Chronal Disassociation Ch. 60 (Patreon)

They cut their vacation short, much to Lena’s relief. Thankfully, neither Archer nor Emily put up an argument towards it. Considering that the entire trip had more or less validated Lena’s paranoia, she figured she had the right to be slightly smug about it too.

Archer, at least, was very apologetic for it. The moment that they had gotten on the plane back, the man had quietly apologized to her, and offered to share what he had found out while he was gone. It stopped her dead in her tracks, as the annoyance that had built up in her slowly whittled away. Not completely gone, but more manageable than before.

Because of that, Lena only had to worry about the implications of what Archer had discovered.

First off, de Kuiper was not capable of magic - “Magecraft.” Archer would correct her absentmindedly - and was more of a victim more than anything. And, he was apparently part of the reason why O’Deorain had managed to do what she did.

Certainly, Archer didn’t frame it as such, but she could read between the lines. De Kuiper’s actions had led to those…things…getting an interest on their planet. Without him, the cascading effects, such as O’Deorain somehow getting into contact with one of them would have either not happened, or take more effort than whatever the mad scientist did. 

What worried Lena the most is that they were on a timer because of them.

Archer theorized that, if de Kuiper was keeping things in check as the main door, then what O’Deorain did was let those things in from the back door. The Spirit admitted that he didn’t mention it to the old man, not at the time, for fear that the knowledge that his imprisonment may have been for naught might do to him.

It was this kind of knowledge that Lena knew would have brought her low had she been in his situation. The pilot didn’t blame Archer for not telling him, not in the slightest. 

Still, that made finding out what had happened to all the mages any easier. In fact, the second thing Archer found only made things even stranger. Some guy named Zelretch was still around, apparently, and had been the one who’s been basically solving things in the background. Archer was quite cagey when it came to the details, but he did answer one question that she had.

“So, if you knew about this guy before you met with de Kuiper, he must be pretty old, right?”

“Around two thousand years old, give or take a couple hundred.”

That shut her up real quick. She did not want to mess with an immortal that’s lived for that long.

Archer apparently did, however. The main issue with that was finding the man to begin with. Despite Archer being what he was, this Zelretch guy remained illusive. Or, as Lena put it, was too busy doing something else to spare time for some random schmuck like him.

And, well, considering the scale of things went above Lena’s head - or above anyone’s that wasn’t Archer himself, apparently - she sort of understood. Two thousand years. No matter how grand, large or overwhelming things were now, they must pale in comparison to the accumulated experiences that that immortal had. 

That didn’t stop Archer from having Sombra use an algorithm to find any sign of the man though. With it, they would periodically parse through the billions of photos, cameras, and whatever else that could capture an image to try and find this Zelretch of theirs.

Lena questioned why Sombra already had something like that prepared. She also questioned how she was going to get the computing power required to actually go through all of that, repeatedly. Overwatch certainly wasn’t going to provide it for her. Sombra only answered with ‘don’t worry about it’ and ‘zombies’ respectively.

The pilot decided to not look into it any further.

Overall, they had gotten less than anyone wanted, and even less than expected. But it did pave a way to a source that likely did have the answers that they needed. All they had to do was find the man himself.  

That didn’t mean that the world stopped spinning, or that their day jobs got any easier.

…

They were having lunch, as it were. Archer, determined to make things up for once, had decided to cook for the entire day. Emily, having to go to work, was given a lunch box that morning, right after Archer had cooked breakfast for them. The Spirit even said that he had some beef slow cooking for dinner.

Honestly, the man could be a bit of a softie when things came down to it.

Originally, Archer only meant to cook for Lena and her wife. But then Sombra heard about it and told Angela. The instant she was told, Lena knew it was over. By nine in the morning, everyone on the strike team knew about Archer’s plans. Some were quietly amused and bowed out, like Commanders Morrison and Reyes.

The others, not so much.

By eleven, Lena was joined by Angela, Sombra, Genji, Cassidy, Reinhardt and Winston as she waited for Archer to finish cooking. Archer had taken one look at the crowd and snorted, going back to work without a word. Judging by how he didn’t do anything that he wasn’t already doing, he had already expected the sudden influx of hungry mouths.

That being said, the all around mood was not as lively as it usually was. Reinhardt, the usual life of the party, had been morose ever since Captain Amari had been taken off the roster. He was one of the few uninvolved people that knew of Ana’s current condition, the strike team having been informed by Commander Morrison. He was, of course, devastated to learn of it. While he continued his work as part of Overwatch, anyone could see that he was taking it very badly.

Not all was lost, though. Angela, as the person in contact with the doctor for Ana, had some good news for once. The medic cleared her throat, drawing the room’s scattered attention. She sat with perfect posture beside a slumped Reinhardt, offering the massive German a gentle, reassuring smile.

"I spoke with the lead neurologist at the Polish facility this morning." Angela began, her voice carrying a light tone of levity, "Captain Amari is showing signs of regaining some of her memories, it seems."

Reinhardt’s head snapped up, a spark of the old, booming crusader returning to his weary eyes, "She is? Truly?"

"She is, Reinhardt." Angela confirmed, her smile widening a fraction, "It is not a full recovery, and we must temper our expectations. The damage was severe, but it proves the condition is not a permanent block."

Winston adjusted his glasses, letting out a heavy, pleased sigh that ruffled the napkins on the table, "That is...quite the news indeed! It gives us a foundation to work from. Perhaps I can look into neural-assistive tech to help bridge the gaps in her engram formation while she heals."

Angela raised an eyebrow in askance, "I didn't think you were all that familiar with neuropsychology, Winston."

"I looked into it after I heard about what happened." Winston shrugged, a bit embarrassed, "I thought I could maybe build something to help her, but I will admit I'm not an expert in it."

"I can probably assist if you're going to continue with that." Angela offered with a smile and chuckle, to which the scientist nodded gratefully.

Personally, Lena was quite glad that the Captain was on the road to recovery. It was partly her failure that she had ended up that way, though Archer and Emily were adamant in explaining that there wasn't anything she could do. Unfortunately, what was done was done, and there was nothing Lena could do to help the Overwatch agent.

To know that she was getting better eased the frustration she felt with herself by a substantial margin.

The lingering tension that had gripped the room finally shattered, replaced by a collective, palpable sense of relief. Reinhardt let out a booming laugh that shook the silverware, slapping a massive hand onto the table.

"Ha! I knew the Captain was too stubborn to let a little brain fog keep her down!" the crusader bellowed, the color finally returning to his face. "This calls for a celebration! And right on cue, our resident chef delivers!"

Archer chose that exact moment to kill the heat on the stoves, the rhythmic sizzling coming to a halt. With a practiced, effortless motion, the Spirit began sliding heavy platters onto the center island.

In front of them was A massive platter of golden, crispy tonkatsu - Lena recognized them when Archer had cooked some in the past - thick, breaded pork cutlets sliced perfectly into strips, served alongside a rich, savory-sweet sauce and a colossal rice cooker filled with steaming rice. Extra cutlets were clearly designated for Reinhardt and Winston's heavier caloric needs. A mountain of finely shredded green cabbage with a toasted sesame dressing, fluffy slices of what looked to be eggs, rolled into balls, alongside some bowls of soup. Finally, next to the soup was a plate of pork buns that smelled awfully like that one extremely spicy dish that Archer had served before. 

The pilot avoided that one like the plague, no matter how tantalizing they looked.

"You act like you don't care, pero you always know exactly what everyone wants." Sombra teased, snagging a pork bun before anyone else could reach for the platters, "Should I start calling you 'Mom'?"

"Call me whatever you like, Sombra, so long as you eat quietly." Archer retorted dryly, untying his apron. He plated a modest portion for himself and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he surveyed the chaos he had orchestrated, "And do not think this becomes a regular occurrence. Much as I do enjoy cooking, I'm still quite busy a lot of the time."

"My compliments to the chef, regardless." Cassidy chimed in, already aggressively loading up his plate. He tipped his hat toward the Spirit, a grin fighting past his beard.

Genji already had his lower faceplate removed, eating from a bowl loaded with rice and vegetables, "Indeed. Truth be told, I did not expect that you would be cooking such a dish."

Archer raised an eyebrow at that, "What do you mean by that?" Rather than being offended, the Spirit was curious. That didn't stop Angela from not-so-subtly elbowing the cyborg for being rude.

Genji quickly raised his hands in a defensive gesture, chuckling softly under his breath as he rubbed his side where Angela’s elbow had connected.

"Peace, Angela, I meant no disrespect." Genji reassured her, turning his visor back toward the kitchen counter. He picked up his chopsticks, gesturing slightly toward his bowl, "I only mean to say that this is incredibly authentic. The crispness of the tonkatsu, the precise sweetness of the tamagoyaki, even the dashi in the miso soup has a depth that is profoundly difficult to replicate outside of a traditional household."

Genji paused, his robotic shoulders relaxing slightly as he took another sip of the soup, "It does not taste like a recipe learned from a database or a high-end restaurant. It tastes like home." There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice, tinged with mechanics as it still was, "I simply did not realize you possessed such an intimate familiarity with my homeland’s cuisine."

The table went entirely quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Winston happily crunching on a piece of cabbage.

Lena blinked, shifting her gaze from Genji to Archer. She realized, with a sudden jolt of surprise, that she had never actually stopped to consider where Archer was from. To her, he had always just been 'Archer' - the enigmatic, cynical Spirit who wore a brilliant red shroud, wielded every sword and weapon under the sun, spoke flawless English, and possessed a deeply confusing understanding of the universe. With his tanned skin and shock of white hair, her mind had never naturally categorized him into any specific modern nationality.

Judging by the blank, processing looks on Cassidy and Reinhardt’s faces, she wasn't the only one who had completely missed it.

"Wait a minute." Cassidy said, lowering his fork, his eyes narrowing in genuine curiosity, "You're telling me the spooky, bow-wielding ghost man is a master of Japanese comfort food? I figured you for a European or an American, chief. Mostly because of the sheer amount of attitude."

"Hey! We don't all have an attitude." Lena chimed in, though she couldn't help but lean forward, eager to hear the answer.

"Thank you for the compliments, though, I'd have to point out that jitsu wa, watashi wa nihonjin nanda. Kono teido no katei ryouri wa tsukurete touzen darou." Archer smoothly transitioned into what Lena could only assume to be Japanese, seeing as how Genji stilled for a moment. There wasn’t even an accent that Lena could hear with how perfect the transition was! The cyborg's eyes were hidden in the dark of his helmet, but even Lena could guess that he was also gaping at the white-haired man.

"Hontou desu ka?! Masaka anata ga doukyou datta to wa!" Genji exclaimed, more excited than Lena had ever heard him before. Archer chuckled, though before he could reply back, Angela politely coughed.

“Mind cluing us in, Genji?” She said, though she had a wry smile on her lips.

“Ah, apologies!” Genji shook his head in mirth, “Archer says that he’s Japanese, though I am curious if you’re only half, considering how you look.”

"I am fully Japanese, actually." Archer replied, seamlessly switching back to English for the benefit of the rest of the table. He picked up a cloth to wipe down the spotless counter, his expression remarkably casual for a man who had just upended everyone's assumptions, "My current appearance is...a side effect of my previous occupation. An occupational hazard, if you will."

Cassidy paused, a piece of tonkatsu halfway to his mouth, "Hazard? Chief, I’ve been blown up, shot at, and thrown out of moving vehicles, and my hair's still the same color it was in my twenties. What kind of job turns a guy's hair snow-white and gives him a tan?"

Archer gave him a smirk, “You sure that hair of yours isn’t just dyed by all that tobacco you’re huffing?”

“Now them’s fightin’ words!”

…

The conversation continued, though Archer was still pretty closed off with answering too many questions about his childhood. They did needle him enough to admit that he had lived his childhood in a place called Fuyuki, a city that only Genji seemed to recognize. Along with the fact that he was good at cooking because his father could somehow burn ice cubes.

Beyond that, it was quite surreal for Lena to think about Archer having a childhood like that. She always thought of him as he was now. A Heroic Spirit and nothing else. It never occurred to her that he still had a life beyond what she knew of him, before everything. Before that hill of swords that she met him on.

It was sobering, but enlightening in equal parts. Sadly, their conversation would be cut short as their duties called them to work. Especially duties that required the entire team to report to the commanders.

She’d have to tell the story to Emily at a later date, then.

Lena would only later remember that Archer never answered Cassidy’s question.