Cold War Pt 01

She always called him Jesse. She hated the way her Russian accent pronounced his Irish surname. She was never embarrassed by her culture before; she was literally a figure of Russian pride, the picture of her standing ready with her particle cannon distributed widely across the nation. But sometimes she wanted her voice to sound smooth and clean, unlike the hard Slavic languages.

Now they were both walking back to their quarters at the outpost, she a few steps behind him. She wanted to say something, but she didn't have the words. She just wanted him to notice her the way she noticed him. By the time she'd reached her door he was still walking on down the hall toward his own. She fumbled with her keycard, mentally cursing her gloves and cumbersome charge suit.

"Jesse," she called out to him right before he rounded the corner. He stopped and turned, his thumbs hooking into his jeans pockets. Her eyes were at once transfixed on the cut of his jaw before she realized she didn't know what to say and her gaze darted about.

"You...did a good job today," she muttered before going back to trying to get her keycard to work. Jesse McCree shot her a wry smile and said "Thank you kindly, ma'am, you too." He walked out of sight. She was left looking at him as he went, the keycard finally unlocking the door. She sighed as she entered her room. He'd just called her "ma'am." What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Her room was standardized, just like all Overwatch outposts. Clean, silver gray metallic walls and floor, overhead lighting, and the simplest of amenities. She took her time removing the bulky charge suit and placing it in her locker. She then stripped off the full underwear stocking and hopped directly into the hot shower. She let the water coarse over her body, and began to relax. It had been a difficult day.

Their mission was supposed to be simple - escort a VIP. The Talon agents had made their lives complex by erecting a hard-light barricade that made both the VIP car and their chase car crash on that bridge. The other Overwatch agents were either too hurt or unconscious to act quickly enough, but she'd leapt out of the vehicle firing immediately. Her particle cannon started warming up as the Talon agents peppered her shielding system, and she was raining charged shots near them. But she wasn't able to take all of them at once, and when they saw her reloading they took advantage by laying down heavy fire. Her shield was emptied in moments as she retreated behind the doors of the wrecked vehicle.

That's when she heard a rapid series of shots ring out from the other side of the vehicle, and looked up to see a half dozen of the Talon agents on the ground. Jesse was still up and was reloading as he cast her a quick glance and a smile through that cigar of his. She bounded out in front of the vehicle, her shields back online, and between the both of them made quick work of the rest of their attackers.

It wasn't the first time she'd worked with McCree, but it had always been a part of a larger team or strike force. She knew he was good at his job, but had never witnessed such precision so quickly before. He was impressive, and it took a lot to impress her. She started to notice the little things about him she liked - his shaggy, matted hair when he takes his wide brimmed hat off, the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled...and his backside in the denim jeans he always wore. That was definitely on her mind as she stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror.

Jesse was a tall man, but she was taller still by a few inches. She examined her frame and sighed. She was an accomplished power lifter and athlete, and heavily muscled. She worked hard to accomplish those goals, but when the omnics came to threaten her home she put those accomplishments to work defending her home and enlisted in the Russian Defense Forces. She had no regrets in her choices. She knew she should be proud of how strong she is and how she looked, but sometimes it made romance difficult. She's always been told that there was someone out there for everyone, but the men who showed any interest had always been pigs, only ever after one thing. And it seemed that whenever she showed interest in someone they did not reciprocate her feelings, intimidated by her stature.

She noticed her pink hair was showing dark roots and grabbed the dye out of her bathroom drawer. She made the conscious decision to make it pink to help put forth a feminine trait. She wasn't even especially fond of the color, but she was warming up to it. Her hair became a feature more commented on than her size, or at least it was a way to distinguish her beside her body. She appreciated that. She also wondered if Jesse liked pink.

"No!" she said aloud to herself. She wouldn't be wrapped up in some artificial romance, some invented scheme with someone who was at best a coworker. Hell, he might not even really notice her. He called her "ma'am," anyway, and that's something you call older married women. She was pretty sure he was older than her anyway.

She tried being upset as she worked the dye through her hair with gloved fingers, but she found herself relaxing as her thoughts drifted back to Jesse's more aesthetically pleasing traits. She was quite tired from the long day and looked forward to her bed.