Shooting through time| A McTracer Fanfic

1: Departure

"No! You can't just 'up and go' when we need as many heroes as we can get!" She uttered quietly, to not awake the others. "Really you can't, Reyes is gonna blow a fuse, and you are the closest to him. Please, don't go." He looked at her. His hat covering his eyes. "I'm sorry. Do one last thing for me, wouldja?" She looked up at the cowboy and nodded slowly. He said that sentence that she would never forget. "Tell 'em I died. It'll be our little secret." She again nodded slowly, averting her tear streaked eyes away from Jesse. "Thanks, darlin'" He slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'll be takin' my leave now. Goodbye Lena. Keep chirpy." With that he left and was out of her life. The door clicked and echoed around her head, the halls of her head, in the deadest of night. Tears brimmed to the edge of her eyelids and fell gracefully, playing the red upon her face, much alike a long itch that she had scratched. The one person who mattered to her, who soothed her fear with his 'Slick'n Smooth' drawl. Gone. She never had the chance to express herself to him. Those three words she never got to say. "I love you." She would have said. She knew she had a promise to keep. The next morning was gonna be hard. 

Without him and also, with the 'news' she had to deliver. 

Morning came after a restless sleep and she awoke in her bed, no "Mornin' Lena." From him as it would be, for he normally passed her door. She went to her morning line up. Alphabetical by surname. The role call began. She would only pay attention on Jesse's name, as she was after him. "McCree!" The dark voiced boomed. Nothing. "Jesse McCree!" Nothing again. "Where the Hell is Jesse?!" Reyes spoke with venom. Lena raised a trembling hand. "Lena? If you know anything, come with me." He handed the role call over to Morrison and took Lena to his office. Reyes took a seat behind his desk. "So, Miss Oxton. You might know?" Lena gulped, due to Reyes' reputation. Reyes could see that Lena was shaking out of fear, so he pulled the most friendly expression and tone he could scrounge up within him. "Look, it's okay, I won't get angry at you. Take a seat." That calmed Lena a bit, enough to sit down and talk. "So, fill me in."

"Jesse..... He's..He's...."

"He's..?"

"Dead. I-I found his body, in the waters below base. He had clearly been shot." She lied brilliantly. Reyes put his head in his hand, while massaging his forehead. This was clearly a harsh impact on the Blackwatch commander. A moment of silence passed, with the exception of Reyes' heavy breathing, which slowly became sobbing. "I-Is he still there?" Reyes whispered. Lena remembered she had to cover for Jesse and felt bad for Reyes, but yet she still lied. "No. Last Time I checked, the body had been pulled far out to sea. He must be gone by now." She gave Gabe a comforting hug, she knew Jesse was like his son. "I'll let the rest know. Thank you Lena. For informing me now, rather than later." He waved her out telling her "The funeral will be in 5 days. Be ready. And thank you." She left, feeling a large pang of guilt hit her. She had to go for god knows how long without the comforting smile of Jesse. Reyes knew his greatest work had just disappeared. It broke his heart, knowing that the person who was like a son to him, was dead. He was not in a good mood. In order to keep his sanity and let out his pain, he trained his recruits twice as hard than usual.

Meanwhile...

Jesse hit the road, with his new bike. He wore a beige button up shirt, sleeves rolled, with a black leather vest on top. He wore a different cowboy hat, wider brimmed, and brown, it was his old one. A couple chips in his hat, it was nuthin' he couldn't handle. A red scarf was around his neck, sometimes acting as a bandanna. He kept his Blackwatch uniform in a bag, which hung off the side of his bike, secure. The Triumph revved in glee and fury as it went another gear. Jesse was gunna hit his old gang back for selling him out. Not like how Overwatch went around the sides, he wasn't gunna pussyfoot about. He was back home in the US of A. The sunset splayed orange, yellow and red across McCree. A grin found a way onto his face. Chewing his cigarillo harder than ever before, he sped down the highway, leaving a fine trail of bike and cigarillo smoke behind. He stopped at a bar for some water. Walking in, he strode up to the bartender. "Afternoon ma'am. I'd like 3 bottles of rum. Bacardi if possible. Also 1 water." It cost $23.65. Jesse left a $30 and told her to keep the change as a tip. Walking out, he eyed some scrapped clothes. He picked them up, with a brilliant idea. Stuffing a couple of the rags into bottles, he thought of the fun he would have. With that, he got on his bike, his spurs jingling, and set off toward the Deadlock compound for some good 'ol payback. Soon enough, he saw the gates ahead. No way in hell below they would let him in, so as he neared, Jesse came up with a plan. Perhaps if he shot the wirebox, the gate would open enough to him to get at 'em. He carried out his plan and the doors succumbed to Jesse's new Revolver: The Peacekeeper. He still kept The Judge safe, with his Blackwatch uniform. He rode through the gates,  ramming someone in the process. He swerved the bike round and round, in the main courtyard, gathering the attention he wanted. As the smoke cleared, he spat out his now-finished cigarillo. Chains, his old Leader, yelled at him. "Identify yerself, stranger!" McCree tipped his hat up and looked Chains right in the eye. "Well Chainsy, that ain't no way to treat an ol' friend. But in case you forgot..." 

"The name's McCree."

Showtime.