It was deathly quiet in the passenger compartment, save for the hum of the jet's engines and the click of Mercy's boots as she performed her post-mission examinations. Everyone was unusually well-behaved, answering the doctor's questions promptly and staying still while being scanned. Probably because Mercy looked like a brewing thunderstorm searching for an excuse to let loose. Or because Pharah was sitting at the opposite end of the compartment, glaring at the corner, away from the medic. The frost that had settled between them spread to the others, but Mercy could not find it in herself to care.

Lucio breathed a discreet sigh of relief when Mercy finally moved away from him and onto Soldier 76. The man was the first who dared to look straight up at her as she performed the scan. All the rest had settled for looking down, or at some point past the medic. She felt his brooding gaze settle upon her, but ignored it. Whatever he wanted to say, he could save it for later.

"Any other source of pain?" Mercy asked.

"No."

And that was that. So she moved on to Zarya, who behaved in her usual bold fashion. It would take more than just a teammates' quarrel or a squadron of insurgents to deter this woman. There was not a scratch on her whatsoever. Mercy finished her check with an approving nod, taking a steadying breath before approaching the last team member.

Pharah did not move when she got close, acting as though Mercy was not there. The medical scanner reported nothing serious: just a few bruises, accelerated heart rate and raised blood pressure. She asked a routine question, but received no answer. Anger boiled in her chest. Snapping her device closed, Mercy marched straight into the cockpit where Tracer and Winston were.

"Try not to hit the console, love," Tracer joked, looking back as Mercy sat at the weapons station. "Else we might blow up a tower by accident."

All it took was a quiet glare and Tracer swallowed nervously, focusing back on the controls as she flew the jet back to Gibraltar.


Jack did not let them off without an official reprimand – as official as Overwatch could be in its current state anyway. Fareeha got the bulk of the disapproval for disobeying a direct order and starting an argument with her superior while still in the field. She bore it with a soldier's demeanour: face straight when relegated more menial tasks of helping out around the base, accepting her punishment without complaint.

Angela herself got restricted to base for the next week along with Fareeha, and was assigned with a series of missions to be completed with said woman for the following month. She clenched her jaw at the sentence, noticing her partner stiffen across the table. She avoided Jack's gaze when the team was dismissed, quickly stepping out of the briefing room before anyone could stop her.

Now, six hours after debrief, Angela still felt the burning urge to punch something whenever she thought of Fareeha. Maybe even punch her. The woman took off on her own, pursuing her own objective, when 76 ordered a retreat with the rescued civilian hostages. No regard for the team, her own life, not to mention the civilians' should she have jeopardised the mission. She could have died because of her own actions.

The door's buzzer sounded, bringing Angela's jagged pacing to a halt. She unclenched her hands, shaking the stiffness out of her shoulders, before opening the door to find Jack standing with his hands behind his back.

"May I come in?" he asked, gruff voice softer than usual.

Angela nodded, stepping aside to let him into her room. Already familiar with the surroundings, Jack made a beeline for his favourite chair near the coffee table, motioning for her to sit on the small couch next to it. She sighed, already dreading the heart-to-heart before it started. But she acceded to Jack's unspoken request anyway and made herself comfortable.

"I hope you understand that I had to punish you as well," he started, leaning forward to rest elbows on knees. "You are technically a superior officer. You had no excuse for causing a scene in front of the team."

"I know."

They fell into silence after that – a usual occurrence when one spoke to Jack nowadays.

"Winston went over the data we mined from the insurgent base before the retreat," he continued. "Turns out they were planning an attack on a military base in Morocco, with the weapons stockpile that Fareeha destroyed."

Angela looked up at Jack, trying to read his expression. Even without his mask on, it was difficult to tell what he was feeling. A stark contrast to the poster boy he used to be.

"Do you approve of what she did?"

"No. More than half the docks were destroyed in the explosion, and there was no guarantee the fires wouldn't spread through the vicinity. But I cannot deny that her actions had at least one good outcome. Thought you might've liked to know that."

Angela nodded stiffly, and Jack sighed as if in defeat. He straightened himself in preparation.

"Truth is, this is not what I came to talk about."

He lapsed into silence again, and Angela felt a nerve beginning to give.

"I know about you and Fareeha."

Gott, as if this day could get any worse.

"Since when?"

"Three weeks ago."

"How did you find out?"

"I saw you in the shooting range."

She relaxed a little. They had not done anything inappropriate in the shooting range…yet. Fareeha developed a knack for ambushing her at unexpected times. While she was working on the Valkyrie suit in the armoury. Developing better healing formulae in the laboratory. Washing off a mission's grime and blood in the showers.

Her heart skipped at the memory, and she sent a silent curse at the woman again. Now she wanted to punch and kiss her. Fuck that woman. Fuck that woman.

"I suppose you're going to order us to end it." Angela sat straighter in her seat, mirroring Jack's posture. She was ready to challenge his…request. No matter her current feelings, she would not let anything rip Fareeha away from her. Not without a fight. She had leverage as the team's only medic. Jack could not…

"No."

That brought her mind to a halt. Keeping a poker face, she examined Jack, looking for some hint of a ruse.

Sensing her disbelief, he explained, "I cannot say I approve of this. Not completely. But…back in the shooting range. You were happy. I can't remember seeing you like that, even back then."

Angela raised a brow. "That is a pretty weak reason, coming from you."

"Is it? We've been in this fight for a long time, Angela." He set a calloused hand on her shoulder. "It's going to get more difficult trying to remember why we even started in the first place. And if Fareeha helps, then…"

Jack shrugged, letting his hand drop. The doctor smiled, recognising that he had reached his limit for mush.

"She does," Angela admitted. "Some days, she is what keeps me going." Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

"I love her."

And there it was. She was struck by how…concrete those words were. It had always been a quiet little secret between Fareeha and her. Three words professed and whispered in their moments together. Etched into their skin with fingertips and lips and teeth. But saying it out loud, and to Jack of all people, set the commitment in stone. It anchored her.

The corners of Jack's mouth twitched in an almost-imperceptible smile. "I know."

He stood, stretching his back with an audible crack. Then he turned to face her, little traces of mirth gone now.

"But if your relationship affects your conduct again, we're going to have a problem. Understood?"

"I am not an amateur, Jack."

"That is what I'm worried about."

Angela frowned, following Jack as he went to the door. "What do you mean?"

He fixed her with one last inscrutable gaze. "Good night, Angela."

"Jack."

Before she could stop him, he strode off into the corridor and turned a corner. Angela sighed, letting the door slide closed again. She would wring an answer out of him next time. For now…

"Athena."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Where is Fareeha?"

"Fareeha Amari is currently not in the base."

Her frown deepened. Violating the terms of her punishment on the very day she received it?

"Then where is she?"

"Unknown. She is out of my scanning range."

Worry gripped her. Angela picked up her phone and called Fareeha, finger lingering just above the name for a prolonged minute. It rang, but there was no answer. She started pacing about her room, before flinging herself onto the bed.

"Athena, alert me the moment you pick up her location."

"Yes, Doctor."


Angela waited at her desk, staring at the computer. Her eyes went to the clock again. 11.18pm. Fareeha should be arriving back at base soon.

According to Athena, Fareeha had returned to base at 11.12pm the previous night, seemingly none the worse for wear. Angela debated looking her up, but decided her feelings were still too volatile. So she had waited until morning, and found herself pushing back the encounter. Hour after hour until the sun had set, and Athena informed her that Fareeha had snuck off base again. Angela considered following her, but had no real way of tracking down her location. So she waited.

"Agent Amari has returned," Athena said suddenly, making her jump.

"Thank you," Angela said, sitting up in her chair. "Show me where she is."

A camera feed blinked onto her computer, showing Fareeha parking her motorcycle in the garage. Angela peered closer. The woman seemed to still be in healthy condition, but she did move a little sluggishly. She watched as Fareeha slung a duffle bag over her shoulder and made her way back to her quarters. Angela bit her lip, closing the feed. Should she go now…?

No. She would wait another hour. For Fareeha to wash up.


Taking a deep breath, Angela pressed the buzzer, pushing down the urge to run back to her own room.

"Who is it?" came Fareeha's voice through the speaker.

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

"Hello?" Fareeha asked again after a few seconds.

Angela swallowed, calming her nerves. "It's me."

Silence. The doctor crossed her arms, taking the time to compose herself. Honestly, she did not know what to say. Would Fareeha still be as angry as the day before? Or had she mellowed out like Angela? God, she never had to do this before. What if Fareeha did not–

The door slid open, revealing Fareeha in a tank top and shorts – her sleepwear. Her black hair was still damp from the shower, towel slung around her neck. Her face was impassive, with a fresh bruise near the cheekbone. Angela frowned at the sight, spotting an older bruise on her lower jaw.

"You're hurt."

"It's nothing."

"How did you get those bruises?"

"It does not matter." It was Fareeha's turn to frown, one hand reaching up to the door controls. "They are not serious. Now, if there's nothing else…"

"We need to talk."

Fareeha stared down at the doctor, before closing her eyes in a sigh, "We do."

Angela followed her into the room proper, eyes roving over each nook and cranny. Everything was still the way she remembered it. Of course it was. It had only been a day. Fareeha's jacket, which she had worn for their date four days ago, was still slung over the reading chair. Her dumbbells sat neatly in the corner, near her wardrobe where Angela had deposited some of her clothes. What she would not give to spend the night here again.

"I was in a boxing match. There is a ring in town that organises weekly fights."

Fareeha hung her towel to dry, before turning back to Angela.

"I didn't know you knew how to box."

"I don't, apparently." Her hand worried at the fresh bruise, then dropped to her side.

"I'm sorry for my behaviour during the mission," Fareeha said, clasping her hands behind her back, shoulders straight. "I shouldn't have gone off by myself. And I disrespected you in front of the team. It won't happen again."

Feeling the corners of her mouth twitch, Angela stepped forward, grabbing onto Fareeha's elbows.

"First of all, you're not speaking to a superior." She pulled Fareeha's arms forward, forcing her to relax. "So you can save the soldier act for Jack." Angela's hands paused at Fareeha's wrists before slipping further down, feeling warm hands close over hers. She returned the hold, wishing she never had to let go.

"I'm not here to give you another reprimand. You've already had enough during debrief."

Fareeha nodded. Her attention never wavered, hanging on Angela's every word.

"And…I'm sorry as well. For losing my temper at you like that." She paused, taken aback when Fareeha laughed. The sight drew a smile to her face, even though she was not entirely sure what…

"You know," Fareeha managed after her laughter subsided. "You actually kind of scared me back there."

"I…did?"

"Yeah. You looked like you were ready to euthanise me on the spot." She pulled Angela close, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"I would never do that," Angela said. She rested her arms around her lover's neck, closing her eyes when Fareeha touched their foreheads together. "I just thought…" She swallowed, clearing the lump in her throat. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"Me too," Fareeha whispered.

Gathering herself, Angela pulled her lips into a smile, looking back up. "This is usually where the heroine kisses the love of her life and promises not to do anything stupid again."

Fareeha raised a brow. "'Love of her life'? I'm only sleeping with you to get better medical care. Ah!" She winced at Angela's pinch on her shoulder.

"Just so you know, Amari. Sometimes 'mercy' involves euthanasia."

God, Angela loved her smile. And her kisses. And her arms. Pulling her flush against Fareeha's hard, muscled body. A hint of arousal flickered in the pit of her stomach as firm hands moved lower down her body.

"Any plans for tonight, Doctor?" Fareeha murmured.

"Does staying in your room count?"

Their eyes never left each other even as Fareeha swept her off the ground easily, stepping sure-footed towards the bed. As sure-footed she could be while Angela showered her with kisses. They reached the bed without incident, where Fareeha set her down gently.

Angela felt her patience wearing thin, muted fire burning higher as Fareeha climbed in after her, running one hand slowly up under her t-shirt. She wanted to relish this moment, Angela knew. To make up for a day's worth of separation and yearning. And she would let her. Take her time to caress every inch of Angela's body. Wring every manner of cry and moan from her throat. Coat her tongue with the intoxicating essence of pleasure. Then. Then.

Fareeha would receive her true punishment.


A/N: 50 Shades of Mercy, anyone? It's now 3 days since I've been writing fan fiction instead of playing the actual goddamn game. Thanks, Pharmercy.

And sincere thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favourited and followed my Pharmercy fics. Hope you have a flying good time.