While Ashe may have said one, she knew that when he'd gotten her to agree, it would be more than that. The emotional exhaustion had caught up to her. Between all the situations Deerington had thrown at her, the demons were having a hay day with her. In the middle of that storm Jesse somehow still feels like a beacon of safety and while confusing, it also means she keeps finding ways to stay in his line of vision.
She takes her seat again at the counter, and the barkeep nods his head to her. Tucking the longer pieces of hair behind her ear so that she's not hiding behind it, she dares to glance up at him. This was the boy whom she had deeply cared for all grown up. The reasons that became friends is starting to come into clarity again and she wonders as she looks into his eyes if what had drawn them together as friends all those years ago was stronger than what had torn them apart. It's hard for her to say yet, but he'd run after her and she figured that meant she needed to brave sitting in the muck of it all a little longer.
After a minute of staring into his eyes as if trying to figure him out, her eyes drift to his mouth and she feels a slight warmth grace her cheeks. Hadn't been that long ago since she'd left her lipstick all over them. She turns her attention to the bottle, and pours them both another drink. "Well, I can't say as this place is borin', never can figure what it'll throw at you." One day it was making a joke out of you in outrageous outfits and leading you to make out in closets. The next, you are stuck facing your fears with that same person who you who can't figure out is friend or foe. "I don't...fully hate it. It's got some good people in it. Sure, we might lose them, but...that ain't different than home. And I'd say we are better equipped to deal with the horror than most." She runs her thumb along the rim of her glass. "Just another battle in a different place."
She really wanted to ask him why he couldn't ever return if it wasn't because of her, but she was too afraid of the answer, so she lets that question hang back in her mind. It's in good company with unasked questions like why hadn't he even tried to get her out or why he couldn't come back but he still came to them when he needed something. She needed so many answers and as usual she wasn't as good at getting what she needed as what she wanted.
Jesse is a little amazed that she’d agreed to come back to the bar. He wonders now and again how far the bounds of Ashe’s seeming tolerance of him goes. At times, it’s almost as if there’s something like friendship between them again. But then the past—reality, really—always rears its head.
And making it even more complicated are things like the way her eyes dart down to his lips. It’s impossible not to remember that heated moment in the closet, and then after, both of them acting right up until they weren’t.
Again, it’s all very complicated. He’s too drunk to even try for a well-timed flirtation, so he just props his shoulder on the counter and his head in his hand, his eyes on Ashe the whole while.
“It’s not the people I mind either. It’s the everythin’ else.” Oof, and what she’s saying really hits home.“It is different though. It’s… it’s like this place takes ‘em away. Like it’s playin’ games.” He frowns out at the crowd, his free hand idly going to the chain around his neck. It had been mostly hidden behind his flannel before. At the end of it is what had been left behind for him of Rei: a little silver camera, and a man’s silver ring. It’s not something he always wears. When he does, he tends to keep it hidden.
“But you’re right. We are better equipped.” His frown deepens, as does his grip on the necklace. “Lot of good that does when we can’t land a hit on whatever is playin’ with us here.”
She was almost surprised herself, it would have been so much smarter to just get on her bike and leave. However, Jesse had come out of that bar after her, and that hadn't happened in years. It would have been easier for him to let her go too, but she supposed they were in whatever went down tonight together. There had been a lot of 'togethers' lately though and it was definitely a challenge to her perception of things. But without Deadlock or Overwatch, it felt in a way like they were back to just being Jesse and Ashe. Perhaps without Overwatch or Deadlock there to divide them, they had a chance to remember each other.
"Jesse McCree admittin' he's missin' the target. Never thought I'd see the day." She teased to try and lighten it up. "I'm tryin' to figure some of that out in my work. Ain't just about the product."
It's hard to not think about what had happened at the party, she'd been thinking about it since then. Hadn't been willing to talk about it. She had questioned whether she'd gone too far, and she knew it had gone farther than necessary. Luckily she is distracted by the necklace that he pulls out when he starts talking about the people. It doesn't take much to figure out that the necklace represented someone important. Likely someone he was missing greatly. She can see the little silver ring and something in her twist uncomfortably.
She lifts her head motioning towards it. "What's that? You go and get married in the time we've been apart?" She can't quite understand why she isn't sure she wants the answer, but her tone doesn't give any of her trepidation away.
Oh yeah. Her work, which is now their work. They’re in this enterprise together, working towards a common goal for the first time since Deadlock. That reminds him of what she’d said before she’d run outside. She’d seemed… shaken. Sad. All these years, Jesse had assumed that Ashe was more than happy. She had it all. The gang continued to thrive, she had all the power and influence and money she could want or need, and surely she had other people these days she was close to. What else could she need?
He might’ve asked, had she not asked about the necklace first.
“Me, get married?” He huffs out something like a laugh, though it’s more sad than amused as he looks down at the ring and the charm. “Nah, this… this belonged to somebody special. She got here when I did. We were…” He trails off. They were together, sure, but… he’d never quite let her in the way he wanted to. He’d been too afraid, to be honest. Good things didn’t happen to people he let get close. But then look what happened—she was gone anyway.
“… She was special. These were hers. Got left by my front door the day I found out.”
No note. Nothing to indicate if it had been her choice, or some sick joke played the town.
Ashe was never satisfied. Her self assured attitude wasn't entirely show because she knew what she was good at and she constantly challenged herself to do better. There was no limit to what she would strive for, but really that boiled down to the fact that nothing was ever enough. There was no amount of money, products, or power that kept her happy. Ambition got her what she wanted, but not necessarily what she needed.
She'd always assumed he was pretty happy as well. Even right then, playing with the necklace around his neck, she had figured that whoever this had been about had been making him happy in a way hadn't. The idea of him marrying had seemed silly to her too. Did wandering rangers even settle down to marry?
Either way she feels an odd weight lift out of her stomach, despite that it's clear there was something going on. "Somebody special, huh? I know that look, you were taken with her."
It felt odd to feel anything like envy, but she couldn't help but feel replaced, like there was this space in his life that she had once filled as his best friend and now he had others to fill it. Though really, that was how she'd always felt. Replaced by Overawtch, replaced by justice, replaced by...whoever this girl was. Even her parents had replaced her spot in their family photo with the dog. She was replaceable, always had been, no matter how much she tightened the rope to make sure no one forgot her. As uncomfortable as she is, she presses on, with another shot of whiskey of course. "So...tell me about it."
Does Jesse even have a look when he’s taken with somebody? He must, for Ashe to notice. Still feels weird to think that she can read him that easily, even now. Equally strange to remember how he could read her just as well once.
Even in Overwatch, with the people he’d grown to consider his own family, he’d not met anyone he’d had that same tie to. He’d been closest with Reyes, but even then—especially near the end—there were things he didn’t know. Secrets the older man had kept close to his chest. There was no coming close to what he and Ashe had, growing up and then fighting their way through adolescence together. Despite what she thinks, he’s never found anything or anyone that could replace that. He likely never will.
“Yeah. I was.” He looks up, blinking until his eyes can focus on her properly. He hasn’t touched his glass for a few minutes, and judging by how blurry his vision is, maybe he shouldn’t if he wants to stay upright until she leaves. “What… d’you want to know?”
He’s surprised she cares, but what’s one more surprise on top of all the ones Ashe has already left him with?
She's starting to wish she was that drunk. Especially when he confirms that. Not that it matters, she's gone obviously. And not that it would have mattered anyway, she tells herself, because there isn't anything she wants from him. However, the confirmation makes her swallow and she reaches over to pour another glass, working her way to his level. They'd both pass out on the counter at this point.
Whether it's about caring or collecting information so she has the bigger picture, she isn't quite sure herself. She isn't so well adjusted as to want happiness for others when it could potentially be a wedge in her own happiness, but she doesn't fault him either. She'd had her own fair share of men in her life that had come and gone. Mostly because she couldn't ever give all of herself and she wasn't one to be controlled. But she doesn't not care, so it's a start.
"I dunno. She's obviously not here anymore, so that's got you upset. Who was she? When did she leave? She come from our world?" It's intense the way she feels, so she reaches for a little teasing to make herself more comfortable...if not him. "You used protection right? Tell me you used protection."
It’s a lot of questions, and it takes Jesse longer than it should to process each one. Tangled up in that is the fact that Ashe even cares, which is its own kind of confusing. He’s upset, and she’s not enjoying it, or at the very least ambivalent. It’s curious.
Anyway, he chose a bad time to sneak in a sip of whiskey. It’ll make answering easier, he thinks, but he hadn’t been expecting the questions to get to quite that level of personal. He chokes, coughing and almost-kind-of on the verge of laughing.
“Y-you… okay now, first of all, ‘course I would’ve. But we weren’t ever…” He coughs again, waving a hand dismissively. “We didn’t get there.”
They’d both had their hang-ups and their fears, old pains and losses. Maybe, if they’d had a little more time…
He’s at least not quite so gloomy when he finally gets his throat clear again. He’s clearly still melancholy, but there’s a touch of something warm now. A hint of fondness.
“Her name was Rei. Rei Kurosawa. Was April when she left, I think… early April. She wasn’t from the same Earth as us, but it was similar. Older. No omnics, but they had cell phones. She had an old camera, one of those you’d use film in. Knew all the settings somehow. Never did wrap my whole brain around it, but she could take a picture like nobody’s business.”
The response lightens the situation, and she can't help but give her own small laugh at his response. It occurs to her that teasing him into the answer ended up with him answering the question she really wanted to know. She's surprised when she feels suddenly a little more relaxed. They hadn't been intimate. Once again, she's mentally scolding herself for even being relieved because it's not like she had wanted that. Except that her mind returns to their over the top make out a few weeks back. "Shame. If you gotta be stuck here, good to have somethin' enjoyable to pass the time." Except that she hadn't slept with anyone either, so it wasn't like she was out passing it that way.
She takes another drink and leans her cheek into her palm to watch him as he goes on about her. Sounded like a Japanese name. There were so many different Earths, and other worlds in this place. It was hard to keep track of. She listens to him talk, relaxing some in the more casual conversation, she even nods to show she's hearing him. Then something catches her mind. "Wait? April? Beginnin' of April? That was the same time I showed up." She whistles low. "Deerington sent your girlfriend home and dragged me in. I take it back. Deerington is fuckin' with you."
It had been around the same time, hadn’t it? He’d still been recovering from the loss, and then there was Ashe. He chuckles quietly, looking down at his drink and then back over at her. She’s not changed since then, but something else has. The dynamic between them is a whole other thing now.
“Not gonna lie, thought for sure you and I were gonna end up in an old-fashioned shoot-out. I know how much you wanted a bullet in me.” More like several bullets, probably one for each time he’d pissed her off—and that’s got to be a lot of lead.
“I’m just lucky you didn’t shoot on sight. This truce we got goin’ on ain’t half bad, is it?”
She had made a lot of noise over the years about shooting him, hadn't she? It wasn't that she was all bark and no bite, because people knew she was faster than a rattlesnake and twice as easily pissed off, but she could also be a lot of bark. His pictures hung all over her dartboards filled with holes from enraged games of darts, but she never seemed to give enough. She accused her team of falling to pieces when he showed up, but her leadership seemed to go shit when he was around. It seemed that she was forever yelling grandiose declarations of war to his back when things were said and done.
"Thought crossed my mind. But I seem to have more luck shooting your photographs than I do you." It wasn't that they couldn't still get into it, considering Deerington seemed to drag up the dirt, but she wasn't dumb. She'd partnered with gangs she had been furious with to accomplish a greater goal, and likewise she'd seen the benefit of partnering with him. Except over the years she had come to respect a lot of those gang members and they her. Seemed the same was happening here. Maybe there was some truth to the fact that when you worked with a person, you started to wonder why you hadn't in the first place.
"Oh, I thought about it. I was still pretty pissed over my bike." She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes for a moment in thought, before opening them and looking at him softly. "No, it ain't. It seems okay, even got you workin' with me again instead of against me. Besides, since comin' here, I've started wonderin' if I'll ever manage to get a bullet into you. This place...it makes you tired."
See, Chloe? People don’t shoot at pictures of people they harbor any not-angry feelings towards, do they? Jesse makes a drunken-and-likely-to-be-forgotten mental note to mention that to her later. Doesn’t matter to him right then that he’s had plenty of reasons to doubt his assumptions about Ashe’s opinion of him in the last few months. All that matters when he’s this full of alcohol is that he was right, dammit.
Hard to celebrate though, when Ashe says that last thing. He nods, expression going tight as he watches her. She does look tired. Or maybe part of that is just how she seems so relaxed, like she’s not gearing up for a fight of some kind or bracing for a blow.
He’d assumed that she was only like that around him these days. Always ready for the next hit, the next betrayal. Maybe this is what she looks like more with the people she trusts. Or—a less comforting thought—maybe Ashe doesn’t actually get to relax that much at all, anywhere, and that’s how she is all the time.
“Yeah. It does. Wears you down.” He’s still watching her face, perhaps a little too intently.
“But you’re not in it alone.”
He’s not sure why he says it like that. He’s obviously not the first person she’d want to turn to for help or support or anything else. But they are working together now, and… just because they had been enemies back home doesn’t mean he wants to see her fall apart here, like so many other people have.
The alcohol in her own system was probably the cause of her openly suggesting that she wasn't really doing very well at actively shooting him. It was more a hint to the fact that something was holding her back from doing it. Shooting his pictures was easy, accomplishing it in reality was a different matter. Not that in the heat of the moment she wasn't dedicated, but after holding him dying she had been questioning her resolve.
So much of her life was on hold at the moment. Without a gang network to run, she had far less on her shoulders. Her business in Deerington didn't hold a candle to what she had going back home. Despite that she wasn't living her usual life, she was living. It was odd to think that she'd been getting comfortable here, but in some ways it was true. She could handle the things tossed her way for the most part. With Jesse she was surprised how easily she fell into old habits. Half a year of him being a central role in her life again and she would having been lying if she had said she hated him. What she felt was confusing, but just the look in her eyes as she watches him suggests a comfortably familiarity.
She's stuck in a conundrum because truth is, he is the first person she would go to in this place, yet she isn't quite at trusting, but she'd find some way and some excuse to go to him first. And when he says she isn't alone, she blinks a couple of times as she feels the knot return.
"Naw, they were smart enough to bring B.O.B. here to pick up after me." The teasing way she says that suggests that's not who she's really thinking of, but she couldn't outright tell him that she had him. Still watching his face though she chews at the inside of her lip. He was so damn attractive and it was hard to look away, especially when liquor was slowing her brain. She leans in slightly, eyes not leaving his and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. "Neither are you. B.O.B.'s got your back too." It was a way of saying she was there for him, because the omnic only would be with her okay. Her fingers linger, how long had it been since she'd really touched him. Party not counting. "Even without that girl of yours."
Jesse huffs a quiet laugh, looking for the first time that night like there isn’t the weight of the world on his shoulders. It doesn’t fix it all, and it won’t bring those who are gone back. But having her here, right now in this moment, makes things feel… right.
It shouldn’t though. He knows it, but he also knows what he feels—that in the midst of all this craziness and danger, there’s a rightness in having her here and fighting beside him. Them against the world again, only in an entirely different way.
Time feels like it slows down at the brush of her fingers against his forehead. He’s looking back at her, completely unable to even glance away, held there as if by some magnetic force. He tilts his head into her touch, just a little.
God, but she’s still beautiful. And more dangerous than ever. And still so stubborn, so loyal, and… wait, what had the point of this thought been?
“B.O.B. has always been one of the best sentient non-humans I know. Guess we’re both lucky.”
She could still recall every memory of those days when they'd been on their own, before she'd started Deadlock with him and the other two leaders. It hadn't been the easiest time in her life when she'd been scraping by on one small score after another, moving from one motel to another. And in so many ways those days were the best of her life, because she'd never felt more free or less alone. Even as they grew and surrounded themselves in wealth and success, what had mattered most at the time was that she hadn't been alone. She'd loved so hard that she'd flipped to the other side, and now that hatred was losing steam. It didn't mean the complications were gone, but sitting there with him and spending time working with him reminded her that her best friend was sitting there next to her.
The subtle feel of him turning towards her touch registers and her fingers linger, palm moving to cup his cheek. Her own eyes stare back at him, and she feels the intensity of the moment. She glad it's getting late and most people have made their leave my now. Even the bartender seems to pay them no attention. It's like being alone in their own little world again.
"I, forgot," she whispers, taking a shaky breath. "I forget that you weren't my enemy." She's seeing him in a new light, all the weeks and months of things that have happened where he's been a constant in her life. She feels a bit nervous, and she wonders when she got closer to him. "I...have my rules. All those things I live by." Her own personal wall of control and protection. "But, I think I might be...breakin' them." She blinks a couple of times of times, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm a liar, Jesse. I can't...kill you..." She was no more serious about it than when she'd been a teenager chasing him around and screaming about shooting him for some dumb offense against her.
They’ve cried in front of each other before, so this isn’t the first time Jesse has seen tears in her eyes. It hits him just the same though. Like something in his own chest has cracked right down the middle. His hand is on her face in seconds, his calloused thumb wiping the tear away. They’re mirroring one another now, a fact he’s mostly aware of because of how good her palm feels against his cheek. Comforting. Warm.
But unlike years ago, Jesse doesn’t know what she needs from him now. What he should say, what he should do… it had never been easy, but he’d always known the gist of what she needed from him. A fight. A hug. A single cigarette, shared in silence.
What she’d just told him doesn’t help him get his thoughts in order either. He wants to believe it, more than he thought he would. But…
“You’re drunk, Ashe.” His smile is sad, his voice soft, even if there’s barely anyone left around to hear it anyway. “Never did hold it against you y’know. You gunnin’ for me. I… I did wish it could’ve been different.” His thumb brushes her cheek again, this time without the excuse of a rogue tear to justify it. “I gave you plenty of ammo, didn’t I?”
She's a difficult woman. There was no question about it, and she was definitely hard to read. With her short fuse and explosive temper, she knew underneath it all that there really wasn't a reason for anyone to stay around her. Even those that did, she kept at arm's length. Her eyes widen slightly in shock when he brings his thumb up to brush the tear away. She hadn't even be aware that it had rolled down her cheek.
Her eyes catch his again and she's not even surprised by his doubt. She's done more than enough damage to their trust that she isn't surprised that he's doubtful. You didn't exactly encourage the building of bridges when you shouted out into the world that you wanted someone dead. If her team could see her now, they'd be just as doubtful as she was. Well, except maybe the other founders, they knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.
She gives a tiny nod, still unable to tear her eyes away. "Yeah. I'm drunk. So are you?" Her fingers moved down to his neck. "Maybe I'll deny it later, but you should know damn well I don't lie very well when drunk." There was no fight in her at that moment, but she understands. Trust was going to take more to build, for both of them, but she couldn't get the desire to be close out of her head. She has to get the word out though, before she walls it off again. "I got left. Same as you. Still stuck in the middle of it all. I sat in plenty of bars and wondered why the people I wanted to love couldn't stay." She pauses as she collects her thoughts. "And you... you've been one hell of an asshole." A sad smile curls at one corner of her lip.
She’s right about that. Ashe can hold her liquor with the best of them, but her ability to lie does take a hit for it. Maybe those who didn’t know her well couldn’t tell, but Jesse usually could. Except when he’s equally as drunk—or more so, as the case is now.
That ache in his chest turns sharp quick, leaving him feeling stricken. She’s never talked to him like this before about what happened. Honestly, he’s never had much of a chance to hear her side of it. He’d assumed a lot, and the few interactions they’d had post-Blackwatch had solidified them in his mind.
Apparently, he’d been wrong. Very wrong, if she’s telling the truth.
He doesn’t think about what he does next until he’s doing it. His hand slips back into her hair, cradling her head as he leans forward. His forehead rests against her own. It’s more a sort of embrace than a prelude to anything else, even with the sudden lack of distance between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
Didn’t think. Hadn’t asked. Had been so focused on himself and his own wounds, he hadn’t fully seen the damage he’d left strewn out behind him.
It hadn't exactly been fair of her to respond as she had the first time she'd seen him. The way he'd changed though had felt so threatening and it hadn't allowed a lot of time for friendly conversation. She'd changed too. Where once they had faced the horrors together, they had both seen so many new horrors on their own. She'd been quick to anger with her perceived rejection and from there things has spiraled out of her control and it wasn't until Deerington that she'd been able to look at him with any common sense.
There is shock and warmth as she feels him close the gap between her. For a second she'd thought he might have been going for more than just resting their foreheads together, but everything he gave her felt like a touch she'd been starving for. Few wanted to be close to her, and she certainly didn't give off the vibe that she might actually want to be held or treated with care. She had always known Jesse to be like some whisperer when it came to her, able to calm her storms as well as he could start them.
Her hand slid from his neck to move around his shoulder and hold him against her. Maybe they looked ridiculous to any onlookers, but she was desperate for the closeness. Short of B.O.B., and a few people she'd briefly allowed into her bed, she didn't have a lot of contact. And B.O.B., no matter how much she loved him, did not provide the same human warmth, and she left the others without any post-coital cuddling.
"...Me too." She whispered. Her head felt heavy and she turned her head a bit. The moment was perfect in some ways, but she couldn't quite bridge the gap to kiss his mouth, too unsure of what he wanted. Instead she pressed her lips to his cheek, before laying her head against his shoulder and burying her face into his neck. She breathed him in and he smelled exactly as he once had and she just needed to be close. "I missed you..."
Jesse hadn’t exactly given Ashe a fair chance either during that first reunion. He’d been keeping up with Deadlock and had seen where it was headed. He thought that told him what he needed to know about its leader as well. And she’d changed, sure, but maybe not in all the ways he’d thought. This is the same, at least… this simple touch. Her head on his shoulder. The two of them drunk and spilling secrets.
He doesn’t have the words for it himself, but he’s been starving for this kind of touch just as much. The warmth from that kiss on his cheek fills his chest, not quite wiping out the previous aches and pains. But it makes it manageable. He leans his cheek against the top of her head and just holds her there.
This night had started out being about the people he’s lost. How strange and wonderful how it has become about people found.
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She takes her seat again at the counter, and the barkeep nods his head to her. Tucking the longer pieces of hair behind her ear so that she's not hiding behind it, she dares to glance up at him. This was the boy whom she had deeply cared for all grown up. The reasons that became friends is starting to come into clarity again and she wonders as she looks into his eyes if what had drawn them together as friends all those years ago was stronger than what had torn them apart. It's hard for her to say yet, but he'd run after her and she figured that meant she needed to brave sitting in the muck of it all a little longer.
After a minute of staring into his eyes as if trying to figure him out, her eyes drift to his mouth and she feels a slight warmth grace her cheeks. Hadn't been that long ago since she'd left her lipstick all over them. She turns her attention to the bottle, and pours them both another drink. "Well, I can't say as this place is borin', never can figure what it'll throw at you." One day it was making a joke out of you in outrageous outfits and leading you to make out in closets. The next, you are stuck facing your fears with that same person who you who can't figure out is friend or foe. "I don't...fully hate it. It's got some good people in it. Sure, we might lose them, but...that ain't different than home. And I'd say we are better equipped to deal with the horror than most." She runs her thumb along the rim of her glass. "Just another battle in a different place."
She really wanted to ask him why he couldn't ever return if it wasn't because of her, but she was too afraid of the answer, so she lets that question hang back in her mind. It's in good company with unasked questions like why hadn't he even tried to get her out or why he couldn't come back but he still came to them when he needed something. She needed so many answers and as usual she wasn't as good at getting what she needed as what she wanted.
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And making it even more complicated are things like the way her eyes dart down to his lips. It’s impossible not to remember that heated moment in the closet, and then after, both of them acting right up until they weren’t.
Again, it’s all very complicated. He’s too drunk to even try for a well-timed flirtation, so he just props his shoulder on the counter and his head in his hand, his eyes on Ashe the whole while.
“It’s not the people I mind either. It’s the everythin’ else.” Oof, and what she’s saying really hits home.“It is different though. It’s… it’s like this place takes ‘em away. Like it’s playin’ games.” He frowns out at the crowd, his free hand idly going to the chain around his neck. It had been mostly hidden behind his flannel before. At the end of it is what had been left behind for him of Rei: a little silver camera, and a man’s silver ring. It’s not something he always wears. When he does, he tends to keep it hidden.
“But you’re right. We are better equipped.” His frown deepens, as does his grip on the necklace. “Lot of good that does when we can’t land a hit on whatever is playin’ with us here.”
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"Jesse McCree admittin' he's missin' the target. Never thought I'd see the day." She teased to try and lighten it up. "I'm tryin' to figure some of that out in my work. Ain't just about the product."
It's hard to not think about what had happened at the party, she'd been thinking about it since then. Hadn't been willing to talk about it. She had questioned whether she'd gone too far, and she knew it had gone farther than necessary. Luckily she is distracted by the necklace that he pulls out when he starts talking about the people. It doesn't take much to figure out that the necklace represented someone important. Likely someone he was missing greatly. She can see the little silver ring and something in her twist uncomfortably.
She lifts her head motioning towards it. "What's that? You go and get married in the time we've been apart?" She can't quite understand why she isn't sure she wants the answer, but her tone doesn't give any of her trepidation away.
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He might’ve asked, had she not asked about the necklace first.
“Me, get married?” He huffs out something like a laugh, though it’s more sad than amused as he looks down at the ring and the charm. “Nah, this… this belonged to somebody special. She got here when I did. We were…” He trails off. They were together, sure, but… he’d never quite let her in the way he wanted to. He’d been too afraid, to be honest. Good things didn’t happen to people he let get close. But then look what happened—she was gone anyway.
“… She was special. These were hers. Got left by my front door the day I found out.”
No note. Nothing to indicate if it had been her choice, or some sick joke played the town.
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She'd always assumed he was pretty happy as well. Even right then, playing with the necklace around his neck, she had figured that whoever this had been about had been making him happy in a way hadn't. The idea of him marrying had seemed silly to her too. Did wandering rangers even settle down to marry?
Either way she feels an odd weight lift out of her stomach, despite that it's clear there was something going on. "Somebody special, huh? I know that look, you were taken with her."
It felt odd to feel anything like envy, but she couldn't help but feel replaced, like there was this space in his life that she had once filled as his best friend and now he had others to fill it. Though really, that was how she'd always felt. Replaced by Overawtch, replaced by justice, replaced by...whoever this girl was. Even her parents had replaced her spot in their family photo with the dog. She was replaceable, always had been, no matter how much she tightened the rope to make sure no one forgot her. As uncomfortable as she is, she presses on, with another shot of whiskey of course. "So...tell me about it."
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Even in Overwatch, with the people he’d grown to consider his own family, he’d not met anyone he’d had that same tie to. He’d been closest with Reyes, but even then—especially near the end—there were things he didn’t know. Secrets the older man had kept close to his chest. There was no coming close to what he and Ashe had, growing up and then fighting their way through adolescence together. Despite what she thinks, he’s never found anything or anyone that could replace that. He likely never will.
“Yeah. I was.” He looks up, blinking until his eyes can focus on her properly. He hasn’t touched his glass for a few minutes, and judging by how blurry his vision is, maybe he shouldn’t if he wants to stay upright until she leaves. “What… d’you want to know?”
He’s surprised she cares, but what’s one more surprise on top of all the ones Ashe has already left him with?
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Whether it's about caring or collecting information so she has the bigger picture, she isn't quite sure herself. She isn't so well adjusted as to want happiness for others when it could potentially be a wedge in her own happiness, but she doesn't fault him either. She'd had her own fair share of men in her life that had come and gone. Mostly because she couldn't ever give all of herself and she wasn't one to be controlled. But she doesn't not care, so it's a start.
"I dunno. She's obviously not here anymore, so that's got you upset. Who was she? When did she leave? She come from our world?" It's intense the way she feels, so she reaches for a little teasing to make herself more comfortable...if not him. "You used protection right? Tell me you used protection."
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Anyway, he chose a bad time to sneak in a sip of whiskey. It’ll make answering easier, he thinks, but he hadn’t been expecting the questions to get to quite that level of personal. He chokes, coughing and almost-kind-of on the verge of laughing.
“Y-you… okay now, first of all, ‘course I would’ve. But we weren’t ever…” He coughs again, waving a hand dismissively. “We didn’t get there.”
They’d both had their hang-ups and their fears, old pains and losses. Maybe, if they’d had a little more time…
He’s at least not quite so gloomy when he finally gets his throat clear again. He’s clearly still melancholy, but there’s a touch of something warm now. A hint of fondness.
“Her name was Rei. Rei Kurosawa. Was April when she left, I think… early April. She wasn’t from the same Earth as us, but it was similar. Older. No omnics, but they had cell phones. She had an old camera, one of those you’d use film in. Knew all the settings somehow. Never did wrap my whole brain around it, but she could take a picture like nobody’s business.”
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She takes another drink and leans her cheek into her palm to watch him as he goes on about her. Sounded like a Japanese name. There were so many different Earths, and other worlds in this place. It was hard to keep track of. She listens to him talk, relaxing some in the more casual conversation, she even nods to show she's hearing him. Then something catches her mind. "Wait? April? Beginnin' of April? That was the same time I showed up." She whistles low. "Deerington sent your girlfriend home and dragged me in. I take it back. Deerington is fuckin' with you."
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It had been around the same time, hadn’t it? He’d still been recovering from the loss, and then there was Ashe. He chuckles quietly, looking down at his drink and then back over at her. She’s not changed since then, but something else has. The dynamic between them is a whole other thing now.
“Not gonna lie, thought for sure you and I were gonna end up in an old-fashioned shoot-out. I know how much you wanted a bullet in me.” More like several bullets, probably one for each time he’d pissed her off—and that’s got to be a lot of lead.
“I’m just lucky you didn’t shoot on sight. This truce we got goin’ on ain’t half bad, is it?”
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"Thought crossed my mind. But I seem to have more luck shooting your photographs than I do you." It wasn't that they couldn't still get into it, considering Deerington seemed to drag up the dirt, but she wasn't dumb. She'd partnered with gangs she had been furious with to accomplish a greater goal, and likewise she'd seen the benefit of partnering with him. Except over the years she had come to respect a lot of those gang members and they her. Seemed the same was happening here. Maybe there was some truth to the fact that when you worked with a person, you started to wonder why you hadn't in the first place.
"Oh, I thought about it. I was still pretty pissed over my bike." She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes for a moment in thought, before opening them and looking at him softly. "No, it ain't. It seems okay, even got you workin' with me again instead of against me. Besides, since comin' here, I've started wonderin' if I'll ever manage to get a bullet into you. This place...it makes you tired."
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Hard to celebrate though, when Ashe says that last thing. He nods, expression going tight as he watches her. She does look tired. Or maybe part of that is just how she seems so relaxed, like she’s not gearing up for a fight of some kind or bracing for a blow.
He’d assumed that she was only like that around him these days. Always ready for the next hit, the next betrayal. Maybe this is what she looks like more with the people she trusts. Or—a less comforting thought—maybe Ashe doesn’t actually get to relax that much at all, anywhere, and that’s how she is all the time.
“Yeah. It does. Wears you down.” He’s still watching her face, perhaps a little too intently.
“But you’re not in it alone.”
He’s not sure why he says it like that. He’s obviously not the first person she’d want to turn to for help or support or anything else. But they are working together now, and… just because they had been enemies back home doesn’t mean he wants to see her fall apart here, like so many other people have.
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So much of her life was on hold at the moment. Without a gang network to run, she had far less on her shoulders. Her business in Deerington didn't hold a candle to what she had going back home. Despite that she wasn't living her usual life, she was living. It was odd to think that she'd been getting comfortable here, but in some ways it was true. She could handle the things tossed her way for the most part. With Jesse she was surprised how easily she fell into old habits. Half a year of him being a central role in her life again and she would having been lying if she had said she hated him. What she felt was confusing, but just the look in her eyes as she watches him suggests a comfortably familiarity.
She's stuck in a conundrum because truth is, he is the first person she would go to in this place, yet she isn't quite at trusting, but she'd find some way and some excuse to go to him first. And when he says she isn't alone, she blinks a couple of times as she feels the knot return.
"Naw, they were smart enough to bring B.O.B. here to pick up after me." The teasing way she says that suggests that's not who she's really thinking of, but she couldn't outright tell him that she had him. Still watching his face though she chews at the inside of her lip. He was so damn attractive and it was hard to look away, especially when liquor was slowing her brain. She leans in slightly, eyes not leaving his and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. "Neither are you. B.O.B.'s got your back too." It was a way of saying she was there for him, because the omnic only would be with her okay. Her fingers linger, how long had it been since she'd really touched him. Party not counting. "Even without that girl of yours."
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It shouldn’t though. He knows it, but he also knows what he feels—that in the midst of all this craziness and danger, there’s a rightness in having her here and fighting beside him. Them against the world again, only in an entirely different way.
Time feels like it slows down at the brush of her fingers against his forehead. He’s looking back at her, completely unable to even glance away, held there as if by some magnetic force. He tilts his head into her touch, just a little.
God, but she’s still beautiful. And more dangerous than ever. And still so stubborn, so loyal, and… wait, what had the point of this thought been?
“B.O.B. has always been one of the best sentient non-humans I know. Guess we’re both lucky.”
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The subtle feel of him turning towards her touch registers and her fingers linger, palm moving to cup his cheek. Her own eyes stare back at him, and she feels the intensity of the moment. She glad it's getting late and most people have made their leave my now. Even the bartender seems to pay them no attention. It's like being alone in their own little world again.
"I, forgot," she whispers, taking a shaky breath. "I forget that you weren't my enemy." She's seeing him in a new light, all the weeks and months of things that have happened where he's been a constant in her life. She feels a bit nervous, and she wonders when she got closer to him. "I...have my rules. All those things I live by." Her own personal wall of control and protection. "But, I think I might be...breakin' them." She blinks a couple of times of times, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm a liar, Jesse. I can't...kill you..." She was no more serious about it than when she'd been a teenager chasing him around and screaming about shooting him for some dumb offense against her.
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But unlike years ago, Jesse doesn’t know what she needs from him now. What he should say, what he should do… it had never been easy, but he’d always known the gist of what she needed from him. A fight. A hug. A single cigarette, shared in silence.
What she’d just told him doesn’t help him get his thoughts in order either. He wants to believe it, more than he thought he would. But…
“You’re drunk, Ashe.” His smile is sad, his voice soft, even if there’s barely anyone left around to hear it anyway. “Never did hold it against you y’know. You gunnin’ for me. I… I did wish it could’ve been different.” His thumb brushes her cheek again, this time without the excuse of a rogue tear to justify it. “I gave you plenty of ammo, didn’t I?”
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Her eyes catch his again and she's not even surprised by his doubt. She's done more than enough damage to their trust that she isn't surprised that he's doubtful. You didn't exactly encourage the building of bridges when you shouted out into the world that you wanted someone dead. If her team could see her now, they'd be just as doubtful as she was. Well, except maybe the other founders, they knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.
She gives a tiny nod, still unable to tear her eyes away. "Yeah. I'm drunk. So are you?" Her fingers moved down to his neck. "Maybe I'll deny it later, but you should know damn well I don't lie very well when drunk." There was no fight in her at that moment, but she understands. Trust was going to take more to build, for both of them, but she couldn't get the desire to be close out of her head. She has to get the word out though, before she walls it off again. "I got left. Same as you. Still stuck in the middle of it all. I sat in plenty of bars and wondered why the people I wanted to love couldn't stay." She pauses as she collects her thoughts. "And you... you've been one hell of an asshole." A sad smile curls at one corner of her lip.
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That ache in his chest turns sharp quick, leaving him feeling stricken. She’s never talked to him like this before about what happened. Honestly, he’s never had much of a chance to hear her side of it. He’d assumed a lot, and the few interactions they’d had post-Blackwatch had solidified them in his mind.
Apparently, he’d been wrong. Very wrong, if she’s telling the truth.
He doesn’t think about what he does next until he’s doing it. His hand slips back into her hair, cradling her head as he leans forward. His forehead rests against her own. It’s more a sort of embrace than a prelude to anything else, even with the sudden lack of distance between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
Didn’t think. Hadn’t asked. Had been so focused on himself and his own wounds, he hadn’t fully seen the damage he’d left strewn out behind him.
“… I’m sorry.”
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There is shock and warmth as she feels him close the gap between her. For a second she'd thought he might have been going for more than just resting their foreheads together, but everything he gave her felt like a touch she'd been starving for. Few wanted to be close to her, and she certainly didn't give off the vibe that she might actually want to be held or treated with care. She had always known Jesse to be like some whisperer when it came to her, able to calm her storms as well as he could start them.
Her hand slid from his neck to move around his shoulder and hold him against her. Maybe they looked ridiculous to any onlookers, but she was desperate for the closeness. Short of B.O.B., and a few people she'd briefly allowed into her bed, she didn't have a lot of contact. And B.O.B., no matter how much she loved him, did not provide the same human warmth, and she left the others without any post-coital cuddling.
"...Me too." She whispered. Her head felt heavy and she turned her head a bit. The moment was perfect in some ways, but she couldn't quite bridge the gap to kiss his mouth, too unsure of what he wanted. Instead she pressed her lips to his cheek, before laying her head against his shoulder and burying her face into his neck. She breathed him in and he smelled exactly as he once had and she just needed to be close. "I missed you..."
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He doesn’t have the words for it himself, but he’s been starving for this kind of touch just as much. The warmth from that kiss on his cheek fills his chest, not quite wiping out the previous aches and pains. But it makes it manageable. He leans his cheek against the top of her head and just holds her there.
This night had started out being about the people he’s lost. How strange and wonderful how it has become about people found.
“… Missed you too.”