Back in the Saddle, Again
AN: This is the Thrid Angela Z. (POV) Chapter. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 6: Steam
The Overwatch MedBay-3 was generally used for long term care. When operatives broke a hip or shattered a vertebra, they were often off their feet for months. As a result, the MedBay was well stocked with all the amenities required for long term stays.
Drawers were full of hospital gowns and Overwatch uniforms. Bedrooms were stocked with clean sheets and fluffy comforters. Small canteens were stocked with espresso machines, and little sandwich makers.
Luckily for Jesse McCree, the MedBay also had several well stocked private bathrooms. Angela was leading him to one now.
Hopefully the hot water does him some good… She thought. Our rowdy patient has a predisposition for trouble…
Angela strutted down the hallways of MedBay-3 and found the shower room that she remembered from training. Jesse McCree was still some ways down the hall, taking his time following the her. Angela crossed her arms and looked at him cautiously as he approached her.
"This shower is stocked with anything you might need. Please clean yourself up. As thoroughly as you can."
Angela paused and took a measured look at her patient. He was staring at the door blankly, almost ignoring her.
"When you are done, please come find me in the exam room again. Also, I would like you to change your clothes. There are clean exam clothes in the room right here."
Angela pointed in the direction of the changing room, but McCree was already halfway through the bathroom door.
"Fine." he called over his shoulder.
The door closed, and Angela heard the clink of the engaged door lock. Angela straightened her lab coat and turned on her heel. She meandered around the hallways as she thought about her strange morning.
Where did I go wrong? She wondered. Was I too mean?
Angela felt like laughing. Shy and fragile Angela Ziegler hurting the feelings of a cold hearted killer. What a comical day indeed.
Her thoughts turned to her patients scared back again.
He is hiding something. I know it. But why? What could he be hiding?
Angela remembered McCree towering over her again.
Why do I care? If he wants to be a liar that's his business, none of mine.
Angela wanted to make excuses. She wanted to say that she didn't give a damn about the lying criminal agent. That she only wanted to have an accurate medical report that wasn't full of bogus horse riding injuries.
Despite her excuses, Angela could not deny that she was intrigued by Jesse McCree. The confidential material in his medical report. His evasive responses. The whole cowboy act that hid his true intentions.
What was it... She pondered. What was it that he said...? There was something there… I'm sure of it…
"So I'm too filthy for you Doc? You wanna reschedule me with someone else so you can be done with me right? I don't get a say in how my scheduling works. I don't get to pick who takes care of me. I'm a prisoner here. I do what I'm told."
Filthy. doesn't get a say. doesn't get to pick. A prisoner. A prisoner who takes orders.
Angela smelled a mystery in Jesse McCree. There was something out of the ordinary here.
A prisoner. A prisoner who takes orders…
Angela was finally calmed enough to concentrate on her project again. Her fingers whirred over her laptop keyboard, moving Valkyrie from ideas in her mind into schematics on her screen.
I'm close... She thought to herself. A few more weeks... a reconstruction or two and I'll submit the design...
Angela had thought that many times over the past few months. Every time she "completed" her project she always found something new to be improved upon.
Part of it was anxiety. Angela knew the Overwatch Medical Command would be looking at her Valkyrie technology very closely. She had to convince them that it was a practical and useful design. She had to impress them. Wow them. Make them see that that her brilliance was wasted in MedBay-3.
The other part of it was Torbjörn Lindholm. She had seen the evasive little man once or twice. Waddling around the mess hall or stomping down to his underground forge. Besides that, she knew nothing about him, or how to approach him with a design as complex as the Valkyrie.
Soon. I have to submit the design soon… Then they will see. I'll show them.
Angela was broken out of her trance as she heard the distinct sound of spurred boots coming down the hallway.
Cowboy is here. Back to work.
Angela stowed away her laptop and turned to greet her patient.
Jesse McCree strode into her office, looking like a different man entirely. He was now wearing a casual Overwatch staff uniform, a black T-shirt with grey pants, both adorned with the Overwatch logos.
His dirt brown hair had been cut a little and combed. Sloppy facial hair had cleaned up nicely. Dirty skin had been scrubbed to reveal a healthy looking bronze sheen. Even his posture seemed to have improved. Gone was the stiff and brooding hunch, McCree looked relaxed and easy.
He looks good... He looks better than good... he looks...
Angela couldn't even bring herself to finish the thought. Jesse McCree had a nice body, this she knew. But under the dirt and soot, it was hard to tell that he was... handsome as well.
Brooding deep set eyes that were so mysterious. A well-defined face complimented by a strong jawline. Sideburns that didn't go too far, but helped accent his bold eyebrows and chin hair. A good smile that showed off teeth surprisingly white for a smoker. That, along with a well built body made McCree more than good looking. It made him...
Attractive...
Angela tried to say something, but she couldn't find her words. Eyes wide, she simply motioned for McCree to take a seat on her exam table. Busying herself with her clipboard again, Angela took a moment to compose herself for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day.
He's still wearing that tacky belt. He doesn't need it anyway. His pants are fit tight anyway. He has good hips. They do all the work. Keeping his pants up that is. Dammit.
Angela desperately tried to get the image of her patients thick legs and strong hips out of her mind.
No. Nonononono. No. I just need to finish up here. I'm going to finish up and go home. Yes. That is what I am going to do. I'm going to go down the checklist and finish this like any other exam.
Angela cleared her head and started almost too abruptly.
"Mr. McCree we have a full day ahead of us and I would like to get started with the Allergies and Reactants test..."
Angela went on, filling the empty air with rapid fire commands and instructions. She started off awkwardly, but soon recovered her vibe. Before long she was working like a machine, flying down her checklist at a breakneck speed.
She drew his blood. She tested his nerve responses. She tested his range of movement, and his eye response. She tested his heart and lung function. (Which returned results surprisingly good for an active smoker.)
Angela was about to force her patient onto a treadmill when he finally broke the peace and said something.
"Uhh... Dr. Ziegler, do you mind if we take a lunch break or something? I'm famished here. Didn't get any breakfast."
Angela felt her medical mind grind to a halt as she turned to her attention to her own body. Her stomach had been rumbling for some time now, but she had been ignoring it dutifully. A lunch break might do them some good she decided. She had already finished all the exams that required an empty stomach, so why not?
"Sure, we can absolutely do that. We will take a break and return in forty-five minutes. Then we will continue with your examination."
The dashing cowboy nodded at her and grabbed his hat. He was out the room and down the hall in half a second. Angela waited for a few moments and then set out after him. They were both heading to the mess hall, but she didn't want to awkwardly make small as they walked the distance.
Her impatience got the better of her though, as it only took a few moments for her brisk stride to catch up with the cowboy's lazy stroll. She tried to walk slower, but it was too late.
McCree was holding open the lobby exit door, looking at her expectantly. Angela walked through the door, offering a meek "Thanks." in response.
What a gentleman... she thought sarcastically. He's going to try to charm me again. He should know better by now. I won't fall for it.
They walked in silence, side by side, out the door and into the crisp fall air. It was a quiet day in Watchpoint Gibraltar. The courtyard was completely silent, except for the jingle jangling of McCree's spurred boots, and the sharp taps of Angela's red flats.
"So... Doc." McCree started, "where ya from?"
Here we go... Angela thought. Let's see how subtle he is this time...
"I'm from Switzerland." she said simply.
"That sounds about right." McCree replied. "You look kinda like the Swiss girl on those hot chocolate packets."
McCree chuckled to himself, but Angela couldn't even bring herself to smile.
Oh how original Mr. McCowboy... Every blue eyed blonde girl in Switzerland gets compared to some stupid mascot on a chocolate box. Try harder.
She didn't say anything in response, so McCree didn't say much of anything either. They continued in silence for a time.
He gave up that easily? She wondered after a while. Maybe I should give him something to work with.
Angela pondered for a moment, trying to find something in her environment to rekindle the conversation. She wanted to gather information. Something that would help her solve the mystery of Jesse McCree.
Weather? Time of year? Holidays? No... I want to dig here. Something investigative. Something that reveals more about who he really is...
"Quite a storm we had last night." She started. "Does it rain much where you're from?"
"No it doesn't. We get maybe a month of rain in the rainy season, that's about it."
"Is that why you were all muddy this morning then?" she asked lightheartedly. "Playing in the rain last night?"
"No, nothing like that. I was out and about most of yesterday. Playing in Mongolia instead of the rain."
Mongolia? What was he doing in Mongolia? Last night?
"Mongolia? Is that where you are from?"
McCree looked at her incredulously, no doubt bewildered that anyone could think that a cowboy with an American Southwestern drawl could come from a place like Mongolia.
"No, that was just business. I'm from Texas."
Did you live in Texas, or did you get caught there? Angela wondered.
Her mind turned to the medical record again. She was pretty sure that there was a mention of a prison in Texas. She smelled a lie, but couldn't be certain that anything was amiss.
"I hear Texas is a nice place." she said mildly. "What brings you all the way out to Gibraltar?"
McCree didn't say anything for a long while, and Angela wondered if she had pushed for too much information. She had been pretending to be uninterested for most of the day. Surely this burst of interest would make him a bit suspicious...
"I've just got some business to settle with Overwatch. Business that has to be settled in person."
Angela heard the grim tone in his voice. He was lying obviously. No business matter required trips to Mongolia late at night. No common visitor would be ordered to get a full medical examination. Jesse McCree was clearly an agent or a special operative. That was the only thing that could explain the amount of classified information in his file.
A prisoner. A prisoner who takes orders…
"I wumbo, you wumbo, he she we wumbo, wumboing, wumbology, they study of wumbo...come on Spongebob, this is first grade!" -Patrick Star, 2002