Dating Angela Ziegler wasn't exactly easy. Granted, maintaining any kind of romantic life in Overwatch required lots of determination, but Fareeha believed some challenges to be unique to the good doctor. Work-a-holism was probably the most obvious one – everyone knew that, regardless of time, the first place to look for Mercy was her lab, she was as likely to be there at 2am as 2pm. That led to unpredictable sleeping patterns and many romantic evenings cancelled or cut short either by some experiment that couldn't wait or an unexpected nap. Not to mention many concerns stemming from their professional relationship, both as comrades in arms and doctor-patient. It took many weeks of dancing around each other, careful negotiations of boundaries and ethics and in the end Angela still insisted on hiring another doctor to handle Fareeha's primary care. All worth it, if anyone asked Fareeha. Quiet moments between missions, kisses stolen in passing, hearing Angela's laughter and waking up next to her – all these things gave Fareeha strength to overcome any hardship life threw at them, big and small alike.
Unfortunately, strength alone wasn't always enough.
Even before they became a couple, Fareeha made a habit of visiting the doctor's office late in the evening in an attempt to remind Angela that, despite her public image, she was still technically a human and therefore required sleep. It certainly wasn't an easy task, given how stubborn and dedicated to her work the medic was. However, as time passed, Angela welcomed these distractions, especially since they started to be accompanied by heavy flirting and lots of kisses. More and more often she allowed herself to leave the fate of the world on hold until morning and just let herself rest. Which, obviously, sometimes backfired and neither woman got enough sleep, but they didn't complain.
But then one night Fareeha got back from a mission a whole day earlier than expected and instead of surprised, tired doctor ready to be swayed away, she found her lover barely-conscious, with her head resting on the desk right next to an almost empty bottle of whisky.
It was a hard night. Angela's sleep was restless, she kept waking up, crying and mumbling apologies directed at no one in particular. Fareeha on the other hand didn't sleep at all, her mind working, full of unanswered questions. Was it a one-time thing or more of a habit? How many nights, when Fareeha was away on missions, ended like this? How many morning headaches Angela often complained about were really hangovers and not the lack of sleep as she always said? Fareeha kept telling herself that so far there was no evidence of a larger problem, that there was no reason to worry too much yet. But then morning came and Angela's fingers played nervously with a loose strand of blonde hair, her eyes looking at everything but Fareeha.
"This is not a problem Liebling" she said with a small smile between sips of coffee. "I'm a doctor, remember? I know when things get out of control, you don't need to worry. I just had a hard day."
"Mhm" Fareeha murmured noncommittally, not sure how to respond. She watched her lover in silence for a couple of moments. In a way it was a lot like watching a battlefield – looking for traps, clues of enemy's movements – where something as innocent as a sound of a window opening could be followed by gunshots.
And just like the signs of danger out in the field, she could see cracks in Angela's "rational doctor" image. Dark circles under lowered eyes. A stiffness to the smile. Words deliberately chosen to present vision of peace and safety. Fingers grasping the coffee mug just a bit too tightly.
Fareeha sighed, breaking the silence. She reached out, covering one of Angela's hands with her own.
"I love you" she said softly and her heart broke just a little bit at the sight of Angela flinching ever so slightly. She remained calm though, steady in the face of crisis, not letting the medic's hand out of her grasp. "I love you" she repeated "and I want you to be happy. Can I help in any way?"
This finally reached Angela. For the first time this morning she looked directly at Fareeha with an unreadable mix of emotions on her face. She leaned closer, letting Fareeha's arms embrace her.
"I don't know" she whispered. "It was a very hard day and I needed to unwind. I might have overdone it. I'm sorry I made you worry."
Fareeha nodded and held Angela closer. She knew this wasn't all of it, but she didn't press, too aware that it could bring more harm than help. However, the following weeks she kept a closer eye on Angela. She noticed every glass of wine at dinners, every off-hand joke about needing a drink after missions or particularly tricky surgeries. For some time she kept hoping that it truly was nothing serious – after all Angela was an adult, competent woman, known for her reliability. No one else seemed to have any concerns. But then one day she saw Mercy taking a big sip out of a hip-flask before a mission and that crossed the line. Angela must have noticed her horrified expression, as she quickly hid the flask with a sheepish look. The mission went well, but the worry wouldn't leave Fareeha's mind anymore.
After that, there was no escaping the issue, though certainly neither woman was happy about it. Angela insisted that there was no problem, that she had everything under control – her job was very stressful and alcohol let her manage that, it wasn't a big deal. Fareeha invoked the doctor's sense of responsibility, talked about risks and trust on the battlefield as well as harm Angela could potentially do to herself and others. It was a hard talk that ultimately only led to days of avoiding each other. However, one evening when Fareeha walked into doctor's office, she found Angela with a deep frown, clasping her hands and staring at the hip-flask standing on the desk. When Angela's eyes shifted to Fareeha, she noticed traces of tears in them.
"I think you might be right Fareeha" Angela's voice trembled. "I might be having a problem."
It was a start, but certainly not the end. After all, acknowledging possibility of a problem was completely different than accepting its existence. Angela still had her moments of denial or minimisation. A small drink in the evening wasn't the same as getting drunk unconscious, right? Surely it would do no harm!
But with each relapse, with each broken "this will be the last one, I promise" it was harder to pretend. Even other Overwatch agents started noticing that something bad was going on with the good doctor, given how irritable and absentminded she got lately. Most people suspected a lovers' quarrel, but after some reassuring they agreed to let Fareeha deal with it.
Easier said than done of course, but Fareeha did what she could. She filled her tablet with every possible resource on problem drinking she could find. Every pretense of the couple living separately was finally dropped after the week, when Fareeha appeared in her own quarters only to get some clean clothes. In the safety of Angela's bedroom they could talk, try out different coping mechanisms, discuss options. Soon Angela could be seen in the gym along Fareeha (though she kept jokingly complaining about it). After a discreet talk with Jesse, the ratio of beer to non-alcoholic drinks in the Watchpoint's coolers changed drastically. Angela started attending more social gatherings and though she often simply sat there with a lollipop in her mouth and a brain teaser in hand, it was certainly better than being alone in the lab. Lollipops were the biggest surprise, as they turned out to be a relatively well-working alternative to hip-flask, though a sight of Mercy in full Valkyrie suit holding a big candy heart drew some funny looks. As weeks passed, it became clear that there was progress. It was slow and shaky, but it was there nonetheless.
But the evenings! In the evening everything seemed harder. There were no distractions in the silence of Angela's bedroom, no people around to drown out disturbing thoughts and no strength left after a whole day of fighting temptations. And there was always the strongest enemy of this battle, who loved to attack in the dark – Angela's own guilt.
"I almost lost him, Reeha" Angela spat out between sobs. "Everything was going well, and then my h-hand…" The rest of the sentence got lost in another wave of tears. Fareeha pulled the crying woman closer, not caring about the growing wet spot on her T-shirt. She had no idea what kind of words could comfort the doctor after the particularly hard day in surgery.
"You did your best, love. And Matthew did survive, right?" she tried, but it only caused anger.
"Not thanks to me!" Angela snapped and pushed Fareeha away. "I fucked up Reeha, I almost killed Matthew right there on my fucking table!"
"I-I'm sure you did your best…"
"No, I fucking didn't! Aren't you listening? My hand slipped. I caused harm, I made things fucking worse and had to patch it up on the spot. Gott, it has never happened to me before, not like this…" Tears came back with doubled strength and for a while Angela couldn't say a word. Fareeha reached out and, feeling no resistance, embraced her in a tight hug again.
It made sense, in a way. Even with her genius and nanotech Angela still was only human - and just as humans do, she made mistakes. It didn't happen often, she was after all a very good medic, but whenever it happened regret and guilt always followed in the night. Without a drink to keep them away, it was too much to bear. The trouble was, that drinking - or rather, withdrawal from it - was what caused the mistake in the first place.
"Look at me, I'm a fucking disaster" Angela whispered, her voice filled with pain and desperation. "What good is a surgeon with shaky hands? Gott, ich kann nicht mehr..." she switched to her native tongue, clearly no longer caring about being understood, and hid her face in hands. A string of murmured German swearwords followed, as well as some words Fareeha's limited knowledge of the language couldn't decipher. But among them she caught repeated "entschuldigen".
"To forgive".
Fareeha's T-shirt was completely soaked in medic's tears, and yet she still couldn't find the right words, opting instead for a simple tight hug. Her mind grasped desperately for any possible way to help. In the end Angela spoke first, in a broken, raspy, defeated whisper.
"I need a drink Reeha."
A moment of silence stretched between them, broken only by Angela's labored breath. Finally, Fareeha gently lifted Angela's chin. She looked in her reddened, swollen eyes and gathered all the love she felt into her voice.
"Do you want to get punished instead?"
Angela's eyes widened in surprise. But then, after a few silent moments, she closed them and answered in a whisper barely above a breath.
"Yes."
Fareeha's first instincts with Angela had always been to be gentle. It was hard to escape between Mercy's angelic image, her slender posture, and Fareeha's own protectiveness. It was only after one night near the beginning of their relationship, when a hoarse "harder" escaped Angela's lips followed by surprisingly forceful tug on black hair, that Fareeha started to understand her lover wasn't some fragile, delicate bird. And from that moment every day and night brought a new lesson.
She soon learned many things, small and large, about Angela. The doctor couldn't function without morning coffee, but preferred tea with strong floral fragrance for pleasure. She found it extremely hard to talk about her feelings. She loved snowy winters and could easily spend a whole day on the skating rink. She liked to take control in bed, in a playful manner full of laugh and joy, which often turned their lovemaking into playfights that left them both pleasantly sore in the morning.
This wasn't much different, Fareeha thought. Humans are complicated creatures and what would hurt in one scenario, could be welcome in another. Angela mentioned a few times a willingness to experiment, to play it rough. And there were many ways to show love.
The first hit didn't have much strength behind it. A short slap across the face, meant to catch Angela's attention, to set the theme of the game, not to cause pain. Even so, for Angela it worked better than the darkest coffee in the world. Her eyes focused on Fareeha's face - gentle, reassuring and beautiful, so incredibly beautiful.
"Then you'll get punished. Let's get your face cleaned up before that. Okay?"
Angela nodded, knowing all too well that the last question was about more than just if she wanted to go to the bathroom. She let herself be led to the sink and as cold water comforted her reddened eyes, she felt just a bit calmer. With every gentle touch of Fareeha's hands, she felt a bit safer. And as she got pulled into a tight embrace, above all else and despite everything, she felt loved.
"Get undressed" Fareeha's voice hardened "and let's begin."
Angela obeyed. It felt freeing, in a way. As if every garment shed was a responsibility, an expectation, a tough decision to make. So many people looked up to her, saw her as a symbol. And then, naked under Fareeha's careful gaze, without the Valkyrie suit, without the lab coat, she could be simply a woman.
Fareeha reached out, pulled the tie out of blonde hair, getting rid of even this small restraint, and pulled Angela into a rough kiss.
And then it was bites, scratch-marks, reddened buttcheeks and some plain, hard fucking. Hands wandering over skin in a soothing motion only to be followed by fingernails digging deep into the flesh and raking Angela's back. Kisses mixed with bites and slaps. Pleasure extended, repeated over and over again, with no regard to heightened sensitivity, until Angela was screaming. By the end of it she was crying again, overwhelmed and overstimulated, unsure where the border between pain and pleasure lied anymore. And yet every pause Fareeha made to ask "is it ok" or "do you want me to stop" was followed by a litany of "yes, green, go ahead". And yet, and yet, as Angela's body shivered in aftershocks, as Fareeha's arms closed around her, it felt right, so right, her head finally clear, if only for a brief moment. All that was important was the pain she felt, this smallest and simplest of prices she could pay for her mistakes, and the eyes and soothing voice of the woman beside her, who loved her anyway.
It didn't fix much, Angela knew. But as she drifted into sleep, she thought that maybe it was okay.
Fareeha parked the car and turned to Angela.
"Here we are. How are you feeling?"
"Nervous. Nauseous." Angela answered, her hands fidgeting. "Like before thesis defence."
"Well, you've got decent experience with that, don't you?" Fareeha smiled and held Angela's hand. "I'm sure it's gonna be okay." Her smile became a little wolfish as she added "Do you want me to add another hickey to ease your nerves?"
"Oh come on!" Angela laughed and playfully slapped Fareeha's hand. "I already have to wear a turtleneck because of you!"
"It's a pretty turtleneck. Matches your eyes. And you didn't complain yesterday."
"I'll think about that afterwards." Angela's eyes shifted to the building's entrance and her smile faltered. Fareeha noticed and pulled the woman closer.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to. But I think it would really help. I will wait for you in the park and we can go somewhere nice after? What do you think, habibti?"
Angela was silent for a few moments, then nodded and opened the car door.
"I'll try. Now, give me a kiss before I run out of courage".
Fareeha gladly obliged, put a lollipop into Angela's hand, and then watched for a while until the woman entered the building.
Angela was terrified. A dozen or so of people watched her carefully, as she tried with all her strength not to fidget with the turtleneck. In the end she looked at the lollipop Fareeha gave her - a small, red heart – and smiled. Fareeha stayed with her despite everything, as steady, everpresent support, her faith in the doctor never faltering. Maybe it was time to prove she wasn't wrong.
Angela took a deep breath and started talking.
"Hello everyone. My name is Angela, I'm a trauma surgeon and researcher by trade. And I'm an alcoholic."