I'm sorry.
It was a messy battle. It happened too fast. She had flown after the group of Talon operatives with Mercy in tow, healing staff closing the scratches on her face as she zeroed in on the captain. The reticle locked on her target became her red flag, leading her in a mindless charge, instinct drowning out her partner's calls to stop. Why stop? Why, when she was in a dead dive towards the rooftop where her target halted, turning to throw two grenades, filling the air with a combined EMP burst? Pharah's visor went dark, thrusters dead, armour dented and scratched from her collision with rough concrete. She heard metallic scuffles as Mercy fell behind her, but the sight of a wicked grin flooded anger into her being. Her visor relit, Raptora systems starting up again as she ran in a dead charge, arm stretched forward to shoot a concussive blast. Pharah, stop! Reticles reappeared on her visor, locating the captain, two snipers, and an extra two with rocket launchers. Pharah's eyes widened, thrusters lit, but not fast enough to avoid the blast radius.
I'm sorry.
Her vision surfaced from blackness in time to watch her own launcher fly off the roof. Then she turned her head, the second rocket blast raining debris on her armour, to watch Mercy being propelled off the roof. Her inert yellow silhouette fell, and fell, and fell down her visor until Pharah could see her no more. Mercy! Scream tearing through her throat, Pharah jumped off the edge with thrusters burning, only to feel a hard jerk, then concrete slamming against her back. She turned towards the captain and saw the heavy rope in his hands, pulled taut between him and the grappling hook on one of her wings. No! Panic and grief roiled through her clouded mind, and Pharah activated her thrusters in a dead charge against the captain. Hand gripping his face, she slammed his head against the wall, over and over, until blood dripped to the floor. The sound of a door slamming open, followed by rapid firing of pulse pistols, and a cockney accent telling her to get Mercy stopped her. Warmth draining from her body, Pharah launched herself off the roof, to the white figure lying still on the ground.
I'm sorry.
She cut her thrusters too early, almost falling over on unsteady legs, stumbling towards her mistake, her regret, her fault. The sight of Mercy's lifeless gaze pointed up at the night sky brought her to her knees. One hand on the ground for support, the other reached out to feel her neck, even though her visor told her Mercy was dead. Dead. No pulse. Blood pooled around the blonde head, life fleeing where death staked its claim. Mercy! Deep voice rumbled through the air, black-furred arms entered her field of vision. Pharah looked up, blurred vision of Winston filling her view, watching as he fumbled with the caduceus staff. Heroes never die. Rare curses fell from his lips as he made the damaged staff light up, and bent down to activate the Valkyrie's holo-display. Heroes never die! Mercy's body was engulfed in golden light, searing a miracle into her open eyes, then vanished to reveal a body renewed, chest rising and falling in tranquil breaths. An insistent hand on her back pushed, as Zarya gathered Mercy in her arms, urging Pharah to run for the extraction before the law or media arrived. They reached the VTOL heaving ragged breaths. Tracer's hand left Pharah as she ran for the cockpit with Winston. Zarya laid Mercy on the floor, brushing errant blonde strands out of her face. Then she walked over to Pharah and pushed her visor up, hand wiping the tears gently off her face. Pharah's eyes never left Mercy as Zarya guided her to sit near the one she watched, for the rest of the journey home.
I'm sorry.
Four days later, Angela was still in a coma, and Fareeha was still in a stupor. She had barely left her seat next to the bed, leaving only when mother nature screamed, and when food was thrust into her hands, and when other hands forced her into the neighbouring bed and tucked her in. Agents came and went, some alone and some in twos or threes. All sat beside her to watch over their slumbering guardian angel, to offer words of comfort, to urge Fareeha to take care of herself. If not for her, then for Angela. All of them knew. After months of secrecy, all of them now knew Angela had a lover who did not love her enough.
Fareeha dropped her head into her hands, dry heaves wracking her lungs as the tears did not come. How could they? They were all gone. Shed over hands where blood still stained. Useless hands. Violent hands that knew only how to kill, kill, kill. Hands that shot up at the grip on her shoulder, and pain shot through when it hit an iron-bound arm.
"Good. Your fighting spirit is still intact."
The steady thrum of a Russian accent and the hold on her shoulder anchored her in reality. Fareeha stared up at the calm visage beneath shocking pink hair.
"You will go to your room and rest." Her tone brooked no argument. But Fareeha could not care less.
"No."
"You will rest, or I will knock you out and make you rest."
That sent a whip of anger through her. The chair almost toppled over when Fareeha shot out of it, fixing Zarya with a glare to rival that of the Egyptian sun. Her hands balled into fists at the sight of the smile, only the barest remnants of restraint holding her back from punching it off her face.
"You are angry. That is good. But you are angry for the wrong reason." Zarya's voice remained calm, which irked Fareeha even more.
"Then give me a good reason." She took a step forward.
"Very well."
The punch blindsided her, sending both numbness and burning pain over her right cheek. Fareeha's vision went dark for a split-second as she stumbled and when she could see again, she found herself bent over Angela's face, with both hands on clean white sheets to steady herself. She tried to stand upright, but a sudden grip on the back of her neck forced her down, closer to Angela. The sight of her peaceful countenance gave Fareeha pause, a familiar mixture of love and guilt welling up in her again.
"You fight to protect the innocent and the weak. Correct?"
Anger and indignation threatened to flare up again, but Fareeha focused on the woman before her. A healing balm for her wounded pride. An anchor in a storm.
"Yes."
"And you fight to protect her. Correct?"
Hands balled into fists, gripping into bed sheets. Her arms started to tremble, and the clamping force on her neck turned supportive, holding her steady.
"Yes." Her voice was softer this time.
"And you failed."
"Yes."
"But you will try again."
"Yes."
"Because failure does not break a warrior. It strengthens her. It reminds her that by fighting harder, she will stop the same from happening again."
Mercy's dead gaze flashed before her eyes, and she screwed them shut. A shaky breath left her lungs and her eyes started growing moist, to her surprise. Then she forced them open, staring back down at Angela. It will not happen again.
"Yes."
The weight on her neck lifted. Fareeha wrenched her eyes away from the blonde, slowly straightening her back and turned to her friend. The smile was still on her face, softer now, as was her gaze. Two strong hands clasped her shoulders in approval.
"But you cannot fight while you are weak. Go back to your room and rest," Zarya repeated her instructions. "I will watch over her until you return."
Fareeha turned her head, gazing down at the blonde, caressed by the warm rays of the afternoon sun. She stretched a hand towards her, but dropped it halfway. No. She did not deserve…
"Nothing will happen to her when I am around," Zarya gave her one last reassurance, then pushed her lightly towards the door. When Fareeha made no move on her own, the Russian sighed, taking her by the shoulders and leading her out of med bay.
"I will lock the doors. You will not be allowed to step in here until 8pm," Zarya said, before closing the door.
8pm? That was seven hours away. It would be hard, but…she would make it. Surely. For Angela.
The moment her head hit the pillows, Fareeha fell into a mini-coma herself. When she woke, bleary-eyed, she discovered that it was 9.13pm. More than one hour past Zarya's curfew. Shock propelled her off the bed, where she stumbled a little, mind still not shaking off its sleepy haze. She leant on the wall for a breather before making her way back to med bay, where Zarya received her with an amused expression. The woman pointed at the small container of food beside Angela's bed – her dinner – and left, clapping her shoulder on the way out. Fareeha resumed her watch, mood lighter now after the much-needed sleep, and the lovely little meal courtesy of Mei. She even started smiling when Winston, Hana, and Lena dropped by for a visit, dodging questions about the livid bruise sitting squarely on her cheekbone.
Now, though, she felt her eyelids drooping again. Winston was reading Angela's favourite poetry book out loud, and the three women were on the brink of falling off their chairs. Angela had read a few poems to her before, and Fareeha thought she actually understood and liked them. Only just now did she realise it was because of Angela's voice.
When Winston finally finished yet another poem, Hana cut in loudly, "Okay, that's enough poetry for tonight!"
Bless the kid, Fareeha thought guiltily, sneaking a glance at Winston who nodded with grace and put the book away. Bless him too.
Hana walked around the bed so she stood nearer to Angela, peering at her closely.
"Seems like poems are not doing the trick," she said. "Maybe we should just pop open the best bottle of wine and wave it under her nose."
Lena giggled. "She'd probably hit you first for opening her wine, though."
"Yeah, well. At least she'll be awake." Hana scratched her chin, humming thoughtfully. She looked back at Fareeha, brows quirked in that same way they always did before she made mischief. Then she leaned closer towards Angela, until her mouth was near her ear.
"Angie!" Hana yelled suddenly, the other three jumping in shock. "Fareeha kissed Lena!"
"What?!" Lena sputtered, panic written across her features even though Angela was still unconscious, and what Hana yelled was not true.
"Fareeha's been busy, Angie!" Hana continued. "She kissed me too!"
"What?!" It was Fareeha's turn to be outraged.
"Fareeha's getting married, Angie! And it's not to you!"
Fareeha grabbed onto the girl, pulling her away from the bed. Disbelief robbed her of words, leaving her staring at Hana in stunned silence. The girl rolled her eyes, shrugging Fareeha's hands away. She turned back to the bed, where Angela still lay motionless.
"Ah well. It was worth a try," Hana sighed. "Maybe we should really try the wine thing–"
"She moved."
Winston sounded like he did not believe himself. The ladies stared at him as he stared wide-eyed at Angela.
"Her fingers!" He rose from the chair, stepping closer to the bed, eyes fixated on Angela's fingers.
The rest of them followed his example, staring intently at slim digits. Then – there it was. Her index finger moved. Once. Twice. Then the rest of her fingers followed suit.
Fareeha looked back up at Angela's face – her eyes were moving beneath her lids. Winston held out the medical scanner, a wide grin on his face as he nodded.
"Yes, she's waking up!" he declared, and they all crowded around the woman, watching as Angela slowly opened her eyes.
God, it seemed like a lifetime ago since Fareeha had looked at those stunning blue eyes. A grin broke out across her face when Angela's gaze landed on her, before roving over to the other agents, and finally coming to a rest on Winston. Her eyes grew wider, then darted back towards Fareeha again. She propped herself up on her elbows, before Fareeha adjusted the bed's inclination, allowing her to sit up without effort. Fareeha placed a gentle hand on the woman's arm, drawing her attention for a short second, before her eyes returned to Winston again. There was a growing mix of confusion and panic on her features.
"You–" She coughed. "Gorilla."
Winston laughed, "Well, at least we know your eyesight is good."
Angela's eyes widened even further. "You can speak?"
Confusion spread from the woman to her companions, who shared uneasy glances. Angela cast her eyes around, looking at the med bay, before returning to the people in front of her again.
"Where am I?"
The four agents froze. Fareeha's heart almost stopped beating when Angela's eyes fell upon her again, without a trace of recognition.
"Where am I?" Angela repeated, frightened now, shifting further back in her bed.
"It's alright, love," Lena said, first to recover from the collective shock. "You're in our med bay. You're safe. And that's Winston," she added when she noticed Angela's eyes flitted back to him. "He's our friend. Looks big, actually a real softie."
Winston nodded in agreement.
"Who are you? Why am I here?"
Lena scratched at her forehead, throwing a helpless look at Fareeha. She was still unsettled, like the rest of them.
"We're agents of Overwatch," Fareeha explained, restraining the urge to pull Angela into her arms. "We aim to end conflict in the world. You are one of us. You're in here because you were–" Dead. You were dead because of me.
"You were injured," Hana covered her lapse, placing a hand on Fareeha's back. "It was kinda serious. So that's probably why you don't remember us."
Angela frowned, distrust apparent. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"
"Because we're the good guys?" Hana said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Not really our style to keep prisoners or whatever. Right?"
"Right," Lena chipped in, grinning with hands on her hips. "Don't worry, Angie. We'll take care of you."
"Angie?"
"Angela," Fareeha said. "That's your name. Angela–"
"–Ziegler." The word left her lips without thought. "I remember. My name."
Fareeha nodded and sank back into her chair, taking the small relief where she could. She felt Hana's hand on her shoulder, giving a light squeeze. Winston said something about checking things with Athena, and headed into Angela's office. Lena moved her chair next to Fareeha's, clapping her hands.
"Well! Seems like we have a lot to catch you up on. Where would you like to start?"
According to Athena, there were two contributing factors to Angela's amnesia. One, the caduceus staff was damaged when used to revive Angela. Two, the Valkyrie suit was similarly damaged, its systems unable to sync with the staff properly. Adding two pieces of damaged equipment together did not equate to full effectiveness. That was why Angela's body was restored, but not her memories. The A.I. also informed them the amnesia was most likely temporary, but it was unknown when Angela would recover. So they should try to jog her memory whenever they could, to accelerate the recovery process.
That was why Fareeha was escorting Angela to the kitchen. It was decided that today would be her last day in med bay, and they would have a party at night to celebrate. Getting to know her colleagues again should be a good start to regaining her memories.
"Everyone will be there?" Angela asked again, looking uncertain.
"Don't worry. They all know you. And they all like you." It was the second time Angela had asked.
"They like who I was."
"You're still you. Don't worry too much, alright? If you get uncomfortable, then we can leave for some peace and quiet." Like the first time Fareeha had escaped a celebration, and ended up in a quiet hang-out with Angela instead. Seemed like the tables had turned.
Angela nodded, stopping when Fareeha placed a hand on her shoulder. Nodding at the closed doors to signal that they had arrived, Fareeha pressed the buzzer. A couple of seconds later, the doors slid open, and a resounding cheer burst through the doorway as confetti and streamers flew out at them. Fareeha glanced to the side, watching the surprise on Angela's face give way to almost child-like wonder at the sight of her friends. Angela smiled as Lena ran towards her in a guerilla hug, then led her by the arm towards the centre of the kitchen. Stepping inside, Fareeha felt the same wonder washing over her. The amount of food on the kitchen counters was incredible, filling the big room with a mish-mash of delicious aromas. She passed an eye over the food, spotting sliders, ribs, spring rolls, sushi, tarts – and were those mini Swiss rolls?
A yank on her jacket lapels forced her eyes away from the food, to level with Hana's grinning face. The girl had purple face paint on, Fareeha noticed, as a party hat was placed on her head. Then her face was sandwiched between two palms.
"Look festive, Captain," Hana said, kneading her cheeks. "You've gotta fit the hat." She patted the edge of Fareeha's slowly fading bruise, then bounced away to Lucio, who was manning the…DJ booth? Where did he get that from?
"Okay, people! Make way!" Jesse yelled from kitchen counter where he had been working.
Lena, who was still latched onto Angela, guided the blonde into the chair at the centre of the table. She gave Jesse a thumbs-up, and the man strode over to the table with a plate of waffles balanced proudly in one hand. He placed it in front of Angela with a flourish, continuing the show by spraying whipped cream on top of the waffles, before decorating the plate with sliced strawberries. It was her favourite dessert from the cowboy's repertoire. She managed to get Jesse to make it for her the very day he arrived.
"The sweetest dessert for the sweetest lady." He took his hat off, pressing it to his chest and sweeping into a very gentlemanly bow.
Angela laughed at the sight. "Dessert? But I haven't even eaten anything else yet!"
"Why leave for later something you can eat now?" Reinhardt boomed.
"I'll bet Fareeha's heard that a thousand times!" Hana yelled from the booth.
Laughter started to ripple through the crowd, but died off noticeably when Angela cocked her head, fixing them with a curious gaze. They turned back to Fareeha, who shook her head as subtly as possible, cheeks burning. She had not told Angela that they were together despite spending the last few days with her, deciding it was not appropriate. The woman had not regained her memories, and Fareeha still had…reservations.
"Fareeha?" Angela asked, eyes falling upon the woman in question.
"I… I am a very big eater. I love to eat. I love to eat a lot." Her words came out in quick succession as the lie wove itself.
"Yeah, the woman's a glutton," Hana took the save and ran with it. "So you'd better eat those up before she stuffs them into her fat mouth!"
Fareeha sighed, resting her chin in a hand, feeling thankful that the attention had switched back to Angela. They watched as she brought the first bite of waffle into her mouth, a palpable tension falling over the room. Angela's face lit up, and Fareeha forgot her troubles.
As it turned out, Angela's initial worries were for naught. She fit in easily with her not-so-new colleagues, relearning little facts and quirks, basking in the attention being showered on her. Fareeha contented herself with staying by the sides – the blonde surely had enough of her during her time in the med bay. It was endearing to watch Angela interact with the others. There was a noticeable lack of restraint in her actions, her expressions. Without years of war and bloodshed and loss lurking in her subconscious, Angela seemed lighter, more innocent and free. It was…precious. Almost a shame to lose.
The party went on into the early morning until Jack excused himself. Before leaving, he gave Angela a one-armed hug – a gesture of affection that nearly blew their minds. They stared wide-eyed as Jack gave her small smile, then told the others to return to quarters soon. Mei and Genji were the first to take his advice. And then Angela, who nudged Fareeha lightly and asked if she'd like to turn in too. They left the kitchen together, choruses of 'good night' and 'we'll clean up, don't worry' echoing after them. Reinhardt's drunken singing could be heard for a good distance before growing inaudible.
"Welcome back to your room," Fareeha said, turning the lights on as Angela followed after her.
"Looks nice." Angela strolled in, looking around. "Is your room like that too?"
"Kind of."
Both women had similar spartan tastes in décor. One from a life spent mostly in field camps and war zones, the other from habit formed in the military. Aside from necessities and choice hobby items, they had little in the way of decorations and trinkets. After they got together, however, both started accumulating little gifts from each other that were dispersed around the room. The sunset-hue scarf Fareeha gave her still hung from a hook on the wall. A deck of cards on the coffee table. A small glass figurine of an angel on the shelf. The "I'm stupid!" sticker that Hana dared her to paste on Angela's back, sat at a corner of the study table.
"That is the bathroom, correct?" Angela pointed at the door, smiling at Fareeha's nod. "And this is my wardrobe." She walked over to it, sliding the door open.
Fareeha followed her as she looked over the selection of clothes, running her fingers over a lab coat, a couple of dresses, sweaters, a few t-shirts, pants, and shorts, before finally landing on the black leather jacket. Eyes widening, Fareeha's heart stopped for a moment before it started up in panic. The jacket was hers, and so were the tank tops and workout shorts behind it.
Angela hummed, taking the hanger with the jacket, holding it up for closer inspection. She ran a hand down soft warm leather, nodding appreciatively. A frown creased her forehead when she held it up against herself, noticing its shoulders were broader than hers. She removed the hanger, slipping her arms through the sleeves, which reached a little over her wrists. Even though it hung a little wide on her lithe frame, a smile spread across her face and she pulled it snug around her. Little did she know she had done the same countless times before.
"I love this jacket," Angela said, pulling the collar to her nose for a sniff. "But it's a little big, don't you think?" She waited for an answer, then looked up to find a stricken face staring back at her. "Fareeha?"
"It's mine," Fareeha forced the words out, her heart squeezing at the confession.
"Oh. Why is your jacket in my room?"
"I… I left it here," she said, hating the way she stammered. But not as much as she hated how she wanted to melt under Angela's penetrative gaze.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Fareeha?"
There was a smile on her lips. She knew, Fareeha realised. Or at least, she suspected. Of course. Just because she lost her memories did not mean she lost her perceptiveness as well.
"We were together." She knew better than to lie. Not when Angela had her number.
"That explains why you've barely left my side since I awoke." Blue eyes examined her from head to toe. "And Hana's joke about…your 'appetite'?"
Fareeha blushed. The girl had actually referred to Angela's instead, but this was no time to think about either of their appetites. She nodded, smiling sheepishly.
"Well. At least now I know I have excellent taste."
Not so excellent, Fareeha wanted to say. But looking at Angela's mirthful gaze, she thought better of it. No need to ruin her mood.
"It's something we have in common."
Angela matched her blush, and Fareeha felt as if time had been reset, throwing them back to before they started. When discreet gazes and little flirts were all they dared, never putting much stock in something that may have no future.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"You didn't remember. And I did not want to…distract you."
She cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think this is a distraction I'd mind."
The warmth of Angela's hand on her arm was the most welcome touch she felt all week. She reached up, hesitating a little before holding the slim hand in her own. Fareeha bit down on a trembling lip when Angela's fingers curled around hers, fighting to keep her knees from buckling. Looking back into tender blue eyes, she felt the reaffirmation of her vow.
I will protect her.
Reluctantly, Fareeha brought their hands down, and pulled her own away. She jerked a thumb at the door.
"I'll return to my quarters, leave you in peace. My room is only three doors down from yours. So look for me if you need anything, alright?" She pointed at the phone on the study table. "You have my number too. Call me if you need to."
"I will." Angela nodded. Before Fareeha reached the door though, she blurted, "Wait! Don't you want your jacket back?"
Fareeha grabbed onto the lapel, stopping Angela before she could take it off.
"Keep it. It is where it belongs."
It seemed Angela took her words to heart. Fareeha found her still wearing it at breakfast in the morning.
A/N: Can you tell how hard I tried to cling onto angst before I fell back into fluff hell again.
Had this draft for a long time, finally pushed it out. Second chapter's already planned, currently in the works. Will be out hopefully before the weekend.