Mercy reminds Reaper how it feels to be human with a bit of dancing.

Alternate Universe.

Things will never be the same again. Reyes "Reaper" was back, and his friends from Talon joined Overwatch with him. But despite the official peace, tensions were still very strong. Angela honestly thought that pink Latina hacker "Sombra" was the main reason. Her love for secrets already put even more tension between Jack and Gabriel than before. And God knows that doesn't help at all… The other day, the team was having lunch when Sombra dropped a very bad comment. The two men went into a fight immediately. Reinhardt and Zarya had to intervene so they wouldn't tear each other apart. Then Gabriel just vanished into fin air, and Sombra got a very angry warning from Winston. As for Angela: she spent the next two hours looking for Reaper. But he only showed up again late, the next morning.

The doorbell rang. She shouted a loud and tired "it's open!" from her desk. Her laboratory was huge, and just for her. So, when someone knock at her door, Doctor Angela "Mercy" Ziegler had to to scream to let the person know he or she or it could come in. She asked a few days ago to Winston if he could find her a megaphone, but so far, nothing suited her: way too many buttons!

Anyway, this lab/bedroom/med-bay was her very own version of paradise. At thr moment, it lacked of a certain someone; but fortunatly he had made it an habit to visit her on a dayly basis. That was the main reason why only few overwatch members ever came here unless they had a medical emergency: the others did not want to run into Gabriel "Reaper" Reyes. When the man was not hunting for food at prison's death corridors or in hopital's death beds, he was in her lab. Sometimes, he let her take some blood samples when she need them, sometimes strand of hair. But most of the time, he would stay in a corner, letting her work, in silence.

The door opened, and –ô surprise!—Reaper walked into the lab.

"Hey Doc'." He said.

"Hey Gabe." Angela answered, completely focused in her work; and corrected herself... or at least tried to. "-briel. Reyes. Commander. Or Reaper...?"

A low and worrying chuckle came out of the man's throat. He used to have such a sweet laugh. A shame his resurrection took that away.

These last few years, Angela found herself thinking about what happen. At some point, she came with the conviction that if she regretted screwing Gabriel's resurrection up, she did not regret trying to save his life. When they first teamed up, she was shocked to see him like… Well, like that. Later, she tried to talk to him. At first, he would blame her for what he became. Honestly: who wouldn't? If she had accepted his death, nothing bad would have happened. But she intervened, and things went horribly wrong. What was done, was done. However, after spending some time together: teaming up, then the peace offering, Talon's lieutenants joining Overwatch, etc… Reaper slowly stopped putting the blame on her. Angela suspected Ana's doing. The woman had a way with words. And she was right when she said that Angela's did a miracle, but the result depended on the person. Jack Morrison turned into a perfectly normal human; while Gabriel Reyes… Quite the opposite. These two men were as much responsible for what they were now as Angela was.

And that idea gave Angela a clue.

If Gabriel was responsible for being what he was now, perhaps encouraging the better side of himself would help making him human again. It was just a theory, and the only way to see if it could work would be to try. So, she observed him first. Sometimes, he would try to eat some of the food from others' plate. Each time he would feel very sick, and hide in his quarters the rest of the day. But what Angela noted was that he wanted to try, to taste the food, not to rely only on souls. If his kept trying to be human… perhaps, just perhaps, he may become one again.

Angela took her eyes off her paperwork, and turned her chair around. Reaper was sitting in his corner, armour and mask off. He was wearing his usual dark home clothes: a grey t-shirt, a sweatshirt with the hood on and black pants… No one would notice him if not for the dark red smoke coming out of him.

Angela could not see his faces or hands, but she knew how it looked like. A face with no nose, scared grey skin, patched black (greyish) curly hair, Angela could see his fangs threw his cheeks...

After the First World War (1914-1918), the soldiers victims of the bombs were called "broken faces" because their disfigurations was beyond imaginable. Their new appearance were the main development boost of the esthetical surgery; at the time called reconstructive surgery. When Angela first had a look at the "new" Gabriel Reyes, that anecdote came to her mind. Would the man be called "broken face" at that time? More likely "demon"...

"Commander?"

He raised his head: she could see his red eyes.

"I… I have something for you." She said.

Angela stood on her feet and went into her bedroom. In the closet, she extracted a rather big box. It was a bet. A dangerous one, but an important one. She came back. He was looking at her, both curious and somewhat worried. Dying and living again would have done horrible things to his ability to hide his emotions. She sat in a chair in front of him and gave him the heavy box.

The man was cautious. A bit too much: he knew Angela was not one to pull traps, especially on him or anyone from the "old times". His darken clawed hands opened the box.

Angela did not know what she expected, but was rather pleased to see an obvious lack of reaction from Gabriel. As silent as before, his eyes wondered. His hand reached for a chest plate, grey, black and red with scratches. He let his fingers brush the cold metal surface before putting it to the side. A black shirt with hood, a dark grey woollen cap… He kept the last piece of clothing in his hands.

"Mamá knit that for me… during the Crisis." His broken voice said.

He looked inside and showed her a white cross hidden in it.

"She was scared I would lost myself to the war, so she put a Christian cross in every clothes she would make for me."

His claws reached for something inside. A hair. Blond. Long. Angela turned red, stood up and tried to convince anyone she wanted to work.

"Do I want to know why there is a blond hair in my cap?" Gabriel asked, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm pretty sure my death did not change my hair color."

He let a low chuckle out, but became awfully serious.

"Why do you have my old things?"

"Well… Someone had to remember that you are human." Angela said, shaking a little.

"Am I human?" He asked, deadly serious.

"That's an odd question…" Angela nervously laughed. "You were born human, why should that change?"

"Well… I died." Reaper growled. "Doesn't that change the equation?"

"Not really."

"Then what? Why did you give me this?!" He asked, showing the box, his voice showing his growing anger.

"It felt right."

"Damn you!" He shouted, tossing the box on the ground.

Reaper did not like that topic. He did not like to be reminded of what he once was. And he did not like that "perfect-in-every-ways behaviour" Angela was famous for. He knew she was far from being an angel: angels don't play God. Reaper headed to the door but the woman ordered it to shut down.

"You are not running away this time, Gabriel!" She exclaimed. "You can't ignore what you were and what you are now forever. Now if you don't want to calm down, suits yourself. But at least take the time to listen! Ana is right. You and Jack became what you are now because of how you felt when you past away! That means if you can remember the Gabriel Reyes I remember, you may become more human than you are now!"

Reaper turned into black smoke and rematerialize right in front of her, invading her personal space. She could see his face: absence of nose, scars, grey skin, open cheeks, red and black eyes… For a moment, she felt her body screaming: Run away! Run away! Run away!

"Oh?" He muttered with a faked happiness. "And what would that Gabriel Reyes be?"

Angela did not turn her eyes away. She had an idea. Might be a bad one, but what could go wrong? She was only locked in a room with the deadliest killer on the planet.

"I'll show you. Don't move." She ordered, with the same low tone voice.

The woman slowly back off to her computer and connected it with the speaker. Music. Slow and almost intimate. A guitare first, then a soft low voice humming with harmony. It was a calm melody, the kind you can only share with someone really special. That song was introduced to Angela's ears some years ago by the very same man standing in her room. On this music, he taught her many thing: how to play guitare, how to dance... both activities were still not her forte, but she would always do her best.

Angela turned around to look at Gabriel. His arms dangling, eyes wind open. The woman could see his chest going up and down as his breathing got faster. Should she worry? No, his natural healing ability already regulate the sudden anxiety.

She came back to him. As close as they were a minute ago. Almost chest to chest.

"That's you." She whispered. "Playing and singing..."

She could feel his breath on her skin. His breath. Corpse don't breathe.

The man was like a statue. Was he scared? Who knows? But there was no doupts when she reached for his hand: he was terrified. Then Angela put her weight on one foot, then on the other and so on. Slowly, he imitated her. The moves were small, almost invisible. Only them could feel. Hand free hand touched his, then gently slid up his arm, before finding its place on his shoulder. His hand hesitated. However, Angela soon felt it on her hip, then in her back, up underneath her shoulder blade. Slowly, like if he was scared to break her, Gabriel brought her a little closer to him. But he could not lead. Not yet. She kept doing the slow and small moves. Then risks a step to the side. He followed after a short hesitation. Another one?

Like if he was falling asleep, his eyes closed. The smoke became scares. He was listening to the music; and his body remembered how it felt to have someone in his arms, to make that person dance. He also remembered that Angela was the only with whom he felt like he couldn't be grandstanding. A small dance, intimate. On a crowded dancefloor, they would be the quiet couple, stamping in a corner, dancing like there were alone with the music. And when it would stop, they would linger a little more, before splitting with regret. Will I dance with this person again? Would be the question screaming inside their eyes; struggling to let the other go.

How many times did they dance like this, like if the world did not exist anymore? How many times this moment when the music stops brought them back to reality, woke them up from a life-saving dream? How long did they turned around each other, observing, hoping that the other would make the first move? How many times McCree encouraged Gabriel to ask her out? How many times Tracer offered her help to Angela? And how many times did they both turned down these generous propositions, convinced they could handle the situation by themselves... Obviously, they did not see the destruction of Overwatch HQ -and Gabriel with it- coming. And once that happened, it was too late. However, this moment they were having, this quiet moment with no one else around... could that be a second chance?

The man was as warm as in Angela's memories; as careful, as tender. His body tensing before making her do a small move, his breath in her hair, his goatee gently brushing her ear. For weeks, she craved for these feelings, but his absence turned that desire into a pain; breaking her heart a little more, each time.

And then the terrible moment came. The music ended and silence fell once more on the room. They waited a long moment. Both Gabriel and Angela stayed as still as water, not daring making a move; in fear, it would create waves.

"If… If I open my eyes…" Gabriel muttered, his voice betraying his vulnerability. "Will I disappear?"

"It is up to you." Angela whispered, her cheek against his shoulder.

"Will you still be there?"

"That depends…" She answered.

"Of what?" He asked.

"Do you want me to be there?"

His hand under her shoulder blade slid further in her back, gently pressing her against him. Gabriel's breathing was shallow and fast. Never since his resurrection he felt so anxious and terrified. Angela could almost hear him thinking all the "what if…" thoughts he was having. What if it was a dream? What if he was really dead? What if he was hallucinating? What if Jack (or someone else) was tricking him into thinking he was dancing one last time with Angela? What if…

Angela put her lips in his neck, freezing his train of thoughts. She lingered a little, pulled back a little, then kissed him in the exact same spot. She kissed him once; twince. She opened her lips a bit, and let the tip of her tongue out. He was no taste, but his scared skins was soft.

What was she doing, she wondered. Did she just had the nerves to kiss him like this?

The electric waves going down his back gave him the courage to open his eyes. The mess he was did not change, although his hands were not spitting dark smoke as much as before. And Angela… She was still there. Blonde head pressed against his chest, the lady's hand in his, the other one on his shoulder. Her breath sending new waves from his neck to his entire body. Her hand on his shoulder came up to the back of his neck, and slid in his hair. Entangling her fingers in his black curls, Angela did not look up to meet his eyes. She was clinging to the feeling that she was still dancing. Her mouth was letting a soft humming out.

"Can I stay here?" His cracked voice asked.

"Yes."

"For how long?" He asked.

"As long as you want... as you need." She said. "But on one condition."

"Whatever you want."

She gently pushed him on her bed and left to search her closet again. She came back with a guitar case.

"The song. You play it."

Next chapter coming soon.