As the evening went on, the company found themselves in high spirits which only stood to improve as the spirits within the bottle crept lower and lower to the bottom. Everyone except for the cyborg discreetly made a bet with one another under the mutual agreement that the recipient of each question he asked would imbibe a shot.

It start easily and quietly enough. They all sat in a circle sharing quiet conversation, an innocent exchange between friends which would not give rise to reason for suspicion, except the sporadic darting of eyes to the cyborg with an underlying glee.

And thus, gave initiative for the first question. "Why are you looking at me like that? What's going on?"

The party froze. The question was addressed to all. Silence fell as each member glanced at Genji. Nervous, apprehensive, and some downright amused. Each held their gaze to the man sitting sea-side in the circle.

Genji turned to Lena. "What is it?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, the girl legal on the rock accepted the glass from McCree, stared at it for a moment with an inscrutable expression, before rocking her head back and finishing it in one gulp. Almost immediately, she coughed and sputtered, holding her throat with tears in her eyes, but returning no liquid.

"Hah!" yelled McCree among the varying sounds of awe which came from each person, "first one of her life and it's a fast one! Well done!" He clapped her on the back. She almost fell over as a result.

"Didn't know it'd burn this much," said the pilot as she wiped tears from her eyes, her voice hoarse and weak. Reorienting herself onto the bench, she sat back on and steadied her eyes on Genji—before it glazed over abruptly, her body giving sway. "Wha…"

"You might want to be careful there," laughed the American. "It's not exactly weak stuff, and it is your first one after all."

"Are you alright?" asked Genji, concerned.

Lena groaned loudly and at length.

"New rule," chirped the doctor. "No one should have to take two at once."

As they uttered their acceptance to this, Genji looked to Angela and asked, "two at once? Rules for what?"

The doctor giggled as she held out her glass for McCree to fill, cradling it in both palms for a moment before following suit. The alcohol disappeared down her throat. Her cheeks became flushed as she stifled a hiccup behind a hand with dignity, and smiled stupidly. "It's just a little – hic! – game. Don't fret, Genji."

"Well." McCree whistled. "Aren't you good at keeping it down. Now, who's next?"

"Next for the game? And Winston, is it all right if you participate? After all, you're a monk—"

"Scientist," the ape interrupted as he clinked his glass to McCree's across the table. They drank it in unison. "Yes, it's fine." His face started to glow. "A discovery have been made quite some time ago which detailed chimpanzees in the wild drinking alcohol from over-fermented fruit and—"

"Oh, enough of that," McCree cut in. His voice became louder as his visage intensified in hue. "No lectures tonight. Tonight, we eat and drink under the moon and stars!" He finished his sentence with a chicken leg between his teeth, shredding it efficiently. "'Tis a great game!"

"How does one join?"

McCree looked at Genji, shrugged and poured himself another glass. He tipped it clumsily. "Why," he hiccupped, "by bein' great o' course! Somethin' else. And there ain't one other which measures up to I, yours truly!"

"I do not understand." The cyborg turned to the soldier. "You have not said anything throughout all this. What is your say?"

"Look'it 'em!" exclaimed Lena, bursting into laughter. "Look at his face!"

"You said it!" concurred McCree. "Thought it'd be an infallible strategy, didn'cha? Well? Thought not talkin' won't possibly incite—"

The soldier aggressively snatched the bottle from McCree and stared at him coldly. The circle fell silent. He raised it above his head and turned to the ground. Everyone, except McCree, leaned away from the imminent smash—before Jack brought his head up to the bottle and took a long swig.

The stunned silence was held while the liquid travelled down this throat. It eventually broke into cheer as he brought the bottle away, wiped his lips and belched loudly.

"Ah."

"That much? Really!"

"The absolute madman!"

McCree smirked this time. "Always tryin' to one-up everyone else. Some things just never change."

"Didn't break a sweat," said the commander as his neck rapidly changed color.

"Give it here," the bounty hunter called, taking the bottle back. Without missing a beat, he turned the bottom up over his face and took a longer pull. "Whew!" he coughed. Then laughed hysterically.

It wasn't long before the rules of the game were forgotten and the liquor changed hands by the minute. After a few moments of passing and rambunctious yelling, it eventually found the hands of Genji.

"You haven't had any, haven't you?" said the once reserved and apprehensive Lena. She was getting louder by the glass. "What are you waiting for? Go on!"

"No," the doctor interjected. Hazy eyes returned focused and alert. "His body is still healing. More specifically, his liver is in the process of growing back. It would be ill-advisable for him to ingest alcohol now. Absolutely not."

"You know," began Winston, "I've always wondered about that. Can he even eat?"

"Good question," she acknowledged. She turned to Genji. "You were found with severe damage to your abdomen, the right side specifically. Impact injuries. Five ribs were completely destroyed, turned into shrapnel which left a lung and your liver punctured and largely bruised. We had to remove your appendix along with a section of your intestines as well as the lung… but bad as it may sound, it was extremely fortunate. We have no idea what in the world could have inflicted such a wound, but if it was sustained a fraction closer to your chest — The doctor took a shaky breath — it would have taken your heart."

The fire flickered as the ashes beneath it caved in silently, wisps of white smoke snaking into the air.

"But that didn't happen. And you are here now. That's all that matters." She smiled. "We have been providing sustenance to you intravenously so far, but it should have ran out three hours ago. Your digestive tract, by now, would have healed enough and adapted to the augmentations. So feel free to take a bite, Genji, as long as it's something that won't strain your body too much."

The rest watched with rapt attention as the cyborg removed his faceplate and accepted a chicken leg proffered by the southerner. He slowly raised it and gave it a tentative sniff. He thought it didn't smell appetizing at all, a faint scent of chicken and butter masked by heavy tones of soot and smoke. Tearing off a piece with his teeth, he moved it around his mouth and chewed slowly. His eyes widened. "It's delicious."

"You look like you've never eaten chicken before," Jack remarked.

"I would not know."

"You can't come up with this stuff," laughed McCree shaking his head, back to his usual volume, "I just watched a grown man's in a metal suit face light up like a kid on Christmas morn' from eating chicken on the bleedin' Rock of Gibbly!"

"Rock of Gibraltar," helped Winston as he stifled a hiccup.

"Or as the locals would call it, the Peñón de Gibraltar," Angela chirped in, wobbling unsteadily.

"Same thing!" He helped himself to another healthy gulp of liquor.

In no time at all, the once half-empty bottle stood completely drained on a patch of grass, the remaining amount having been distributed to everyone save the cyborg who sat quiet nibbling onto additional pieces of chicken as he listened to the excessively loud speech of his friends which became increasingly slurred with every word.

"'Ere, watch this." McCree pulled out the beads of chili and crushed it with his fist before he dropped it into his glass, seeds and all. They rose and danced on the surface of the golden liquid as he waved it around for the others to see. "Loser… loser will have to drink this. All of it. Roulette in Russia."

"I've been thinking about that for a while," said Tracer, who gave momentary pause to her lying flat on the bench paddling her arms in the air in a backstroke. "Isn't Russian Roulette a game where you have one bullet in the chamber, spin it round, then empty each cylinder on each person? You were talking about spin the bottle just now, weren't you? Only with a gun."

"Well, that sounds stupid," said McCree, at Jack's nod. "I don't think I'll ever be drunk enough for that."

Everyone laughed.

It was long after the glasses stood empty and the pit had gone cold that the operatives fell into a spell of silence, simply too tired to shout or talk anymore. The moon hung high and bright in the sky, a celestial lantern encompassed by rings of stars which stretched infinite into the night. Lena had already excused herself twice, each time coming back looking greener.

Most of them assumed horizontal positions in a bid to clear their nausea, the ape and cyborg the only ones remaining upright. Genji leaned back and watched the constellations. From where he was, he could hear the soft moaning of the pilot as she twisted and turned on the bench, uneasily, restlessly.

He turned to the ape. "You do not feel ill?"

"Not at all," replied Winston, cheeks still rosy. "I hold my liquor exceptionally well—"

"Don't listen to him," mumbled McCree, lying back on a bench with a forearm over his eyes. "He's just big, would take a whole barrel to get him knocked off his feet." His lips curled at the corners of his mouth in a dry smile. "Bet he's a lightweight among other ones of his kind, though."

"Well, I never!" said Winston indignantly, though not pressing the issue.

It was quiet once again. Crickets chirped softly among the brush which escaped fire-files, circling the camp, and drawing complex shapes and patterns through the air with their luminous bodies. Lena stopped moving and groaning. Either she found a comfortable position on the bench, or she died. Not that anyone in their current state would notice the latter.

Somewhere, a frog croaked. The fire-files rose higher into the sky, spiraling and weaving among the others like themselves which endured light years away as the bounty hunter began to sing in a deep, rich baritone.

I know, it is true: the evil I do
Black acts that would draw your ire
Now it's different I swear! My heart I lay bare
Though small, it rides ever free

I regret the things I have done
Transgressions, I cannot run
The pain: it runs deep, by a knot, you weep
And how; my debt evermore

Yes, my heart I lay bare
It is different I swear
There is good, a pure white
Though small, it rides ever free

The sound of a crashing wave punctuated the end of the song. It foamed onto the shore, pulling back grains of sand as it receded.

"I've never heard that one before," whispered Lena with groggy, half-lidded eyes. "What's it called?"

"I'll let you know," McCree replied, pulling his hat over his face. "As soon as I come up with a name. Shimada, would you pass some water over? I'm parched."

Still keeping his mind and eyes on the stars, he absently reached over and handed the American a glass. He propped himself up with an elbow, muttering his thanks. Swinging his head back, he greedily imbibed the liquid in a single gulp.

The effect was instantaneous. Eyes relaxed and closed snapped open in shock. Where before it was just his cheeks, his entire visage and ears burned a bright red. With tears in his eyes, he doubled over and started retching. Curses died in his throat as he motioned desperately for the bottle of water beside the pit.

The cyborg, just now seeing the little yellow specks at the bottom of the empty glass, pivoted around as fast as he could, grabbed the bottle, and tossed it over.

McCree, now on the ground with his face soaked in water as a result of the cap being blown off from the sheer impact of the throw, held it above his face, allowing water to pour and splash onto and into his mouth all the while gasping for air with the wind knocked out of him. Unhindered, the water entered his nostrils, causing him to pause his efforts and sputter as he twisted around.

Genji found himself in front of him, not quite knowing what to do. "I deeply, deeply apologize. Are you all right? How can I help—"

"Stop." His voice was extremely thick, and hoarse. He was loudly forcing an exit on excess water from his nose. "You can help… by stopping. To help."

Genji backed away slowly.

"Amazing," remarked Winston. "They're all still asleep!"

He was right. Even Lena who moments ago was conscious was completely out cold.

The ape looked over to McCree, still coughing and retching. "Well, I suppose that's one way to sober up."

McCree responded by glowering.

"Genji, assist me in carrying them back into the facility. I've got Lena, you handle Jack and Angela." He easily grabbed Lena with a hand and slung her over his shoulder like a ragdoll. She was snoring now. "I trust you know where the doctor's room is. Jack's a level above the control center, first door by the stairs. Stay put, McCree. I'll return with milk."

"Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere."

As Winston moved off into the building, Genji approached the deeply sleeping commander, and lightly rested a hand on his shoulder.

Before he could react, the cyborg found himself knocked to the side of the head as the prone figure before him disappeared. The next thing he knew, a burly arm locked itself by his throat as a palm came to a rest at the base of his skull.

"Whozzat?" mumbled the soldier from behind him, still half-asleep. That did nothing to hinder the vice-like grip around the cyborg's throat.

"I d-deeply apologize for disturbing your rest."

"Oh. Just… Shimada." He yawned. Relaxing his grip, he gazed to the facility. "Going to bed," the soldier said as he turned round and plodded towards it.

Having recovered from his shock, Genji turned to the doctor, lowering himself with his arms outstretched. And paused. He stood back up and with caution, tentatively poked her arm before stepping away quickly. Seeing no reaction from his prompt, Genji, for the second time, lifted her with his arms and made for her room, listening to the sound of her rhythmic breathing.

"Genji," she said softly as he entered the building, her voice weak from alcohol. "Is that you?"

"Yes. Don't open your eyes, doctor. You can go back to sleep."

"Angela," she mumbled. "Name's… Angela."

Genji remembered something. "Doctor Angela?"

"Angela."

"Angela?"

"Yes, Genji?"

"What does Vati mean?"

"What an odd question," she giggled weakly. "It's German."

"What does it mean?"

"What an odd question," Angela repeated. "Why do you ask?"

"Please."

"Father," she answered, rapidly losing consciousness. "It means Father, Genji."

Author Notes:

Whew! This one was a doozy to write. Been interning for a week now, and though I started off nervous, I find myself falling into a pattern now when I enter the office. Having completed my tasks and my supervisor absent from work today, I find myself at a severe lack of things to do as I stared at the clock, tauntingly moving at a snail's pace.

And so, courtesy of my work computer and corporate hours, came half of this chapter! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you again in the next one.