The next few days between them were awkward and confusing- at least, from McCree's perspective. Genji continued to allow his teammate to visit, much to the surprise of the medical staff. However, he had a list of strange rules that he expected McCree to follow. The cowboy was not to ask him if he was in pain, offer to help him with things that he wouldn't need help with under normal circumstances, or even look directly at him for a prolonged period of time.
On one occasion, Genji had knocked his pillow onto the floor, and reaching to retrieve it was clearly putting a lot of strain on his recovering body. Without thinking, McCree walked over to pick it up, and Genji had ordered him to turn away and face the wall.
"It's a matter of honor," the assassin had explained later. "My culture- if someone is hurt or struggling, and his life is not in danger, you turn away. You look away in his moment of weakness, if you have any respect for him. To look directly at him, to offer help- these actions show disrespect, and are an insult to the man's honor."
McCree found all of Genji's rules about respect and honor confusing, and if he were to be completely honest, some of them were pretty stupid… but Genji was his teammate, his friend, and had been there for him, doing exactly what he needed over the past several weeks, even though it seemed to directly contradict Genji's honor code. The ninja hadn't been concerned with his own feelings about the situation- he'd only considered McCree's feelings. Now it was time for McCree to do the same.
Genji was in surgery at the moment, leaving the mercenary to occupy his time elsewhere. Thankfully it wasn't anything life-threatening this time- some parts for Genji's cybernetic system that weren't immediately available had been fabricated, and were now being installed.
McCree found himself in the little pub that Reinhardt had recommended to him several weeks ago, downing a beer and watching a group of cadets play pool. His own surgery was in a day and a half, and he really wished that Genji were here for him to talk to about it. He was excited to finally receive a cybernetic arm, a little nervous, and would have liked to know what to expect.
The cadets tried to look big, standing with their shoulders tall and their chests puffed out, but they still had that nervous energy around their eyes and mouths. Their newly-issued Overwatch uniforms were crisp and stiff, and smelled like plastic. McCree laughed silently to himself- he remembered a time, not too many years ago, when that had been him.
Of course, he'd been a lot less eager about his service, back then. He was given a choice: join Overwatch, or go to prison. He'd chosen Overwatch because he'd figured it would be easier to escape from. Funny how things changed… As fate - or random chance, whatever one believed - would have it, Overwatch had turned out to be the escape from mainstream society that he'd been looking for all his life.
The door opened with a creak, revealing none other than Reinhardt himself. His unusual stature made it so that he had to duck his head to fit through the doorway. The cadets froze mid-game and stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Holy shit," one of them whispered just a little too loudly. "That's Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm!"
For once, McCree was glad that he worked in the covert ops division. The odds that he'd ever have to deal with new recruits seeing him and reacting that way were comfortably low.
Reinhardt didn't mind. He smiled and waved at the cadets, who continued to stare in awe until one finally returned his attention to the pool table, and elbowed his nearest friend in the ribs.
"Stop staring and miss your shot already. You're buying the next round!"
The officer let out a booming laugh. "Ah, don't worry about such a thing! I will take care of it."
He pulled a fistful of Swiss francs out of his pocket and slapped them down on the counter. The paper bills were crumpled and in no discernible order.
"My usual," he said as the bartender sorted and counted the money, "and a round of beers for this fine group of young men and women!"
He smiled warmly at the cadets. "This is the best team you will ever have the privilege of serving beside."
"Seconded," said McCree.
Reinhardt raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I remember you! Agent, ehm… American!"
"McCree," the cowboy supplied with a chuckle. "C'mon, do I really stand out as an American that much?"
Reinhardt responded with an exaggerated shrug. McCree caught one of the cadets nodding silently, out of the corner of his eye.
"Well, all-righty, then."
"No matter, no matter," said the lieutenant. "How are you doing? I see the doctors have not killed you yet. Try to keep it that way, yes?"
A waitperson brought over a large mug of beer and a plate piled high with assorted fried snacks. The snacks came with some kind of red dipping sauce that McCree couldn't identify, but he could tell from the smell that it was spicy. Reinhardt smiled at the waitperson, and handed them a generous tip.
"Goin' good, I suppose," McCree answered. "Every day's a step closer to gettin' back out there."
Reinhardt nodded. "And your friend? Has he returned safe from his deployment?"
There was a long, awkward pause before the mercenary answered.
"He came back safe from that one," McCree said finally. "Team got sent out again after that, and… y'know, he'll live, but he got hurt, and I should've been there. I'm supposed to be watchin' his back, not sittin' around on my lazy ass on base."
"Ah… I know this feeling. I know it too well."
Reinhardt reached over and placed a hand on McCree's shoulder.
"You will be back with your team before you know it… and then, you'll find whoever hurt your friend, and you'll crush them."
The officer's response caught McCree by surprise. He'd been expecting some speech about how whatever had happened wasn't his fault, that he was doing his best and his body needed time to recover. Words like that were well-meaning and had truth to them, but they always felt empty. The thought of avenging Genji, unlikely though it may have been, made him feel energized.
"Count on it," he replied.
Reinhardt smiled wide and gave him a pat on the back, after which the lieutenant turned to face the group of cadets in the back.
"Well, then! Who wants to hear a war story?"
They came running across the bar at breakneck speed and lined up in front of him eagerly, their game of pool forgotten.
"Never forget this," said Reinhardt. "When you are on the battlefield, you hold the lives of your team in your hands. They are trusting you to protect them. And the enemy you cut down- they are suffering. You must never lose sight of these things in pursuit of your own glory."
The cadets exchanged glances.
Reinhardt continued: "So! My team was deployed to clear Null Sector troops out of Ramsau- tiny little town in Upper Bavaria. We thought, this remote place without big factories, it has no resources that are useful to Omnics. How much presence can the Null Sector really have here? But their strategists expected us to come to that conclusion… Arrogant humans we were, to think that we were always one step ahead of the machines. They were using the town as a stronghold- hiding stolen resources there."
"I was pinned down in a church with my team, Null Sector troops surrounding the building on all sides! Reinforcements wouldn't arrive until morning. It was just us, and we were outnumbered three to one. So I looked outside, found the biggest, meanest Omnic I could see… and charged! Took him down, and when the others turned on me, my team caught them from behind."
The cadets clapped their hands, followed by one person muttering quietly, "Isn't that against protocol, though?"
"You're right!"
Reinhardt clapped his hands together, then pointed at the cadet, who shrunk back behind his friends.
"It is against protocol. I will tell you something, and you should never repeat this to your teachers at the Academy… At least half of those protocols are written by a baboon at a keyboard. Officers without field experience, civilian oversight boards… Someone who has clearly never had to do the job. You do what you need to do, and say what you need to say, to get through the Academy. Once you join Overwatch, listen to your sergeants. Listen to those who serve beside you. Don't listen to a mindless little book of protocols."
"Amen to that," said McCree.