I hope everything turns out alright for you, doll ♥
Intangible
McSombra. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.
Sombra is nothing, with no one. Her existence is a ghost story. If someone wanted her dead, it would be no different then what she is now. The ending of her existence wouldn’t create ripples in the great pool of the world.
Not before. Not before he made her solid and amplified.
There was only self-preservation, but now the Red Eye engulfs McCree in one of it’s blink. She can’t do anything in the dark, as light alone creates shadows. Powerless to watch him bleed, and to keep him awake, he slips right through her fingers.
And she hates that she can’t keep face. Her shaking hands jolts him awake because she needs to see his eyes. A powerful, lurking fear paralyzes her chest at the thought of his life in danger.
She can lose him so easily… She can’t afford that.
“Olivia,” he says, sitting up to her unblinking stare. He tenses for fear of danger, but finds only her damaged person. “What’s the matter?”
He’s the only living soul who knows her name.
“Jesse,” she says like a plea. “I can’t lose you.”
His stare softens, but still upholds the worry etched into the corner of his eyes.
“Darlin’, who said anything about losing me?”
The Red Eye. Her secrets. Her shadowy existence. All of it makes him as tangible as water dripping down her arms.
The dreams won’t leave her now. Now that she’s too close and too vulnerable.
“Olivia.” He brushes a lock of hair back behind her ear. A new strength fills her enough to lift her gaze to him. “You ain’t gonna lose me, just like I ain’t gonna lose you.”
He doesn’t know that. Her fingers still press into his flesh because she can’t let go. When she cut all bindings to this earth, he tethered her.
If he’s cut, she’ll disappear into the night sky.
“Jesse,” she cracks, splintering like chopped wood, “Jesse.”
“Olivia, it’s going to be okay.”
His arms take her. Across the mattress, she slips into his hold like a knife to its sheath. The warmth of his person touches against her cheek. Quietly, he begins humming into her hair.
“I’ll keep you safe, darlin’.” He murmurs across her skin as her fingers twist his shirt into clenched fists. “When the sun comes up, you’ll see that all’s well.”
A wet, messy kiss falls from her against his sternum, right above his heart. She can’t bear to leave it. The steady drum of his person. The constant state of his chest.
“Jesse,” she lets out like a sob.
“I’m not going to let you go, honeybee,” he swears. “I’m going to keep you until you’re alright.”
How easily she becomes solid and intangible all at once. In his arms, she’s not entirely gone.
He keeps her until the sun witnesses her calm face.
Today has been a nightmare – pure hell on earth. And I don’t say that to be dramatic. Would it be okay to just ask for McCree reassuring Sombra that it’ll be alright?
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