"It's been a few days, Alia. How are you finding the new year?" She asks you, her voice almost cooing out at you. It's not a sound you could bring yourself to dislike, but it grates on a part of your soul, deep deep down. You'd waited in the lobby downstairs for nearly half an hour before the esteemed Dr. Zeigler was finally ready for you, and you wondered if, perhaps, that wasn't colouring your soul just a bit.
"It's fine, I s'pose." You reply, softly, turning your chin down and staring at the positively gigantic...
"Chronal Stabiliser." Angela's soft, ever so slightly accented whisper reaches your ears like the faint scent of smog in a soft London breeze, but so, so much sweeter. For a few moments, she remains silent, and you've not got the slightest problem with letting the stillness persist. "... It must be difficult to adjust to, having such a.. Gawdy, mathematical experiment strapped to you all the time, yes?"
For what is supposed to be a therapy session, it's not a question you were expecting. Your chin turns up, and your eyes find hers, wondering why any decent therapist would allow any sense of negativity into their healing. "It… Certainly makes most things difficult." You nod, having to search for an answer that doesn't involve cursing about how heavy it is, or chatting about it smacking into things on your daily walks around the city.
"Oh?" Her visibly soft lips purse, a beautiful shade of red matching the blood that, 'Mercy,' seems to be searching for. Anything to close a wound, wasn't that what Winston had said? Well, if coming to a therapy session half in and half out of her combat uniform was helping, you might as well help, too, by shooting yourself in the foot.
"... Yeah." You say, at first, hoping beyond logic that she might take the hint and bugger off that line of conversation. Still, knowing better and not wanting Angela to waste the breath spilling out over a dexterous tongue like hers… "Uhm…" But before you can actually respond properly, you have to come up with a more sanitized way to bring up the biggest problem. "Getting dressed is a challenge when I can't take it off. The ol' monkey said -"
"Winston is a gorilla."
"Erm… Right, right, sorry, but he said -"
"I don't want to linger, too much, Alia, but I do want to warn you to be careful about calling him an ape in person. He's been known to rage over smaller insults, although he likes cute things, like teddy bears and yourself, so I'd think you'd be fine." She leans forward, ever so slightly, and you have to will your eyes upwards, away from the unfortunately tight t-shirt that has replaced the doctor's usual tunic and skirt
The word fear doesn't come to mind, but all in a moment you wonder whether or not she's flirting with you, or if she was as great as Winston had let on and in just a few weeks of conversations had dug her way down to the core of your problem, or if maybe it - "You're very cute, there, Alia. The boys must love you."
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuucking whew. A statement like that, she couldn't possibly know that -
"Not that you're too interested in it, tho, hm?"
"... Hah, that's a good one, Dr. Ziegler! Of course I'm interested, why wouldn't I be, that'd be… Uhm…" Petering off is never the most convincing sign of total innocence, but if the doctor has even half a synapse in that big brain dedicated to understanding physiological responses, the blush spreading over your cheeks would be a dead giveaway.
"I'd ask if you knew that you wear your emotions on your sleeve, but I must assume that you don't." She asks, finally leaning back and letting the unfortunately tight shirt shift a little more modestly around her immodest bust. "Alia, I'm going to be honest with my feelings here, in an effort to get the same out of you, as I feel you've been ducking the actual problem since we started. Would that be a problem?"
Instead of verbally responding, not that you'd be able to with your heart in your throat, you simply nod - Perhaps a slight bit too quickly, eagerly, hopeful that she'll talk forever and you'll never need to respond.
"Wonderful. I'll be frank, then - Every single one of your medical tests for the past three weeks has indicated no physical issue. Your vitals are just as they were before your flight, save for a consistently higher blood pressure, indicating stress, but not the expected level that exists in those experiencing what we once called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The conversations we've been having haven't indicated, to me, that you're bothered by the accident nor the accelerator that Winston has saddled you with.
"In fact, save for the necessity of that device, he and I agree that you appear to be the poster child for physical and mental health. I believe, and this brief conversation today has solidified my belief, that your only problem has nothing at all to do with the accident. Doubly so, I would have you cleared for return to your regular flight routines, right now."
You can't help but smile. Since the accident, the brass from on-high has forced you to stay grounded, out of the skies and among a bunch of people who can't think any higher than the tops of their heads, but now, finally, Dr. Zeigler is going to let you return to active duty, free to fly as high and -
"But..."
Fuck.
Angela doesn't continue, for a short while, seemingly taking her sweet time to mull over whatever problem has occured to her with whatever topic she's attempting to broach with you. "I care for you, Mrs. Oxton, as I do everyone who comes through the doors of this, or any, Overwatch agency. Captain Amari hasn't expressed it in a while, but there were times before when I would stray from my stated, written, and agreed to mission in order to heal every little scratch I could find…
"And I am not now any more above that than I was before. I want you to share with me what you've got that's bothering you, so I can help you return to your life and active duty; Not just an equal to the talented young woman you were before, but even better. If I didn't hold that want close to my heart, I'd be a terrible doctor."
Unbeknownst to you, your chin tucks and your eyes lower, your hands gripping the sides of your seat a little more tightly than before. In your shoes, your toes curl, and you can feel yourself tensing up. "If you do, I'm prepared to drop everything for the rest of the day to help you refocus. If not, I do have an appointment to be on my way to in the next few minutes. The life of a busy doctor, I'm sure you understand."
You nod, but your heart remains lodged in your gullet, afraid to lower itself back to the loose and vulnerable position in your chest, and let your throat produce any kind of sound. A moment or two passes, and you can't will your eyes up to meet hers.
"Very well, Alia. I suppose active duty will have to wait, then." Casually, too casually, the merciless angel rises to her feet, combat ready heels clacking on the tile floor as she strides towards the door of her tiny office. It's manipulative, that single line; She knows so very well what you want, and it's so grossly not okay for her to dangle flying over your head like that… "I'll see you next week, Alia. Hopefully we can -"
"Wait." It's the first word you've spoken in nearly five minutes, not nearly long enough for your throat to feel as sore as it does. Dr. Ziegler, doing whatever it takes to heal a wound… Including forcing it. "I, uhm… While I was…"
"Destabilised?" Angela nods, her hand finding your shoulder as she moves from the doorway to your little lounge chair. That's all that anyone ever called her time spent bouncing around randomly: Destabilisation this, destabilised that. It makes you wince. "My apologies, Alia, I did not mean to - While you were lost?"
That sounds worse and better, all at once, and you nod. "While I was lost, I… Well, you know about the place I… The house I remember staying at? It was..."
"In the notes, yes." She's pushing, now, trying to help you more than you actually need to get over that mental hump. "A large house in the countryside, acting as a kitchen maid, I believe it was?"
"Mmhmm." You murmur, hands leaving your hair long enough to clamp together in your lap, while below, your ankles cross one another. "There was a, uhm… Another kitchen maid, I think she was, and… Well, they're just dreams, Winston thought, but I kind of remember… Loving her? And, it's just, since I've been a part of Overwatch, I hadn't really thought about love or sex or anything that wasn't getting up in the morning and finding a way to put my butt in the newest, faster aeroplane that they've come up with, but since the accident it's all I can think about!
"On my walk to the building, I saw no less than four or five women who just absolutely made me weak in the knees! Long, gorgeous hair, bright smiles, great ti- Erm, p-personalities…" The slip up causes Mercy to make her first sound since you started your train of, effectively, verbal flooding; She laughs, a smile playing on her lips even after the small chuckle plays itself out.
"So, you think you might be bisexual?" The angeline woman asks, staring curiously but not coldly at you.
"No, not at all! Or, maybe! See, I don't… I don't know that I ever really thought about men like that, at all. It was always getting through school and uni and get into the flight academy here, and then it was about being the best and most groundbreaking Overwatch pilot in history, and then it… Wasn't, not anymore. Suddenly, I became the little girl who gave her whole, short life just to get into an experimental, teleporting plane, and… Die. And they wrote all those stories about me and how I was so dedicated and how it was all I ever wanted, and…
"And then I realized, a few days after Winston slapped this thing on me and let me go home to that awful apartment they got for me… A few days after I got found, I realized that flying, that Overwatch… It might all be gone, forever, and that there was no one left for me to be outside of that. So, I decided I was going to find out who I was without that career in my blood. Which was going great, until I saw this…"
"A woman, I imagine?"
"Yeah… I was grabbing a coffee after my walk that morning. She had the brightest smile, right, and her hair was this super unique, beautiful shade of orange-red, and I couldn't stop staring at her, or smiling, and I couldn't think of anything to say, and…"
"You like her?"
"Maybe… I was going to go up, introduce myself, maybe even ask for her phone number or… I got half way up there when I remembered the woman, from the dream. She looked exactly the same as the woman in the coffee house… Ange? What if I'm just… Imagining it? Or, I dunno, maybe the accident has left me with those memories because I… Was that woman, with her feelings and memories, at sometime or another? This is all experimental stuff, right? I could have lived the life that belongs to a woman in the country, moments at a time and… What if the feelings aren't actually mine?"
Angela sat back, her hand gliding up until her thumb found her cheekbone, and her curled hand covered most of her lips and chin. You decide to leave out the parts where you fantasize about the woman you see; Your face between their thighs, buried in their asses, cuddled up beside them, sweaty and satisfied, and you leave out how good it feels to masturbate thinking about women who've actually sparked those thoughts rather than any woman in porn; The girl in the shop, the woman sitting across the room from you right in that moment…
It's ages before Angela speaks again. The entire time, you sit in silence, staring at a woman who has encountered a medical problem no one ever dreamed of; Is the young woman who experienced a life outside of the only timestream humans have ever seriously understood actually gay herself, or did she end up accidentally mixing memories with the hippocampus of a woman who lived half a century ago, when the world's chaos was still down to human mistakes and misunderstandings? For all the kindness and careful consideration she's given, you can't help but feel like a math problem for her to solve.
"I can't speak for the non-human aspects of it. I'd like you to, at some point, relay this information to Winston, and he can… Honestly, I'm not sure, but the big lug will think of some kind of test or experiment to run. What I can speak of is the cells of your body; The effects of molecular destabilisation on the various cells in your body wouldn't even have been recorded if I didn't have to for regulation purposes, given the only thing I can figure has changed has been your aging process -"
"Wait, what about my aging has changed?"
"It's nothing too great - You'll experience aging somewhat slower than… Well, instead of boring you with the medical facts, I'll simply say that your life expectancy is probably closer to 200 than the 150 most of us will experience. You could get to Lieutenant Willhelm's age before you start to notice any significant wear and tear on your body, not including injuries inflicted on you by others. Unfortunately, if Winston and I are correct, injuries will keep you out for a slight bit longer - Or it might be shorter? We're not positive about how it'll affect your bodies ability to heal itself, but you might manage to live an extra fifty years in your personal twilight."
You almost get a chance to process that information before she moves on. Almost.
"Anyhow, Alia, all I can say for certain is that, as far as the bone and muscle and the vast majority of the molecules that make you who you are, you're the same woman as you were when you took your last physical before that test flight. Every scan we've completed of your brain has shown us that your tissue and synapses appear to have experienced no significant change. I can't tell you that, 'Well, Alia, x chromosome 7 and the corresponding y chromosome indicate that you're incredibly homosexual,' but I can effectively say that, with roughly 98% certainty, your sexuality has nothing to do with whether or not a woman in the countryside experienced love with a fellow kitchenmaid."
"... Okay, wow." You reply, almost flopping back in your chair. It's a ton of information to try and digest at once, and you almost wish Mercy could tell you how hard your synapses are working trying to bring your mind to equilibrium. "But… Uhm… How can I know, y'know, for sure?"
Mercilessly, Angela giggles her response, "Well, Alia, I suppose you'll just have to try?"
"I don't really know how many hot, elegant, confident, experienced lesbians in my area will be willing to… Ahem… Try with me when I have this massive thing covering one of my better assets, Dr. Zeigler."
"Angie or Mercy, will do."
"Mercy?"
"It's a really good codename. I've heard enough that it's just who I am, too."
"... Huh."
"Mmhmm, Dr. Zeigler usually feels relatively impersonal, and that's for… Most other patients, really. And, it's certainly not for what I'm about to ask you - Alia, Winston is working on developing what he called a chronal accelerator, could have it ready by the end of the week. It's based on the same technology you have on there, but he's designing it to be slimmer, sleeker, and… Functional for Overwatch Special Combat Missions. Alia, you wouldn't be a pilot any more, but you would be a member of Overwatch, and even more groundbreaking and memorable, were you to -"
"I accept, obviously!"
Mercy smiled at her. "I figured as much, a bright, beautiful woman like you… The chronal accelerator will be removable and have a dock nearby that would allow you to remain stable without being trapped in it. And, after that, maybe I could help you experiment?"
Only a few times in your life have you had a day so desperately in need of processing.