When Medic arrived at the small bar downtown, Mercy was already waiting for him. She had traded her armor for a dark blue summer dress that, as she has been told, went wonderfully with her blonde hair, while Medic had simply discarded his vest and rolled up his sleeves to make himself look more casual. Last minute he had noticed an ugly blood stain on the side of his white shirt (he couldn`t remember whose it was though) but it had been too late to change, so he just hoped she wouldn`t notice. He didn`t have the nerve to fight with her now.

They greeted each other politely, and entered the location. Medic raised an eyebrow. This place was unexpectedly nice. It was small but cozy, dimly lit without being dark, the decoration was tasteful, and though it wasn`t crowded in there, there were enough people so it didn`t look criminal. And, according to Dr. Ziegler, they served the best scotch here. He had to admit, the blonde had a good taste.

They settled in a seating corner far enough from the other customers and ordered their drinks, two glasses of 15 year old Bowmore Single Malt, and sat in awkward silence until their drinks arrived – or so Medic thought, when Mercy suddenly let out a small yelp and pointed to his shirt.

"Is that … blood?"

"Ah, yes, it appears to be. But don`t worry, it`s not mine."

He smiled at her contentedly, while she furrowed her brows.

"But we only fought against omnics today, didn`t we?"

His smile dropped, and he hastily began examining his side. "Interesting. Looks like it is mine after all. That`s new."

She opened her mouth to say something – probably a derogative comment – but was interrupted when a decidedly annoyed looking young waitress came to the table to serve their drinks. Carefully, Medic lifted the glass to his mouth.

`This is expensive`, he thought. `No need to just swallow it down without tasting. Try to enjoy it.`

To his own surprise though, he didn`t even have to try – it tasted good. Really good. Besides, he`d pretty much expected his tastebuds to have commited suicide after all the years of drinking that mislabeled gasoline Mann Co. had sold them as alcohol, and it felt comforting that this wasn`t the case. He gave Mercy, who`d already emptied half her glass, an approving nod. She smiled.

`Now or never.`

"Sooo… you wanted to tell me something."

She winced, shifted uncomfortably on her seat and avoided his gaze, before she gave a hesitant answer. "´Wanted´ isn`t exactly the right word for it, but I guess I promised it, didn`t I. Here we go. It…it started with parents` death."

"Taken by war when you were only seven, right?" He was quite proud of himself to remember that, as it had only once been mentioned in a magazine a few years ago.

She laughed joylessly. "Taken by war; yes, that`s what the always say. Not entirely wrong, but also not right.

It`s true, my parents fought in war and always left me wondering whether I would see them again – sometimes they were gone for months at a time. It was hard for me, but nothing I couldn`t handle. When they died, they were home; it was christmas evening, we were having dinner, music played and I felt as secure and loved as a child my age should. And that`s when they came."

Medic leaned forward. "They?"

Her eyes finally met his again, and he could see grief and hatred glistening in them. "Mercenaries, five of them. They broke down the door without a warning, and stormed in. Two of them grabbed my father and held him in place, while a third one punched and kicked him repeatedly; two others took hold of my mother, forced her down onto the couch and – well, I didn`t see it because the fifth one knocked me out, but she was a beautiful woman, I can imagine what they did to her. I awoke a few hours later in the hospital with a broken nose and two injured ribs, and received message that both my parents were murdered. I know what you might think now; that someone hired them, that they were only doing their jobs. They weren`t. They did work for the enemy, but the war activities were ceased during the holidays, that`s why my parents were home. These mercs were spending their free time in my hometown and when they discovered the house of the famous General Ziegler and his family, they decided to just –"

Her voice broke, but she didn`t cry. She inhaled deeply, and spoke up again. "When we met your team, I was reminded of those bastards. You are exactly like them: ignorant, brutal, no honor, no respect for the lives of others. It disgusts me."

Mercy had been prepared for nearly every look he could give her, from surprise to amusement to pure anger – basically everything but the tired and worn out expression that had settled on his face during her story. He suddenly looked so much older.

"We are not like that." The whispered answer was so quiet that if she`d not been waiting for it, she might have just missed it.

"And why is that?"

He sighed and sat up straight, and although the weird look on his face was still present, he spoke louder now.

"You were right about those mercenaries not ´just doing their jobs´. They did what they did because of the simple fact that they could, and that they wouldn`t be charged for it; their employer would protect them. You wouldn`t believe, what a person is capable of under these circumstances."

"But you do?"

He gritted his teeth. "I… had the pleasure of being at the mercy of men like that. Of men only following orders."

His arm changed position slightly to reveal a row of numbers tattooed into his underarm, and Mercy`s eyes widened in shock. Sure, birth date and nationality implied a certain involvement, but she had somehow expected him to have been on the other side. Compassion for him rushed over her.

"Medic…"

He gestured her to be silent. "Let me talk, bitte. What I want to say is that I saw what those people are like, and I can promise you, we are not like that. We may not act like the saints you Overwatch agents claim to be, but we are not as heartless as you portray us. We are simply trying to have fun; to make the best out of our situation."

Mercy leaned forward a bit. "What situation exactly?"

"I had hoped you wouldn`t ask." He remained silent for a little while, thinking through if he should tell her. He apparently went for yes.

"Firstly, I`ll have you know that none of us got into that field of work voluntarily – except Soldier, probably – but we did, because for every one of us came a point in life where we had no other choice. So naturally, the first five years most of us just kept going because someone was waiting for them at home. Then our team disbanded, and – actually, I`ll spare you the whole story, it`s not that important. What you need to know is that the Administrator, after finding out that all Australium was gone, wanted to fire us once and for all, but changed her opinion last second."

"How come?"

"I had gotten my hands on a small dose of the substance and was certain that I could improve it; by a lot. Also, we were her most successful team ever, so she gave it a go. We worked two more years for her before…before I did it. After all the time of researching and experimenting-"

Mercy cringed at his mention of experiments.

"- I had created a new form of Australium, that, if injected directly into the heart, could prolong the subject`s life by multiple years. When I presented it to the Administrator, she ordered that the whole team should be given those injections, and no one objected; most could use some extra time and extra money."

She was confused. "So, what`s your point?"

"Doctor Ziegler, I – I made a mistake during my calculations. I originally thought that one would live a few years longer without aging before the next injection was needed, but as the years went by I realized that that wasn`t necessary; one dose could make a human being completely resistant to the aging process."

"But…isn`t that more of a good thing?"

He shook his head. "No. You see, the substance didn`t have any effect on the Administrator because of her having been under the influence of normal Australium before, and she died eventually, leaving us without an employer, without a leader. We went home once more, but… none could find happiness for long. They had to watch their loved grow old and die, because I couldn`t undo what I had done to them. So, we got back together and resumed our work; after such a long time as a mercenary, that was the only thing we were really good at."

"That is… really sad and I feel incredibly sorry for you, but – and please don`t get me wrong now – but couldn`t you have just, you know, killed yourself if you didn`t want to live on?"

"Dying is not what they wanted; they wanted to grow old with their partners, wanted to have children with them, wanted to just live. And I took it from them. They don`t hold a grudge against me, but I can feel that this is not the life they wished for."

Mercy could feel that she was getting a headache. This was a lot to take in. She felt sorry for the nine mercs, and embarrassed for blaming Medic for heartlessness. He definitely did care about his friends and hadn`t wanted this fate for them. But there was still one question left to ask.

"During your story, everytime you talked about coming home or wanting a family, you always said them. Not me, not even us; always them. What about you?"

"I never had someone who would have been worth it."

This hit her even harder than his story. "Es tut mir leid. I didn`t want this evening to take such a dark turn."

He shook his head, and from one second to another, like flipping a switch, his usual cheerfulness was back, and he grinned at her.

"I think I know how to solve that problem. I propose we order some more of this fantastic scotch – my treat – and then head over to my quarters to have some fun."

She raised an eyebrow. "G-rated fun, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Spy`s room was empty when Tracer and Scout hacked the keypad on his door and entered.

"Don`t touch anything!", Scout warned her right away. "He notices every little change, even if it`s just the smallest crease in his blanket; also, you don`t wanna know what he keeps in his drawers…" He shuddered at the memory and grimaced.

"Are you serious?" Tracer asked, chuckling nervously.

"Yup. Same goes for Medic by the way, just in case you`re planning on sneaking around there too."

"Hey! Don`t make it seem like this was my idea!"

Scout answered her with a grin, and then made his way over to a grey steel locker, that didn`t belong to the standard equipment; Spy must have brought it along himself. A bad idea, obviously, because the boy cracked the lock with ease.

"You did this before, huh?"

"Several times already! Really, for a guy that always acts this mysterious and stuff, Spook really buys the cheapest locks. One time I even stole his cloaking device for 24 hours without him noticing, that was awesome!"

Lena laughed. "Oh my god. What did you do with it?"

"Spy on my teammates, of course! … Ehm, not something I would suggest. I saw so many things…"

He faked a post-war traumatized expression and stared off into the distance, until she jokingly slapped him on the arm.

"Stop it! Let`s just grab the alcohol and get out of here, alright?"

The locker was big enough for two people to stand comfortably in it, inside various bottles of wine and whiskey alongside Egyptian cigarettes were stocked on a shelf. Scout extended his hand to grab some of those treasures, when they heard two noises outside: an awfully familiar voice, and the beeping of someone inserting the code into the pad on the door. Oh crap. The runners looked at each other helplessly, before jumping into the locker and slamming the metal door closed behind them, just as Spy entered his quarters. He was on the phone.

"À 8 heures? Oui c`est possible, et…quoi? …Je suis jamais en retard!"

He walked around as he was talking, and suddenly came dangerously close to their hiding space. Tracer and Scout held their breaths.

"Je sais, je sais, mais écoutez moi…"

Cling.

The door swung open a bit after Lena`s foot had bumped against it in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. She glanced at Scout, panicking, and met his gaze, reassuring her that, indeed, they would die in this locker, now. Outside was terrifying silence for a few seconds.

"Un moment, s´il vous plait." The Frenchman stepped closer, pushed the door closed and locked it in one single motion. "C´est rien, j´ais oublié de fermer mon placard… qu`est-ce que vous avez dit?"

With that, Spy grabbed a coat that had been lying on his bed and left, leaving the two runners dumbfounded and locked in.

"Shit", was Scout`s only comment. Lena leaned against the wall with a sigh, her chrono-accelerator being the only light source. She buried her face in her hands.

"Don`t worry", the boy tried to calm her down. "Spy is probably gonna laugh when he finds us here; we`ll die another day, promised."

"But that could take hours, maybe even the whole night! And we can`t scream for help either, because honestly, this isn`t a position I want to be found in – you know, locked in with a guy, you especially. People are gonna talk."

`She`s right`, Scout thought. `Okay, now you gotta play it cool; change the topic.` He eyed the shelf on his left.

"Well, we still got booze, so that`s kinda nice." He took a bottle in his hand, and nodded contentedly. "I can`t spell the name, so it`s probably expensive." He opened it up and handed it to Tracer.

"Ladies first."

As it turned out, the wine wasn`t just expensive, it also more spirituous than expected – after having drunk only half of the bottle, she began feeling dizzy, she couldn`t think straight and, even worse, Scout`s jokes got funnier with every minute. At the last one she laughed way harder than she should have, until her abs hurt and she had trouble breathing.

"Oh my god", she snickered, wiping a tear from her eye. "I can`t believe you really did that!"

"Yeah, me neither!" He giggled with her, as the alcohol didn`t leave him unaffected as well.

"Jeremy, I have a lot fun spending time with you, and I`m really glad Gabriel found your files. Still not quite sure how he did that though, but yeah."

Scout shuffled his feet uncomfortably, trying to contain his now nervous smile. "He he, yeah, it`s a mystery… but I mean, that guy is, you know, mysterious and all…"

He turned back to her, hoping she`d buy it – she didn`t. The laughter was completely gone and instead replaced by a suspicious look and if she could, she`d probably backed away from him now.

"What are you hiding from me? And now don`t try and tell me that it`s nothing; you might have gotten funnier in the last thirty minutes, but you`re still a bad liar."

Scout had gotten back to avoiding her gaze now, and didn`t seem to be able to find the right words. "Ahm , so, the thing is, that – oh god how do I put this – the thing is that it was us who sent the files to your headquarters."

"What?!" Tracer couldn`t be more surprised. The mercs themselves sent these documents to let Overwatch find them?

"But why?"

"Okay toots, please don`t be mad now, alright? It`s just that we expected you to need our help. I mean, we knew how bad your situation was, it`s not like we`ve been living under a rock-" He paused for a moment. "Ok, technically we have been living under a rock, but with television and internet access. Long story short, we kinda wanted to get into that too, so we mailed you our files anonymously. So, you wanna drink on now?"

His hopeful smile disappeared the second he saw her face; his counterpart did not look pleased, and her eyes were narrowed in a dangerous manner rarely anyone has ever seen on her. When she spoke up, her voice was very low.

"You planned all that, because you wanted to get your hands on our technology, didn`t you? You thought you could just steal all of our hard work while being seen as the knights in shining armor!"

"NO! Jeez, no, that wasn`t our plan, I swear! We just hadn`t had a job in a long time and were getting bored."

"Oh, so we are merely your pastime, your amusement! Do you realize we are going through an actual crisis here?"

For once in his life, Scout had no idea what to say; all he was saying at the moment just seemed to make everything worse and worse. And her words had gotten him thinking: it hadn`t been him who had wanted to get involved here, but mostly Engineer, Medic and Spy – coincidentally the three people who profited the most from their current agreement. It was strange, that was for sure.

Tracer sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment.

"I`m not mad at you", she stated forgivingly. "I…I just think you should have told me sooner. But I didn`t change my opinion, I`m still glad I got to know you." With a smile, she took the bottle from his hand.

"Cheers."

When the doctors returned to the base and entered Medic`s room, he still hadn`t told her what he had in mind. Considering the mad doctors definition of fun, Mercy almost expected him to pull a collection of dismantled body parts out of his closet (he probably built variations of Frankensteins monster like kids would construct lego-sets), but to her surprise, he suddenly held an old phonograph in his hands and placed it on the table beside them. Then he rumbled through some boxes he apparently still hadn`t unpacked, until he found an unlabeled vinyl. While Medic started the player (despite its age, it seemed to function pretty well; he probably used it often) she asked:

"Isn`t that a little outdated? I appreciate nostalgia, but you can just download every track you like – even the really really old ones."

He chuckled, and answered her without turning around.

"I know; believe it or not, I own an mp3-player, a quite modern one, actually. But even the best headphones can`t beat the unique sound of an original record player. Listen."

A friend of her father had once owned a phonograph as well, though it had been a new one, and as a child she had never understood why someone would make the effort of cleaning and repairing that huge thing and put on a new vinyl all the time. But now, as she stood in Medic`s dimly lit quarters, slightly befuddled by the alcohol and listening to the scratchy sounds of guitars and drums mixed with the singers husky voice, she was certain she had never heard anything so beautiful. She closed her eyes.

"Told you", a whispered comment reached her ears. Her eyelids fluttered open again, and the blonde doctor met Medics amused gaze only about 3 feet away from her.

"I have to admit, this sounds different – in a good way. I`m surprised though, I would have expected you`re more into opera or classic music. Or recorded cries of pain and panic." He ignored the last part.

"I like many kinds of music, and opera is definitely one of my favourites. But you can`t dance to it properly, while this…"

He left the sentence unfinished, and instead extended his hand to her. She shook her head.

"Definitely not. I don`t dance."

Her counterpart, apparently not taking `no` as an answer, stepped closer, took her hands in his and started moving to the rhythm a little, alternately moving both their arms back and forth to animate her. As she still didn`t respond, he leaned in to her, quietly singing along.

Mercy once again shook her head, though this time she couldn`t contain the smile and the blush creeping on her face. Medic smiled back and slowly spun her around, earning a giggle from the blonde.

`Oh, to hell with my timidity` , she thought and gave in to Medics efforts. He seemed good enough at dancing to make up for her lack of skill, and she doubted that he`d try to grab her backside, as most of her previous dance partners had done.

As they now danced and spun all over the small room, surrounded by the inviting sounds from the record player, she had to admit that he`d been right; the stress and anxiety from the past few weeks seemed to fade with every step and every swirl. As time and songs passed by and as Medic didn`t complain about her continuously stepping on his feet, she got bolder and occasionally let go of him to spin until her dress flew up and created a perfect circle around her hip.

She laughed. For the first time since the war had officially begun, she honestly and wholeheartedly laughed.

As the song threatened to end, she swirled around one more time and would have crashed into the table if Medic hadn`t caught her. She laughed again as she lay in his arms and a much slower song came up. Though exhausted, the pair began moving to it.

"It`s the last song", the man informed her.

She just nodded into his chest. She didn`t want this to end; she felt so alive, and she didn`t mind that she couldn`t dance and that he could, she didn`t mind his nose buried in her hair, she didn`t mind their hips grinding together from time to time, and most surprisingly, she didn`t mind that it was Medic of all people who made her feel this way.

When the last notes had played, they broke their embrace, and the doctor smiled at her. He looked so different like this: slightly sweaty, his tie loosened and his hair a mess, he looked – devilishly handsome. Blushing, Mercy turned away.

"Well, it`s getting late", she said.

"Early, actually", Medic responded. "It`s one o`clock. A.M."

Mercys eyes widened. Had they really been dancing for that long? She had work to do tomorrow!

"I gotta go to bed. Sleep well, Medic."

"Joseph", he interrupted her as she tuned to head out the door. "My name is Joseph Ludwig."

She stayed silent for a moment, then smiled at him tenderly.

"Gute Nacht, Joseph."

"Gute Nacht, Angela."

Author`s note

I`m really really sorry I`ve been away for that long! I was on vacation for a month and couldn`t take my laptop with me. Buuut normally I would have released around 3 - 4 chapters in that time, each around 1000 words, while this has nearly 4000 words, so I kind of made up for it? I don`t know.

Also, I got to think about the plot of this story (originally I just started without an idea on how to continue) and I gotta say that although the tags are humor and romance, the plot might be a little serious and... dark. But I like my idea and I hope you`ll like it too. I`ll try to keep it humorous, I know this chapter wasn`t, but I had to fill some plot holes and yeah. And I know the Tracer and Scout part wasn`t my best work, but I just wanted to publish it, so I rushed myself a little on that one. Pretty proud of the Medic and Mercy scenes though. And yes I know lego is for all ages, it just sounded better this way.

Translation for Spy`s lines:

"At eight o`clock? Yes that`s possible, and...what? I`m never late!"

"I know, I know, but listen to me..."

"One moment please. ... It`s nothing, I forgot to lock my cupboard. What were you saying?"