Summary: Zarya attempts to cope with some mental turmoil by herself. Eventually she lets her friends and loved ones help.
Warnings: You'll spend most of your time observing a broken woman. (Jeff Tapdancing Kaplan, Zarya, you can be a drama queen sometimes.)

(#3)

After discovering you've been forced to take a three day vacation, you don't want to leave your dorm in the mood you're in, so you lift some weights for a bit and take another shower.

When you're done gelling your hair and putting on some especially red lipstick, you pose and flex in front of the mirror for a while. Look at your fucking arms; you're a regular brick house and sometimes you can't even believe how amazing you actually are.

You slap one of your biceps and say to your reflection, "See this? That's right. Get on my level." You lock eyes with yourself in the mirror. "Hah, look at your face. You know you can't!"

Chuckling to yourself, you browse through a container under the sink full of nail polishes and pick out a new color. That's something else to kill a few more minutes.

You bring some of your manicure supplies with you to the kitchen and set up to paint your nails, and you notice that even though you're pretty sure you feel better than before, you can't shake the homicidal fantasies dancing through your thoughts. As you coat your nails with a base coat and then tint them blood-red (Like the only color your mind's eye can currently see) one by one, you remember how Lena called you 'impulsive'.

You always thought of yourself as someone who thinks everything through. You had all day to learn Mei was evil, and you're not dumb; a day's enough time. Lena didn't know what she was talking about, and you already saw how oblivious she was to Mei's dark ways.

Mei probably thinks you didn't see what she did. Your eyes narrow as you replay it in your mind. You can't imagine whether your wife has just a concussion or even a face anymore; she hit the wall like a fly on a windshield.

Why the hell did Mei think that was even a good idea? Why was she even out there on the running field?

Because she's fucking evil, you remind yourself, and you're gonna make sure you show Winston that suspending you was part of her plan.

Even saying her name in your mind sends you right back into the state of stress and anger you began with. A drop of your nail-polish falls from your brush and stains a placemat on the table.

You find yourself staring at it, watching gravity settle the liquid into the material. More stains appear, and you realize your hands have been shaking.

You feel almost like you can't relax until you see real blood.

—

Since you don't have to train, you're in the Oasis cafeteria by yourself at the table you usually take, in your hoodie and sweatpants. You've been really favoring red all day and you wear it like a venomous animal would display its warning markings. Lunch is starting really soon, and other Overwatch agents are trickling in to sit down after training.

You try to avoid eye contact, but the only way to do that is to rest your head in your arms like a sick school kid… still, you choose to do it.

For the past month you've been here in Iran with only half of the Overwatch crew you're familiar with, and mostly women. Not that it's a complaint, but not having men like Reinhardt or Jack (Or even Torbjorn, you'll take him too) at the watchpoint to talk to turns you into a bit of a brooding introvert.

You're not much of a small talker; you tend to talk when you actually have something to say, and nobody here cares about weightlifting. (You've already reminded everyone at least twice that you bench more than they do, and nobody cares; most of them just acknowledge the truth of the statement.) You consider the others your friends, of course, and they love and respect you just the same, but you just don't really have a lot of compatible interests. (Except, of course, with your wife.)

More agents are starting to show up and your eyes search the doorways for Tracer from under your hood. You stick out among the others in their various training getups. You feel almost like you're wearing a prisoner's uniform in comparison, like everyone knows exactly why you're wearing this. You wonder who the ape told about the suspension.

That fucking ape, you think. You can't even believe sometimes that you live in a world where you answer to one. He's not even a cute one you can coo at either. You laugh mentally at your jabs.

"Oi, Aleks, is that you?" The familiar voice brings you back to the cafeteria. Wow, not even your wife recognizes you in these clothes?

You straighten up in your seat when you hear her, looking all around the room. She skips in from the doorway leading to the infirmary and bounces into her usual seat next to you, pointing proudly to the blood-soaked gauze taped to her face.

"Look! I broke muh nose!" She beams. "Had a bit of an accident on the field. Needed a good thirty stitches just to stick it back to my face!"

"I can see that, good job." Even in your sour mood, her excited delivery of the news makes you chuckle. You both like to laugh injuries off and even show them off like this to one another. 'No pain, no gain', is one of your mantras, after all.

You try to act like you're learning about it for the first time as you inspect the dressings Mercy administered to your wife. It's a bit worse than you thought, honestly. She probably can't take this stuff off for at least three weeks, probably longer…

There's a few seconds of silence and your eyes start to wander as you almost lift off into thought-space again. There's just so much on your mind.

Tracer seems to sense it without even having to ask, and you feel her pull one of your hands into hers under the table. It snaps you back out of your thoughts and you turn your head to her again, surprised.

She's never held your hand in the open, and especially not while she's on training duty.

"Aleks, I know the next few days are gonna be hard. I heard about the suspension," she says in a low, somewhat nasally voice only you can hear, looking down at your hands in her lap. As she talks to you, she fidgets with your fingers, admiring your newly painted nails. "You look positively miserable, love… Is there anything your wife can do?"

You squeeze her hand a bit after hearing that, like you just felt a jolt of pain. You feel like not piledriving the new Overwatch recruit from the roof of the university caused Tracer's broken nose, and she doesn't even care; her concern right now is you. It almost overwhelms you.

"You need to rest so you don't aggravate the injury. Let me take care of you." You try to smile to reassure your wife. "I am free this weekend, after all…"

"Love… That's the only thing I can't do." Tracer sighs. "But I can come spend the night at your dorm again tonight! How's that sound?"

"You have medical clearance with that?"

"Eeehh, technically." She winks. You were really hoping she didn't insist on it like you're pretty sure she did, but you know that's selfish. You actually really respect the ambition.

The background noise of others in the cafeteria slowly dies down as time passes and people start to leave for more training. You know you have to let your wife go back to work soon and figure out what to do with yourself while you rot for 72 more hours.

"I gotta run," she says, as she starts to pull your hands apart. She gives yours one last reassuring squeeze. "Just hang in there for me til' tonight, all right?"

—

You spend the next few hours quietly roaming the campus of the empty university, bored out of your mind. There is a look on your face that you haven't had since your Russian Defense Force days. You're bereft of emotion, your eyes pierce through everyone, and you have this pretty ridiculous, distant tone in your voice, like a sagely guru from a movie. (It could be argued that your hood over your head is enhancing the vibe.)

You can't touch any equipment while you're suspended, so the gym's off limits. That might possibly be the worst thing about this, you think. You have to sit around by yourself for hours, watching as the other heroes go about their duties. There's no particular TV series for you to binge on like some, no friends on the internet to waste your time with. You have almost three days where you're going to have to spend the majority of your time with nothing but your thoughts, roaming the watchpoint like some kind of stray animal.

For someone like you, this is beyond punishment; this predicament is torture, and you're considering reporting Winston to Public Relations.

When your emotions run high like this, you have to remind yourself a lot that humans aren't designed for so much stress, and it will make you act a bit off. As you find a seat outside on a bench and watch some heroes train on the other side of the field, you think of something Lena once said to you.

You're allowed to be frustrated. You're allowed to show emotions. You've gone through a lot, Aleks, and all it ever does is make you stronger and smarter.

Even so, sometimes you forget how important it can be to face them, to let them run their course, and you become this Siberian bear of a woman when you finally give in, high-strung with anxiety and ready to swing at anyone.

You don't like that about yourself…

"WTF, Zarya?"

You try so hard not to jump, so so hard, but you do. You don't know how much time you spent daydreaming this time, but now 's come to engage you. She had wandered over to your bench with her Meka following behind her, and you're not sure how long she's been standing there. (This is just normal for you, huh?)

All you can really do is stare attentively right now. She sits with you and stares back, an eyebrow raised.

"You've been acting weird all day. Reeeally weird. I've been watching you…" She shoves you gently. She doesn't let you respond before she's back on her feet, tugging on one of your hood's drawstrings.

"C'mon, let's talk. You look like you need it. I just finished for the day."

At first you're reluctant, but as you follow the younger girl off the field and to the recreation room(It's one of her favorite places to hang out), you decide Hana might actually be the perfect person to vent to right now.

"Okay… I'm just gonna be honest," Hana says, staring into her phone thoughtfully, after she takes in about five uninterrupted minutes of your problems.

You prepare yourself for her judgement. You just bore your deepest, darkest secrets to her, something you don't do with just anybody. You're confident that she'd be just as candid with you, like the good friend you've always known the girl to be.

"…I think Mei's a bitch too."

Your eyes are as wide as saucers. You weren't expecting her to agree…

"I still don't get why you had to 'destroy the coat!'" She jokingly mocks your voice as she says it, "but thanks for doing that. Feels good knowing that was you."

Hana snickers, thumbing through a website. She adds after a pause, "I figured it was when she told everyone. She was playing it off like a victim. Winston's 'concerned for her safety' around you, lol."

You look at the metal device you've been squeezing over and over in your hand; you found it in a crate of equipment, and even exercising your hand is cathartic. "He should be. She broke Lena's nose. She is due for a broken face." Your voice deepens. "I will reposition it to the back of her skull with my fist."

"Damn, you really do hate her," Hana glances up at you. "That sounds fuuucked up. Holy shit, Zarya." She goes back to scrolling, mumbling, "jeff kaplan, is that what war does to people… brains all over the place… i can't fucking un-see that now…"

You shrug. "It's how I feel. You told me to tell you everything going through my mind."

She nods and laughs as she puts her phone away, standing up and walking over to a ball rack near the two of you. "Yeah yeah. Come over here and reposition these. Beating the shit out of something is supposed to help you calm down. I just read a Tumblr post about it."

As you follow 's lead and inspect the different sport balls available to you, you wonder how you didn't think of that yourself. She finds a basketball she likes and passes it to her Meka, which dribbles it and bounces it back to her.

You pick up a volleyball and turn it around in your hands. Hana sees this and encourages you. "Yeah, what you need is some of that rigorous physical activity! I know you. Hit the ball as hard as you can, it'll feel good."

Your eyes narrow as you stare at the ball. You don't even see it anymore. You're holding Mei's stupid, ugly head, and she's laughing right to your face.

"You're such a raging bitch, Zarya! Hahah!"

You scowl at her. "Why did you try to kill me!?"

She gives you a sarcastic look of guilt, and your grip on her tightens as you hear her answer. "You know how the saying goes… Shit happens. Right?"

Your heart rate is climbing right now, and you're shaking a little, and is staring hard, but you're not even in the room with her anymore.

"Hahahah, just you wait. I'm gonna get you fired! And then I'm gonna take your position…" Ice Bitch smugly grins. "…and I'm gonna fuck your wife."

Wow. She went there. She really did. You're done listening to this.

Your blood-red nails dig into the volleyball and burst it, and you tear the deflated material in half. "NO YOU'RE NOT!" You throw the ball to the floor and crush it under your shoe, then shoot a dirty glare right to .

She throws up her hands. "Look, I have no idea what just happened, I'm not judging you… but let's switch to pillows before you wreck all of those…"

—

Hana is a great friend, you think, as you're on your way back to your room for the evening. You don't bother to pick every single bit of stuffing and down off of you after you ruined three pillows, so as you're walking, you leave a dotted trail of fluff in your wake.

You don't really notice the omnic following you with a vacuum, either, and thank Kaplan for that.

You kind of regret forgetting to find out what Mei's said and done while you haven't been able to watch her, but you're too excited to see your wife to care about her for the moment. When you get to your door and put your thumb on the handle to unlock it with your fingerprint, a message on the small screen above it informs you that Lena already stopped by.

Maybe she's still here, you think, locking the door as you get inside. You unzip your hoodie and toss it on a chair as you pass through the kitchen, and you find her in your bedroom, sprawled out and asleep in one of your T-shirts.

The light's still on, so she must have been here a while just waiting for you. She didn't try to call you or anything. You wonder why as you carefully lie in bed next to her, watching as she sleeps. Forgetting about your own woes and focusing on your wife's is always so therapeutic for you. (You don't call yourself Mother Russia just because it sounds badass.)

Your wife's beautiful face is still covered in medical tape, of course. You gingerly kiss the bridge of her nose, and she opens her eyes as you pull away.

She chuckles sleepily. "There you are…" Then she tries to nuzzle your chest, but she flinches in pain and grabs her nose. You can't help but sit up in alarm.

"Aah! Fuck, this really hurts now. It never hurts right away…"

You see a discarded ice pack on the night stand. Lena must have brought it in here. You reach over for it, feel it's still cold, and offer it to her. Lena rolls onto her back and balances it on her face, letting it cover her eyes in the process.

"Thanks, love." She sighs and you can hear the fatigue and disappointment in it.

"Of course, myshka." You try to comfort her by lying back down with her, massaging her head and temples, brushing her hair from her face. She blindly feels for your other hand and fidgets with your wiggling fingers on her stomach. You know she's asleep again when the movements eventually stop, and you keep her secure in your arms until you fall asleep too.

—

"Oh, come on! I can aim a gun without havin' ta smell anything!"

Your wife's nasally yelling wakes you up, and you find her at a window, a hand to her earpiece. You can barely make out Mercy's voice as they argue for another minute before Tracer stomps her foot in a tantrum. "Fine! Fine, but just for today…. I'll see you at training tomorrow… YES I WILL. Ugggh! You can't do this to me, doc!"

She gets disconnected without an answer and turns slowly to look at you, staring at her from bed.

"…..Mornin', love. Looks like I'm off today after all." She kind of looks around the bedroom awkwardly, bouncing in place, before returning her attention to you with a clap of her hands.

"So…. Wanna shag?"

You blink twice and rub your eye. You're not even fully awake. "All day..?"