Note: We're back again. Getting close to the end now, and we wanted to do something a little different before we wrap up. So, for those of you who like Mercy, here's a little something for you. Enjoy.


When Angela first met Lena, she did not know what to make of her. She had studied her file well. It was a habit of hers to learn everything about a potential ally before they met, so they could develop their relationship in a far more productive manner. She was not, after all, a fan of idle time that could have been spent furthering her research. Small talk and general formalities were nuisances that she could easily eliminate if she spent her time properly. Before she ever met Lena, she spent several hours combing over her records, memorizing everything she could. She studied her military background, and her medical history, and her education thoroughly, creating a perfect, life-like image in her mind of what Lena Oxton would be like, what she would say and think.

Of course, when she started her research, she did not expect to become so enthralled with the woman, and her bizarre affliction. When she first came across the term "chronal disassociation", her eyes lit up, and she felt her heart race as the excitement pulsed through her like a shot of adrenaline. Every word on the page, every symptom, every photograph beckoned her deeper, clinging to her mind and delivering her a euphoria she had not felt in years. How often was it that an entirely new disorder was discovered, one that warped the very fabric of reality as she knew it? Her curiosity was peaked, and she was filled the desire to study, to test, to learn truths about the world that had never been uncovered. An entirely new field of science lied just beyond her grasp, and she knew that through Lena Oxton, untold secrets would be revealed to her.

Yet, despite her research, she was unprepared for what occurred when they finally met. She remembered the details clearly. The meeting occurred in her medical lab. She was strapped inside a prototype Valkyrie suit, working on an adjustment to add increased lift in the wings. Though they were supposed to launch her high into the air, it soon became apparent that a miscalculation somewhere caused her to ascend only a few centimeters before falling back ungracefully to the earth. That particular bug had been bothering her for over a week, but she knew she was getting close to a solution. During one of her more successful tests, she successfully flew upwards three meters, and managed to hover in place for thirteen seconds without the wings failing her. It was while she was in mid-air that the door to the medical lab open, and the woman that had consumed her thoughts for weeks finally arrived, accompanied by the great gorilla giving her the tour of the watchpoint. The girl was dressed strangely; a casual T-shirt layered beneath a dull brown flight jacket and nonmatching trousers, with a pair of bright yellow goggles resting on a mess of unkempt brown mess of hair. The only other hint of color—aside from her pale complexion—came in the form of a massive, glowing piece of machinery wrapped snuggly around her torso. The girl stared upwards at her, dumbstruck, and when Angela smiled back, the girl practically melted under her gaze.

"And this, Lena," Winston stated, not noticing the hazy look in the girl's eyes, "is Dr. Angela Ziegler. Codename: Mercy. She's one of the foremost scientists in the field of nanobiology, and the head of Overwatch's medical division."

Lena outstretched her hand as Angela descended to her level. "It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Dr. Ziegler," she said breathlessly. "I've heard so much about your work."

"Please, call me Angela," said the doctor, taking Lena's hand and shaking it firmly. "And thank you. You're Lena Oxton, correct? I've read quite a bit about your case. It is great to finally meet the woman behind the miracle."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Lena said sheepishly.

"No, it is truly remarkable," Angela insisted. "You must let me examine you sometime when I am not so busy."

Lena grinned awkwardly at the remark. A nervous laugh escaped her throat, and her cheeks flushed. Angela only stared at her as her face rapidly transformed, from amusement, to shock, to embarrassment. Within seconds, Lena had switched among every possibility on the emotional spectrum, and yet she did not say a word, and she did not let go of Angela's hand. What was wrong with her? Was strong emotional dissonance an unquantified side effect of her disorder? Or perhaps there was some strange, perplexing thought wandering through her mind, altering her in some unknown capacity. Or, Angela realized, she could have misinterpreted her use of the word "examine", and simply had the emotional maturity of a five-year-old. That was a very likely possibility.

After countless seconds passed, Angela finally cleared her throat, and spoke up. "You're still shaking my hand."

Lena suddenly looked at her own hand in horror, and let out another nervous laugh. Her gaze shifted to the floor, and her cheeks burned brighter.

"Yes. Yes, I am," she noted timidly. Despite her acknowledgement, she did not stop shaking Angela's hand. In fact, Angela noticed her grip tighten, as if the girl was too afraid to let go. It took Winston thrusting himself back into the conversation before Lena finally released her grasp, and when she did, she tucked her hand behind her back, ashamed.

"Dr. Ziegler will be accompanying you on field assignments," he stated. "She's there to make sure nothing too bad happens to you."

"Well, I'm certainly looking forward to it," Lena said, trying her best to sound excited. "I'll hope you take good care of me, Doc."

"I'll try my best," Angela said, trying her best to match. "Now, if you excuse me, I have some kinks to work out of this suit. I'll see you later, Lena."

Lena did not look any more comfortable as Winston guided her out of the medical lab. As she turned away, Angela thought she could make out a smile stretch across her face, and whatever tension was in her shoulders leave her. It was not the meeting she had expected. Lena's profile was laced with tragedy; a young girl robbed of her own existence, forced to phase in and out of reality as her own body and time itself turned against her. Those experiences would break a normal person, cause them to retreat inwards and collapse. Yet, Lena did not seem burdened by her disease at all. At that time, Angela did not know what to make of Lena Oxton, but she was very certain of one thing: her research was going to become far more interesting.


"Well, I have to say that you are performing very well," Angela said proudly. Lena nodded in delight, her feet dangling innocently from the medical table. The doctor reviewed the results of the latest experiments carefully. Ten recalls in forty minutes. Reversed time interval: five seconds. Average margin of error for release: zero point three seconds. It was a vast improvement from only a week prior, and Lena showed no sign of slowing down. Despite her original hypothesis—that the extensive use of recall would to high levels of exhaustion, dehydration, and eventual delusion—the new recruit remained as chipper and talkative as ever. She had seemingly shrugged off all of the expected side effects, and judging by the delighted look upon her face, Angela could tell that Lena was quite pleased with herself.

Weeks had gone by since there first encounter, and in that time, Lena had agreed to Angela's rigorous tests. Jack wanted the girl ready for combat, and though the doctor opposed the idea privately, she was not going to let her commander down. However, that did not mean she needed to relax her standards. When dealing with an illness of unknown quality, it was important to check for any possible problems that might have been caused from either the effects of disassociation, or the overuse of the chronal accelerator beyond it's normal capacity.

And Angela checked often. Every morning at nine o'clock precisely, Lena would come to the lab in a plain white shirt and dark brown trousers, and strip down before Angela examined her, looking for lumps or lesions, irregular organ function and decreased brain activity. She would perform every physical test she could think of, from checking the reflexes in her knees to forcing her to take numerous CT scans to check for unnatural growths. Then, after all Angela was sure that Lena was not about to suddenly drop dead, she made the girl run a few experiments with her accelerator, and then repeated her tests before sending her away to complete other parts of her training with Winston. It was a long, complicated process that many Overwatch agents completed before, though never with the same level of scrutiny.

It was that reason why Angela continued to be so impressed with Lena Oxton, not just for her continued excellence of physical health, but because during all the tedious body searches, scans and prods, she never once complained about any of it. She simply stayed composed and confident, responding to every order from the doctor with passion and respect, as if it was a matter of great pride. Every day, she came to the lab and pushed herself harder than the day before, and every day, Angela found herself more and more fascinated with the girl stuck out of time.

"Does that mean that I can try to recall faster now?" Lena asked hopefully. "I think I'll be able to just fine."

"Let's not rush things," Angela said sternly. "These results are good; much better than I would have thought possible. But your health is the foremost concern, and I am not taking any chances."

"Aw, come on, Mercy," Lena moaned. She threw herself backwards onto the bed, pouting and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Angela hid a knowing smirk; Lena only ever called her by her code name when she wanted to tease her. "I know I can do it. Ten recalls in a quarter of the time. Can't you let me try just this once? I promise I won't break anything."

"You mean aside from your own body?" Angela asked passively.

"Oh, you're no fun," Lena said with playful anger. "You need to relax some of these regulations. I don't need to be tested one hundred times a day for the common cold, and I don't need to drink a glass of water before every time I use the accelerator."

"It's important to stay hydrated."

"My point is," Lena continued, "I'm capable of a lot more than you think I am. Winston thinks I can do more. Ana thinks I can do more. Jack thinks I can more. I just want you to give me that chance to show you what I'm really made of." Angela placed her notes down on a nearby counter, and casually began rummaging through a metallic drawer beneath her until she found her stethoscope. She casually walked over to the table and tapped Lena on the shoulder, beckoning her to sit up straight.

"Of course, I think you can do more, Lena," Angela said calmly, placing the round disk firmly against her chest, just outside of the accelerator. "You have managed to defy every expectation I had, and I am incredibly proud of what you've managed to accomplish in only a few short weeks. In fact, I might even say that you are almost mission ready, and I am sure that Jack would say the same. However, Jack Morrison is not the one who has to worry about your health, and he especially does not have to worry about any of the limitless things that could go wrong when working with experimental technology. I've been doing this for a long time, and if there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is that it is better to be thorough. I understand that's hard for you to do anything slowly, but you need to trust me on this. It is for the best."

"So, what you're telling me is that you've never once done any crazy practical jokes in medical school?" Lena said with a grin. Angela rolled her eyes, and moved her stethoscope to Lena's back.

"Oh, please…"

"You never did anything wicked, like swap one patient's head for another's, or steal the skeleton from the classroom, or nothing like that? You just studied in your room all day, playing by the rules, eating your fruits and vegetables? I think your problem is that you need to cut loose every once in a while."

"I'm being serious." Angela tucked away the stethoscope, and held out her fists, sticking out two fingers in each hand and pointing them at the ground. "Squeeze as hard as you can."

"I'm being serious, too," Lena said with a small laugh. She followed Angela's instructions wholeheartedly, yet never took her eyes off of the doctor's face. "I feel like I know nothing about you. I see you every day, and all you do is stare at your notes and take a bunch of measurements. There has to be more to you than that. What's the real Angela Ziegler like? What does she like to do for fun?"

Lena released her grip, and satisfied with the result, Angela moved onto her next test, shining a bright light into Lena's pupils, nose, and ears.

"What I like to do for fun isn't of any importance," the doctor said dismissively.

"It is to me. I can't not know anything about you," Lena said defiantly. "There are tons of things I want to know about you. What kinds of movies do you like? What's your favourite band, or your favourite food, or your favourite season? What zodiac sign are you? I won't go through life without getting to understand the people I meet. My brain won't let me. I was hoping you could tell me these things, and maybe…" Lena paused, and took a deep breath. "Maybe you'll be willing to tell me them over dinner?"

Angela, in the middle of examining Lena's right ear, stopped moving. The room fell silent, with the only noise coming from the test subject as she awkwardly squirmed around in her chair. The doctor remained frozen for a few moments, taking in the request in full, until she finally sighed and turned Lena to face her.

"Is that what this whole conversation has really been about?" she asked with a warm smile.

"Well, not the whole conversation," Lena blushed. "I didn't plan for it to end like that, but it kind of just… segued over there."

"I see," said Angela calmly. "And you honestly thought the best time to ask to take me for a romantic dinner was while I was giving you a physical?"

"Wha—I never said anything about it being 'romantic' at all," Lena stuttered. "And truthfully, I've been meaning to ask you for a while, and the best time never really came up, so… what do you say?"

Angela stared into Lena's darker eyes, and despite all the bravery involved in actually asking the question, all she saw was nervousness. The younger woman clearly put a lot of effort into it, and in a way, it was admirable. It was rare that someone would be so upfront about their feelings, especially given the circumstances. She did not doubt that Lena would make an excellent girlfriend; she possessed all of the right qualities to make any person happy. In the end, it was not a very hard decision to make. Angela opened her mouth, carefully selecting her words, and Lena leaned forward with anticipation.

"I'm flattered," Angela said sweetly, "but, I'm afraid I am going to have to turn you down."

Lena's hopeful exterior cracked. Angela saw the excitement fade from her eyes, and the girl quickly looked away, forcing through a smile to hide her embarrassment.

"Oh."

"Don't take it the wrong way," Angela added. "It has nothing to do with you. I try not to get to close to any of my co-workers. It makes things too complicated."

"I get it," Lena said quietly. "I probably shouldn't have tried to pressure you. I'm sorry for asking."

"Don't feel sorry. At least you were confident enough to ask me, which is more than many others are willing to do. Confidence is something you're going to need if you are planning to be an Overwatch agent."

"So, wait," Lena asked, confused, "that doesn't make you uncomfortable at all? It doesn't feel awkward? Because I feel awkward right now, and I'm not the one who just got asked out by their patient."

"Not at all, for a few reasons," Angela explained calmly, taking a reflex hammer from a nearby drawer and dropping beside Lena's knee. "First, and most obviously: I already knew you were interested in me."

Angela whacked Lena with the mallet, and her leg kicked out as a jolt ran through her body.

"How did you—"

"You tend to wear your emotions on your sleeve," said Angela. She muttered, "That, and Winston might have said something about it…"

"That damn dirty ape," Lena groaned with frustration. Angela whacked her other knee, and it responded in kind. The doctor, satisfied, put the tool to the side and took Lena's leg in her hands, bending and stretching it to her whim.

"Secondly," the medic continued, "you're not the first patient who has asked me on a date. You're not even the first member of Overwatch to do it."

"Really? Who else?"

"Patient-doctor confidentiality. And that is the third thing: my job is to make sure you stay healthy. That means I check your wounds, but I'm also supposed to make sure you stay mentally healthy as well. Keeping your feelings suppressed can lead to all types of psychological problems that you cannot afford to have, and so it is in everyone's best interest that you remain honest and open with me at all times. As long as you're in good health, I'm satisfied. Is that alright with you?"

"No, no, its fine," Lena assured her hastily. "Really, it's fine. I am more than happy to stay friends. More than happy. As long as you're satisfied, I mean."

"Good to know. I'm glad that we've gotten that out of the way. But there's one last thing you need to know," Angela said, leaning in close to the subject's ear. She felt her warm breath against her neck, and felt her shudder underneath her. "I really appreciate you telling me this. Honesty can sometimes be hard to come by around here. Thank you, Lena."

"Oh, it's… it's nothing, really… that's what friends do, I guess."

"I guess so. And you were right about one thing: I probably do need to relax a little bit. It might not be a date, but I was thinking that tomorrow, I could let you try some more—how do you say—risky experiments with the chronal accelerator."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Um, wow. Okay," Lena said in disbelief. "Not what I was expecting, but thank you, Dr. Ziegler—I mean, Angela."

The doctor moved away from the girl, and placed her hands on her hips, a satisfactory grin placed on her face. In terms of letting someone down easy, she was relatively proud of herself, despite her inexperience in the subject matter. Hopefully, it would not be an issue for any longer, and her work could continue as planned, now that Lena was far more understanding.

"Glad to be of assistance," she said happily. "Now then, this is probably going to sound very weird given the context, but I'm going to need you to strip."


Angela would never forget the battle of King's Row. In all her years working for Overwatch, she never brushed with death on so many occasions in a single day. From the moment she touched down in the streets of London, she was assailed by fury and gunfire on all sides. The omnic forces of Null Sector were overwhelming in their quantity; for every one that fell in combat, ten more just as strong would take its place, and each was infused with a purpose to kill any human it came across. The hail of bullets was so deafening that she could not hear herself think, and the smell of ash and smoke filled her nose and polluted her senses. It was as bad as Jack said it was; a peaceful city turned into Hell on Earth.

Yet, despite the ever-ensuing chaos, she was never concerned with her own safety. Instead, her fears were focused on her three teammates, who charged headlong into battle against the endless stream of omnics. Her job was support, which meant that she was forced to watch her comrades endanger themselves over and over again, while she did everything she could to keep them alive. Her job was never an easy one, but it was on that mission that she felt the pressure begin to reach her. The enemy was ruthless, and by the time she had finished healing one ally, another was thrust into danger. Still, they pushed forward, holding off the first wave of omnics as they marched forcefully down the streets of King's Row and into enemy territory. Reinhardt kept them protected with his barrier, which cracked and strained under the torrential storm of bullets, yet never faltered. Torbjörn blasted away with his rivet gun from behind cover, and scanned his surroundings constantly for a location to place a defensive turret.

And then there was Lena Oxton, or "Tracer" as they had come to call her. She was the true source of Angela's concern. It was her first field mission with the rest of Overwatch, and she had not a single second to relax before she was thrown into the open fire of war. Angela had been with her for only a few months, examining her, testing her, training her for combat. She knew firsthand that Lena was more than a capable fighter, and could hold her own with even some of their toughest warriors. Still, those fights were in a controlled environment, against a foe that was holding back. Null Sector would not treat her with the same level of respect, and would not stop until she was brought to her end. That kind of pressure would get to anyone, and Angela was not confident that Lena would make it back to the watchpoint unbroken, whether it was her body that broke, or her mind.

It was strange then that, when the team finally had a moment's reprieve from the fighting, and Angela looked over to the new recruit, she did not see any fear. What she found, much to her surprise, was Lena grinning more confidently than ever before, her determined eyes staring towards the danger, her pulse pistols charged and ready. It was a look of delight, of adrenaline caused by the intensity of the situation in which they found themselves. As Reinhardt stopped momentarily to rest, she moved forward, practically daring the rest of the terrorist cell to face her all by herself. Under normal circumstances, Angela would have been deeply concerned. Usually, she would have attributed such behavior to shock and trauma, and would have wrestled Lena back and forced her to go back to the drop zone. However, Angela sensed that was not the case. It was something else more powerful, something that energized her and drove her towards danger while the others ran from it. Many months later, Angela would finally realize what it truly was that pushed Tracer onwards that day: after so many years, she finally found somewhere she belonged.

When the reinforcements came, the speedster did not retreat behind Reinhardt's shield with the others; discarding her own safety, she dashed forward as fast as she could, blinking around enemy gunfire effortlessly. She sprinted up the sides of building as bolted across rooftops in a flash of blue light, all while unloading her pistols into the large, metallic husks of the dozens omnic forces. Angela watched in amazement as Lena took them down one-by-one, overloading their senses with a rapid assault so quick that their sensors could not keep up. Their bodies ruptured and exploded in turn as Lena circled them, laughing and taunting and hollering all while maintaining her relentless attack. Before the rest of the team could do so much as lift a finger, the next wave had already fallen, and Tracer stood over the heap of scrap metal, victorious and unharmed.

"Looks like these omnics' strategy is really starting to… fall apart," she said with a triumphant laugh.

"You didn't actually say that."

Jack Morrison took a large swig of the beer in his hand. Lena Oxton, standing atop the desk in his office and posing victoriously in the moonlight, pouted and groaned.

"Well, I meant to say it," she contended, "and I really did take out that entire wave by myself."

Angela shook her head and sighed happily. The strike commander's small office was packed to the brim with Overwatch agent, each with a drink in hand and a look of merriment plastered on their face. Every drink was different—from Jack's beer to Ana's white wine to Winston's banana smoothie—but each was consumed with the same level of enthusiasm. The entire room was buzzing, and despite the late hour of the day, it seemed like the festivities would never end. There was plenty of reason to be excited, after all. Overwatch had saved London from Null Sector, earning itself the first major victory in nearly a year after a series of disastrous PR scandals. It was just the mission to remind the world what they were capable of, and it was all thanks to a young, time-traveling recruit, who danced around on the commander's desk and towered above the rest of her comrades, all while still wearing her small blue cap.

"You're telling me that you took out two dozen—"

"Three dozen."

"—three dozen heavily armed omnic soldiers all by yourself in the span of a few seconds?"

"Hey, that she actually did," Torbjörn said with pride, a large drink in each of his massive hands. "I saw it with my own eyes. She blasted those damned machines apart like they were tissue paper."

"See, I told you!" Lena shouted gleefully. "I was all like, 'Freeze, omnics!' And they were all like, 'Resistance is futile!' So, then I was all, 'Pew pew! Pew pew! Pew pew!' And down they went."

"That's pretty impressive for a new recruit," Ana noted. "I think you found a good one, Jack."

"I think you might be right," Jack responded. "Of course, she's still young. We should probably have Angela run some more tests just to be safe."

"No! No more tests!" Lena protested. "Heroes don't have to get tested. Right, Angela?"

"She has a point there, Morrison," Angela laughed.

"And she's certainly a hero to me," Reinhardt added. "She saved my butt from the omnics more times than I can count."

"Aw, thanks, Reinhardt," Lena cooed. "You guys are the best. Seriously, the best. You all deserve this victory, each and every one of you. Without you guys, I don't know what I would do. Cheers, everyone!"

"Cheers!" came a resounding cry from the rest of the room, and the drinks were down with haste and pleasure. The only person to abstain from the act was Angela, who had remained by the door for the entire celebration, pressed against a wall and watching from the sidelines. In a way, she almost felt like an outsider looking in at the joys and victories of a group of close friends, but she liked to think otherwise. She was never one for parties; as much as she hated to admit it, Tracer was correct in assuming that she spent most of her days in university studying in her dorm. Large social gathering simply never appealed to her. Despite her preference to keep to the side lines, she did not mind watching the others have their fun. Lena, in particular, deserved to have it. Months of hard work finally paid off, and she could not have been prouder of her patient.

It was at that precise instant that her phone started to vibrate in her front pocket. She removed it absent-mindedly, her attention focused on Lena as danced and posed on top of the desk, and answered it with a basic, "Hello."

The voice on the other side talked to her in monotone. When it began, Angela did not pay much attention to the actual words. But, as it continued to drone on, and her mind slowly comprehended the information it just obtained, her smile began to fade, and the grip on her phone tightened, and she felt all of the air escape from her lungs. Angela quietly slipped away through the office door, and walked down the corridor to the medical lab. As she walked, the voice kept going, and she did not respond in any way. She merely listened to the voice, her mind blank, her feet moving independently, guiding her to her familiar home in the watchpoint. Several minutes passed, and she reached the door to the lab. She gently thanked the voice on the other end of the phone, hung up the call, and stepped into the lab. Once inside, she walked slowly to the medical table, sat on top of it, and rested her chin on top of her palms. She sat in pure silence for what seemed like an eternity, lost among her own thoughts.

In hindsight, Angela did not know why she became a doctor. She had always told herself that she became a doctor because she saw injustice in the world, and it was her duty to fight against that injustice while others could not. When she made the decision to join Overwatch, she believed it was for the same reason. And yet, she did not know if she ever believed herself. Sure, she told herself that she wanted to help others, but did she truly believe it? What if something else drove her, something darker, something more sinister and vile? Something that she did not want to believe in, and so she lied to herself repeatedly, desperately trying to trick her mind into believing she was something purer than she truly was? Perhaps she became a doctor because she wanted the money, or the thrill of the danger, or the fame and glory. Perhaps she had worked so hard to convince herself she was an angel because she was trying to contain the demon that lived inside of her all along. She dedicated her entire life to understanding the plights of others, and the truth was that after all those years, Angela still did not understand herself, and that terrified her more than any omnic ever could.

She did not know how long she had been sitting at the table when she heard footsteps down the hall, and the door suddenly propped open to reveal Lena's slender frame poking into the lab.

"Oh, there you are!" she said with delight, stepping inside. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You're missing the party. Jesse just started breakdancing. You need to come see it."

"I'll be right there, Lena," Angela said somberly. "Just give me a moment."

Lena only needed a passing glance to know that something was not right. She gently shut the door behind her, and took a cautious step forward.

"Is everything okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. It's fine," Angela said dismissively.

"What? What is it?" asked Lena. Her body tensed up, and she took another step forward. Angela took a deep breath, and stared blankly at the floor.

"I, um…" she said slowly. "I just found out that my mother passed away."

Lena stopped dead in her tracks, and fell silent. Angela pulled her legs onto the table, and hugged them close to her chest. Her eyes started to water, but she managed to fight back the tears.

"She died a few hours ago. Aneurysm. Nothing the doctors could do," Angela explained in mumbles. "I had always looked up to her when I was a child. She was the one who inspired me to get into medicine, and now… I can't believe that she's actually gone…"

Lena stood motionless in the center of the room, as Angela collapsed into herself. It took her a few seconds to adjust, but soon her feet moved from underneath her, and her arms stretched outwards, and before Angela could react, Lena did the only thing she knew how to do, and pulled her into a tight hug. Angela rested her head upon the younger woman's shoulder, and the tears fell softly down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," Lena whispered. "I am so, so sorry about your mother. I know what that's like, losing someone you care about and… I just want you to know that I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'm here for you."

Angela sobbed quietly, clinging to Lena for support. The two remained together for the rest of the evening, lost in each other's embrace. It was the most they could do for each other, but Angela did not mind. She did not want to be alone. She had no idea what to say to Lena, but something told her that the recruit did not care. She simply wanted what was best for her, and in that moment, what was best was to let her emotions finally come free. It was precisely what she needed, and Lena made sure to provide it. That night, Angela felt more confused and scared than she had felt in years, but one thing had made itself certain: Lena Oxton truly was full of surprises.


Angela stood in front of the doorway, her body cast in shadows. The black hoodie hid her face from ever-watching eyes, and she kept her gaze downwards to avoid unwanted attention. Her emotions had taken the better of her over the past several weeks. Hurting her friends, being threatened by Jesse, running away from Overwatch: all had taken a severe toll on her psyche. Yet, as she stood in front of the doorway, fist hovering in the air, she felt nothing but determination. It was her one chance to try to make things right. Despite her fear and her paranoia, she knew that she had to take it. She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. It was Angela's turn to be there for her.

She knocked on the door three times, her fist loudly crashing into the stained wood. She waited patiently outside, until the door finally opened, and a youthful, red-headed woman appeared, worry and confusion marked across her face. She looked just like she did in the pictures.

"Emily?" Angela asked.

"Yes?" replied the young woman nervously.

"My name is Dr. Angela Ziegler. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," stated the doctor. "I need to speak with Lena."