LET'S HIT THE ROAD I WAS SO CLOSE TO PERSONAL GROWTH

[mylawn]

[ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO...

Are you caught up? Good. We find our heroes having recently embarked upon a two thousand-mile road trip to San Diego (a real place) from Dorado (not really a real place), in search of experimental government technology. The plan is simple--horseback to the nearest hypertrain station. Sneak across the border, then commandeer a vehicle or perhaps another horse to complete the rest of the journey. Bust into an old Overwatch outpost, steal all of their shit, acquire a new tactical visor or something similar, and then part ways and he can go back to vengeance or whatever it is he's doing.

There is, unfortunately, only one horse, and Jesse McCree and his vaguely unhinged ex-commander are not exactly light or small (they are both tall and also kind of heavy). 76 is also more uncomfortable with the animal than he lets on, but that might just be because he's riding shotgun. Is that what you call it when you're not actually driving the horse, but are sort of behind the person driving the horse, in constant danger of slipping off the horse unless you hold onto the person driving the horse (which is unpleasant because 76 doesn't like sharing personal space and McCree is an unwashed hobo who still thinks cowboys are relevant)? Do you call it driving the horse?

Either way, this is uncomfortable--but not so uncomfortable that 76 doesn't eventually succumb to the fact that he stayed up the whole night before just in case McCree decided to bail on this operation. He nods off upright for a little, jarred awake every time they hit some kind of bump (which is often). Eventually, he slumps forward, conking out right against McCree. Probably the only reason he's not drooling on McCree is because he's put the face mask back on. The visor, however, is still totally busted.

Let dad rest.]

Comments

[good_bamf_ugly]

[He suspected 76 wasn't going to sleep easy if at all. It'd be a lie to say McCree got a good night's sleep but probably fared a good sum of hours better than him. He knew he'd need them because he also knew he wouldn't be able to hustle the steady brown steed he'd borrowed very hard with the weight of two unwashed hobo men.

It's a long bumpy ride but finally, eventually, McCree feels him succumb to that lack of sleep. On one hand it's a relief to not feel the constant reminder of his vaguely unhinged ex-commander bearing literally down his back and feeling his eyes figuratively bearing down on him through that shattered visor of his. On the other hand, sleeping upright on a horse is damn hard and honestly McCree starts counting the seconds he thinks he'll last. He should just let the bastard fall off and learn him his lesson.

Instead he straightens his back with a frown and keeps riding--at least as much as he can get before he starts to feel 76 slide a little too much to the right.

76 gets a sharp jab in the stomach from McCree's elbow.]

Betty Sue don't come with seatbelts. [That's the horse. Betty Sue.] And I figure you won't appreciate me fashioning some for you in the middle of your sleep.

[mylawn]

[He's jostled awake for the umpteenth time and this time he stays awake. His first instinct is to slap McCree upside the head for elbowing him in the stomach, but he's quick to get his bearings and he stops himself. He is on a horse. McCree is driving the horse (do you call it driving the horse). 76 has to re-adjust to make sure he's not going to fall off.

It's daylight, so he can make a few estimates, but the scenery is just smears of color, so he can't be sure how far they've gone.]

How long was I out?

[Please tell him he was out for a month and a half. Please tell him that he slept all the way to San Diego.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

Almost long enough to fall off.

[How helpful. The sun's starting to get higher in the air and the heat is already uncomfortable. By high noon it'll be insufferable and McCree honestly sees no reason in not taking advantage of the small town just up ahead.]

It'd make for faster travel. [He teases, then sort of re-adjusts in his own seat as needed after 79 re-arranges himself.]

You need to take a pit-stop for a nap or what?

[mylawn]

[76 does little more than grumble inarticulately in response, arching his back a little to stretch. Now that he's more coherent, he can start to realize that man it is hot and gross out and his (ex) blonde-haired blue-eyed sensitivities are probably getting extremely sunburnt (or horrendously tan-lined, at least). The leather jacket, equipment harness, several dozen pounds of weaponry, and military fatigues are probably not helping his internal temperature. He's used to operating at night for a reason.]

Shouldn't travel in the middle of the day.

[Seeing as they're literally in Mexico, and all. Better to get a few hours in before noon, find some shade while the sun is high, and continue on into the night.

That does not, however, mean he's terribly keen on pit stopping anywhere that might be construed as civilization. They're both insanely wanted--though McCree is likely comfortable waltzing around wherever he wants in the relatively lawless west, 76 is highly recognizable. The thought of staying still for too long sets him on edge.]

Whenever the horse needs a break.

[That's what this is about. The horse.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

Hmmmm. Well...

[Obviously this is about the horse, so McCree leans forward, slacking the reigns as he directs the query to the appropriate venue.]

What do you reckon, Betty Sue?

[Betty Sue keeps trotting, McCree brings his hand to his ear in an exaggerated show of listening for words unspoken. Then he twists in his seat and peers over his shoulder. He can't help but smirk. Those were some horrendously awful awful tan-lines. 76 damn well wouldn't even need his visor with how much red his skin was getting.]

Lechuguillas shouldn't be too far, if memory serves correct. We'll break there.

[It's true--McCree is comfortable waltzing around wherever he pleases, especially in the relatively lawless west, and if someone kicks up a fuss about it he just disappears with a wink and a grin. He's good at that. 76 on the other hand could stand to change his appearance up just a little, especially from all the wanted posters around.]

You hide under that mask all the time?

[It's kind of a pointless question; McCree studied said wanted posters and dug up whatever intel he could on his prospective target before he even came down to Dorado. The mask was his new face, and McCree only asks because without it he needs to realize, here, he's effectively a stranger. Unless there were some Overwatch agents hanging around in a tiny middle-of-nowhere-Mexico quasi-beach-town... but McCree sincerely doubted that. 76 should be able to walk around just fine for supplies well enough, but he'd have to ditch the fatigues and jacket for sure.]

[mylawn]

[Oh my god he's talking to the horse. 76 knows, on some level, that this is just a facetious show put on to irk him, but it's working. And then he's irked about being irked. Without the visor, the roll of his eyes is incredibly easy to see. He doesn't like the idea of leaving his gear behind in broad daylight to go on a supply run (in broad daylight), he doesn't like the idea of venturing anywhere near civilization and he certainly doesn't trust McCree not to fuck this up for the both of them.

He doesn't even dignify the cowboy with a response to the question about his mask. It doesn't need answering. He will, however, clarify one thing.]

It's not hiding.

[good_bamf_ugly]

[Sure. Sure, Jack.

He rephrases.]

Can you manage without it while we're in town? Won't do you any good, I assure you.

[mylawn]

[More eye rolling. Isn't McCree glad he broke the visor so he can see all of the eye rolling?]

Quit asking me stupid questions.

[What do you take him for? Someone who literally can't function in human society anymore?]

Not planning on walking into town looking like my wanted poster.

[good_bamf_ugly]

I dunno', I think gotta' ask after you walked into my humble flashbang riddled abode.

[McCree shrugs loudly, seeming to take no offense or care to 76's grumpiness and eye-rolling.]

Even heard you beat some kid up with a piñata. I think it's fair I ask some stupid questions.

[mylawn]

[God is he really going on about that? 76 doesn't even want to begin to entertain a conversation about his botched encounter with Los Muertos. He guesses word gets around--McCree was just doing his research. What a headache.]

That kid was trafficking enough weaponry to make everyone in Dorado eat lead.

[So, he's standing by the piñata thing. He still doesn't know what LumériCo is up to, or if the unreasonable amount of firepower he tried to stop Los Muertos from delivering has anything to do with it.]

You got any other stupid questions?

[Might as well get them all over and done with.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

Guess I should be thankful you didn't use the piñata tactic on me back in the day. Mighty embarrassing way of a fight.

[Time to think of a stupid question specifically to annoy his company. McCree doesn't have to try very hard.]

What's your hat size? [Trick question, and,]

How many years are you pushin' now? [Actually curious, and,]

When's the last time you bathed? Don't think I can't smell you back there.

[mylawn]

[Yeah, these are stupid questions and they tick him off (then again, not much doesn’t tick him off these days). Luckily, 76 has only asked if McCree had stupid questions, and certainly did not state that he would answer them.

He’s not going to answer them, but for the record: he doesn’t know his hat size, like fifty-five-ish, and though he can scrub down in water fairly regularly, soap is a little more difficult to come by, especially when he’s moving frequently. McCree smells like sweat and dirt and horse, so he’s really got no room at all to talk, because that's arguably worse than sweat and dirt and pulse munitions.

It seems more prudent to steer the discussion back to their immediate plan. He can see the little houses of the town in the distance, now (or at least, he sees a change in color a ways off that might indicate some kind of civilization), and he wants a pressing issue addressed.]

Hope you’ve got a place to store our gear.

[In broad daylight. While they have a great time in town. 76 is clearly concerned about his several dozen pounds of stolen experimental military equipment.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

We'll find a place, relax.

[Easier said than done since McCree was effectively planning on burying their wares near the horse. That was really their best and only option at this point, other than paying a local to keep an eye on it and McCree's not inclined to waste time or draw any more unnecessary attention upon themselves.

Besides, they weren't going to be gone long anyway. An hour or two at the very most.

Which is exactly what McCree will express to 76 once they're within easy walking distance of the outskirts of town. There's desert intermixing with shrubs and trees. It's much greener over here and easier to hide a horse, especially if McCree tells her to lay down. (Which she does, because Betty Sue is doing double time for these two smelly unwashed hobos.)

McCree takes off his serape and bundles his armor, holsters, and one of his guns in it, and suggests 76 does the same with his mask, visor remnants, rifle and fatigues and whatever else will look suspect. They can roll that up like a wanted vigilante burrito and bury that with no risk of dirt getting in the equipment. McCree keeps one of his guns and tucks it in his pants and hides it with his shirt. Not perfect but too bad an idea to walk in completely unarmed.

Unless there's any objections, he's ready when 76 is.]

[mylawn]

[76 doesn't try to stop McCree, knowing that the current conversation is completely unsalvageable. It's not that he feels remorse, exactly--he just knows how he usually is, even after all these years, and knows that it's pointless to even try when he's been pushed over the edge. Still, he'll maintain that breaking his wrist was a lesson he needed to learn.

He nods off a little over the course of the night but otherwise doesn't sleep. There's no further conversation when it's time to move out, either. 76 knows that McCree spent the majority of the night trying to find their spooked horse, and even if he had anything to say, he wouldn't chance it in this kind of mood. They dump Miguel at civilization in the early morning, then try to put as much distance between them and the town as possible.

Once they're a little further out, 76 ventures to speak.]

How's your arm?

[Asking because it's occurred to him that he doesn't know how useless McCree might be without it.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

[The silence isn't entirely awkward but it's thick enough to make every motion feel like they're wading through humid fog. They just keep pressing forward, no other choice but to. McCree tries to not stew on it too much as Betty Sue continues to march through the desert, sans one Miguel of the Chupacabras. McCree and 76 are on this journey together, for better or worse. Probably says more than words can say that it's not the comparatively more chatty cowboy to initiate conversation.]

Fine.

[That's the 'it's not really fine' kind of fine and he immediately scorns himself for it. What is he, 12? He holds it out to his side so 76 can see, other hand on the reigns. The metal is all stiff, not flopping around like it was the night before. His fingers are together and his thumb is curled under in a "natural" resting position. ]

Salvaged wires and screws that I could, configured the rest to stay stiff like this. Just a glorified meat hook now, but better than leavin' it be.

[He could still use it to push and pull things to a limited degree, even use the reigns if he wrapped it around but didn't need to be said it'd do none of them any good for shooting.]

You're fortunate I know how to shoot with both.

[Not that he didn't regularly shoot with his right hand anyway.]

[mylawn]

[If 76 is at all guilty, he doesn't show it. He'd done what he needed to do to extricate himself from an unfavorable situation, and he doesn't much care what McCree thinks. He's put in a stop-gap for now, and they'll be able to fully repair his arm eventually.

It's not the end of the world. They're capable. That's what he tells himself.]

I know you can shoot with both.

[And, in fact, 76 knows that McCree favors his right hand, so this is all a moot point when it comes to shooting, at least. Maybe he's just trying to justify his near-feral behavior to himself. He can't imagine what McCree is thinking about him. That's the most unfortunate part of being compromised to an ex-agent. 76 doesn't want anyone to see him like this. What's become of him.

He falls silent again, as if he's not quite sure where else to take the conversation. Despite his general flat tone and resolve to not feel guilty, he's ashamed of himself. Feels like he should offer McCree some kind of explanation. Maybe not for breaking his wrist, but for hiding his impairment. Jack--the more rational part of him--knows it was a stupid, risky decision that put them both in danger.]

I can see. Not too well, but well enough. Visor bypasses it. I know you're wondering.

[good_bamf_ugly]

I am wondering. [He confirms, more harshly blurted than he would have liked. A softer correction soon follows. ] Have been wonderin'. [Not really a correction.

Betty Sue marches on, each hoof carrying the passing moments of silence with a heavy weight. McCree was wondering a lot of things about Jack and 76 and the man and the times that passed in-between. It's not like he doesn't know that time and hardships change people--he's seen it plenty with his own eyes, but it's another sight to behold when it's a such a dramatic change with Jack, and furthermore to be on the receiving end of that unfettered violence, even if for just a moment.

The more McCree wonders the more he thinks he should stop wondering, a tarry sad acceptance of pity ruling his gut. It's sad. Just plain fucking sad and not a damn thing he could have done about it. He was helpless to see Overwatch crack and crumble, helpless to watch his former comrades and mentor figures die or disappear one by one, or worse, helpless to think the worst of them found themselves in an organization like Talon.

Any more he wonders about it he'll start wondering that the hell he's doing with himself--why he bothers to fight the good fight and keep his morals morals--but that's the line he always finds and backs away from with solid resolve. If, after all the things he's lost and was forced to lose, all he had left, like hell he was going to let anyone, lest of all himself, sabotage.

Jack seems to have crossed that line somewhere between then and now. It's sad. Makes him angry because whatever Jack lost of himself McCree continues to carry on in his virtues.]

Makes us even. [He wonders why he bothers to still feel guilty for smashing his visor when he just smashed his wrist in kind.] Just not in a good way.

I'll help you get your visor back. [If he's not doing it for 76's sake, he's doing it with boyscout Jack in mind.]

[mylawn]

[Two nights ago in the barn, 76 had convinced himself that using McCree as assistance as he made his way up to California to see what he could do about the visor was both opportune, and what he deserved for trying to cash in on his bounty. Then again, he'd also made the arrangement under the assumption that he'd be able to hide his impairment.

Now, however, he's starting to wonder if any of it is worth it at all. It doesn't feel worth it. He's exposed, and vulnerable, and angry at the way things have shaken out. He can hear disappointment in McCree's voice, and that's what helps him make up his mind.]

Let's just get to the hypertrain.

[He's not really interested in making things even, anymore. Breaking McCree's metal arm had been momentarily satisfying, but now he feels empty. He's starting to realize that he didn't want Jesse seeing him like this.

Too late for that, however. The most he can do is correct things moving forward, and that means parting ways.]

You can go your way once we get there.

[good_bamf_ugly]

[Too late that. He can't take back what he's become and despite McCree's disappointment he's not going to set out to try and change 76. He's made his choices, and none of which are any of McCree's business, especially not now. He doesn't have to agree with what he's doing with his life or how he's doing it. He doesn't have to work along side him, though he chooses to for now to absolve himself. Dimly, McCree wishes there could be something better for 76 than a life like this--he knows it's hard way of living and often lonely--but nothing he can do other than keep moving forward. No stopping a train.

McCree doesn't confirm or deny if he's going to continue the journey after they make it to the hypertrain. Instead he barks a loud 'HYAA!' and slaps the reigns. Betty Sue sprints off, kicking up dusty sand in her wake. They ride hard and long, take a break as needed, and make good distance.

They're able to see the hypertrain in the distance as the sun starts to set low, casting an orange gleam across the expanse of chrome and steel.]

[mylawn]

[76 doesn't really know how to take McCree's silence except with more of his own. The rest of the trip to the hypertrain station proceeds much the same, with the two of them only exchanging words when necessary. He supposes the good news is that they aren't accosted any further.

They arrive right on time, too, finally coming upon the station as the sun begins to set, allowing them to approach it undetected in the dark. All the better for stowing away.

There's still some time before the train is set to depart, and 76 decides that he's going to broach the subject for real as they start to unload.

Or, you know, maybe he doesn't say anything for a long moment. Maybe he pets the horse.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

[They have time which is good. McCree explains it's easiest to sneak on right after they close the doors and prepare to disembark. Small window, small security. He has confidence they can do it without complication.

Until then, there's silence between them and slowly it grows more awkward and noticeable. McCree convinced himself he shouldn't ask. Normally he'd try to be respectful and not pry. It's history left in ruins. It's old news. It's dead and buried. Well... maybe not that last part.

But 76 has been a royal pain in his ass this trip, enough that the silence and McCree's curiosity wins out.]

What happened that day...?

[Even though he does bring himself to ask, it's still with an air of respect. It was just a kinder way of phrasing What happened to you?]

[mylawn]

[76 has expected this eventually. It seems fitting that McCree would ask right before they're presumably about to part ways. Loath as he is to talk about Switzerland, he thinks maybe he owes McCree that much. The two of them have unfinished business in that department, anyway.]

Don't remember much.

[Not of the actual fight and resulting carnage. He attributes that to trauma. Most of the aftermath is intact, however--pulling himself out of the wreckage and feeling more like a wounded animal than a person. Feeling that the only thing he could do is get out and get away, try to process just how things managed to get to this point.

And then, when the dust cleared, he realized that maybe the world didn't need him after all. That it was much better to stay dead, even as the UN dismantled what was left of Overwatch. He remembers watching his memorial service on television.]

When you disappeared, I knew something was wrong. I didn't think it'd be...that.

[Didn't think Gabriel would go that far.]

[good_bamf_ugly]

[McCree frowns. "Don't remember" seems like such a cop out of an answer but he's not going to question if that's how 76 cope with such a traumatic experience, consciously or not. He's not really sure what kind of answer he expected, if any at all.

Didn't exactly expect the conversation to turn in this direction and the cowboy tugs his hat over his eyes.]

...

[He thinks about his words carefully, lest 76 think he was privy to more than he actually was. The cynical part of McCree--the part that drove him to do something so desperate as basically defect--of course did think it would end in some kind of disaster but he didn't think it'd be... that.]

I had to get out.

[No real way to not look guilty. No real way for McCree to not feel guilty even if he didn't have a damn thing to do with it.]

The whole thing stank.

[mylawn]

Well, you were right.

[But there's still a part of him that thinks what Jesse did was cowardly. Jack, increasingly aware of how wrong everything was becoming was more than ready to take the fall to save everyone else the grief. When Gabriel did what he did, however, it all became moot, and every single one of them suffered anyway. Ana presumably KIA. Reinhardt forcibly retired. Angela, interrogated by the UN. All the things he'd tried so desperately to prevent.

It's possible that 76 still doesn't know the extent of what Blackwatch was up to, and that maybe McCree has a different perspective that made fleeing the only option.]

How much did you know about what he was planning?

[good_bamf_ugly]

[Of course he asks. McCree relents with honesty, unfortunate as it is.]

I knew there were years worth of resentment behind what he did, that much was for certain.

[It wasn't just the obvious arguments and petty fights that was the damning part; it was how it influenced Gabe's decisions, how he started managing Blackwatch, and how he slowly became consumed by it. Jack didn't see any of that until it was far too late, and plenty went left unseen to his dissatisfaction if his current hell-bound state was any indication.]

There was... talk about settling it. Coup kinds of talk. I didn't want any part of it.