McCree had had enough.
He was tired of the extra effort that it took to dress himself, feed himself, how it felt different to walk- Genji had taught him well, and he could perform his daily tasks within a reasonable time frame, but the slow-building exhaustion that came with the extra effort required hadn't let up. He missed the feeling of his fingers brushing between each other when he folded his hands and interlaced them, cupping his hands to splash water on his face as a part of his routine upon waking up, gesturing with both hands when he spoke… They were all things that he knew he'd never experience again, and in moments like this, it weighed heavily on him.
Today, of all days, he'd expected to feel more optimistic- he was set to receive his first prosthetic in less than an hour. Not a complex cybernetic arm with sensation and fine motor control, to his disappointment; merely an archaic contraption with a hook on the end that he opened and closed by moving his shoulder. It was necessary to start with the simpler device, his physical therapist, prosthetist, and the doctor assigned to his case kept insisting, to improve the function of the muscles and nerves he'd eventually use to control the cybernetic arm.
Logically, that made sense. Though McCree had never gotten the chance to have much of a formal education, he was far from stupid. He may not have known the exact science surrounding robotics, medicine, or biotechnology, but he clearly understood the information that the medical team had given him.
Emotionally, however, it was difficult to accept- difficult to be patient. He was tired of waiting to feel like himself again.
Beside the mercenary, Genji tilted his head. "Are you feeling fine?"
"Fine," McCree repeated absently. It didn't seem right to talk to his teammate about these feelings. Genji had lost so much more- it would be akin to complaining about bland food to a starving person.
The more he thought about it, and allowed himself to get lost in his own head, the more Genji's presence in this moment made McCree feel like a failure. Most of this man's body had been destroyed, and somehow he'd emerged as the most successful covert ops specialist in the history of Overwatch- meanwhile, here was McCree, struggling to adapt to the loss of a forearm.
"You don't need to be here, you know," said the mercenary. "I'm a big boy- I can handle this shit by myself. Surely you've got something more important to do."
Genji didn't move. McCree was conflicted as to whether that was a burden, or a relief.
It was time for him to get going. One thing that didn't change between Overwatch Headquarters and the civilian world was that the medical staff were incredibly picky about patients being on time to appointments- even though the staff then wouldn't see them for twenty, thirty, forty minutes past their scheduled time. The cowboy stood and walked out of his quarters.
He was past the common area, through the door, and making his way down the sidewalk when he looked over his shoulder. Genji was following silently- the cyborg couldn't have been more than five feet away, yet McCree couldn't hear his movement. He had to visually confirm his teammate's presence.
He didn't say anything as he waited for the transport to come to a stop and climbed aboard. Genji followed along, and took a seat next to him. The clicks and whirs of the transport as it made its way around the base felt quiet, relative to the sound that McCree's cowboy boots made on the concrete outside.
"I have been where you are."
Genji's words cut through the still and quiet around them. McCree turned his head. "Huh?"
The assassin held his mechanical right arm out in front of him and turned it over, studying the connections and wires.
"I used manual prosthetics while these were being designed and made. They can be… difficult. There is no shame in feeling that."
McCree raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, I reckon that's the most you've ever told anyone about yerself since I got assigned to Blackwatch."
Without averting his eyes, Genji reached over with his left hand and gave McCree a smack on the back of the head.
"'Ey, watch the hat," protested the cowboy. He gave Genji's shoulder a playful shove, only for the assassin to catch him in a wrist lock. Genji briefly cast a glance at him, somewhere between amused and a challenge to try that again, then let go.
"It was some time before I had the prosthetics as well," the assassin continued. "My spine was reconstructed below the rib cage, and many of my nerves had to be regenerated. A lot of surgeries, and a lot of waiting."
McCree nodded. A lot of waiting… He was feeling that lately.
Genji kept going: "I had to train for hours each day using rudimentary rubber feet attached to the bottom of the sockets- no knees or legs between the thigh and foot. 'Stubbies,' as the medical staff call them… When one loses both legs above the knee, such training is needed before they can balance on a full prosthetic."
The mental image of a three-foot-tall Genji, scampering around the hospital and climbing walls with metal feet attached directly to thighs, wormed its way into McCree's brain. He suppressed small snorts of amusement that found their way to his face. Then the image playing in his head changed to feature Torbjörn, the diminutive Director of Overwatch's Engineering Corps, attempting to chase the ninja around.
McCree burst into uproarious laughter.
"Ah, God, I- I'm so sorry," he stammered between gasping breaths. "I ain't laughing at you, I swear- it's just…"
His hand clenched into a fist, which he pressed over his mouth in an effort to quell the noise.
"It is all right," Genji assured him. "Now that I can look back on those days, it is entertaining."
The transport arrived at the medical complex, and the two agents made their way out and down the sidewalk. Overwatch's medical facilities consisted of several brown brick buildings arranged in a square perimeter around a quaint little garden, where the patients could sit when the weather cooperated. Each of the buildings was between five and eight stories tall, and mundane in appearance- typical for hospitals, just like the tranquil blue and green décor.
They stepped through the automatic doors. McCree walked over to the metal placard on the wall that listed practitioners, their office numbers, and the floor on which they could be found.
"Fifth floor," Genji said without so much as glancing at the placard. "Exit the elevator, turn right; when you reach the end of the hallway, turn right again. Second door on the left."
"Guess you've spent a lot of time here," McCree responded. He headed to the elevator without question.
They made their way to the fifth floor, found the correct office, and sat down in the waiting room. An attendant made their way out from behind the front desk to hand McCree a clipboard and a stack of paperwork to fill out. He looked over it and groaned.
"I swear, if I have to look at these suicide prevention questionnaires one more time, I'm gonna' kill myself!"
The corners of Genji's eyes turned up in amusement. Behind his mask, he gave a quiet snort of laughter- barely audible, though McCree noticed.
The attendant behind the counter gave the cowboy a disapproving glare.
After filling it out as best he could, McCree returned the paperwork and clipboard to the front desk. Then came the waiting. He shifted in his chair, crossed and uncrossed his legs, whistled- anything to pass the time. Here and there, he glanced at the television, which was set to a news channel. The program being broadcast was in Swiss German, which the American mercenary spoke very little of, but it was obvious that the reporters were talking about Overwatch. And whatever they were saying, it wasn't kind.
Just when he was getting kind of hungry, and wondering if he had time to run down to the hospital cafeteria to snag one of the bland sandwiches they served, the door opened. A middle-aged woman in a white coat poked her head out. "Agent McCree," she called.
He stood, and Genji stood beside him.
"Ah, Agent Shimada! How nice to see you again."
Genji bowed. "Greetings, Major- it is 'Special Agent' now."
"Oh, my apologies, and congrats on the promotion!"
The Major turned her attention to McCree. "Have you made it to Special Agent as well?"
She held out her hand, and McCree shook it. "Nah, Shimada's a step ahead of me, as usual."
"I see, I see," she answered cheerfully. "Well, I'm Major Stein, and I'm going to be fitting your prosthetic today."
She took a step back and held open the door for the two to step inside. They headed down a hallway with sterile white walls and mousy brown carpet to match the exterior of the building, turned right, and entered a room that was much larger than McCree expected it to be. He'd figured they were on their way to another cramped little office with a cold examining table and the texture of wax paper over it. Instead, the room he was in looked more like a playground of sorts, with a wide variety of activities.
On the far side, parallel bars, balance boards, workout equipment, various mobility aids, and a harness suspended from the ceiling helped those who'd lost a leg or two adjust to their new prosthetics, at varying skill levels. The center of the room housed various stations at which patients could practice fine motor tasks with their hands, such as tying laces, stacking coins and Jenga blocks, and putting thread onto various sizes of needles. A cable machine, weight rack, and other general fitness supplies lined one wall. To the other side of the room were three doors, presumably leading to offices.
A young boy, no more than ten years old, sat at one of the stations, sorting dried beans and lentils from a mixed jar into separate jars. Heavy scarring covered his hands and crept up his forearms. His fingers were stiff and moved awkwardly- some were shorter than they should be, and a couple were missing altogether.
When the door clicked shut behind the two agents, the boy stood up from his seat to get a better look at Genji. He turned to face them, and they could see that the scarring crept up one side of his neck and jawline, around the edges of his face. He approached the two men slowly, cautiously, with wide eyes.
"Wow," the child said softly. He crouched on the floor beside Genji, examining the mechanisms and details of the man's cybernetic legs. Genji took a step backward, then another. The boy stood up as tall as he could, and brought his gaze up to Genji's face.
"You look awesome!"
Not knowing how to react to this entire situation, Genji stood still and silent- unnaturally so. The boy reached for Genji's mechanical right arm, to which the assassin reacted by pulling away, into a defensive stance.
McCree laughed. "Got a way with kids there, ay?"
One of the office doors behind them clicked open, prompting the boy to turn and run back to his station. Major Stein stepped out in front of them, carrying a shiny, black prosthetic arm with a silver hook on the end. McCree raised an eyebrow. He had to admit, it looked pretty badass. On closer inspection, he saw that they'd even etched his Deadlock tattoo into the surface of the inner forearm.
"All right, let's give this a try," said the Major. She angled the socket in an easier position for McCree to slide his residual limb into it.
"It's going to feel tight, and probably a little uncomfortable at first," she informed him. "Don't worry about that. If it's hurting really bad, let me know; we can take a break, and look at making some small adjustments."
McCree nodded. Squeezing his arm into the socket was certainly uncomfortable, but it was a sort of dull, persistent pain, something he'd gotten used to over the past month and a half. It was nothing that he couldn't handle.
Major Stein helped him bring the harness around his back and slip his other arm through the loop. With that in place, he found the buckle and fastened the front strap himself- that was simple enough; it had been designed with one-handed use in mind. Once it was in place, Major Stein closed the valve through which air was expelled from the socket as it slid over the residual limb.
"Good to go," she announced. "To lock the elbow in place, you're going to sort of flick the arm up, like this…"
She demonstrated hiking her own shoulder up, after which she held her elbow bent at a 90-degree angle.
McCree tried to copy her movement. The arm swung at the elbow joint, but didn't reach far enough to lock into place. He tried again, hiking his shoulder up as high and fast as he could. Still, the elbow didn't lock into place.
"It's all right," the Major assured him. "This takes everyone a few tries to figure out. You'll get it."
This time, McCree pushed off the ball of his left foot at the same time as he hiked up his shoulder, trying to get a little extra leverage. The arm swung up harder and smacked uncomfortably against his thigh on the way back down. He clenched his teeth, more in frustration than pain.
"Pull your shoulder back," Genji suggested. "Like this."
He demonstrated snapping his shoulder back, as though recoiling from a punch to a defensive stance.
McCree did his best to copy his teammate's movement. He was nowhere near as graceful, or as skilled in martial arts, as the cyborg, and had to stumble to regain his balance. Clumsy as it was, however, Genji's technique had worked. The elbow was now locked in a 90-degree bend.
"Nicely done," Major Stein said with a warm smile. "Now the arm is in position to use the hook. You'll open it by pulling your shoulder back, like you're doing a row; then to close it, you'll push your shoulder forward again."
McCree tried it a few times. His movement was inconsistent, and despite how simple it was in theory, he quickly found it tiring- he wasn't used to forcing that much fine motor control in the muscles of his back and shoulder. Frustrating as this was, he could vaguely understand now what Genji had been saying about a manual prosthetic helping prepare his body to control a cybernetic replacement.
A clatter startled him, and the hook snapped open. The boy they'd seen earlier had accidentally knocked his container of lentils off the table. Dried lentils were all over the floor.
"That's okay, you're doing well! I'll be right over," the Major called to him. Her attention returned to McCree. "Would you like to help him pick those up? Give you a chance to practice gripping with that hook!"
That sounded incredibly tedious to McCree. "I, uh…"
The Major chuckled. "Kidding, I'm kidding! Come on, we'll get you something a bit bigger to practice with for now."