There are times that she thinks she hears the noise again, that deafening boom of a falling building. It may have been the most unique, horrifying noise that she ever experienced, but it haunted her even years later. If only she had known that the fight would have escalated the way that it did. If only she had intervened in time to prevent their deaths—

But then, there was no way to change things. Jack and Gabriel were two forces almost destined to collide. Especially as time continued on and as Overwatch lost its support at an alarming rate, Angela felt hopeless against the conflict. The three of them had been friends for a long time; who could have ever seen such a tragedy taking place? Now Angela was alone, and the only help she had left to offer was for the innocent civilians of the world.

Turmoil across the globe had been growing with every passing day of Overwatch's disbandment. Needless violence and danger was rampant in any place one decided to go; Angela was helpless to stop it. She settled for coming to the aid of those who sought out her medical expertise, using her skills and knowledge for the benefit of those who didn't deserve to live in such a place. Right after the death of Jack and Gabriel, in fact, she found herself traveling anywhere and everywhere she could.

But first, there had to be the funeral.

Oh God, it was such a kick in the gut.

Reinhardt's words still resonated within her, how he spoke so fondly of Jack even as the people of the world scrutinized him and Overwatch. She still cringes to think of all that went wrong during their last months together, and she still aches to remember that his body was never found, that he couldn't even be laid to rest. Angela wasn't a particularly religious person but it felt so deeply wrong that she couldn't give a last goodbye. As if his spirit would never know rest.

And sometimes she really thought she would see him out of the corner of her eye. She'd be walking down a road and see the top of a blond head, only to chase after it as it disappeared like a ghost. Of course she would grow out of this habit, soon learning that as time went on, she only seemed more and more like she had lost her grip on reality. Jack was dead. Her best friend was dead. His body was probably blown into nothingness. There was no chance he could ever come back.

This morbid kind of thinking was at least a bit of a comfort for the doctor, who simply had to move on. It was selfish to dwell on something and let herself waste away at the loss when she could use her abilities for the greater good. Perhaps she could have saved some of that compassion for herself, but Angela simply couldn't see the purpose in doing so. So she traveled the world in search of a place to be of aid.

She convinced herself that her years spent dedicated to others would be the penitence she needed after her loss. Although she both publicly and privately stated that such a conflict was unavoidable, she still blamed herself to some degree; as did many others. The faces of Overwatch became controversial and typically linked with negativity, even as those like Angela did their best to make a positive influence. The fact of the matter was that the world had lost all of their trust in the fallen heroes, and not much of anything could have prevented that or could take that back.

And then there were the thefts of Overwatch artifacts.

The thieves were probably just trying to make money, Angela figured, or were people in search of technology that could give them an advantage in the rather dangerous world that Earth turned out to be. She did, however, worry about the possibility that those people would be making the world more dangerous. Out of concern, she contacted Winston, who could give her nothing more than a simple description of the suspected vigilante.

"They're thinking it's a person who's military-trained, and careful not to be seen by too many people. But there's simply nothing we can do," he said to her in a video chat, seeming distraught in his own way, but accepting of the way things turned out. They weren't a task force anymore; they had no say or power in what happened to their old equipment.

"Are you sure?" Visibly distraught, Angela tried to think of some sort of solution. "You can't craft some tracker or other device-?"

"I'm sorry Mercy. Please keep yourself safe, and don't get too involved in this. We have no idea what this person is capable of."

So she did just that. She kept herself as safe as she could, which included dodging the rather violent Overwatch protesters in the places she went, and trying not to bring too much attention to herself. The latter could only work to an extent, as she was an incredibly gifted doctor, so she settled for moving on from an area every few weeks. A nomadic lifestyle was simple in some ways and troubling in others. She kept very little belongings. She tried not to make too many friends so as to minimize the difficulty in leaving places behind. She kept her head out of the media, who had absolutely attempted to follow her around and document "The Afterlives of the Overwatch Heroes."

At one point she had to fly to a rather scantily populated region to escape the publicity. After successfully dodging reporters and paparazzi alike, they had finally cornered her on the top floor of a restricted hospital in Germany. She had to give it to them, they had quite a lot of guts to stage a life-threatening surgery, which was how they were admitted in the first place.

"Mercy! Can you tell us about the whereabouts of your Overwatch companions?"

"What-? Get out of here!" she had commanded, but the fake patient rose from the operating table and took out a recording device from under his gown. She was rushing to the door as he made the motion to record their conversation, but one of the fake nurses grabbed her by the arms to hold her in place.

"You continue to operate on people even though Overwatch has disbanded, so does this mean that your soldiers are continuing to conduct missions that result in the torture and murder of innocent civilians in impoverished countries?"

The reporter got out a small notepad, ready to jot down notes in addition to his audio recording. The second fake nurse revealed a camera from beneath his scrubs, and she really wonders how in the hell they managed to find her, let alone get into a restricted hospital.

"Let me go-"

"In fact, your very own soldiers had killed themselves in their own violent efforts, so will this mean that your so-called heroes will destroy even more places and people?"

"No! Get out!" she was beginning to panic. The first nurse's grip on her arms was really starting to ache. Her struggling was getting her nowhere.

"And what about weapon development? We know that you've been operating in secret, so does this mean you'll also further your development of projects that aid in your Blackwatch operations?"

She glared at the speaker. "We're done here. Get out of this hospital. You've entered illegally and you'll be jailed for fraud as well as trespassing on military territory. Your nurses here will face jail time for impersonating doctors and using brute force without proper cause."

After a few exchanged glances between the three reporters, she was released from the grip and very quickly left alone in the operating room. The next day she'd be gone to her next destination, but it wouldn't stop the video from going viral internationally. People from all over gobbled up any story that had to deal with Overwatch, both eager for a scapegoat and nosy into the business of the disbanded heroes. Her struggle was publicized as a negative thing, of course, with many conspiracy theorists thinking that she (as well as the rest of Overwatch) was still involved in the evil schemes that became much more apparents as time went on.

Others were painting her as an angel, persevering through the difficulties she faced and still trying to come to the aid of the world. Either way, her face was international news. She couldn't have expected differently.

She decided to stay in the Middle East while the news of her long-sought-after appearance lost publicity. She found that it was easy to disguise herself and not receive suspicion, which was a relief and a curse at the same time. Was her entire life going to be like this? Year after year, running from all kinds of people and danger? Never able to do a damn thing about it?

Then one day, a call came that she never expected.

A reunion that was bittersweet and such a relief at the same time.

Angela Ziegler knew that her purpose in life was to watch over the people, keep them safe, heal their injuries, and give them the life they deserved. Her technology was a display of this, but even more so it was her display of dedication to the force of Overwatch and her companions that showed her purpose. Even though the group would never be what it once was, there was suddenly hope for her again. She didn't have to aimlessly wander, searching for a purpose.

Winston and Tracer couldn't be happier to see her. And even though it filled a gap that had been empty for a long time, she still felt that there was so much missing, try as she may to put it from her mind.
On the day of their reunion, Winston addressed the both of them.

"We will be joined by others that we may or may not know. But keep in mind that everyone we have here will be important and necessary in their own ways. For now, it's the three of us, but by tomorrow there should be twice as many. And after that, we'll truly start rebuilding ourselves."

"You ac' like we're gon'a be workin' with some undesirable types, Winston," Tracer mused.

"We might be," he nodded. Mercy sighed, and then he did too. "I suggest you both really rest up. There may be some people who can't travel here on their own, so be prepared for possible heavy travel with little notice."

Not that she didn't value his advice, but Angela really wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon. The thought of others joining Overwatch once more was too exciting (as well as being nerve-racking), so the only thing she could find herself doing was cleaning out her old office. It was a rather small room that branched off of a sick-bay like room. Littered with old papers and unpacked boxes. All of her technology and personal belongings were still preserved at the base, left behind in trade for her temporary nomadic lifestyle. Several operating tables stood in the middle of the room, each separated by a bright blue curtain for privacy. The walls and floor were still a clean (yet dusty) white color; combined with the fluorescent lights, she had to admit that it was a little bit blinding.

In her office and on her desk were old photos and mementos from the glory days of Overwatch. There were letters written from her companions and old sweaters still hung up on the rack by the door. She eyed one in particular, black in color and heavy for winter conditions. It had been a gift from Gabriel-

Everything in there was so old.

"Maybe I can't do this right now," she muttered to herself, choosing to instead leave the office for the night and make an escape to the connecting balcony of the medical wing. There she sat, looking up at the sky and wondering who exactly she'd be seeing the following day. Her mind continued to wander until she fell asleep.

Never one for sleeping in or ignoring the rising sun, she rose with a certain stiffness in her shoulders and lower back, no doubt from falling asleep on the hard stone of the balcony, but nonetheless walking back into the hospital wing to get to work on her office. She was guessing that the other two weren't awake yet, so she had time to clear out things and make room. Papers needed to be properly disposed of and everything needed to be dusted, vacuumed, perhaps even repainted-

"You're up early, love," Lena leaned against the open doorway and Angela jumped about a foot in the air.

"When I looked back at my office last night, I realized how much work needs to be done," she said with a smile. Lena hummed and nodded.

"Winston wants t' go out an' search for some people that said they'd be in the area today. Wants me t' come with. You gonna be alrigh' bein' here by yourself?" She tilted her head to rest against the doorway, atop her shoulder.

"I'll be alright, thank you. The sooner I finish this, the sooner I'll be ready for the others."

With that, Tracer left Mercy behind to tend to her old belongings. Struggling between knowing what to keep and what to throw away, she settled for filing the letters and mementos away in her uppermost drawer while keeping her framed photos on the walls and atop the desk itself. Major cleaning was done to every surface and corner, not that there were many of them, but with most things, Angela was absolutely a tidy, organized person. Cleaning the room, disposing of the old files and papers, and reorganizing her personal belongings ended up taking all of the morning. Yet, even as she took a while, she was still finished before Winston and Tracer returned. Knowing better than to be concerned, she put herself to work on the actual medical room. Any doctor in their right mind would never treat a patient when the room was so dingy.

Quiet footsteps sounded from the floor beneath her, and so encompassed in her task, she didn't even take notice.

They rose up the stairs to the upper medical wing, where Mercy cleaned the room with a certain ferocity. The source of the footsteps would have laughed, had they wanted to make themselves known, but it wasn't the right time. Melodramatic as it was to do so, it would be best to greet the doctor when she wasn't so preoccupied. And maybe when that moment came, the source of the footsteps would know what to say to her in the first place.

She hadn't even turned around. Her dedication to the task was becoming nervousness about the arrival of new heroes. Her mind wandered to the thief of Overwatch technology in the past years, quickly snapping back to her task as she reasoned with herself that even if that person was a threat, they'd be dealt with accordingly. She'd be safe with her companions. They'd fulfill their objective. Just as Winston said, Talon was resurfacing as a threat to humanity. It was why they came back together in the first place, and why he was out recruiting new people in the first place.

Speaking of, she heard a rather loud commotion going on in the floor below. People were drawing near and it took her a few seconds to place the voices. Two men, older and experienced, and old friends of hers.

"Torbjörn? Reinhardt?"

The two laughed and held open their arms for her to greet them in an embrace. Tracer and Winston soon joined the party and the five of them caught up on their projects and whereabouts since the disbandment.

And then it wasn't long before Torbjörn introduced one of his health schematics to Mercy, just as he used to do with her in his free time before. He had so many ideas for health-related machines, but simply didn't have the knowledge of Mercy's medicine to properly execute them. Sometimes it wasn't even for a practical use, but rather a project for them to see if they could complete together. Really, it was something she had taken for granted back in the day.

They didn't waste a moment before getting to work on his blueprint: a turret that could be used for medicinal properties instead of defensive ones. The both of them holding pieces of the knowledge needed to finish the machine, they took very little time away from what they were doing, only stopping for the occasional food break. They wouldn't even stop for Winston, who had brought up an addition to the Overwatch team.

"Nice to meet you," Angela called out over her shoulder, "We'll get acquainted in the morning, I believe we've just had a breakthrough!"

Although disgruntled, Winston thought it best to leave them to their work, leading the new recruit down the stairs and away from the medical wing.

The recruit came back several hours later, when the noise of machinery had ceased and the whole building fell quiet. He stepped into the well-lit room, spotting Angela asleep at her desk in the office. He was careful not to wake her as he observed the newly-cleaned room, also spotting the pictures of her companions on the desk. The one in the middle was of her and two other men on either side of her, all three of them smiling during a seemingly sunny day. He quietly picked up the frame, taking a closer look. Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes were the men in the picture, of course.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the black jacket. From under his blue and black mask, he grimaced.

A gloved hand swept back the blonde hair out of her eyes, and he gained a better look at her face. It had only been five years but he could tell that she was living a stressed live outside of Overwatch. As if that surfaced video of her wasn't enough to reveal that she was deeply distressed, her crows feet and laugh lines were just a bit more pronounced than they used to be. Not that he was still in top shape either, but the sight still surprised him.

She was still a beautiful woman, he thought. It was no wonder that so many people would call her an angel; her good nature and innocent looks were enough for her to deserve the title.

He wanted to say he was sorry, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her up. Even though he had thought about what to say all day, how to tell her he wasn't dead, and how he could apologize to make up for it, he couldn't bring himself to wake her up from a seemingly deep sleep. She looked quite peaceful.

Absentmindedly, he hoped she was dreaming of anything but him.

He had an idea of how painful it must have been to lose not just one, but two friends and an entire task force within such a short amount of time. He realized that she must have lost everything important to her; it was admirable she had chosen to give her expertise to the people of the world instead of other more personal endeavors, like himself.

Could he really do this?

Could he really push himself back into her life again without the overwhelming guilt of his leave? Surely she would understand, but then why should he ask her to? She was a strong person, but he hated the thought that he would hurt her again. She certainly didn't deserve it.

Jack made his way out of the room, dimming the lights just enough so as to not wake her from the sudden difference in lighting, and left the medical wing. It was a bad idea to return that night; he should have known she'd be sleeping. But still, there was a storm in his breast that was calmed after he saw her again- an old friend, a woman he had missed with every bone in his body, a relationship that couldn't be replaced or replicated by any other.

As he stepped out, Angela raised her head. The lights were dimmer and she heard footsteps walking in the opposite direction, but a curious look outside of her door revealed nothing but an empty sick bay. Without realizing that one of the pictures on her desk was in a different position than before, she laid her head back down on the wood, not having the energy to walk all the way back to her own room.

She thought about what the following day would bring. A small part of her hoped that there was some miracle in the world that would allow her to see her remaining old friends once more, even though the rational part of her brain told her not to dwell too much on unlikely possibilities.

This doesn't change anything, Angela. This doesn't change anything.