If she got a dollar for each time she had to patch an Overwatch agent up, Angela fancied she could afford an island with impenetrable security to take refuge in until this mess was over.
Sighing internally, she removed Genji's last damaged energy core from his back. A team had just returned from a mission in Bordeaux, successfully wiping out the headquarters of a minor terrorist faction. Six agents were deployed, and only one – Tracer – returned unharmed. From what she heard, this faction was still relatively small, but surprisingly well-armed – by Talon. It made the mission a tad bit harder, especially with one of Talon's best assassins sniping away at them from the back. Angela suspected that was why Tracer avoided the med bay, even after being ordered to report for a routine check-up.
Picking up a replacement core with her forceps, Angela carefully slid it into the empty slot. She watched as the suit accepted the new core, ring of light glowing an affirmative green.
"And we are done," she announced, placing her forceps back on the surgical tray. "Unless something else is troubling you?"
"No, I feel well. Thank you, Doctor."
Polite. Angela appreciated that about Genji. He was always polite, even when their rapport was fragile in the beginning. He was also her best patient, the only one who did not fidget incessantly while being tended to, and who actually adhered to her orders for rest after treatment.
"Oh, and Genji," Angela said as the man hopped onto his feet. "Tell Lena to look for me if she needs…anything."
Genji nodded, requiring no explanation. He had, after all, been with Overwatch for a long time, and was the first one to quietly tell Angela that they encountered Widowmaker in the field.
As the man marched out of the med bay, Angela approached the last of her patients.
"Now, any other wounds aside from the burn on your face?" she asked, passing the medical scanner down Fareeha's body.
"Nothing serious, I think. But I have a headache, my vision is a little blurred. It hurts when I breathe. My left forearm aches when I move it too," her patient reported.
Angela nodded, eyes reading the logs on her scanner as Fareeha listed her corresponding symptoms. The woman displayed a keener awareness of her body's happenings than more agents she had treated. A result of her military background, perhaps.
"You have a grade 2 concussion, 3 fractured ribs and micro fractures along your left forearm," Angela confirmed. She looked up at her patient, only to find dark eyes gazing intently back at her.
For a split second, all thought fled from her mind. No list of treatments. No words of comfort. No banter to keep her patient's mind off the pain. Just Angela, Fareeha, and those eyes that held her captive.
A hint of playfulness entered Fareeha's gaze, the proverbial bucket of cold water that snapped Angela back to reality. Her mind fumbled, realising that she let herself stare for a second too long, looking for something to bridge the silence. To cover up her minor lapse.
"Did you fire a rocket too close to yourself again?" Angela asked, grateful that her voice did not waver. She turned to her medical trolley, gathering the items required for treatment.
"It was a tactical decision," Fareeha explained.
"It always is. Take your top off," the doctor ordered. She steeled herself as Fareeha complied, peeling off the upper portion of her uniform, leaving only a sports bra.
Angela passed an experienced eye over Fareeha's body, cataloguing the burn on her cheek, the dark bruises above her ribs and outer forearm. All-in-all, not a serious case. The doctor turned to her equipment, filling a syringe with anesthesia, trying to ignore her increased heart rate and the eyes on her back. She is a colleague, Angela reminded herself. A regular patient. Do not get attached. Do not develop preferences.
She returned to Fareeha, syringe in one hand, motioning for her to sit up straight. Noting the slight wince as Fareeha obeyed, Angela placed one hand on her uninjured side. To steady her.
"I'm giving you an anesthetic for your ribs," Angela explained, even though they had been through this before. She wanted something, anything as a distraction.
"No magical healing staff?" Fareeha's smile became a little stiff as the needle pricked her skin.
"The caduceus is not magic, Fareeha. No matter what Hana says," the doctor said reprovingly, remembering the time Hana had proclaimed her as the squad's 'cleric'. "It requires extensive maintenance and a large amount of energy to work. We don't have the resources to waste it on minor injuries."
"I'll remember that," Fareeha said simply, soft smile a permanent fixture on her face.
"We'll see." Angela set the syringe aside, proceeding to bandage the woman's arm. "Now, no physical activity for the next week. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"If I catch you sneaking gym time again, you'll be sedated for the rest of the recovery period."
"Are you even allowed to do that?"
"Try me." Angela cut the bandage and secured it around the woman's arm.
"Maybe I will," Fareeha replied, earning a withering look.
"I'm being serious. Look at me," she instructed, picking up the dermal regenerator for the final treatment.
Fareeha tilted her head up, fixing her with an inscrutable gaze. "So was I."
Keeping her hand steady had never been so difficult. Even as she turned Fareeha's head to the side for better access to the burn, the woman's eyes never left her. It was not uncommon for Angela to get stares and double-takes. She was an attractive woman, and she knew it. She had a fair share of patients and colleagues becoming enamoured with her. It was never really a bother. In fact, it gave her easy access to companionship when she needed it. But god, no one managed to get under her skin like Fareeha before.
Angela found herself tracking Fareeha's movement whenever she entered the room. Being aware of her warmth whenever she stood close. Returning her smiles more comfortably than she did others. Fighting against blushes whenever she paid Angela a compliment. Memorising the curve of her lips whenever she smiles. Throwing caution to the wind and flying after Pharah whenever she soared into the skies. Wanting to place kisses wherever she got hurt, hold her close when fatigue sags her shoulders. When? When did she slip past Angela's defenses?
"Angela?"
She snapped out of her reverie and found herself looking straight back at Fareeha, a trace of concern apparent in the other woman's gaze. It dawned upon her that she had been staring. Her eyes darted towards the wound, only to discover Fareeha's cheek had become smooth again, as though never damaged. Quickly yanking the dermal regenerator away, Angela threw it onto the medical trolley in panic, her heart thudding madly against her chest.
Gott, I am slipping. She held onto the trolley, recollecting herself. Then she turned, apology ready on her tongue, when Fareeha grasped her wrist.
Did she have no time to react, or did she just not want to? Fareeha pulled her close, and Angela offered no resistance when she pressed forward in a tentative kiss.
She froze. Every rule drilled into her bones screamed, waging war with the desire burning in her chest, threatening to consume her. She felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out. Her legs started to go soft.
Fareeha pulled away, realising Angela had not returned the kiss. Uncertainty entered her gaze as she tried to make sense of the doctor's stoic expression.
"I am sorry. Did I overstep?"
Angela searched her face, looking for an excuse. A fault. Anything to give her reason to step away. To flee. But all she found was a woman, heart laid bare, waiting for her to either break it or make it whole.
"Yes. You did."
A mixture of hurt, shame, and embarrassment swam across her features. Hope dying in her eyes, she lowered her gaze, looking at everything in med bay other than the doctor. Her cheeks started to grow red when Angela grasped her chin, tilting it up so they were face-to-face.
"Do it again."
She could not hold back the smile anymore, not at the sight of Fareeha's eyes widening, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. Angela took the chance to run her fingertips along Fareeha's cheek, bringing one daydream to reality. Soon, hopefully, she would realise every single one of them.
"Doctor's orders," she added.
Fareeha needed no more prodding. She leaned in again, and this time, Angela met her halfway.
Gentle. So gentle, Angela felt like she was going to break. As though she could sense it, Fareeha circled her arms around her waist, holding her together, pulling her close. With one hand on her shoulder, Angela cupped her cheek, deepening the kiss, refusing to part from the other even as they started to pant, making up for the time she wasted trying to distance herself. Sliding her fingers through dark tresses, Angela gave a light tug, receiving a soft moan in response. Heat shot through Angela's body as she pulled Fareeha's head back, exposing her neck. She trailed kisses down the bare column, reaching between her clavicles before replacing lips with tongue, sliding back up under Fareeha's chin, giving a quick nibble.
Then Angela paused, untangling her fingers from Fareeha's hair. The woman looked back at her, moist lips parted, eyes glazed over. Alarms sounded in the doctor's mind when she realised Fareeha was starting to lose consciousness.
"Fareeha!"
At the sound of her name, Fareeha's unfocused gaze snapped to Angela in better clarity. Guilt washed over her when she realised she had forgotten about the concussion. Stupid. Stupid!
With a little urging, Angela moved her back into the bed proper, and laid her down gently.
"Are you hurting?"
"Head throbbing," Fareeha replied.
Angela grabbed her scanner again, passing it over Fareeha. She heaved a sigh of relief when it showed nothing had been aggravated.
"I'm sorry, Fareeha," she said, setting the device aside. "I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault. Besides, it was worth it." Fareeha smiled.
Her heart clenched at the sight. Angela leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead.
"You'll rest here for today so I can keep an eye on you."
"Sounds good." Fareeha already sounded sleepy, but she started to get up again. "One more thing. Could you help me put my clothes back on?"
"Of course," Angela laughed. It did not take long. The top only had one zip, after all.
"Stay with me?" Fareeha asked, laying back down.
Angela took her hand, entwining their fingers. "Always."