Chronal Disassociation Ch. 57 (Patreon)

Lena found it difficult to maintain her annoyance with Archer when she saw Emily enjoying herself so much. Since meeting the Spirit, the only real moment of respite they'd stolen had been their wedding, and even that had been a whirlwind of last-minute planning and stress. Not to mention everything that had happened with Amélie...

Somewhat thankfully, Archer had handled the itinerary for their trip, passing it to Lena without Emily's knowledge. It was a bitter concession that grated at her nerves, but Archer had - correctly - concluded that the pilot would follow it, if only to keep Emily from wandering into harm's way.

…And there it was again. The frustration. Sure, she understood, logically, that Emily would always be a target, especially when Lena wasn't at her side. That still didn't give the arse any right to go behind her back like that.

The problem, however, was that the annoyance wasn't entirely directed at the Spirit. A healthy dose had found its way back to herself.

This wasn't the first time Archer had acted unilaterally. It was, however, the first time Lena had any real objection to it, even if her reason was rooted in something selfish.

Wasn't that the crux of the issue? From the very beginning, they were supposed to be in this together. Archer couldn't exist here without Lena, and Lena would still be trapped on that hill of swords without Archer. Quite literally, they were two sides of the same coin, needing the other to function.

And now, one side had made a decision on his own, heedless of her protests.

Lena nearly sighed aloud before Emily tugged her toward a nearby stand. This one was draped in cowboy hats - genuine leather, not the cheap synthetics that had flooded the market - and they looked awfully similar to the ones Cassidy wore.

Currently, the two of them were wandering a market street that could have been plucked straight from an old Western film. Outlet stores still lined the road, but even their facades had been designed to look weathered and aged. To their relief, the buildings themselves still hid cleverly disguised air conditioning behind the rustic exteriors.

Seriously, Lena had no idea how people survived this bloody heat.

"This one, or this one?" Emily held up two hats, tilting her head as she compared them.

"The left one, definitely." Lena smiled despite herself.

Still, Emily was having fun, and given that Archer had arranged more security than she'd expected, Lena didn't have to keep glancing over her shoulder. Speaking of which-

"Oooh, grab me one of those tajin bottles, will you? The ones you have here are demasiado caro."

Lena's eye twitched as the running commentary of a certain hacker cut through her thoughts. She knew why Sombra was watching them, but that didn't make it any less annoying to be turned into a glorified errand girl.

That she couldn't even tell Sombra to stuff it because Emily was right there made it worse. Lena knew for a fact that if she didn't get whatever the hell tajin was, the hacker would complain to her nonstop until her nerves frayed completely.

"Damn, these are expensive…" Lena winced at the price tag. She had the money - Overwatch paid very well, not inlcuding the hazard pay - but for a bottle this size? Tourist tax was a brutal thing.

"Oh! Archer!"

Lena's head snapped up at her wife's call. Looking forward, she spotted the white-haired man gliding through the not-so-crowded street. Even then, his height drew more than a few gazes, some appreciative, others wary.

Archer's face broke into his trademark smirk as he approached, the kind that made Lena want to punch his face in. He swept a hand toward the hat stand with theatrical flourish.

"Finding souvenirs already? I thought you'd at least wait until we hit the plaza."

Emily laughed, tucking the chosen hat under her arm, "Souvenirs are a process, Archer. You can't just rush into them."

"Clearly, I'm out of my depth." He spread his hands in mock surrender, then turned to Lena with a raised eyebrow, "Did you sleep well? I assume the hotel was up to standard."

"Bed was comfortable enough." She replied, keeping her voice casual, "Though I didn't see you at breakfast. Or last night, for that matter."

Archer's smirk didn't so much as waver, "I'm afraid I got caught up in conversation with a local gunsmith. He had some interesting pieces, truthfully. And while I don't usually prefer firearms, Cassidy's not the only one who appreciates fine craftsmanship." He tilted his head, a glint in his eye, "You know how it is when you find someone who actually knows their trade."

Emily snorted, "And here I thought you were just avoiding us."

"Never," Archer said, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I just have a terrible habit of losing track of time when I'm nerding out over historical weaponry. My apologies."

Lena forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Gunsmith. Right. Because that's the sort of thing you'd disappear for hours over."

Archer's smirk held, but something flickered behind his steel-grey eyes. Recognition, perhaps, that she wasn't buying it, "I'll have you know, the man had a pre-war Colt that would make Cassidy weep with envy. You don't rush that kind of appreciation."

"Mm." She let the sound hang, noncommittal, and turned back to the stand. The heat was pressing against her temples now, and she could feel the familiar prickle of irritation crawling up her spine, "Funny, though. I didn't peg you for a collector. Given how you usually just summon whatever weapon you need out of thin air."

Emily glanced between them, a subtle crease forming between her brows. She might not have known the full scope of Archer's extracurricular activities, but she'd spent enough time around them to sense when the air thickened.

Archer, to his credit, didn't bristle. Instead, he reached out and tapped the brim of the hat Emily had chosen, his tone light, "Even someone like myself appreciates the artistry of a well-made piece."

"And here I thought you were just skulking around the city." Lena's voice came out sharper than she'd intended. She caught herself, exhaled, and pretended to study a rack of leather belts, "Never mind. You're here now, that's what matters."

Emily stepped closer, her hand finding Lena's elbow. The touch was gentle, grounding, but Lena could feel the question in it - 'Are you alright?' - and she couldn't answer that honestly. Not here. Not with Emily looking at her like that.

"I could say the same about you two." Archer said, smoothly steering the conversation away, "I trust the morning was uneventful? No rogue Omnics, no mysterious figures trailing you through the plaza?"

Lena nearly laughed at the absurdity of it, "Just the usual foot traffic and overpriced trinkets. Though, now that you mention it," She picked up a small ceramic tile painted with a desert landscape, turning it over in her hands, "I did notice a couple of people lingering a bit too long near the hotel entrance this morning. But they cleared off before I could get a good look."

Archer's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly, "I'll have Sombra review the footage."

"Already did, by the way." Chimed in the hacker in her ear, though Archer gave no indication that he heard her, "Just some tourists who couldn't figure out their map."

"I'm sure you will." Lena set the tile down, her fingers lingering on its cool surface. The passive-aggressive edge in her voice was a familiar comfort now, a shield she could raise when the frustration threatened to spill over, "Since you seem to have everything under control."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Emily's hand tightened on her elbow, and Lena knew she was being too transparent.

Then Emily, bless her, broke the tension with a soft laugh, "Right, that's enough brooding from both of you. I'm starving, and I saw a place with outdoor seating that looked promising. You two can glare at each other over tacos." She tugged Lena forward, and Archer fell into step beside them, his long legs matching their pace with effortless grace.

The outdoor seating area was a modest affair—wrought-iron tables arranged beneath a faded awning that did little to block the relentless New Mexico sun. The smell of charred meat and roasting chiles hung in the air, mingling with the distant strum of a Spanish guitar from somewhere down the street. Lena slid into a chair with her back to the wall, a habit she couldn't shake, and watched Archer settle across from her with the languid grace of a man who had never known urgency.

Emily ordered for all three of them in surprisingly passable Spanish, earning a warm grin from the waiter, and Lena felt a flicker of pride cut through her simmering frustration. 

But even Emily's effortless charm couldn't quiet the storm brewing behind Lena's ribs.

Archer had been gone all night. She knew that. And while she didn't have the full picture, she'd pieced together enough to know that his "gunsmith" story was as thin as the paper napkin now sitting on their table. The truth was that he'd been tracking something. Someone. A scientist named de Kuiper, held in a black site somewhere in this godforsaken desert.

Whatever answers he found, he sure as hell wasn't being forthcoming, even through the mental link that they had. Not that she would ask him right now. It was a petty move, sure, but dammit, she wasn't going to be the one that cracked first!

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She blinked, finding Emily's eyes on her. Concern, warm and patient, had softened her features.

"Just thinking about the itinerary." Lena lied, forcing a smile, "Archer's got us packed tighter than a sardine tin."

"Ah, yes." Archer leaned back, his long fingers wrapped around a glass of water that had been prepared for them, "Because heaven forbid we leave a single moment unaccounted for. I've scheduled a gallery visit, a hike through the petroglyphs, and a sunset dinner that will undoubtedly ruin all other meals for you."

Emily laughed, the sound light and easy, and Lena found herself laughing too. A hollow echo that fooled no one but Emily, who chose not to press.

The food arrived in short order, plates stacked with tacos and fresh salsa that smelled like heaven. Lena picked at hers, her appetite dulled by the prickling awareness that Archer had been somewhere dangerous while she'd been browsing overpriced souvenirs. She pictured him moving through shadows, past armed guards and reinforced doors, and the image made her stomach tighten.

What had he found? She wanted to ask. Was de Kuiper a threat? Had Archer eliminated him? 

She didn't know. And that, more than anything, was what gnawed at her.

…

They had quickly finished their meal, and while it was satisfying, it was still not on the level of what Archer could make back in London. Still, with their stomachs filled, albeit with Lena’s being significantly less so, they continued onto their planned itinerary.

The walk to the gallery was a short one, though the heat made it feel twice as long. Emily had looped her arm through Lena's, chattering about the artist they were about to see (Some Dutchman from the 19th century? How or why his paintings were here now was a mystery even to Archer)

Lena nodded along, making the right noises, but her attention kept drifting to the tall, white-haired figure walking a few paces ahead.

"I'm surprised you managed to get tickets to this." Emily said, pulling Lena back to the present, "I heard the waiting list is months long."

Archer glanced over his shoulder, that infuriating smirk back in place, "I have my ways."

"Meaning you called in a favour with Sombra." Lena muttered under her breath.

"I heard that." Sombra's voice crackled in her ear, "And for the record, I didn't hack anything. I just...redirected a couple of cancellations to the right inbox. Very legal. Very ethical."

Lena snorted, earning a curious look from Emily.

"Just remembered somethin' funny." Lena waved to the entrance, "Anyway, let's go see what's all the fuss's about, alright?"

Lena would stay quiet, for now. Regardless of her annoyances, her frustrations, her wife was her priority. Emily was having fun, and that's all that mattered. She'd deal with Archer later, when she could wring his neck with no one to stop her.

…