Running a sharp eye down the caduceus staff, Angela turned it over in her hands for one last check before the mission started. In another skirmish three days ago, she got caught in a surprise melee attack, which ended with the staff being broken into three pieces. Watching one of her masterworks shatter before her very eyes was akin to witnessing an act of atrocity – which was repaid with three bullets to the chest. She did not relish the minor victory, already mourning the ruined staff and planning its resurrection.
She pressed the two triggers on its side, igniting its tip with a tranquil gold and electric blue glow respectively. Humming in approval, Angela hefted it, enjoying its comforting weight between her hands. Then she twirled it around her body, throwing it up into the air and snatching it back smoothly.
"Nice one."
Angela almost dropped the staff in surprise, turning on her heel to find Fareeha entering the weaponry. She was suited up as well, moving fluidly in the Raptora armour, helmet tucked under one arm. Getting a little self-conscious under the woman's gaze and smile, Angela set the staff back onto its stand.
"Thank you."
She watched Fareeha cock her head in response, making her way over to her personal locker. The soldier tapped in a code rapidly, and the lid opened to reveal her rocket launcher, gleaming a polished sheen. She lifted it with practiced ease, performing what should be her routine pre-mission checks.
"How have you been?" Angela said, moving closer. "I hope everyone's been treating you well."
Fareeha arrived just the day after her staff's demise. Angela never laid eyes on her again after the physical examination, having been cooped up in her office despite Lena and Winston's best efforts to lure her out. She even missed the briefing for this mission, relying instead on Athena's recording to get caught up on the details.
"Oh, they are very accommodating. I am still getting to know my way around the base, but other than that, I'm doing well."
Fareeha shot her another smile, and Angela was still struck by how much she resembled Ana. When she first walked into the med bay, it was as though a ghost from the past had chosen to pay a visit. Fareeha's skin was a few shades darker than her mother's, shoulders a little broader, body more well-built. But her face… Should her tattoo be under the left eye instead, it would be easy to mistake her for Ana. Much too easy.
But Angela had been fully absorbed in her work then. Looking at her now, up-close… She started to see the difference. Ana was passionate. She burned with righteous fury, a brilliant figure many admired from afar, but few dared to approach – a sentiment Angela shared herself. During the few close encounters she had with Ana, she experienced the aura that shrouded the woman. One either had enough steel in their spine to follow in her footsteps, or faltered and was swept aside. Angela had been one of those left on the sides - or at least she thought so, until Ana herself requested for Angela's transfer to her unit as a field medic. Rejecting that request was one of the hardest things Angela had ever done – she did it face-to-face out of courtesy – but it did help accelerate her rise through Overwatch's ranks.
She never forgot about it. And now, she would finally get a taste of fighting beside an Amari. Although, something told her it would be different. Fareeha was…softer. Her edges less cutting, presence quieter than her mother's. There was no question she was as powerful as Ana had been, though. Angela sensed it, back in the med bay. It was time to see her in action.
"Glad to hear that," Angela replied.
"Although, I was not expecting to find a child in Overwatch's ranks," Fareeha continued, lifting her eyes from the weapon.
Angela laughed, "Oh, I'd hardly call Hana a child. No matter how much she insists on acting like one."
"Still. She is young."
Another difference. Angela was rather young herself when she first joined Overwatch. Where Fareeha expressed concern, Ana set expectations. She took one look at Angela, and told her what she could and should achieve. Age did not matter. It was the spirit that counted. Angela wondered if that was how Fareeha was brought up; target after target set in front of her, waiting to be met or shattered.
"Yes, but she has the ability and potential. She'll be able to do as much good here as in the military. More, perhaps."
It was minute, but Angela noticed the tension creep into Fareeha's features before she nodded, looking back down at her weapon.
Most probably raised that way.
Realising that she had touched a nerve, Angela stepped back, letting the silence settle over them. She occupied herself with the staff again, ears acutely aware of Fareeha's armoured fingers clicking against the rocket launcher. There was an almost steady rhythm to it, no doubt born of countless repetition.
"Doctor?"
She jerked her gaze up to where Fareeha stood facing her.
"Angela, please."
"Angela," the soldier acquiesced, smile on her lips. "May I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"I've always wanted to know," Fareeha started, hand gesturing over her own head, drawing an imaginary half-circle. Was that…a blush on her cheeks? "Does your halo have any practical function?"
"Oh." Angela's hand reached up to touch the headgear, becoming self-conscious again. She had worn this suit so many times, she no longer gave the halo a second thought. "No, actually. It's just there to complete the image." The doctor found herself fighting against a similar blush threatening to rise.
"I've been told that it's a bit much, sometimes."
"Really? I think it suits you."
The blush broke through, flooding her cheeks with warmth. Immensely grateful that Fareeha chose that moment to turn away, Angela spun towards the wall, thrown by how much the compliment affected her. She touched the back of her hand against her cheek, feeling the heat radiate from beneath her skin. The way those words lilted off the tip of Fareeha's tongue – it seemed so easy and sincere, it caught her off-guard. Yes, that's right. Her defenses were down. That was why it affected her so.
Angela turned her head – just a little – to watch Fareeha out of the corner of her eye. A frown was etched between her brows as she fiddled with something inside her helmet. She should get to know the woman better, after this mission was over.
Heavy thuds sounded from the corridor, accompanied by a messy blend of accents and the occasional laughter. It did not take long before Reinhardt stomped in, fitted out with his bulky armour, followed by Lena, Zarya, and Genji.
"Ah! You can always count on an Amari to be early!" Reinhardt boomed the moment he saw Fareeha. He practically charged over to her side, slamming his huge hand onto her shoulder. Angela hissed quietly, half-expecting Fareeha's shoulder to dislocate. To the soldier's credit, she bore it with a smile. And clenched teeth.
"I wanted to make a good impression," Fareeha managed, face still stiff.
"Oh my dear!" he laughed. "You impressed me the moment you stepped into my sight." He brought his hand down for another pat. But this time, Angela noticed he paused a little before making contact, as though suddenly remembering his own strength.
"Your mother would be proud of you," he said, softer and more comforting, before drawing his hand back and tramping over to Zarya, challenging her to some sort of bet.
The bright, enraptured glint in Fareeha's eyes faded when Reinhardt moved away. Her smile vanished a little too quickly and she turned, robbing Angela's view of her face. Her heart squeezed when she noticed Fareeha's shoulders rise, fall, then straighten. Just like Ana's did when Angela asked after her daughter's well-being.
She caught the train of thought. It was doing Fareeha a disfavour, all these comparisons to her predecessor. She should be judged on her own merits, not the legacy of the late Ana Amari.
At the announcement of the impending landing, Fareeha put on her helmet, visor snapping down in place to cover half of her face. She looked back, meeting Angela's eyes, and gave her a small smile. Angela nodded, joining the squad near the sealed ramp as the VTOL shook, its rotors aligning for a vertical landing.
She snuck a glance at the bulkhead's polished metal, eyes lingering on the golden halo of her reflection, before following behind her bellowing and whooping comrades as they charged down the ramp.
The Valkyrie's wings had always been a point of pride for Mercy. During its conception, she had been thrown schematic after schematic of bulky military thrusters for integration into the suit. A lot of pressure – not to mention resentment – was loaded onto her shoulders each time she rejected those…uncouth designs. After throwing many prototype sketches into the bin, she eventually enlisted the help of Torbjörn, who adapted the thrusters into a sleeker design. At her bidding, they took inspiration from Vishkar's hard-light technology to engineer extendable wings, for better aerodynamics. Power was sacrificed for flexibility in the field, a design choice Mercy never questioned. Until now.
She watched as Pharah rocketed into the air for the fourth time – why was she even keeping count – and could not help but feel impotent with her wings. The battlefield was her playground, so to speak. She could glide from one end to the other, turn the tide where the battle was lost, push her comrades forward where they should have been dead.
"Rocket barrage, incoming!"
But Pharah. Pharah ruled both the skies and the ground. She was the queen on the board, able to move in any direction, attack any point she wanted with freedom granted by her powerful wings. They were thrusters, Mercy knew, much more improved and refined than what she had to work with years ago. But on Pharah they might as well have been the fiery wings of a mighty bird of prey.
Said bird landed on ground again, jump jets refilling rapidly with fuel, getting ready for her next flight. The need to soar with her gripped Mercy in an unforgiving, adrenaline-charged hold. She would not be able to reach Pharah's heights, but she could amplify the magnitude of her rockets. It would create more chaos among the enemy ranks and give her team room to slip the payload through.
She activated the small holo-device on her wrist, eyes sweeping over the team's status, all of which blinked a healthy green. Good. Excitement surged through her being as she returned her focus to Pharah. The soldier bent her legs slightly like she always did before take-off, and Mercy prepared her thrusters. She activated the damage boost just as Pharah soared upwards, bird-like helmet turning back to look at the medic flying after her. The soldier did not waste any time: she levelled her launcher, dispensing rockets with deadly accuracy.
"Nice one! Keep it up, loves, we're almost there!" Tracer yelled through the comm link. Reinhardt's laugh could be heard in the explosion-filled background.
This could be one of their smoothest missions yet. Mercy trailed behind Pharah as they landed, the soldier taking the chance to reload her weapon. They shared another glance and at Mercy's eager nod, the pair shot up into the skies again.
She would never get sick of this. Hovering high above the ground, with a superior vantage point of the area, Mercy could watch everything unfold before her eyes. The Overwatch squad trailing beside the payload, Reinhardt's shield lighting up whenever the enemy pushed forward, Zarya deploying barriers and lobbing charges. Blue streaks marking Tracer's mad, dizzying paths as she struck from every angle possible. The occasional green flash when Genji sliced through his targets with ease. Pharah's rockets falling well away from her teammates, taking care of stragglers trying to return to their squads. She saw the carnage and bloodshed they left behind as well, but pushed that to the back of her mind. It was a necessary evil. Something to worry about later.
"Pharah! Mercy!" Genji's urgent voice came clear through the comm. "Snipers are heading up to your position! Recommend-"
The sharp crack of metal behind her back told her it was too late. At the corner of her vision, Mercy saw the broken piece of Valkyrie wing arc towards the ground, scattering bits of expensive circuitry and alloy in its wake. Time slowed down as she realised the thrusters were not working. Her hand stretched out towards Pharah, who was becoming smaller by the second. The soldier turned, mouth parting, yelling something that could not penetrate the pounding in Mercy's ears. She watched the blue figure angle herself downwards, matching Mercy's trajectory as she plummeted towards hard concrete. As Pharah activated her thrusters in a mad descent, Mercy became aware of how…hollow her body felt. Like everything under her skin had disappeared, leaving but the shadow of person in her place. Then, breathlessness. Panic. Nonono it's not time I cannot–
A sudden jerk. Then a pirouette left her disoriented, realising belatedly that she was clutching onto warm blue armour for dear life. A firm hand held the back of her head, rocket-heated arm locked around her waist, as they landed gently back on their feet. She felt controlled pants on the side of her neck, the edge of a yellow visor pressing on her ear, before Pharah let her down carefully. As relief softened her grip on Pharah's shoulders, Mercy let her hands trail down the armour, looking up into dark brown eyes.
"Are you alright?" she asked, worry written across her face, piercing Mercy to the core.
She nodded mutely, unable to tear her eyes away. Safe. She was safe.
"Mercy? What is your status?"
Genji jolted her out of her trance. She looked down, suddenly aware they still stood chest-to-chest, and took a shaky step backward.
"I–I'm fine," Mercy replied. "The snipers?"
"Taken care of. What of the payload?" He switched to the team channel.
"Secured," Reinhardt replied with nary a trace of exertion. "Make your way back here before more of our friends show up."
"Understood."
With that, a click ended the exchange. Mercy let out a breath she did not remember holding, before realising that her hands were empty. She spun on her heel, casting frantic eyes all across the wide street for her staff. It had just been repaired – it could not disappear on her now.
"Looking for this?"
Pharah held out the caduceus staff – undamaged, thank god – in one hand, bringing a smile to Mercy's face.
"Yes!" She took it in both hands, its weight making her complete again. Did Pharah catch it while they were falling?
"Thank you."
"No problem." The soldier rested her launcher on a shoulder, free hand gesturing towards their extraction point. "Shall we?"
Angela sniffed, wrapping sweater-covered arms around herself as she strolled down the corridor. In a rare decision to put pleasure before business, Angela chose not to start repairs on her Valkyrie suit that night. Instead, she made her way down to the mess hall – which was just a spacious kitchen-cum-dining room, really – where her squad was no doubt celebrating by getting plastered. She shivered, tightening her arms and regretting her choice of shorts. Winston really needed to get the heater working again.
A yawn escaped her lips as she rounded a corner – almost running straight into Fareeha. The woman held both hands up, as though to grab her in case she fell, and froze in place. Angela chuckled.
"Relax," she said, nodding towards the kitchen right down the corridor. "Don't tell me the drinking's already ended?"
Fareeha seemed to hesitate, her eyes darting away from Angela for a second. Curious.
"No. I'm just…heading back to my room," she said slowly. "It's getting a little rowdy in there."
Angela raised a brow. She would have expected the ex-military woman to be used to drunken post-mission parties. But then again, that was just a generalisation. Jack never really got into those kinds of festivities either. And she did not know Fareeha all that well, admittedly.
"Are you going to join them?" Fareeha asked.
"Well, I was…but," Angela chewed her lip, an idea forming in her mind. "Would you like to join me instead? I could get some snacks and we can go to my room. At least the heater's still working in there." As if on cue, she shivered a little. She must be losing her natural tolerance for cold, after spending the past few years in a temperate climate.
Fareeha scratched at the back of her neck. "Wouldn't you like to join the rest?"
"Oh my friend," Angela said, shaking her head in amusement. "Take my advice. When Reinhardt and Aleksandra start drinking together, run. You don't want to be the one to clean up afterwards."
She bit back a smile when Fareeha reached for another piece of chocolate.
"I didn't expect that you'd have a sweet tooth," Angela said, sipping on her tea.
"It is a weakness," Fareeha admitted, tossing the piece into her mouth. "My Helix squad would bribe me with a couple of bars whenever they need a favour."
Angela laughed, "Really? And it works?"
The soldier swallowed, eyes widening. "Some of the time?" The way she drawled her words told Angela that 'some' meant 'most'.
"Please don't use it against me."
"I'll try not to. But no promises."
"And don't tell the others."
"Don't worry. Doctor-patient confidentiality." Angela winked, noticing the shade of red creeping onto the woman's cheeks.
Fareeha looked down, and before long, her gaze drifted towards the chocolate again. She grinned, leaning forward to take the packet, and tossed it into Fareeha's hands.
"Finish them. You can afford it."
"Thanks," she said sheepishly. Her hand reached into the packet nevertheless.
"So, how are you feeling?" Angela asked. "Now that you've had your first mission with us. Will you be staying longer?"
Fareeha remained silent for a while, chewing on both her chocolate and answer. She had taken a leave of absence from Helix in order to join Overwatch. Or at least, get a taste of the organisation before deciding to join. It would not be easy, Angela knew. She had a squad that she cared about. Choosing to leave would be like leaving a family. That they were not allowed to keep in contact with anyone outside of Overwatch just made the decision all the more difficult.
"It has been to my expectations," she finally replied. "I'm still thrilled, actually. Joining Overwatch has always been a dream of mine."
"I heard. Ana told me you had posters of us all over your room," Angela said. "Your mother always did want you to follow in her footsteps."
"She did? Funny, she never told me." Fareeha's reply was dry, and Angela regretted her words.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought her up."
"It's alright," Fareeha sighed. "I'm getting used to it. Reinhardt's been talking non-stop about the 'good old days'."
"I'll get him to stop, if you like."
"No, no! It's fine. He seems to enjoy telling me about my mother, anyway. Just let him be." Fareeha shrugged, popping another bite of chocolate.
"It is just odd, you know?" she said suddenly, breaking the silence before it could settle in. "Hearing so much about her from so many different people. It seems–" Fareeha stopped as abruptly as she had started.
"Yes?"
"It seems she's made quite an impact here," she finished.
If her tight-lipped smile was any indication, Angela suspected that was not what she wanted to say. But she let it drop. Fareeha would open up at her own time.
"She has. And I think you would too."
Fareeha held her gaze for a moment before tilting her head in acknowledgement. Then she dug for the last remaining chocolate, tossing it into her mouth, and rose from the chair.
"It's getting late, and I've taken up enough of your time." Fareeha shook the empty chocolate package in her hand. "Thanks for the snack."
Angela raised a brow, escorting Fareeha to the door. "Were you only staying for the chocolate?"
"Maybe," the soldier replied, smirk on her lips.
"Horrible person." Angela tapped on the controls, the door sliding open in response.
"If anything I've heard from the others is true, you are one too," Fareeha riposted, smirk growing into a grin.
"Well then, you'd have to stay to find out, won't you?" Angela paused as Fareeha stepped out into the hallway.
"Fareeha."
"Yes?" The woman turned towards her, hands moving to rest behind her back.
"The decision is entirely up to you, but… I would really like you to stay." Angela shifted her weight, leaning against the door frame. The air left her lungs as though she had just confessed a secret. "I think you'd make a great addition to the team."
"Will you have more chocolate for me if I stay?"
"I'm Swiss, my dear. I always have chocolate."
Fareeha nodded, smile never leaving her face. "A compelling incentive. I'll think it over, Doctor."
"Angela."
"Angela," she corrected herself without missing a beat. "Good night."
"Good night, Fareeha."
She watched the woman stroll away, before retreating back into the dimmer lighting of her room.
"Athena."
"Yes?"
"Where are the best chocolatiers in town?"
