Angela Ziegler woke again with a start, covered in chills with sweat running down her spine. She couldn't stop seeing them all dead, her ability to revive rendered ineffective. She sat up, clenching her head in her hands. Warm, sure hands settled on her shoulders.
"Angela…" Fareeha's soft voice broke through the sleep fog. The phantom fingers clawing at her skin faded but did not completely vanish. "Are you alright?"
Angela looked from the dark space created by her hands. Fareeha leaned in and looked into Angela's eyes. It was still dark out, but Angela could see the worry in Fareeha's… everything. Her posture was rigid but guarding. Her dark eyes searching with care. Eyes that could be so cold, so calculating in battle. Fareeha's hands gently pulled Angela's own away and into a reassuring embrace. She was so warm…
Angela felt the dead fingers scrape at her throat. Nausea led to churning waves in her stomach. She couldn't get away.
"Angela," Fareeha quietly urged, drawing nearer and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Sorry, sorry. I… had some nightmares." She hesitated. "I'm fine now."
Fareeha's gentle scoff brought ease to Angela's growing panic. The ringing in her ears sounded too much like a flatlining heart monitor. "'I'm fine now,' she says as she's in a cold sweat." A gentle squeeze. "Talk to me."
"Just some bad dreams, Fareeha." Her own voice sounded stressed. It was the stress. She hadn't been sleeping enough. Even Genji, someone who wasn't the most observant, could tell that she hadn't been sleeping in her off time. He'd offered to pull a double shift for the day. In all honesty, Angela wanted to immerse herself in her work. The dreams had gotten so bad since Lena was shot, but she'd made an agreement with Genji for him to work an eight hour shift and take one off. They were trying to go at a breakneck pace to fix Zenyatta, but if they both were too tired, they couldn't perform at their top capacities. There was more to that, though… A particular young woman and her spider companion.
Angela spared another glance at Fareeha, whose eyes had not moved. Fareeha said nothing, but relief washed over Angela like a much needed hot bath on aching bones. "I keep seeing everyone…" Dead. Stabbed. Destroyed. "Past where I can help them. Where I can't bring them back anymore."
Fareeha scooted closer and wrapped her arms tighter around Angela's body, her prosthetics neither warm nor cold. She rested her cheek on Angela's shoulder, the ear that retained more hearing capacity than the other turned toward Angela's face. "You started crying in your sleep. You were talking about him again."
Comfortable silence fell between them. Angela pushed out all thoughts that weren't about Fareeha, for the moment, cherishing the smooth, warm skin against her own - feeling grounded by the strong arms surrounding her in a protective embrace. Soft, sleepy breaths warmed her shoulder only to be cooled again by the inhale. Fareeha's hair smelled like the cinnamon-apple shampoo she most preferred. A stray hair tickled Angela's nose, but she dared not move for fear that Fareeha would also move.
"With her here, it's hard not to think of him." Angela didn't raise her voice above a whispered whisper, barely audible.
Fareeha nodded, the cool beads touching Angela's feverishly hot skin. "Do you need me to get you something?"
Angela side eyed the large woman, though she knew Fareeha could not see the look. Fareeha was suggesting sleeping medication again. A deep, aching longing for extended rest almost pushed her to nod, but her absolute resolve against taking medications won over once more… But God she needed sleep.
"No, I might just go make myself some tea." Angela began to shift, and Fareeha moved. "Lena and Hana are on the job tonight, so it shouldn't be an issue." Really… Just Lena.
The 'issue" referred to the night before when she'd walked through to go to the bathroom and got roped into a painful conversation with Jesse. He'd wanted to talk about Old Times. He'd had a few beers. Jesse talked too much when he drank more than half a beer. He acted like some big tough guy who could handle himself, but he really got tipsy just sniffing alcohol. Sometimes, Angela wondered, he seemed friendlier when he was drunk than when he was sober.
The conversation just brought up memories she'd try to forget. He'd also said those things in front of their prisoner. Tightness seized Angela's chest viciously. Her hand clutched at her shirt subconsciously.
"I'm gonna… go." Angela swung her legs out of bed a little too quickly to be casual. She saw Fareeha start moving, ready to follow. "No, it's alright." The creases on Fareeha's forehead showed heart-stabbing doubt. Angela sighed. "If I'm not back in about thirty minutes, come looking."
Fareeha nodded quickly and hunkered back down in the covers. Angela cracked the door, a shaft of light falling on Fareeha's face. She scrunched her nose and cracked open an eye. She gave a small, stunning smile before rolling back over, away from the door. Angela slipped out quietly, turning the knob and closing the door before turning it back in place.
Quiet voices met her ears. Apparently, no one had heard her leave her room. She remained outside her door for a long moment, considering whether or not to break the conversation.
"It seems that I remember you from before Talon, but I don't know why. Sometimes I cannot tell if I have dreamed it or if it is real." It was Widowmaker's voice, but somehow nothing like how she usually sounded when answering questions. Her voice seemed tentative - curious and frightened.
"Did you really remember picking strawberries with me, or were you just buying time with McCree?" Lena's voice was quieter than usual. She must have been getting sleepy.
There was a long, uncertain pause. Angela was almost certain that she heard Lena choking on her drink. "I distantly remember something about a related incident. I remember going into the countryside. I remember someone else being with me. I remember going into a field in the heat of the day and getting terribly sunburned. Someone put aloe on my shoulders when I got back…" Another pause. "I feel like… all of these things have happened to me, but it feels much more like they happened to someone else - like I just inherited bits of someone else's memories. It's like remembering a video on a screen."
Angela's heart panged again. The sadness in Widowmaker's voice was almost palpable. Lena took less than a few seconds to reply. "I know someone that might be able to help with that, if you get some time alone."
A soft snort. "I doubt that the doctor will leave me for more than a moment."
A flash of anger raged up like smoking oil in a pan. Too easily caught aflame and too unpredictable. A few deep breaths helped her calm herself. Resentment built up even stronger. She'd helped Widowmaker and put her face back together. She'd made sure that Widowmaker wouldn't die, and then Widowmaker insisted on being difficult.
But then, Fareeha had made her do her job, hadn't she?
Lena's slightly slurred voice broke her roiling train of thought, dousing the flame instantly, which allowed the fatigue to roll back in. "True, but if you get some time to talk with Zenyatta, you should. He helps a lot, even if you don't think his 'peace and tranquility' crap works." Angela clapped a hand over her mouth quietly in an effort not to bark a laugh at Lena's impersonation. She could almost see the way Lena would try to make the tranquil face and invariably end up looking like a basset hound.
The rollercoaster of emotions immediately derailed as a familiar, soft, caring voice chimed in like another person had entered the room. Amélie. "If the opportunity arises, I will take it." A pause came before an even softer inquiry. "Lena, would you dance with me?"
Angela could hear Lena snort through her nose before giggling. In her mind, Angela could see the blush on Lena's face all too well. "Got a bum leg. Take a raincheck, love?"
The laugh that Angela had heard so many times from the other side of Gérard's phone caught her off guard, the corners of her eyes prickling. "Would you…" Amélie yawned, and Angela missed her friend. She'd been relatively close to Gérard, often put on the same missions with him and dragging his wounded ass back to a safe place. She'd watched over him diligently, but it still hadn't been enough. She let his wife kill him. Widowmaker's voice came from around the corner. "I'm very tired from being on watch with my captors. Would you…"
"You can sleep, if you want. I won't stop you." Angela noticed the tints of sadness and disappointment that colored Lena's seemingly cheerful words. Another deep ache coursed through her bones. She'd not been fair to the other two on the team that meant the most to her - Lena and Hana. She didn't want to treat them as children, but god, they were so idealistic. They should be trusted, but at what cost? She knew that idealism could get in the way. She'd been that way when Reyes...
A pause of conversation. "Would you at least lay next to me?" Angela felt her nostrils flare. There was no way Lena could resist. She could imagine Amélie saying those words to Gérard just before murdering him. "I feel uncomfortable sleeping when someone watches me. Reaper has often watched me in my sleep."
A sound that Angela was almost sure Lena had no idea she'd made reached her ears. It sounded like a mix between an ew and an ugh.
Reaper… Gabriel… Had he always been that monster, deep down? Did he watch me, the way he watches her? Or did I made him that way? Complex emotions she didn't want to dwell on swirled nauseatingly inside her belly, and she forced them away. Now was not the time. She was too busy eavesdropping to deal with those emotions.
Widowmaker snorted softly. "I… feel the same way as well. I'll… help you get onto the floor, if you'll allow it."
Lena must have obliged because after a few seconds, shifting plastic on carpet reached Angela's ears - the air mattress. Angela felt a burst of fear cause her to take two steps. She would not have another Gérard on her hands, but hushed words stopped her approach.
"Lena?" Amélie asked.
"Yeah?" From what Angela could hear, Lena was already mostly asleep.
"Thank you for believing in me." Amélie's voice was tentative, searching, and still frightened, but she sounded like she was less afraid than before - maybe even comforted.
"Sure thing, love. You can count on me."
White noise filled Angela's head for a few seconds. She couldn't quite understand what had just happened. Something in her chest cracked - maybe not literally, but it sure fooled her for a long minute. She took two steps back and leaned against her own closed door before sliding down, tears welling again and overflowing. Amélie.
Amélie was still there, somewhere, and she was hurting. Inexorable guilt drowned her momentarily, choking out air and any other feeling than her head swimming. Amélie was still in there, and Angela hadn't seen it. The tears quit her eyes shortly after spilling. What if it was all an elaborate ruse? An assassination attempt.
No. That had clearly been Amélie. Which meant…
Angela Ziegler took a shaking breath.
Which meant that Angela had allowed whatever was left of Amélie to suffer while hating her for Talon's hand in her life.
She's just like him, one part of her snarled. She's never coming back.
Another part whispered, more faintly than her first thought. But what if…?
Had that meant that Amélie had been present throughout the time they viewed her as Widowmaker? Had that meant that she was complacent? Was she fighting? Or was this who she was now? She didn't quite sound like Amélie, and she sure as hell didn't sound like Widowmaker.
Angela felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't go get herself anything to drink. She couldn't bear to see Lena next to that thing with Amélie's face. Somewhere, deep down, she thought that she couldn't bear to see Amélie at all.
Angela noticed Hana's open door, lamplight streaming out. Hana was still awake and alert, it seemed, from the clack of keys on the keyboard. Angela hadn't shown her trust in Hana like she wanted. So many layers of guilt nagged at Angela's tired eyes.
Guilt over Hana.
Guilt over Lena.
Guilt over Gabriel Reyes.
Guilt over Gérard Lacroix.
Guilt over Amélie.
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
Cold panic gripped her fingers and stabbed at her stomach as the door fell out from behind her. Since she'd been leaning on it, she tumbled backward in the most undignified fashion. The back of her head clacked against the ground firmly and bounced. She looked up at Fareeha's strong body and horrified face. She covered her mouth with a hand, eyes wide. Angela put a finger on her lips, slightly fearful that Fareeha would wake the two in the living room or rouse the third. Slight pink-brown hues colored Fareeha's face as her eyes sparkled. She was fighting a laugh.
It was infectious.
Angela felt a smile spread across her mouth. Fareeha put her at ease. Her presence felt like the warmth of a fire on a cold winter day. Fareeha's strong, metallic fingers wrapped around Angela's outstretched forearm, pulling her up and into an embrace. For a second, that close to Fareeha, Angela could forget the guilt that ripped at her heart and mind and kept her awake at night. Angela pulled up and kissed Fareeha gently.
So warm. So familiar.
Angela pulled away and marvelled at Fareeha's smiling face. She usually looked so serious that when she smiled, it was a gift. Without actively intending to do so, Angela reached up and cupped Fareeha's face. Her strong jaw rested in the cool palm of her hand for just a second before soft lips kissed that hand. They stood there just long enough, eyes locked on one another's, for Angela to wonder how she could be so lucky.
The storm clouds over her head had parted, even if for the moment. Fareeha was the aloe on burned skin. The water for the parched. The sun after a dark winter.
The first time they'd met, Angela hadn't thought much of Fareeha. Angela had been seventeen, riding the high of being personally chosen to apprentice with Overwatch's personal head doctor, and Fareeha had been twelve, nothing more than the adorably precocious daughter of Ana Amari. Angela had looked down at Fareeha as a child, in that way that all teenagers seemed to think the world of their own maturity. It wasn't often that they saw each other, but Fareeha had idolized her, following her around whenever Ana let her off the proverbial leash, asking question after question about what Angela was doing, how Overwatch functioned, personal details about the other agents (especially poor old Reinhardt Wilhelm). Angela had rolled her eyes and indulged the girl, but after a while she found herself developing a real fondness for her. She especially took interest in Fareeha when a young Jesse McCree started prowling around the halls. Angela knew he could be dangerous and didn't want Fareeha anywhere near him. He wasn't so bad, even then, but Angela knew there was something in there that was dark. If she could help it, she wouldn't let that darkness pass over Fareeha.
Time passed, and Fareeha grew apart from her mother, determined to find her own path, eventually joining the Egyptian army as soon as she was eligible. By the time Ana was killed - and rumor held that her her murderer had been none other than the Widowmaker herself - Angela had all but forgotten about Fareeha Amari. Overwatch hadn't lasted much longer.
A few years later, Angela had been making rounds in Cairo, doing pro bono charity work, when she noticed someone who looked too familiar. Fareeha. Something about her silent strength called to Angela, who couldn't help but notice the rusty, clumsy appendages that had replaced Fareeha's limbs. How could she let anyone, let alone the daughter of the woman to whom she owed so much, fight in such horrible conditions? She hadn't known how much she needed Fareeha at the time. She'd offered Fareeha experimental prosthetics for free in order to see how limb enhancement would work, given the proper circumstances. She could construct a person out of omnic equipment, sure, but could she craft something for someone who needed proportional replacements?
The answer was yes, but battle prosthetics and mundane prosthetics would have been way out of this woman's paygrade. Her jaw had clenched at the price tag, but she nodded. Angela liked that. She liked Commander Fareeha Amari. The girl who had followed her with eyes so bright so long ago had become a woman whose courage and determination were to be envied.
All the time with measurements, resizing, and testing out functionality brought Angela and Fareeha closer together once more. Angela learned Fareeha's fears - losing her team members, spiders, clowns, and taxes. Fareeha learned Angela's, which were too many to count. Angela learned that puppies made Fareeha happy just like snow. Her favorite color was now blue instead of pink. She hated sand, which made Angela laugh at the times they'd spent at beaches. They chipped away at each other's walls quickly. On the last test several months after meeting again, they'd done more than just test Fareeha's prosthetics for mundane functionality. That kind of "testing" happened more than a few times. Angela hesitated at first, pushing Fareeha away. She was too afraid that this relationship would turn out like her last serious one. After him. She'd slept around for stress relief between the relationships, but she missed intimate contact on a deeper level. She was just so… afraid.
Fareeha had taken all of that into consideration, knowing Angela's previous relationship. Knowing Angela's fears. In the meantime, Angela convinced Fareeha to join the Overwatch team. She felt slightly guilty about recruiting her girlfriend, but Fareeha understood. Part of her still saw the old Overwatch team as larger than life heroes, old fashioned Knights who fought for justice and good. In the end, it strengthened their relationship in a way that broke the remaining barriers between them. They'd taken it slow, almost painfully so, until Angela practically begged for more than the tenuous thing they had. Fareeha obliged without hesitation. Their paths were intimately connected from childhood and continued onward, despite a brief period of parting.
"Oh my god. Gross." Hana's voice jolted Angela from her reverie, and her face burned with embarrassment.
"Hana!" Angela hissed quietly, trying not to wake the ones in the living room.
"Can you guys at least shut the door?" Hana's smug smile said more than her actual words. Angela liked that about her.
The ease of being with close family clicked into place. Angela flashed a genuine smile that came easily to her lips. "If you insist."
Fareeha pulled Angela in and shut the door behind them, making a point to grope Angela's ass before getting out of Hana's sight and kissing Angela again a little less gently than before.
"Angela," she breathed once the door clicked shut.
Angela felt her face catch fire, and she pulled away. "Not… Not now…"
Fareeha leaned back and nodded once, going back in for a slow, gentle kiss. Nothing heated sparked between them in that moment - just slow warming comfort. Angela pulled away first.
"I have a bad feeling," she sighed.
Fareeha tilted her head, metal beads clicking familiarly. "Do you want me to hold you?"
Angela nodded, and they crawled back in bed together. She rolled on her side to where Fareeha didn't have to wear her hearing aid in bed. The feedback made her miserable. Angela had once offered to set up her ear to function like a mechanized eardrum with all the fixings for the inner ear, but Fareeha refused. Explosive concussions could do nasty damage to omnic technology at close range. Angela, stubborn as ever, still searched for an alternative to make Fareeha's life easier.
Fareeha's soft breathing grew deeper with her arms around Angela's waist. Fareeha could pass out at a moment's notice. Must have been some kind of special operations training.
Angela squeezed Fareeha's hand in the dark. The conversation in the living room came flooding back to her. She needed to sleep. Somewhere, her mind crossed the two, and she fell into a fitful sleep plagued by dreams of Gabriel Reyes breaking into the safehouse to take back Widowmaker. Dreams of Lena clutching Angela's shirt, the light fading from her eyes. Dreams of Fareeha turning her back just like Reyes had done.
Angela woke the next morning covered in sweat again. She wasn't middle aged enough for night sweats. Fareeha lay sleeping, still curled protectively around Angela. The morning light streaming through the window highlighted her bronze skin and softened her definite, angular features. Angela liked watching her sleep. She always looked less worried when she was sleeping. Angela smiled and caressed her lover's cheek, feeling the gentle, lovely touch of her skin. Fareeha mumbled something in her native language and snuffled out something that half-sounded like a snore.
You don't deserve her, Angela thought, not for the first time, but for once, it was less a condemnation than it was a simple statement of awe. No one else had ever felt so… right.
The sounds of faint knocking around made last night's situation crash back down around her, and she realized that Amélie was still there, Lena was far too close, and Hana was so trusting of them both. She sighed a little too heavily for just waking up, but the relief she'd felt looking at Fareeha vanished. It was quickly replaced by a fantastic weight that seemed to fall from the heavens, landing ungracefully and heavily onto Angela's shoulders. She groaned quietly, flopping back over onto her side.
She didn't want to think about this right now. Any of it. When Winston had initiated the recall, she'd resisted at first. She wasn't sure that coming back together was the right idea anymore. Between Reyes and Blackwatch and the fall of the organization, she'd become cynical. There was something Winston had said, though, that brought her back. A few simple words. They need you.
And Angela had come back, but she'd made a promise to herself. She would do everything in her power to protect them. All of them. They'd needed a leader, but more than that, they'd all needed someone who cared, who understood. Angela had resolved to be that person for them.
And, she thought, pressing a pillow onto her face, wonders never cease, she had protected them. They had needed her, and she'd been there for them. From little Hana to powerful Zarya, many of them considered her a kind of mother figure, and Angela was more than happy to play the part. She loved her surrogate family more than life itself.
And then Lena had been shot. Just in the leg, not enough to be lethal for most people, but just enough for everything to unravel. Every single action she'd taken, it felt like, pushed Lena and Hana further and further away from her. They'd trusted her, and what had she been? Cold. Distant. Secretive.
They probably hated her now. That hurt bad enough that her mouth went dry and she wanted a drink. It's four o' clock somewhere. Everything she'd done, every secret plan she'd made, all of it had done nothing but make things worse. Let alone how dangerous it was to have Widowmaker all but loose in the safehouse. Coming back or not, the woman was still a threat to everything she'd built.
She'd tried to play the chessmaster, and she'd failed. When had she ever had any other choice, though?
She sighed. Ana… Ana would have known what to do. The older woman had always been a hardass, but she'd always seemed to have the answer to what troubled you. What would she have said to Angela now? Get your sorry ass over there and talk to those girls, probably. Make your amends before the bridges burn completely.
If only she thought she could do that.
Angela laid about for a few more minutes before she adeptly crept from her shared room with a slight headache. Caffeine deprivation, hopefully. She tried to avoid using too much caffeine and blowing out her adrenal glands, but she hadn't been sleeping much lately. She'd been self medicating too often. There was a wine shortage in the safe house. It was too early to be having alcohol at any rate… right?
God, but she wanted a drink.
Angela looked around the hall blearily. Hana's door was closed, after the night before. Angela's mind began calculating faster than stock market bigwigs, but was immediately put to rest when Hana came around the corner of the kitchen with two cups of motor oil colored coffee. She paused when she saw Angela and gave a small smile. The smile turned mischievous, her eyes narrowing and her grin spreading wider, and Angela instinctively tugged at her shirt and tried to fix her bedhead quickly.
It appeared that she was the only other one awake besides the three in the living room. Her heart skittered a few times before she swallowed. She was a world renowned surgeon and doctor who could manipulate genes easier than she could thread a needle. What frightened her so much that it kept her from even leaving the hall?
Widowmaker. Easy. Going in and seeing the unnaturally blue flesh would put her stomach right off of eating. She'd seen corpses that looked more alive than that… reanimated flesh suit called the Widowmaker. Flickers of memory, as wispy as candle smoke, wafted through her mind as she remembered the night before. She was a dead friend walking, a zombified corpse with Amélie's discolored face who committed heinous atrocities. Talon had not completely taken Amélie, but exactly how much of her remained trapped in Widowmaker's control?
She wouldn't know unless she took the plunge.
So Angela walked down the hall, holding her head high. She didn't want to look at Lena, whose leg would probably never heal correctly. She didn't want to look at Widowmaker, whose face was that of her fallen friend's wife. She didn't want to look at Hana, who she had failed in so many ways - as a mother, as a friend, as an ally.
But she did. As she walked far enough down the hall to the open living room on her left, she smiled at everyone. It felt forced. "Good morning, all."
Widowmaker, who had looked warm and intrigued by Lena's expressive face, withdrew into her shell, glazing over into a cool, shrewd statue, coffee cup frozen in her stone-like hands. Lena, previously smiling, mimicked Widowmaker's mask, taking a sip of her coffee silently.
"Morning." Lena's voice felt like an icicle had been thrown directly into Angela's heart. It didn't suit Lena's warm disposition, yet there it was. Lena had never been outright hostile, but this was damn near close. Rather than letting it drive her away, Angela tried to put it into perspective. Her best friend was beaten to a pulp because of an order you gave, and you've treated her with suspicion.
Ana's grizzled voice spoke up in Angela's head. Tell the girl you're sorry for what you did. Should be the truth.
Angela followed up quickly, trying to keep her voice from cracking. "Last night went well?"
Lena rolled her eyes - a very Hana-like gesture. "Yeah, love. Went great." She took another noisy slurp off the top of her overfilled coffee cup. Her mug was not her usual. Instead, Widowmaker held Lena's bright blue mug that was dotted with cartoonish white clouds.
Angela felt her eyebrows knit together. Even after everything… This was too much. Lena was getting far too close to the enemy. She closed her eyes for a second and disguised her calming breath as a stretch. She finished and noted that Lena no longer looked back at her, but Widowmaker's eyes held fast. She did not blink.
She couldn't help but think that this isn't what she signed up for when she warily accepted the recall.
"Ah, Widowmaker. I suppose it is too long in my asking, but does your face hurt?" She cleared her throat, putting on her Doctor Voice. "Your swelling has gone down considerably, but that doesn't mean that your body isn't feeling after-effects. The damage to your tooth could not have been painless either."
Every sentient being understood pain - felt pain. If Widowmaker felt pain, she was at least a step above a tool. That meant that there was still hope for her, right?
No. Even Gabriel Reyes felt pain.
In fact… Angela knew that he felt nothing but pain.
But then again. Gabriel Reyes was still human.
Widowmaker's hard, quiet voice broke Angela's train of thought. She often got too deep in her own thoughts to appropriately respond, especially as of late. "Yes."
The answer was simple but hit Angela in the stomach like an aluminum baseball bat. Angela had almost forgotten that Widowmaker was still a person somewhere in there before last night, and the answer she gave proved to Angela that she'd almost forgotten the oath she'd taken as a doctor.
She was there to help the injured. Treat the sick. Do no harm and minimize damage to nature, animals, and human beings. She'd not fully lived up to her oath as far as Widowmaker was concerned. Angela still wasn't sure how close Widowmaker actually was to human, but if she could feel pain, then it was Angela's job to treat it.
What kind of doctor was she?
Without another forced word, Angela went for some potent pain medication - well, the strongest she had access to here at this safehouse. She laid out two white pills and a glass of water on the coffee table. "Take these. We'll see how you feel in about twenty minutes. Lena, keep watch until I get done with the shower." Angela paused a long second, a thought clicking in her head. There were no windows in the bathroom. Another amenity they'd denied their prisoner. A chance to make another small gesture. "Widowmaker, do you want a shower?"
Widowmaker's voice came out like a poison dart. "Do you plan to electrocute me while I'm under the water?"
Angela was almost as a loss for words. A voice whispered in the back of her mind that she deserved this. She'd gone so far from her true self - her caring self. Her true nature. She'd been too caught up in trying to lead, when she just wanted to keep everyone alive and well. She didn't want this responsibility. "My god, no. Of course not! I'm a doctor, dammit, not an executioner!" She looked to Lena who just shrugged with raised eyebrows and took another sip of coffee. Her face was easy to read. Your fault, doc.
Angela supposed she deserved that, too, but it still hurt. She'd driven a huge wedge between them, but she wanted to mend the rift. There were still executive decisions that have to be made, though. She could do what she could, but the damage had been done. Probably would still be ongoing. She was still their leader.
Lena had said that she understood, though, right? No, time can change a response to a stimulus.
There's a time for leadership, said Ana's voice, and a time for friendship. You need to learn the difference, kid.
"Take more of Lena's clothes," Angela sniffed indignantly, ignoring Lena and missing Hana's supportive presence. "I'll give you thirty minutes."
Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow, taking a sip of coffee. "Does that start now or once I get the water running?"
Fantastic. Widowmaker was starting to have a sense of humor. Did tools have a sense of humor?
Angela felt ill.
The day passed uneventfully for Angela. Widowmaker stayed medicated and, for the most part, cool as ever. Only a few times did she get agitated - mostly when Lena had been gone an extended period of time. She trusted Lena, which, Angela supposed from a more sympathetic view, was understandable, seeing as how Lena had been the first to see a glimmer of humanity in Widowmaker.
Angela worked through most of the night without a hitch. As her first order of business, she'd made a way to stabilize Zenyatta once she'd gotten to work. Genji had stayed. They didn't talk to each other much, and Angela figured that was fair. She'd made him into a killing machine. She'd tortured his soul when his body was already mostly gone. And for what?
Her fingers fell into a mechanical pattern that allowed her mind to still and focus on the task at hand rather than address any of the loose ends knocking around in her skull.
"Can you pass the wrench?" She muttered, wiping stray, fallen hair away from her face in annoyance. That was the third time that particular strand had fallen out of her ponytail. An intense, passing urge to cut all her hair off came and went without much real consideration.
"What size?" Genji's voice had softened throughout the last few days, even taken on a kind tone. He'd talked with Zenyatta's consciousness when he was on break. Sometimes during his work.
"5/32," Angela replied simply.
Her hands worked and numbed her mind. They did not speak unless necessary and had worked together only once before on the same shift. This last shift had been terribly, terribly silent, with the exception of the squeaking gears and occasional huffs.
"You know, I remember Zenyatta joking about getting shot." Genji spoke quietly and tentatively.
"Doesn't seem like him." Angela's reply was short. She couldn't afford to jeopardize the delicate repairs.
"He made jokes when something frightened him."
Angela tilted her head in acknowledgement. "That makes sense. I think we all do that." She paused, sensing more tension rising on the air. "He jokes a lot, for a master of peace and tranquility."
Genji barked a harsh laugh. "I've heard the same thing from Lena. She takes after you in many ways, Dr. Ziegler."
Angela stopped her work, exasperated, and looked up at Genji through fallen hairs. "Genji, please. Stop calling me 'Dr. Ziegler.' I know we've had our… history, but I don't want us to have a doctor-patient relationship. You're part of the team as far as I'm concerned, and I just…" She trailed off, the sudden burst of conversational feelings dissipating. She felt… ashamed for her outburst though it did nothing up open up a daunting door of conversation.
Genji tilted his head and said nothing. With one, shining hand, he reached up and removed his face plate. Angela set down her wrench and tried not to look as upset as she felt. She looked into his startlingly clear eyes. She'd always been taking back by the lack of damage to his eyes, considering the trauma to his face.
"Angela…" he started, hesitation coursing through his voice. "I'm not angry with you anymore."
Angela blinked, outwardly hardly missing a beat. Inwardly, though, her heart thudded.
"Before you…. took me in, I was not a good person." His gaze was unflagging. "Oh, I was not a killer like my brother, but I had no ambition. I laughed and I played and I lounged, and never once did I spare a single thought for anyone other than myself. I was content to be nothing. I saw the evils of the Shimada clan, and rather than working to change the organization from within, or even simply removing myself from the situation, I merely took advantage of their ill-gotten gains to feed my own luxurious lifestyle."
Angela nodded slowly. She thought she could understand where Genji was coming from.
"And then when you saved me, I was filled with hate. For my brother, for what I had become… And yes, for you, Doctor." He said it so matter-of-factly. "I ran. I ran for a long time. And then… I found him." He nodded toward Zenyatta's headless body. "He's taught me many things, Angela, but most importantly, he's taught me to be okay with myself as I am now." His free hand flexed slowly; Angela wasn't sure he knew he was doing it. "I do not mean to be arrogant, but I am a far better man as I am now than I was as flesh and blood. Zenyatta saved my life and helped me find purpose, but you were the one who gave me that chance."
Angela finally relinquished her steel grip on the tiny wrench and opened her arms to Genji. Mask still in hand, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her gently.
A pleased, caring chuckle came from the attic's secondary television. "I am very glad to see my friends and family getting along so well."
Angela jumped, breaking the needed, if not awkward, embrace. "Zenyatta!"
Laughter came again from the speakers. "I heard that I was being discussed, and my curiosity was piqued."
"Sensei, no…" Genji rubbed at his still exposed face. "Please, sensei."
"No need to call me sensei, Genji. We are lovers after all." Zenyatta, to Angela, sounded like he was having way too much fun.
Angela took sides with Genji, unable to keep a small smile from turning her lips. "Zenyatta, can we have a little privacy?"
"My apologies, Angela. I am still unaccustomed to not hearing everything at once." A pause. "While I am here, Genji, I would like to tell you that I am incredibly proud of you for making this leap of faith."
"Sensei…" Genji's exasperation reached a high point, irritation and embarrassment coloring his voice in bright, vibrant hues. His exposed face flushed around the white scarring, making them stand out even more than usual.
Another lightly accented voice broke the communication between them and Zenyatta. "I have temporarily disabled all microphones and cameras into this area, for your sake."
Athena.
Angela laughed. Something felt like it had been lifted from her chest, her shoulders feeling a little less burdened. She laughed hard. She hadn't realized the tension between her and Genji had resulted in exponentially mounting stress, but there it was. Tears began rolling from her eyes, and Genji joined suit, his usual seriousness all but evaporating entirely.
The two hunkered over their friend's disabled body, laughing - so entirely out of place that it brought more bouts of laughter.
After several minutes of unintelligible gibbering through sob-laughs, they finally quieted, red faced and bleary eyed. Maybe the crying hadn't necessarily come entirely from laughing, but that was a good enough cover story for Angela.
Another two days passed with the painstakingly boring routine that had become Angela's life. Wake up in a panicked haze, drink coffee with Widowmaker glaring at her spine, try to talk to Lena (who'd now begun to talk back cheerfully), work on Zenyatta, find comfort in Fareeha's arms, sleep.
Dammit, she was in Florence. She should be out drinking fine Italian liquor with her girlfriend and soaking up sights. Not putting back together good old Humpty Dumpty - but then again, that implied Zenyatta could not be fixed. Since he'd been stabilized, his body could take short bursts of movement, but that didn't open a ton of room to jostle him around. They'd still need another long night or two before that was an option.
Angela shook her head over the frying eggs, which were beginning to burn. She cringed and threw them on a plate, too raw in some places and overcooked in others. Food was starting to run low in the house again, especially since they had picked up another mouth to feed, so she could not afford to throw them out. She took a breath and scarfed down the food while it was still too hot, the acrid taste of burned cooking spray sticking to the back of her tongue. Angela idly considered how her strictly controlled diet was really taking a hit.
A coffee cup clacked against the laminate countertop. Widowmaker had taken to wandering here and there over the last day and a half… with supervision, of course. She stood, hair down, and watched Angela with a neutral expression. Irritation clawed at her insides, and she couldn't keep it from her face.
"Doctor," Widowmaker acknowledged blandly.
McCree watched her the previous night. Fareeha mostly watched during the day, but Lena argued in a supervised spot or two. Can't keep her from who she wants, Angela chided herself, mimicking Ana's voice from long ago. She took a sip of lightly creamed coffee. "Talon has more than my title on file, I'm sure."
Widowmaker quirked her head and stared down at the remaining egg giblets. "I know who you are, but I do not know you. I do not know anyone here." She looked back into the living room, expression softening into a ghost of amusement. "I'm beginning to learn, though."
Angela sighed, pinching her nose to stifle a headache. They were getting more frequent. She trusted the Widowmaker as far as she could throw her. Lena's closeness called for considerable concern, but it did keep her in one place to heal her damn leg.
"That's all well and good, but you haven't told us what you promised when we agreed to take you in."
Widowmaker's eyes narrowed, as cold and flat as damned gold and her amiability gone in an instant. "Are you calling me a liar, Angela Ziegler? As I recall, it was your cur who stepped out of line. I fulfilled part of my bargain in keeping Tekhartha Zenyatta from being permanently disabled."
Repulsion made Angela flinch away. "No, I'm saying that I don't know why you're here if you won't tell us what you know."
A frosty smirk replaced any trace of warmth on Widowmaker's face. "It isn't time yet."
The bottom of Angela's stomach fell out. Waves of nausea pulled her in and filled her lungs with cloying fear and regret. It's a trap. She should have trusted her better judgement and killed Widowmaker herself. No… Amélie.
That other voice whispered cold words in the back of her mind. Amélie isn't there…
Angela gritted her teeth and turned on her heel away from the sneering woman. Her coffee, now behind her, could not go to waste, of course, and sheepishly, Angela turned back to grab her mug.
Widowmaker tilted her head, expression warming more quickly than Angela anticipated. Widowmaker's mood swings snapped back and forth like a flag in the wind. You never knew which way she would swing. Angela mimicked Widowmaker's head tilt, feeling much like a mocking child.
"Doctor Ziegler," The tone set Angela's teeth on edge. Too familiar. Too close to home. "You seem to go through bouts of trust and distrust. May I ask why?"
Angela narrowed her eyes and straightened her shoulders indignantly. "Just because I'm letting you walk around this place and function without handcuffs does not mean that I will hesitate to kill you if you cross us."
Widowmaker inclined her head. For a brief moment, Angela thought she might be showing a respect for her resolve. The little voice inside her that drove her decisions told her to be careful and wary of Widowmaker. She was still an enemy.
Angela began to turn again and stopped, not looking up this time. "And Widowmaker."
"Yes?" The Widowmaker's tone was cool and amused.
"If you hurt Lena again, I will not allow you to take another breath." Angela spared another glance and hoped she looked as absolute and damning as possible.
From Widowmaker's clenched jaw and uncertain eyes, Angela supposed she got her point across. Angela left the kitchen with a small smile of triumph. No one was going to hurt her family again. She didn't care whose feelings she had to hurt. She would not lose anyone else.
"Eomma, we've got a problem."
Angela looked up from her novel without doing much else. She'd been skimming through a book without reading many of the words. She braced herself for bad news. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Widowmaker straighten in her corner and Lena turn to look at Hana. She internally grumbled some more about Lena and Widowmaker being too close.
"We've got company, it looks like."
That sent Angela flying off the couch toward Hana as if her wing harness was attached. "Who?"
"Well, we've got one at the front door, for sure, so you might want to deal with that one first." Hana's smile looked forced. Her voice sounded tinny. She was afraid.
Angela squared her shoulders and popped her blaster from her thigh holster. She wouldn't go to the door alone but... Who could have gotten through the defenses without setting them off?
Fareeha, who'd been sitting in the kitchen, was already at the front door, waiting for Angela with a revolver that looked too big for any human hand. McCree stood nearby, a few steps back, hand on his own monstrous revolver, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Fareeha's dark eyes pinged quickly from Angela back to the door, and once Angela drew close enough, she nodded, unlatching the door and pushing it open.
"Jesus fuck, how many of there are you?" The gruff, comforting voice of Jack Morrison reached Angela's ears.
The biggest smile she'd mustered in weeks broke out on her face. "Jack!"
Before she could actually stop herself, Angela brushed past Fareeha and threw her arms around his neck. That stupid blue and white jacket he loved so much crinkled pleasantly against her skin. He smelled like he always did - worn leather and day old whiskey. He, in his typical Jack fashion, groaned and huffed before wrapping his stout arms around Angela, giving her a tight squeeze before letting go. Finally, Angela breathed a sigh of relief. Someone else to help lead this band of misfits.
Her heart sank a little; realistically, Jack wouldn't show up for no reason, though. Most likely, he'd show up for one reason in particular. Her smile faded altogether, leaving her feeling more hollow than when Fareeha opened the door. If Jack was here…
"Alright, alright," he said, giving Angela's back a vaguely grumpy pat. "That's enough, Angela." He looked past her to Fareeha and nodded, a bit of light glinting off his shining metal visor. "Fareeha. Good to see you. Keeping Angela's bed warm for her?"
Angela coughed and pulled away, her face glowing. "Jack!"
Fareeha smiled faintly and saluted. "Yes, sir. Just the way you ordered."
"Hrm. Good," he grunted. He turned his gaze to Jesse, who came over and planted a great wet kiss on Jack's visor, just where his lips would have been. His head tilted, visible face parts of his face a little splotchy, and he raised a hand in greeting to Hana. "Squirt."
Hana continued to look dismayed, which was unusual. She loved Jack. Her feeble smile came and went almost entirely unnoticed. Usually she'd have shot back with something clever about Jack being so old, but today… Something was really eating at her.
"Everything alright, kid?" Jack asked at the same time Angela stepped forward and said "What is it, child?"
Hana took a deep breath, as if she hadn't heard. "Second order of business," said Hana, her voice steady but nervous.
Everyone swiveled toward her.
"We should get everyone together. I've… got something to show you."
They headed back downstairs as a group. On the way, Angela gave Jack a short rundown of what had been happening recently - most importantly, why one of their greatest enemies was snuggled up in the living room with a mug of tea. When they arrived, Lena actually got up from where she sat with Widowmaker to limp across the room when she saw him, almost tackling the larger man in a great bear hug with a cry of "Cap'n Jack!" Widowmaker narrowed her eyes and huddled her blanket closer around her like a turtle retreating into its shell. Angela almost wanted to smile at that. She wanted Widowmaker to know that she couldn't afford a misstep.
Genji simply nodded in greeting, as Zenyatta solemnly intoned "Hello, Mr. Morrison. It's a pleasure to see you again, though my eyes are not what they once were. I hope your training has been treating you well?"
Athena's voice followed a moment later. "Greetings, Soldier 76. Welcome to the Florence Safehouse."
After what felt like a few nauseatingly long minutes, everyone sat around the couch and on the floor, watching Hana as if she were a teacher showing a video on the living room's television. Hana seemed more tense than even in her most pressured situations. That made Angela worry even more.
"Well, kid," Jack started. Angela gave him a look, but Hana didn't address it. She was chewing on her lip too hard. "What is it?"
"This." She pointed to the screen, and Athena put up blurry surveillance video of a tall man, face covered, drifting through the corner of a screen. The video ended.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," muttered McCree. Jack shoved him.
Angela saw Widowmaker's eyes go wide with fear, and her face went paler than usual. Lena leaned in and out her hand on Widowmaker's in a comforting gesture. Her face was hard, mouth drawn in a tight line.
"That's not all. Hang on." Hana turned to the screen. "Bring up file 142175. Enhance the third quadrant five times, and run the video." She dragged a hand down her face, dark circles under her eyes more apparent this time.
The video flicked to a blurry, pixelated black and white security camera in what looked like a gas station, the kind that only recorded about a frame a second. All was quiet for a few moments; the man behind the counter lounged, bored, idly fiddling with one of the display cases. Then, between one frame and the next, the door was open, and a great, shapeless shadow took up nearly the entire corner of the frame.
As the video ran, Angela was the first to react, covering her mouth.
The man behind the counter leapt to his feet, reached for something underneath the displays... and the next frame, he suddenly flew backwards as if kicked by a giant, slamming into the great glass wall guarding the tobacco products. Black splatter stained the glass that hadn't fallen out from the impact. Before he could hit the ground, things all around the image tumbled off their shelves as what looked like a great, swirling wind kicked up, and as the video progressed, smoke dribbled out of the man's face. It drifted upward, seemingly untouched by the wind, and suddenly flew toward the shadow in the corner. Was that a masked face that it flowed into or merely a trick of the grainy video? The man bucked and writhed, and the stream of smoke thickened and grew until it obscured his entire body.
It lasted for nearly a minute. When the last dribbles puffed away, all that was left was a skeletal corpse, it's eyes and mouth gaping and black - the skin stretched tight over the skull. Hair thin, clothes hanging loose over barely covered bones. The shadow in the corner lingered for a few moments, and the video finally cut out into static.
"Jesus Christ," Jack whispered.
Genji hissed and swore in Japanese.
McCree simply went, "Oh…" as some kind of retraction of his previous statement.
Widowmaker pushed herself further away from the television.
"Run the news feed," Hana barked harshly. Angela had never heard Hana speak to Athena so roughly before. Hana pinched her nose, and Angela could have laughed at the gesture being so similar to her own if she hadn't seen someone just have their life's essence stolen from them.
"Now, for our developing international story. Several bodies have been found with no known cause of death in Florence, Italy. The corpses have been found all over the city, apparently mummified, though early reports put the time of death for the corpses no earlier than this Saturday. Two of the bodies bore serious gunshot wounds, though the other three were apparently unharmed prior to their deaths. We go now to video, though the following footage is graphic and may be inappropriate for some viewers."
The screen cut to high resolution footage of several dessicated corpses. The setting: an old alleyway, hidden behind a dumpster. One appeared to be a man, lying on his back with his leg crushed, in a position that suggested that he had tried to crawl away from his assailant; the corpse next to him looked to be a woman, in a fine blue blouse, lying on her back. Her arms were frozen raised over her head, as if desperately trying to protect herself from something. The screen flicked to another image of the corpse from the gas station in Hana's first video. The body from the first video lay in several broken pieces of withered husk. It's chest was crushed into dust. None of the corpses shown had eyes, and all of them, no matter the position nor the state of decay, appeared to be screaming.
Angela felt herself whisper. "No…"
Jack sighed heavily. "I thought he might be around here, but I didn't know he would be so…" He shook his head. "So fucking obvious. He thinks he doesn't even need to hide anymore."
Hana have a terse nod. "I've been watching movement and the…" She swallowed visibly. "The bodies have been turning up for the last day. The first report was on a social media website, and I just went from there." She chewed in her thumbnail, arms crossed tight over her chest. "It's been… happening a lot in such a short period of time. Five bodies."
Widowmaker's tight, chilly voice broke the pregnant silence like a cry for help. "I suppose that I should begin telling you what I know."
Angela finally found herself able to speak, but instead of addressing Athena, the fear and rage took hold. She felt herself move before she was fully aware of her actions. The solid wooden coffee table went skidding across the carpet as if it were a smooth surface, tipping and crashing onto the floor. "You…" She snarled and her jaw popped from being clenched too tight, her teeth grinding. Every fear she'd harbored during Widowmaker's stay came to the surface. Her maternal instincts had finally won out, and she would protect her family. "You did this. This was all your plan. You lied to us." More spittle than was necessary flew from her lips. Something in her mind whispered for her to stop while she was ahead. But she didn't. She couldn't. Amélie. Ana. Reyes. All those people in Venice. "You brought him here to tear us all apart. Biding your time."
No one moved. No one breathed.
The fear in Widowmaker's eyes turned to cold hatred. Her words were quiet. "Do you call me a liar, Angela Ziegler?"
"What if I am?"
Everything happened too fast. Blurs of motion were really all Angela could remember. Widowmaker leapt from her tight crouch on the floor, going for Angela's throat like a cornered animal. Angela intercepted the pounce and the two rolled, knocking over a side table and shattering a glass lamp. Widowmaker shifted her weight onto her legs and grappled with Angela, who found herself entirely overpowered in close quarters combat. She clawed at the frigid hands around her throat. Widowmaker's eyes seethed hatred and fear.
In her animalistic attempts to claw away Widowmaker's hands from her neck, she distantly wondered if this would be how she died.
Maybe she deserved it.