Pharah was a fool.
She should have stayed at base to recover like Mercy advised her to. If she did, if she did…
Angela wouldn't be dying in her arms now.
"Why?" was all she could say, all she repeated. "Why?" Her mind had hit a brick wall the moment bullets pierced the doctor's delicate skin and embedded themselves in her body. There was nothing else to say, nothing else that mattered. "Why?"
It was her fault. If she stayed at base, Mercy wouldn't have come along to watch over her.
A memory. She was twelve and Angela was seventeen. Her mom had left for a mission and she had to stay behind like usual. Angela took care of her. Angela kept her safe and happy.
Another memory, this time painful. Angela was there for her like always, making sure she was stable after a near death experience. She wouldn't have survived without her. Fareeha couldn't bear the thought of losing her, even if she was the one dying.
And another came and played itself in her mind. And another, and another, again and again and again.
She hugged Mercy closer to her chest, her arms shaking and tears staining the dried blood on her face.
Another memory, a recent one. A few weeks ago, Pharah made a promise to Mercy. Two, actually.
To be with her until death tore them apart, and to keep her safe. She remembered saying it with all her heart that day, the look on Mercy's face was one of pure joy as she slid the ring on.
Pharah was a woman of virtue. Her word was her bond. Promises were not something she took lightly.
But now, she could only keep one.