"You know she won't be easy to find, right?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Are you listening to me Jesse? How long has it been now?"

"Iunno, like a fe-"

"It's been months Jesse. Please, just move on. It's not healthy clinging to ghosts."

"...yeah."

The conversation echoed through McCree's head as he chased his whiskey with another shot of the stuff, the sting helping him forget the pain and woes that he did his best not to show. This spot had slowly become his second home, the bar stool close to being form fitted to his ass from how often he was found in it. The same place the two of them had first met, he thought she would find it fitting. Another shot slid down his throat as the bartender looked him over.

"Same old with you too, eh buddy?"

McCree barely nodded, not entirely in the mood to make conversation. He merely tapped his glass with his non-metallic hand, eyes hanging low as the liquor was once again filled to the brim. He tipped his hat slightly before grabbing the glass and taking the shot like the others. The concerned look on Angela's face flashed in his mind once more, her worried voice ringing in his ears like a mother scolding her son.

"Dammit..." he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"You say something?" The bartender turned to the man, not having many other patrons to tend to. Plus for how little he had spoken over the past few months, the scruffy man was one of the bar's best customers.

McCree swallowed, throat not used to working without alcohol sliding down it at the same time. He looked over the shot glass before bringing his head up enough to finally face the bartender.

"Nah, just muttering to myself..."

The bartender nodded, wanting to pry a bit since this interaction was more than the man had said apart from "whiskey" when he first came in. He had been curious about the man for some time now, remembering the first time he saw the cowboy. He and some lady friend had caused quite a bit of ruckus a couple months back and while the bartender had had to pay for a few repairs and a replacement bottle of one top shelf liquor, the duo had honestly helped him in the long run. After they had handled the goons that had come in, few others had shown their faces around the bar save for those who had been drug into the life and were there to drown themselves and air their problems.

"Well, you need to talk, I'm not going anywhere."

The bar fell back into it's usual ambiance, the overhead fan whirring and doing little to actually help the dry heat that permeated the air. McCree slowed his drinking rate, his hand starting to loosen it's grip along the glass as the liquor worked it's way through his body. Soft mutterings and small talk filled his ears as the other inhabitants of the bar took to their liquor and enjoyed themselves.

McCree slowly turned his head and allowed one of his eyes to look over the people that he shared the small place with. A few solo drinkers like himself, a couple here and there and a large man who was staring directly back at him intensely. McCree stared at the man for a few seconds, taking in all of his features as best he could in his inebriated state. His shooting hand began to get twitchy though was put to rest as the man broke eye contact to get up and leave a few seconds into their shared look. McCree would have followed the man had he not been close to a dozen shots in, his legs barely able to keep themselves on the lower rung of the stool at this point.

"You know that guy?" The bartender's voice broke McCree's focus, his head swiveling back to face forward.

"Nah, never seen him before..."

"Well he's been popping in time to time. Don't know much about him but I'd keep your eyes open on your way home tonight my friend."

McCree nodded at the advice, swallowing hard as he was became sober thanks to the adrenaline from the stare down. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself once more before raising his head and giving in to the bartender's obvious need for small talk.

"How long you been here, serving drinks at this place?"

The bartender chuckled as he came over to face McCree, wiping down the bar a bit before filling the man's glass once more.

"If you're wondering about your lady friend that was with you all those months ago, I'm afraid I haven't seen her since that night. I've heard some rumors about ghosts and spooks running around the town at night from a few of the drunken lowlifes but I'd take those with a grain of salt my friend."

McCree knew it would have been too easy to find Sombra like this. She had been dodging him for this long, there was no way that she would slip up and revisit a place like this. She was too smart for that sort of mess up. He pulled out the small little beacon that she had given him, her last words to him stinging more than the drink he had been consuming. He had so many questions and no way of getting answers, the beacon never bringing anything up no matter how many times he checked it. He sighed and put the thing away, grabbing his glass once more.

The next shot reopened the burning along his throat, McCree letting out a hot sigh before putting the glass down. He put his money down on the bar and slowly stood up, his legs wobbling ever so slightly but finally getting their senses back to at least let him stand on his own.

"Thanks for the drinks."

"Any time, vaquero."

McCree clenched his jaw at the word, Sombra's face burning into the back of his eyes as it rolled through his ears. He turned and made his way out into the night, moonlight showering over his form. Looking both ways down the dusty street, he tried to remember where his room for the evening was.

His focus was shifted as he felt eyes on the back of his head. He wasn't sure if he was going the right way but he began to walk down the street, thinking that perhaps it was just a coincidence. The feeling stayed strong though, every step making him feel as though he was under a microscope. Thankfully the poncho he wore covered up his holster and the gun held inside, that six shooter loaded as his forearm rested along the grip of it. Even in his inebriated state he would surely be able to get off a few rounds at any attackers, should they be so brave.

McCree slowly made his way down the street, keeping up the slight wobble in his walk even as the effects of the liquor began to wear off. If the owner of these eyes got cocky then he would stand a better chance in the event of a sneak attack. Apart from a few scurrying animals that would make him flinch ever so slightly, the man was left alone for the duration of his walk down the empty road. Thankfully his walk was in the right direction as he soon found his motel. Passing the entrance guard with a slight wave, McCree got a stare and scowl in return. He wasn't sure if this was the best situation, though with each step closer to his door he found himself growing calmer. The safety of his room helping to put his mind at ease and the feeling of eyes starting to slip off his back.

Reaching his door, McCree fumbled with the key for a few seconds before finally making it inside with a bit of a stumble. Making sure to lock the door behind him, McCree removed his hat and boots and sat them off to the side of the bed. His heavy lidded eyes fought off sleep for a few more seconds as he removed his shirt and threw it to the floor. Under the nightstand stood a bottle of whiskey, the painful thoughts starting to creep up again as McCree poured himself a goodnight drink and downed a few sleeping pills with the sting along his throat.

'You really shouldn't mix that you know...'

That worrying nag of Angela's voice filled his mind as he laid on the bed, eyes shut tight in hopes that the next day would come soon enough. He felt himself slipping deeper and deeper, the soft sounds of the outside world fading out.

"You're not going to sleep yet, are you vaquero?"

A warmth pressed against his side, the sweet scent that he had been searching for filling his nose and making his body a large pile of jello. He couldn't open his eyes, but he could see her. Her bare form pressing against his, the soft and supple skin shimmering in the moonlight as those large eyes looked him over. He could see her playful pout, those luscious lips begging to be kissed and reassured that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to hold her, to press against her skin and keep her for himself.

He wanted to speak to her, to tell her how much he missed her in hopes that maybe she would stay. Yet his mind was foggy, unable to form thoughts other than those focused on her at this moment.

"I've missed you vaquero. I know you missed me too..."

Her hand rolled down his shirtless body, rubbing along his crotch and squeezing softly as he felt her hot breath against his ear.

"Open your eyes love, I want you to see me..."

McCree shot up from his bed, sweat pouring from every inch of his body as he shot his look around wildly. The room was empty, save for himself and his few articles of clothing. His breathing was heavy as he tried to calm down, his head soon in his hands and wiping off the sweat that stung at his eyes.

That's when he heard a noise at his door. A soft scratching around the lock, a few mumbles from different pitched voices.

Adrenaline pumping, McCree quickly rose form his bed and pinned himself behind where the door would open, gun drawn and metallic fist clenched.

"C'mon you son of a bitch.. give me a reason..." He muttered to himself softly as he watched his door unlock from the outside. The handle was pulled down slowly, the door cracking and opening with the softest of groans. McCree held his breath, seeing the shadow of his attacker rise from their knees and slowly take a step inside. His revolver held steady in his hand, finger on the trigger as he waited to see the enemy for himself.

As soon as he saw the back of the bastard's head, he kicked the door shut forcefully. The trespasser jerked around and began to raise their gun, McCree being quicker with his metal fist. The sound of jaw cracking was followed up by a large thud as the man dropped to the floor at McCree's feet. Standing over the downed enemy, McCree took aim, his revolver's iron sights perfectly aligned with the back of the man's head.

"You've got about ten seconds to tell me why the fuck you're here." McCree was blunt as the man turned his head and stared down the barrel of the gun that would now choose his fate. The soft creaking of the door once more had McCree spun around and aiming that gun at the second assailant.

"Wha... you... but..."

His body soon grew weak, his aim faltering as he felt his knees growing weaker by the second. Before he could control himself, McCree was back on the bed, sprawled out and breathing hard as he tried to keep his eyes open. He could hear his heart beating in his ears as his eyes finally shut down. Before he passed out, he felt something hot press against his forehead and a faint voice slip through his mind.

"Sleep tight, vaquero."