into a sprint when Jack's face fell in realization. Hanzo wasn't meant to be alive, they'd said he was dead. But somehow, he was still breathing, and nobody knew how to feel about the situation. As he felt him fall still on his back, he sped up.

"How the fuck is he still alive!?"

Jack almost yelled, though neither of them were sure whether it was out of anger or confusion.

"Ain't got a clue."

He hissed, knees threatening to buckle under the stress. The makeshift camp came into sight, but it seemed he wouldn't be staying the night as he was instructed to put Hanzo down. Slipping him down onto one of the stretchers, he watched as they almost threw him into one of the helicopters due to leave in mere minutes. It hadn't fully set in, he was still in some kind of shock, the image of him lying under the rubble etched into his mind.

But then it hit him, all at once it came flooding back. The box, the funerals, the statements, the sympathetic looks. A hand rested on his shoulder and he let out a sigh of frustration. Shaky breaths left his chest, and he had no idea whether he should be throwing punches or breaking down sobbing. His hands were bloodstained, he knew that without looking, it was becoming surreal.

The world was beginning to fade from before his eyes, and all he could hear were the faint cries coming from familiar faces. Fading from his hearing, and then it happened. Flitting in and out of consciousness, tears streaming down his face at one moment and black filling his vision in another. That was all he could recall before bolting upwards once again in a familiar area. Surrounded by the dead, the alive, and those in between.

They weren't lying when they said war fucked you up, but it went further than that. It destroyed you and everything you stood for, leaving only destruction in its path.

As soon as they landed, he found himself rushing off. Barging past everyone, unwilling to stay for a second longer. The metallic scent of blood that had once overwhelmed his senses gone, though it still stained his hands. He couldn't bring himself to wash it off, too set on escaping the masses of men and women surrounding him before he broke down once again. Nearly sprinting down the corridor, he disappeared right into his quarters. It didn't surprise him; this is why he had never gone to the front lines. He knew he was weak, he knew this would happen but sat in denial the entire time. Because nothing hit harder than seeing him hurt, in the years they'd known each other he didn't think anything would sting that much.

Whilst he loved to play the strong cowboy, he was certain that even at twenty-six years old he still had the mentality of a teen girl. Having grown up so close to Hanzo, it left him so vulnerable, and in turn made it harder for him to be taken seriously. If he survived, he had no idea what would come of it, whether he would even remember. He was wide awake, but all he wanted was sleep. Dreamless sleep where he didn't get haunted by the nightmares, that was all he wanted. Arms wrapped around him, the stupid kisses trailing up his neck leaving the pair of them laughing quietly in the dark of night. He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, watching as the sun finally set and the moon came out. Even counting the stars in the sky like he had back home did nothing to pass the time, and as morning came once again he finally gave in. Hat falling to the floor, his body didn't take long to follow.

The next morning was different though, everything seemed off. Waking up on the floor was probably a contributing factor, but even after grabbing his hat roughly and tossing it across the room in a fit of anger he couldn't ground himself. The serape came next, lying crumpled on the floor. Hauling himself off the floor, he almost threw open the door to his bathroom. He had no idea why he'd been privileged to have it, but as he rubbed his hands raw in a bid to get the blood and dirt off a low growl escaped his lips.

He felt hands around his waist, gently holding him. Looking down though, they weren't there. Behind him, there was nobody. All that remained were the memories, and if it wasn't driving him mad he wasn't sure what it was doing. Yet his heart was yearning, begging to see him for a sense of finality beyond the blood on his hands, the same hands that had allowed him to walk yet again.

That was probably how he ended up slumped over in a chair by his bedside, fingers intertwined, clinging to each other. Hanzo was asleep, a peaceful expression on his face he couldn't deny he loved. He was beaten, bruised almost beyond recognition, but it was still him.

"I love ya... just please, wake up."

He murmured, the words barely audible even to himself. But he knew, and that's all that mattered.