Chapter Text
The timing couldn’t be worse.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. You were exhausted from being up sick all night for the third time this week. Dark circles colored the skin under your eyes and your mouth was turned into a perpetual frown as you fought back another wave of nausea.
Around you, noise filtered in from the small town you were currently staying in, the latest in a long line. Ever since you and your then boyfriend had left Overwatch in the dark of night, you’d been on the run. It had been six years, six long years of run down motels, nights in the car, and even a few staying in abandoned houses when you were really down on your luck. Now, you looked around the motel and noticed just how dirty it was. There were stains on the curtains, the towels, once pristine, were now a dingy off white, and there were holes in the sheets of the unmade bed.
Jesse was gone again today, trying to complete another bounty, trying to keep the both of you housed and fed. He had gone from boyfriend to fiancé of sorts, though neither of you could really pinpoint when that change occurred. You just went together naturally, watching each other’s backs on hunts, or as he still called them, missions. If anything, he could make this whole situation fun. He had for years. There was never a dull moment with Jesse McCree around.
That was, of course, until three days ago. He had insisted he could handle this one on his own and that you rest. But after three days, you were beginning to think perhaps you weren’t really sick. You’d actually been feeling off longer than that, but you’d kept it to yourself, sure it would work itself out eventually. But it hadn’t. It wasn’t going to.
You looked over your shoulder into the bathroom at the object laying on the side of the bathtub, about the length of your palm, shiny white, with two pink lines that felt like neon lights, commanding attention even from across the room.
How would the two of you ever take care of a baby? Hell, you’d both talked about it, but more in a what-if sense, never as a possible reality. You sighed and ran a shaky hand through your hair. You needed air. You needed to eat. Food sounded awful. So did really anything. You paced away from the sink and sat down on the bed. The pillow still smelled like Jesse and you laid down on it, cradling it in your arms and breathing deep.
The scent comforted you a little. Jesse would know what to do. The two of you had conquered so much together already. You’d figure out how to take this on, too.
When he arrived home late that evening, you were sitting on the floor with a soup and crackers, trying to convince yourself that you weren’t going to throw all of this up like everything else.
“Ya look like you’re feelin’ better.” He noted, throwing his hat onto the bed. He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead. He wished he could do more to help you, but some sicknesses just needed to run their course.
He took off his serape, red and gold, torn from years of fights. You still remembered the day he found it in a shop in Dorado. He’d insisted on buying it, and now it showed the years of wear and tear. You’d have to make sure to wash it again soon.
He stretched, and his back flexed under the tan shirt he wore. His bionic arm whirred softly with the quick motion. He’d changed since you’d begun your life on the run. He used to have the most awful side burns you’d begged him to shave, but he’d kept them just to spite you. He used to be stocky from all the working out they did. Now his frame was wiry, though still muscular. His hair had grown out, still the same smooth brown, now with a strand or two of gray. He’d grown a beard and shaved the side burns. There were new wrinkles around his warm, brown eyes, but the years couldn’t take the fire that burned in them.
Of course, you had changed, too. But you found these details inconsequential, especially in light of your pregnancy.
He walked toward the bathroom and you suddenly remembered you’d never moved the pregnancy test from the bathtub.
“Jess, would you mind if I take a shower real quick?” You said, trying to divert his attention long enough for you to move it. You still hadn’t figure out how to tell him yet.
“Sure thing, darlin’.” He replied, and you breathed a sigh of relief, then felt your heart jump into your throat again as he turned. “I’m just gonna wash up.”
You reached your hand out, leaping towards him, trying to grab his hand as the sudden movement made your head spin and stomach churn. You grabbed his hand at the moment his eyes fell on the small stick that promised to change your lives, possibly forever.
He stopped and took a deep breath, frozen by the sight. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears and you were sure he could hear it too through the oppressive silence that fell over you both.
“Y/N…” He muttered, but couldn’t say anything else. He looked back at you, expression a mixture of both confusion and anxiety. “What the hell…”
You walked closer, still keeping your hand tight on his. “I…meant to tell you. I just hadn’t figured out how yet.”
He pulled away. He wasn’t sure whether to be upset or angry or excited or scared. All of it rushed through him in a confusing mess of emotions. He sat down on the bed, hands curled into balls, betraying the sudden stress he felt.
“Jess?” You asked, putting your hand on his shoulder. “What do we do?”
He sighed, but didn’t speak. The length of his silence left you feeling sicker than the hormones ever could. You’d faced so much together, and yet, this seemed to throw him off balance in a way nothing else had before.
Finally, he spoke, voice strangled by worry. “We can’t raise a child like this.” He croaked. “It’s no life for a kid.” His eyes turned dark, and you guessed he was remembering his days with the Deadlock gang. He’d been young when he joined, though he’d never and would never reveal just how young.
“I know.” You whispered. You slid your hand into his and held it tight. “And I know you’re probably upset and scared…”
“I’m not upset, Pumpkin.” He said softly. “We should’ve been more careful.” He shook his head. “But I am scared.” He laughed suddenly. “Who’d of thought this would scare me the most.”
You laughed too, but he pulled his hand away.
There was another long silence.
“What should we do?” You asked again.
Jesse shifted awkwardly on the bed. “We could abort. Or give ‘em up for adoption,” he said in a weak, unsure voice.
You knew both were options, but the thoughts were like someone put a vice around your chest. Could you really do that? Deep down, you knew you couldn’t. “I can’t.” You said, breathing slowly to hold back the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks. “Jesse, I can’t. I don’t want to.”
You both sat there, staring at the sink in front of you, your reflections showing every emotion the other had without either having to look at the other. Jesse’s brows were furrowed, lips pursed.
You hung your head, knowing he was right.
“Right after the recall, too.” You said. Of course this had to come on the heels of the biggest decision to come your way in years. First the recall message from Winston, now this. It had been an eventful week.
Jesse picked up his holo phone and played the message again, still unconvinced that returning was the right thing to do.
“I still think we should go back,” You said gently.
He looked at himself in the mirror. “It’s been six years, y/n. I’m not sure either of us is suited for what they need.”
“Well, I’m certainly not now.” You quipped, cracking a smile and putting a hand on your flat stomach, trying to lighten the mood.
You saw his face break into a slow smile, too.
“There’s the Jesse I know.” You said, grinning.
He huffed a light laugh, looking at his knees. His posture reminded you of the night he’d first asked you out all those years ago, bravado gone, just a kid laying out his feelings one night under the stars.
“They won’t take us back. Not after we abandoned them.” He said and sighed.
“Reyes isn’t around to punish you.” You reminded him. “And I’m sure there are at least some people who’d like to see us back.”
There was a fleeting look of sadness on his face. His last months working under Reyes had been full of arguments and strife, but Jesse still saw him as the father he never had, despite their disagreements.
You reached out to turn his head to look at you. His eyes were unfocused, as if lost in memories. “Jesse…” You said, calling him back to reality. “We always joked about having kids, a house, a dog. Maybe we can’t have a house or a dog, but maybe a kid can be a reality, if you really want it.”
He closed his eyes and leaned into you, forehead touching yours. You stayed like that for a while, trying to ease his anxiety.
“Overwatch can provide us a home. And you know I’m not having this baby in a hospital. We’re both wanted outlaws.” You reminded him gently. “Overwatch can provide us more safety than this life ever will. Even if it’s a little awkward going back.”
He sighed and slipped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “Tell ya what.” He said finally. “Lemme sleep on it. We’ll talk about it in the mornin'.”
When you awoke the next morning, sun streaming in through the curtains, you noticed that your bags were packed, except for one outfit that had been laid out for you. Jesse was sitting next to you on the bed, pushing you gently to wake you up. He held a steaming styrofoam cup filled with black coffee in one hand, and tried not to spill it with each movement.
“C’mon, Y/N. We’ve gotta get going.”
You sat up slowly, still not recovered from your lack of sleep. You were immediately hit by the same nausea that had been your constant companion for days, but you forced it back. “Jess, what are you doing?” You asked, voice still rough with sleep.
“Look, we can try goin’ back. And if it doesn’t work out, well, we can always leave. We’ll figure out somethin’.”
At least he was being optimistic. You weren’t thrilled by the possibility of leaving again, but sometimes, compromise was the best anyone could hope for.
He took a sip from the cup and looked out the window. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”