Note: Happy July. Down to the last few chapters. Hope you like sadness. Enjoy.
Lena always knew that it would be hard to say goodbye. Since the first day she stepped foot in the watchpoint and officially joined Overwatch, she realized that she had finally found the place she truly belonged. Her teammates had become her family, and the thought of leaving them behind was one she could not bear. When Winston sent out the Recall, and she strapped on her goggles, it was like she woke from a long, deep slumber, and thrust back into a world of adventure and passion that she had long forgotten. And though it was tough straying from her new life with Emily, the sheer euphoria of saving lives made it all worth it, and with each passing day, she knew it would become harder to return to the mundane.
Yet, when it was finally time to leave, Lena did not have a choice. As she sat motionlessly in the old, rusted wheelchair, caught in the entryway to the watchpoint with Emily standing behind her, ready to take her back to the strange land called "Home", she felt something bubble and churn within her. It stood out sharply from the dull, constant pain in her head, and the numbness in her fingertips, and the heaviness of her useless limbs. It was—she believed—a cry desperate for release, a simple plea to remain in the one place she ever truly understood. But, her voice had long since been drained by her wretched affliction, and the words could not escape her lips.
For the other members of Overwatch, however, the words flowed easily. Each took their turns saying their goodbyes, and bestowed her with a small present, a token reminding her to get well as soon as possible. Fareeha gave her a medal she had earned during her service in the Egyptian military, and thanked her for saving her life on their mission to stop Talon. Genji gave her a book detailing the teachings of the monk, Zenyatta, and recited her a brief lesson about overcoming one's personal tragedies through balance and determination. Reinhardt gave her a teddy bear engraved with a large, red heart, and had to be torn away from her so that he would crush her with his massive embrace. Mei gave her a bright blue scarf, tenderly wrapping it around her neck. McCree, still shunned by the others for allowing Angela to escape, was allowed a brief goodbye, and simply rustled his fingers through her hair without saying a word; it was the sweetest gesture she had ever received.
Winston was last. Still injured and wrapped in bandages, he hobbled his way over to her, and strained as he handed her a final parting gift: a large tub of crunchy peanut butter.
"To remind you of sweeter times," he had said somberly. A pained laugh escaped Lena's throat. She struggled to hold back the tears. "Don't worry. We'll find Angela. Whoever this 'Sombra' is, she won't get away for long."
"We're running tests to find how she was able to control people's actions," Fareeha stated. "We've already found a strong lead: prototype nanobiology developed by the Vishkar Corporation, the same technology Talon stole a few weeks ago. Once we collect our data and figure out how it works, we can reverse engineer it, and hopefully develop a cure in a couple of days."
"So, don't worry about it. We've got this," Mei added comfortingly. "Focus on getting better. Everything will turn out fine."
"Exactly," said Winston confidently. "You've sacrificed so much for us, Lena. We can't put into words how thankful we are for everything you've done. And whenever you are ready, just know that Overwatch will always be waiting for you with open arms."
Lena could not help but smile. She had been through so much in such a short time that it was difficult not to get emotional; tears of laughter could so easily turn into sorrow. However, before she became swept up in the sadness once more, Emily stepped in and broke the silence.
"Thank you all, for everything," she said warmly. "I'll make sure to keep you updated on her condition. She'll be back before you know it."
Lena did not have the strength to say goodbye on her own. When Emily took her away, the most she could manage was a subtle flick of her fingers, the crudest wave she could muster. Even then, the sudden rush of pain was overwhelming. It was harsh enough to lull her to sleep, where body would become numb, even as brutal dreams kept her in a state of constant torment. Still, it was the more comforting option, and during the long journey back to London, she slept constantly, either tucked away in the leathery seat of a car, or nestled next to Emily on a speeding aircraft. Emily must have been keenly aware of this, Lena thought, as every time she would begin to stir, she was hushed and quietly put back to rest. The only time in which she was conscious was when Emily guided her up to their flat, and lowered her into their bed.
It had been days since she said goodbye to Overwatch, yet it felt like months. When everything hurt as much as it did, every moment felt stretched out into eternity. The hours blended together as she lied in bed, kept away from the light and barely able to move. She had little to do to pass the time. Originally, Emily brought the television into the bedroom, but quickly took it away once she realized that the bright lights worsened Lena's migraine. Music helped somewhat, and thankfully they were in no short supply, but more often than not, Lena was left alone in silence to rest. Emily checked on her frequently, either bringing her water to stay hydrated, or extra blankets in case she got cold, or asking whether she needed to use the bathroom, a process that had become unnecessarily convoluted. Lena always knew she was lucky to have a woman like Emily by her side, but she never truly realized how incredible she was until then. She only wished that she had the power to tell her that.
It was not until several days until she could move on her own, and even then, her limbs strained and ached constantly, limiting her actions. With enough effort, she could successfully raise herself into a sitting position. If she forced herself, she could even stand, although she could not take more than a couple of steps without collapsing from exhaustion. Emily kept track of her progress, documenting each day with her phone and sending video reports back to Winston. The red-haired woman tried to make the most out of it, adding playful narration over the mundane footage of Lena lying helplessly in bed, trying her best to make her love laugh, though it always came out as nothing more than a wheeze. It was not until a week since returning home that her voice finally returned to her, and even then, it was thin, raspy and lacking in color. Still, she regarded it as an improvement, as it meant Emily could wait for her call instead of constantly checking up on her.
Eventually, Lena began to settle. The pain, though nagging, vanished little by little every day. Her legs became stronger, and she could manage to walk around the entire flat without falling over. Emily weened her off liquids and back onto solid foods, although her diet remained severely limited to rice and plain, alphabet-shaped noodles. She turned the light on in her room, and started to catch up on television, starting with ten minutes every day and working her way upwards. It was not perfect, and she was not expecting it to be. Despite her insistence, Emily would not let her leave the home, and Lena would spend hours staring out the window, watching cars zoom by on the busy streets, wishing she could chase them down like a dog on a hot summer's day. She could not speak for long periods of time without her throat starting to burn, and standing upright for more than a few minutes caused her to get extremely nauseous. And of course, there were still the nightmares, which caused to wake up in a cold sweat and lunge into the comfort of Emily's arms on a nightly basis. Yet, there was some small improvement, and as long as her more serious symptoms did not reappear, she remained casually optimistic.
Winston called two weeks into her recovery. Emily answered initially, but after enough silent pleading and a pair of puppy dog eyes, the redhead relented, and handed over the phone to the former agent bobbing up and down on her bed like a teenage schoolgirl.
"Hey, buddy, how are ya?" Lena chirped. Despite the innocence of her words, they came out hoarse and broken, and Winston chuckled at the contrast.
"Well, you sound much better," he said happily.
"Yep. Feel good as new," Lena sighed. "Guess what I almost did today?"
"Stand for more than ten seconds?"
"How did you know?" They shared a laugh together. Out of the corner of her eye, Lena saw Emily roll her eyes and walk out of the bedroom.
"In all seriousness, I'm glad to know that you are feeling better. We're all rooting for you," Winston said earnestly. "Although, that brings me to why I called. I wanted to talk to you about your accelerator."
Lena looked down at the piece of machinery wrapped around her chest. She had not attempted to use it since New York, and with good reason. It did not look any different than normal, and it did not sound any different than normal, but she felt in her gut that something was not quite right.
"What do you want to know?" she asked curiously.
"First of all, you haven't experienced any symptoms of disassociation, have you? You haven't been experiencing time dilation, or any sense of warping or displacement?"
"Nothing like that. Mainly, just a lot of pain," Lena grumbled.
"Okay. And you haven't attempted to use the chronal accelerator at all, correct?"
"I can barely walk, Winston," Lena stated. "I'm not going to try blinking or recalling anytime soon."
"Excellent. Now, pay attention: Whatever you do, do not attempt to use the accelerator for any reason."
"Why not?" asked Lena, concerned.
"Well, before you left, we took scans of the accelerator to assess the damage done by Sombra," Winston explained. "As it turns out, whatever she did to access the hardware left the systems much worse off than we previously thought. Primarily, it seems that the bug she planted in New York is still there, and we can't seem to get it out. It's currently resting, but it looks like any attempt to use the accelerator might trigger it, and cause you to get stuck in another time loop. That's bad in and of itself, but it's mostly avoidable. Unfortunately, there's something more worrisome: The accelerator's core is gradually becoming unstable."
"Unstable?" Lena asked, staring down nervously at her chest. "Is it dangerous?"
"Not at the moment," said Winston. "The core's decay is happening slowly, and is mostly contained, so you and Emily shouldn't be in any danger as long as you don't put any additional strain on it. However, if the core continues to decay, you may start experiencing some major problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"Well, we don't know for certain, but we have some ideas, none of them very good. The best-case scenario is that you lose your ability to track time regularly. Aside from not being able to discern minutes from hours, it could potentially lead to all sorts of other issues with your memory and awareness. At the absolute worst, you would probably barely be able to move, as your reactions would be either vastly delayed or sped up significantly, and your thoughts would become so disjointed that you lose all sense of yourself as a person."
"And… that's the best-case scenario?" Lena asked incredulously.
"Compared to the worst-case scenario, yes," Winston said somberly. "See, as the core breaks down, so does the system's chronal radius. The chronal radius is the area that the accelerator actually affects. Currently, the radius is calculated to match your exact form, with a few centimeters of give added for good measure in a couple places. That's why when you recall, your clothes also go back in time with you, even though only your actual cells are affected with disassociation."
"That's a good thing," Lena said with certainty.
"I agree. The problem is that as the chronal radius breaks down, it won't be able to properly discern what should and should not be brought through time. If the radius increases, anything within up to a few feet will be carried through time with you and reset to its original position. The worst-case scenario happens if the radius decreases. The accelerator wouldn't be able to recognize you as a whole person, and if a recall occurred, it would start recalling different parts of you selectively, or at different time intervals. Imagine if you traveled back in time five seconds, but instead, it only recalled your left arm four seconds. The machine wouldn't know that you are meant to travel together; it would rip your arm off and place it somewhere else you have already been. What's even worse is that if the accelerator destabilizes further, and the bug left by Sombra remains, it would start recalling automatically. It would begin taking parts of you and warp them across spacetime at sheer random, going molecule-by-molecule and displacing them across your own history. You would essentially by torn apart at the microscopic level. You wouldn't even die, technically; you would simply cease to exist."
Lena sat in stunned silence, her eyes wide. Winston, realizing her had perhaps gone too far, chuckled nervously.
"That's all hypothetical, of course," he stated hurriedly. "And besides, the chances of that happening are very slim. As long as you don't use the accelerator, you don't have anything to worry about. Just in case, I've been working on a brand new one that should work fine. Whenever you can, you need to come back to the watchpoint so I can swap them. Then you won't have anything to worry about."
"Um… right," Lena said unsurely. At the very least, she knew what her nightmares would be about that night.
"I should probably go. Lots of work to do," Winston stammered. "I'll talk to you soon, Lena. Goodbye."
The ape hung up the phone, and Lena simply took a deep breath. As if she didn't have enough to worry about. All she wanted to do was focus on getting better, and right as she was feeling good about herself, Winston hits her in the face with an existential crisis. It did not seem like things could get any worse. Yet, as Emily reappeared in the entryway, she was about proven wrong.
"Lena," Emily said uncomfortably, resting halfway through the door, "you have a visitor."
The woman in the dark hood entered, and Lena watched in shocked silence. Angela pulled back her hood, allowing her light blonde hair to fall down her shoulders. A large, raw scar scratched through the side of her head, and Lena's gaze drifted to it instantly. Angela winced, and it became clear to Lena that the pain was still fresh, as was the memory of how it occurred. Emily, wisely thinking on her feet, drifted out of the room quietly, leaving the two former partners alone to talk. Angela sighed, and smiled sharply.
"Hello, Lena," she said weakly.
"Hi," Lena whispered. Angela nervously stepped forward, placing a single hand on the mattress by Lena's thigh. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you. It's been weeks, and I thought..." Angela trailed off, her eyes examining Lena's wounded body. "So... this is what happened when you disappeared," Angela muttered thoughtfully, making a mental note of her condition. "I'm glad you decided to return to London. That was smart. Looks like you're getting plenty of rest, too. And, you're staying hydrated, so that's very good. As long as you don't move, you shouldn't aggravate anything-"
"Angela, stop," Lena said with sudden forcefulness. "Can we just... I don't need a doctor now, I need... I need to talk to you as a friend."
Angela went quiet for a moment, surprised by the initial outburst, but she quickly accepted and took a seat on the bed.
"Sorry," she said with a small laugh. "Force of habit."
"Not a bad habit: helping folks and all that," Lena joked. "How are you feeling? How's your head?"
"It's fine," Angela said dismissively.
"Is it?"
"It's not important. I'm not the one who is sick."
"That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to worry about you," claimed Lena. "The last time I saw you, you were gushing like a fountain. I was worried about you. We all were. With everything that's happened, I can't imagine what you've been going through."
Angela pursed her lips. "I appreciate your concern. Truly, I do. But, you shouldn't get so attached."
"So attached?" Lena said with contempt. "I've known you for seven years. I've been your friend for seven years. I have a right to be worried about you."
"But you shouldn't be. That's why I came here. It's why I needed to talk to you." Angela looked away, ashamed. Her voice quivered, and Lena instinctively reached out a hand to offer support. The doctor pushed it away without a second glance.
"Angela. What's wrong?" Lena leaned forward, her bones aching.
"You know, in medical school, one of the things the teach you is not to become emotionally attached to your patients," Angela said quietly. "Well, it's not something they teach you directly. It's more like something you pick up after a few years. Relationships with those you are trying to protect can make things very difficult, because when they get hurt, it might cause you to act irrationally. People do crazy things for the ones they care about. I shut myself off from people. From everyone. As long as I kept my distance, I could help others around the world, wherever they needed me. I always was a good student."
"Angela…"
"When Winston reformed Overwatch, I was in the Middle East. I never wanted to rejoin. To me, Overwatch was never something particularly great. It was an organization filled with secrets and lies, an organization whose problems constantly prevented me from fulfilling my one true purpose as a doctor: to do no harm. Winston tried to persuade me that things would be different this time, and I wanted to believe him. I really did, but I couldn't, not after all I had been through. And then, right before I turned away and never looked back, he told me that you had already decided to come back." Angela took a deep breath, as the ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "I don't know how you did it all those years. Despite all the chaos, all the deception, you never stopped trying to do the right thing. You gave it your all, even when you knew it was hopeless. And honestly, I was so envious of that. That positivity. That courage. I always wondered why I couldn't be more like that. When Winston told me that you had decided to come back, my mind was made up, because you always knew the right thing to do."
"Angela, I don't understand," Lena asked, growing increasingly fearful. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Lena, I can feel it," Angela said grimly. "I feel the urges buzzing in my head, like some uncontrollable hunger. I keep slipping further every day, and I don't know how much longer I can keep control. I can't think straight. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of violence. I see people walking towards me, and I want to rip them apart with my bare hands. I feel sick inside, twisted beyond help. Soon, I'll go completely mad…"
"That isn't your fault," Lena assured her. "You're being manipulated. Someone is forcing those thoughts into your head, but we can fix it. Winston is working on a cure. If you go back to the watchpoint—"
"Don't you get it, Lena?" Angela snapped. She turned towards her friend, and Lena saw fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's too late for that. We've run out of time. Don't you recognize the clothes I'm wearing, or the city we're in? Your visions—every one of them has come true, and when the last one comes to, and I start killing my friends… please, Lena, I don't want it to come to that. I don't want to harm anyone."
Angela grabbed Lena by the shoulders, and pulled her tightly. Her composure broke slowly, as she gave in to the damaged woman before her. Lena sat in shock, unable to think straight, unable to comfort one of her dearest friends as she spiraled deeper into despair. She wanted to promise her that everything would turn out alright, and they would stop the villain and save the world together. Yet, something held her back and forced her into silence; the same part of her that knew she could never lie to a friend.
"There's only one way to stop this, to stop me, for your own sake," Angela cried, her voice broken and yet laced with determination. The speedster sat with wide eyes and a blank expression, as the doctor said the unthinkable. "Lena… I need you to kill me."