Never Let Me Go (A McHanzo Fanfic)

From the Thoughts of a Pirate

Presenting: The chapter that should have been published a week ago had it not disappeared from the face of the earth.

Ok loves! Sorry for the wait. I hope this'll make it up to ya.  :*

Jesse's POV

The next thing I knew when I opened my eyes was that I was back on my ship--or more specifically, my old cabin. The Huckleberry was speedin' away from the shores of England when I regained my bearings, and I never had a doubt that we'd be caught. This was a fast ship--faster than what Morrison's used to ridin' on.

Or maybe I was just bein' my biased self again.

I shrugged off the thought and stood up despite my stingin' legs screamin' for more respite. My injured arm still hurt like a bitch, and I hope the medics knew well what they were on about when they bandaged the limb down to my fingertips.
I didn't want the blood flow to be cut off there and risk its chances of gettin' better. I hate losin' anythin' that could have been saved.

Like Hanzo.

I had him there...in my fucking arms. I had him!

He was smilin' at me cause he knew I saved him, and he knew he was gettin' out of there alive. I promised him a life together filled with us, with new beginnings, away from this blasted land that wanted both our heads.

Then out of the blue, a maniac came up from the back of the still scatterin' throngs and shot Hanzo; no doubt in his quest to fulfill the declaration Preacher promised that never really made itself valid. He wanted to claim what was rightfully his, I suppose. But that didn't stop me from fishin' my gun from its holster and alignin' the barrel right on his sorry head.

I fired once. Missed.

Another round--he only scrambled on his feet and got further away.

I was fully ready to chase after that son of a bitch when my crew grabbed on and told me of the incomin' soldiers that have heard of the ruckus. I remembered snappin' back at them as I insisted that I don't give a rat's ass about the king's men: the anger that pulsed in my head was the only thing that I could really register, havin' taken a full hold over my senses.

I myself didn't catch on fast enough that I was already bein' dragged back on my waitin' ship, my Huckleberry, by two of my mates. Duncan and Thomas haled my heavy person with considerable effort, and yet I felt like I was more of a hollow shell than anythin', an empty vessel robbed of  everythin' that mattered to me.

This mission was supposed to go accordin' to how we briefed it over at the cabin; hell it should have went the way my previous more unplanned despoilments ended up to be: successful and flawless. We'd get what we've wanted and all that had to be worried about was gettin' away in one piece...or at the most, with a limb or two gone.

Sure, I escaped unscathed...not even a scratch on my dark skin to testify my intrusion on the land I was basically exiled from. The land that sentenced me to death. The land that would have danced around my corpse had Hanzo not interfered and offered himself up.

And yet who could have foretold that his very sacrifice would've just ended in vain?

A wasted life--makes me sick.

I gritted my teeth in suppressed anger every time a picture of Hanzo's scarred and bruised person flashed before my mind's eye. That alone would have prompted me to come up to Preacher and fire a gun against his stupid perfect head. But with him basically six feet under, the next best person would be me.

I had no excuse for the failure of my most important mission yet. Not seein' the odds absolved me of nothin', and the guilt was like a boulder in my gut.