Part Two: Partners

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The summer sun beams down as you as you and Jesse finally arrive at your hotel. The building itself is towering. The sun reflects off of the white walls and large windows. It reminds you of the heat in New Mexico that lingers all day. As you step into the shade, you're immediately met with the cool breeze that tunnels through the city. 

"Are you ready?" Jesse asks. It would seem he was talking about checking in, but in his eyes, you see the question he's really asking: "Are you ready to complete the mission?"

"Yes, though I can't wait for the couple days we'll have to ourselves." A coded message in response. You search his eyes for his response, and you find resolve.

"This is going to be a fun weekend." He puts his arm around you and pulls you toward him. You grin, trying to look how you should: blissfully happy. Mostly you're just trying to hide the resigned expression which has tried to rest on your face for the past few hours.

You enter the spacious lobby to find the most beautiful hotel you've ever set foot in. Typical of dangerous people to either hole up in the most expensive place in town, or a motel that most people wouldn't give a second look to. You suppose they went with the former.

There's a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging from the circular hole above you. You see lounge areas winding up the circular area lit by the chandelier. 

You try to contain your wonder at the sight in front of you. There's an indoor fountain, and a little river that you have to cross a small bridge to get to your check in desk. After all, Jamie Lee-Dawson is used to this extravagance. Her husband makes enough money to pay the living of two or three minimum-wage families without a dent to his pocket. This is commonplace to her. 

You take Jesse, er, Micheal's arm as you approach the desk. After airport security, which made you very nervous, checking into your hotel room is second nature. 

You were a bit concerned about how well Jesse would take to having to play a part, but he makes it so natural. You have to constantly remind yourself that this isn't real. You've decided that you're going to kill whoever set the two of you up like this. It isn't going to make anything easier.

Someone takes your luggage up to your room for you, and you're told that you can take advantage of any of the amenities available to you.

"Micheal, do you know what I'm thinking?" You raise an eyebrow. He check his watch. "At one in the afternoon?"

"It's not like we're getting hammered. Come on!" You grab his wrist and pull him towards the bar. "Since when do you not want to have a drink?" You ask, more toward Jesse than the man he's playing. He gives you a warning look. You guess that Micheal is more conservative than Jesse is about afternoon drinking.

"I, personally, would just like to see our room first. Then we can come down- you know, get unpacked first." His voice holds a quiet urgency that he directs only to you. You understand what he means. 

"That sounds great. A compromise. We can get drunk later." You say lightly. 

He smiles at you, and the two of you get in the elevator, alone. You spend your time in awkward silence. It unnerves you how easily this is coming to you, and you wonder if it's off-putting to Jesse too. After all, covert agents unchecked tend to fester into something far deadlier than anyone accounts for. 

You steal a glance at him, and his gaze is firmly interested in the floor. You notice his gaze wander to you as you look toward the elevator door. 

When it opens, no one waits for you, so you don't feel the immediate need to act all lovey-dovey, but nevertheless, you take his hand as you walk down the hallway toward your room. Jesse doesn't protest.

He grabs the keycard for you room and holds it near the door. The door slides open of its own accord, leaving you astonished with the accommodations before you. 

It's akin to the fanciest studio apartment you've ever seen. There's a small kitchen, living room, office area, along with the... single bed. 

"Well... I guess I call the couch." You say when the door closes. Jesse holds up a finger, and immediately starts rifling through the room. He eventually takes out a device and holds it up to all suspicious furniture. 

"What on earth are you doing?" you ask as he trows the cushions off of the couch. He doesn't answer you, instead opening the desk drawer, and holds up the device again, which blinks blue. 

"Okay," he says, out of breath, "we're clear. I just wanted to check for bugs." He closes the curtains. "I wouldn't put it past Null Sector to bug every room in the hotel just to be safe." He sits on the edge of the bed. "Alright, what were you saying before I tossed the room?" He says with a worn-out and good natured smile.

"Oh, only that I call the couch tonight. Excellent view of the skyline, plus, access to the TV just in case I can't sleep." You pick up the bag that a bellboy had brought to the room, and toss it near the couch before flopping down on it. It's easily the nicest couch you've ever laid down on. 

"What? No, you get the bed. You have the harder work to do, plus, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let my fake wife take the couch?" He grabs your bag and puts it on the bed. It then seems to dawn on him at the same time it dawns on you: if anyone were to come to our room at any reason and find one of us on the couch, it could blow our cover. 

His lips form a tight line. "There's a way to do this that's respectful of boundaries... with you on the couch. With me, not so much."

"I had the same idea. Don't worry about it, Jesse, we can turn the couch towards the window and you can spoon a pillow all night long. Plus, I slept on the couch for like a year and a half when I was a kid. It doesn't bother me, I can fall asleep anywhere."

"Why, out of curiosity?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you sleep on the couch as a kid?"

"Oh." It was an offhand comment about a topic that you hadn't ever brought up to anyone before. Jesse seems to notice the flash of pain in your eyes and says, "We don't have to talk about it."

"No, I think I should. It's not even a big deal, I've just never talked about it before."

"If you feel like you should, then go for it. No pressure from my end." He smiles.

"I was nine when my mom died. It's not that I was unbothered or anything, it's that I took it a lot... better than Jo did. He would have these awful night terrors, and he would wake up kicking and screaming crying for her. It obviously took my dad a long time to get into his wheelchair, out the door, down the hallway, and to the room, which resulted in Jo freaking out more. So, eventually my dad moved a mattress into our room and slept on the floor. 

"Some nights were worse than others. Some nights, Jo was completely fine, he would snore occasionally, and that was it. Other nights, he would wake up between three and five times during the night, and I wasn't sleeping. So, my dad would always make up the couch as a bed after dinner, and after Jo woke up once, I would run to the couch and sleep there the rest of night."

Jesse gives you a look that you can't quite read, before just standing up, walking over to you, and enveloping you in a giant hug. "I'm really sorry about your mom, (Y/N)." He says softly.

"It's alright. It's been nearly two decades now, anyway." You say, sounding a bit sadder than you meant to. 

He just holds you closer, and then says, "I think I take it for granted that both my folks are still around." 

"Yeah?" You say, not breaking from the hug.

"Yeah, I mean we didn't exactly leave off on good terms, and I'm not even sure that they'd want to see me, but it's nice to know that they're still happy together."

"I'm assuming that's a story for another day?" you say, pulling from the hug and gazing up at him.

"Yes ma'am." He says with a sad grin. "Well, I guess I'm going to have to take you up on your offer now, Jamie dear."

"To the bar?"

"Always."

The two of you head of our your room, arms linked, and see the familiar faces of Lena and Hunter. As you pass, you give them the same curt smile you give strangers, but search their eyes for any news. They do the same, smiling as they pass, and then quickly directing their gazes towards one another. There seemed to be no sense of urgency, so there's no danger yet.

You decide to take the stairs, which leads you through the winding series of floors, lounges, restaurants, and bars that funnel towards the lobby. Not only does it give you time to appreciate your surroundings, it helps you understand the layout of the hotel. Possible exits, hiding places, weaponry, and strategies, just in case you can't corner the Null Sector personnel. 

While the last thing you want is for the mission to spill out into the rest of the hotel, but you remind yourself that they can't get away. The result could be catastrophic. 

Not only would Null Sector and Talon know that Overwatch was gathering intel on them, they would know that Overwatch was acting on that intel. It could lead to false leads, incorrect information given outside of closed doors. It could lead to many agents dying, being captured, tortured... the thought sends chills down your spine. 

If you take your shot and it's true, they can only assume the party behind it, they won't have near certainty. Plus, both organizations would have to scramble for new heads, and during that time, Overwatch could use their deep cover agents to rise to the top, and dismantle them from the inside. Either that, or send every body we have to storm the base, though you doubt that would work as well.

You finally reach the bar on the main floor, and you order drinks. You have quiet conversation with Jesse about the meeting he will be attending, what you'll do when he's gone, as if you're just trying to be respectful of your noise level, but you both subconsciously do the same thing. 

You tune out your own conversation, looking engaged, to scan the room every once and awhile. You use lulls in the conversation to listen in on surrounding conversations. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. You don't hear anything that sounds like coded small talk, like you did with Jesse just hours earlier, and you don't see anyone talking in hushed tones in a corner.

You both know that anyone smart would do what you did, and wait to have important conversation behind closed doors, but you both check regardless. After you have drinks, you both decide on an evening in, and go up and order room service instead of dining somewhere. This time, on your way up, you pass two omnic men in suits and ties who give you curt nods before heading into the room next door.

Next door. If that's our target that makes everything a lot more complicated.

You both enter the room and close the door.

"Do you think that was them?" You ask quietly.

"They looked like henchmen to me, but I'm not trying to, y'know, profile anybody. Let's wait it out." He matches your hushed tone. He then says louder, in some attempt to embarrass you, or see if your neighbors really can hear you, "I guess we can't be... noisy tonight then, huh? Neighbors make everything complicated." Your face goes red and you glare at him. He just grins stupidly.

"If you weren't-" you say loudly, before catching yourself and quieting, "if you weren't my partner I would slap you right now."

"Really, what's stopping you? You've done worse." He leans in close to you. Apparently teasing you is his new idea of fun.

"You know, this wasn't my ideal cover, so maybe don't make it worse than it is."

"Fine, babe. Fine." He says, turning on the TV. You chuck a throw pillow at him from the couch.

"I hate you." You call from the couch.

"I know." He says.