Mercy continues her story to Winston. We see the friendship between her and Jack deepen as they grow and change.

Author note: This has some violent stuff in it, including a PTSD flashback and two brief passages of gore. One of the things I struggled with was how to make it so Angela and Jack both need each other, yet neither is a weak, fawning character. Both are strong in their own ways, and Angela is legitimately brilliant, hopefully I can show that.

It had been a hectic six months since she'd joined Overwatch. Angela's expertise and drive had helped her quickly rise within the Medical Department, and though she was quickly becoming accustomed to combat medicine, she was fortunate enough to have time to perfect her research. Her nanobiology work had progressed to the point where she was willing to submit it for clinical trials at an upcoming conference.

And it was precisely this which was the cause of the current consternation.

"I think I've ironed out the potential mu-3 feedback loop which was causing the synapse failures but I still can't tell why that was an"

"Angela."

"issue in the first place and if there's a further issue with the antibodies at the injection site it could cause the auto-immune respon"

"Angela."

"ses to trigger in ways which I haven't accounte"

"Angela." Jack repeated a third time, setting down the field manual in his hands to look at her, as she paced the small space they shared.

Pausing, she looked up from the bundle of papers in her hand. Her normally pristine hair had taken a frazzled edge with worry as she reviewed her work time and again.

"Angela, you're worrying yourself." Jack said, a patient tone in his voice. The conference was to be held in Tehran, a short 5 hour flight from the base. Overwatch had provided Angela with an autonomous charter jet to make the short hop in the day before the conference, conduct her presentation, and return the day after.

Jack, to the surprise of few but the gentle teasing of many, had insisted on accompanying her. Ostensibly he was there to touch base with a former colleague in the region, but she knew very well he was coming to keep an eye on her.

"That may be right, Jack" she countered "but this isn't bridge demolitions, or whatever is in that rag you're reading. Worrying over the details is important."

"You wound me, Frau Doktor." he said with a mocking smile, touching a hand to his chest.

"That can be arranged!" she laughed, stepping forward to swat at him with her papers as he brought his arms up to protect his face. Her playful fury spent, she resumed her pacing. Though, Jack noted with a pleased eye, less visibly nervous. Keeping his smirk to himself, he turned back to his field manual.

Which, Angela noted as she peeked at him over her papers, was actually on Combat Demolitions of Anti-Tank Obstacles. As she watched the grizzled soldier casually flip a page, a strange feeling came over her. Jack had always been there for her, as someone she could both rely on and look up to, yet his duties to Overwatch meant there was always some distance, no matter how close they became. Since she had joined, however, that distance had all but vanished, and the bond between the two had blossomed into a deep friendship… and perhaps something more? Even now she could see a deep reserve of caring strength in his face, and he was always there to offer a quiet encouragement with her research.

And perhaps the stereotypes of the perfect American farmboy did have some merit in his smile…

With a rush, she caught herself staring. Hiding her blushing cheeks behind her papers, she hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Focus, Angela" she whispered to herself, turning to the pages covering the steps she'd taken to avoid the auto-immune response counteracting the healing process. She decided running through her explanation again would be of some benefit.

And then a cacophony of pressure and heat ended the world.

She came to in what seemed to be a large clearing in a brooding forest. The jet had come down mostly intact, and its crumpled form lay near one edge of the clearing, its turbines giving off a faint whir as they spooled down. Looking down, she saw she had somehow been strapped into a crash couch. She didn't remember doing that, which meant it must have been…

"…Jack"? She called softly. The crash couch next to her was open, the restraints undone. Fear gripped her as she unbuckled her restraints and slipped out, searching. What if he was somewhere, bleeding or injured, and she couldn't –

"Jack?" she called again, louder this time, then gasped as he popped out from a corner.

"Jack! Are you alright? Is everything okay? Are you injured, are you-"

"I'm fine Angela, trust me." He laughed with a smile incongruous to their straits. "I've had hangovers worse than this mess, I'll be alright."

She looked at him, concern still in her eyes.

"Promise me you're not hiding any injury?"

"I promise I'm not hurt, just a minor case of decapitation."

"That wasn't what I asked, Jack." She shot back, concern mixing with relief that he was still here to make his awful jokes.

"I promise I'm not hiding anything. I'm alright." His easy smile began to work its magic to cheer her up. "Now, what do you say we start figuring out what the hell ha-"

There was a flicker of something in Jack's eyes Angela had rarely seen. "Down!" he hissed, and with startling speed dove to the ground, bringing her with him.

"Jack.. what's happening?", she asked as he scrambled to find his weapon. His only response was a stern glare, finger pressed to his lips. Reaching his rifle at last, he checked the action with slow, deliberate movements then turned to her with four fingers showing. Seeing the confusion on her face, he gestured towards his weapon, then towards the open field behind them. Her face fell as his meaning became clear.

The crash was no accident. Someone was trying to kill them, and they were here to finish the job.

Seeing a hint of panic on her face, Jack pulled her close with a firm hand.

"Angela, listen to me" he began in a quick, low voice. "I need you to stay here, stay low, and do not step out from behind cover. That's an order." There was a hard edge to his voice as he looked her in the eyes for what could be the last time. Turning swiftly, he drew something from his belt and pressed it towards her. It was a cold, oblong thing, and she looked down to see a pistol in her hands.

"Jack, I" she tried to protest. She'd been trained, she'd been forced to train with these things, but she wasn't a soldier, she didn't know how to fight.

Her protests died in her throat when she saw the knife edge in his eyes.

"Do what you have to." He said simply, and slunk away towards the approaching killers.

She could see them now, four black figures standing out against the tree line. They approached stooped low, in short sprints, one pair pausing with weapons raised as the other moved ahead. To Angela, they seemed for all the world to be playing an overgrown leap-frog, but she knew there was no innocence in their game. Drawing nearer and nearer, she began to see them more clearly, and then with a bolt of fear realized she could not see Jack.

Which, a voice within her hoped, meant that neither could they.

The figures made it as close as a stone's throw away from her. Wordlessly, Jack rose out of nowhere on their flank. Angela's ears rung as he fired two bursts which cracked through the air like thunderclap, punching through the chests of the closest pair. Yet even as they fell, their comrades shouted in alarm and dove to the ground firing. She saw Jack throw himself into the grass as a burst of fire nearly claimed his head, saw him roll and come up firing again. Another two bursts roared, but she saw to her horror that one missed.

Jack's reflexes could not save him. A string of bullets punched into his chest, and he fell with a sickening slump.

She tried to scream, but there was nothing in her lungs. Through burning eyes she watched the killer bolt from the ground over to where Jack lay. He was close, to where she could see the sweat on his face, the burning anger in his eyes, his arrogant features as he leered over his fallen opponent. He slung his rifle, hands reaching for his pistol to deliver the coup de grace.

A primal anger welled up within her, threw her to her feet even as her clumsy hands fumbled at the pistol. With all the strength she could draw from shaking hands, she held her aim true and fired. Once, twice, a dozen times, it did not matter. She did not care. The smell of cordite burned her nose as the firing stopped. Through ringing ears she heard a voice she did not recognize screaming like a wounded, furious animal.

The voice was her own.

Shaking, her breath coming in wretched gasps, she dropped the pistol. She stumbled towards where Jack lay in the grass, and nearly tripped over the killer. She expected to see the man dying, his face pale with the touch of death. Instead she saw a bloody pulp, twitching on the grass.

She was in Zurich again, and the pieces of her father were staring up at her, telling her she'd failed, she was hopeless, worthless. What was left of her mother was telling her she was an awful, evil child, who should have died years ago. Something without a head kept asking her why she couldn't save him.

As she began to scream, she heard a soft voice call her name from the rubble. Stooping down with lurid motions as the tears rolled down her face, she saw a little boy caught beneath the debris. With frantic, bleeding hands she freed him, and he called her name again.

"Angela" his soft voice repeated, and he smiled, eyes lighting up in a way… she… she knew.

Jack.

"Angela, can you hear me?!" his voice again, urgent now.

She was curled into a ball on the grass, thankfully turned away from the sight.

"J.. jack. Jack where are you?" she spluttered, trying to stand and struggling to hold down her bile.

She jumped as firm hands gripped her shoulders, then Jack's face appeared before her.

"Angela, you… you saved my life."

He staggered for a moment as she collapsed into his arms, then caught himself.

"Easy, there, easy. You're okay. Deep breaths Angela, deep breaths. It's the adrenaline wearing off, you're gonna be okay." He whispered to her, as soothing as he could be. Seconds passed like ages as the raw emotion poured between then, Jack offering what little he could as relief and shock overwhelmed her. As her breathing steadied and composure returned, she stepped back to look at him.

"Jack, you're alive! I thought he, you were" she pressed a hand to his chest and he winched as it came back wet with blood.

"The plates took most of it, but there was some spalling. Mostly just surface cuts, maybe a cracked rib" he spit out between gritted teeth. At last, he grinned with a pained smile. "What do you say, Frau Doktor? Think you could spare me a bandage?"

Despite it all, Angela found herself overcome with laughter as fraught nerves began to ease. The two made their ginger way to the wreckage, before she eased him into a seated position. Retrieving a combat first aid kit, she began her delicate work, sealing his wounds under layers of bandage.

She worked in silence for a long while before speaking a single word.

"Why?"

"Hmm?" Jack turned his head from the field to look at her in confusion, curiosity in his voice. "Why what?"

"Why can you…" she paused, for the words did not come easily. "Why can you kill so easily?"

At this he looked away with a sigh that spoke of his years.

"For some its easy. The first time is always hard, but then its… it's just part of the job."

"But you don't hesitate. You don't hold anything back." she countered "They could have just as easily killed you, why didn't you-"

"That's what a soldier does. I do what I must to protect others. If that" he hissed in pain for a moment as she tightened a bandage which had wiggled loose "if that means putting myself at risk… so be it."

"Please, Jack" she pleaded with a deep sadness in her voice "Please promise me something."

The look he gave her told her she could ask for anything.

"Please promise me you won't get yourself killed, that you won't throw your life away. I don't ever want to lose you."

Her heart caught in her throat as his eyes seemed to go distant for a moment, before they returned to meet hers.

"I promise you then, Angela. You won't ever lose me."

She looked at him for a long while, and then nodded. Finishing the last bandage with ginger care, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her face against his. Embracing the gesture, he wrapped his arm around her in return. There was, she realized in a warm glow, no place in the world she'd rather be than in his arms.

The rescue team found them hours later, sheltered from a soft rain beneath the crumbled jet, still drawing each other close.

Author's post script, since I didn't want to spoil this: Jack is a Soldier. Killing is part of his duty, part of his life. Angela is not, she abhors violence and is scarred by what it has done to her. (As is Jack, but in different ways). I wanted to justify how two people, one who believes violence is necessary, and another who believes it never is, can grow so close. Ultimate, though they do not agree, their bond is strong enough to overcome that.