Part of Fareeha just really wanted a nap, or a nice meal. They'd barely escaped the apocalypse for a second time. McCree had seemed shaken by something but had still colorfully pointed out that they'd made it out by the skin of their teeth. Her recommendation to her superiors after this was that they destroy the AI. Bury it so that no one could ever try to go after it again. It was about as dangerous a prospect as leaving the status quo but twice in single year now, they'd averted disaster. Fareeha didn't hold out much hope of that actually happening.

She settled down on a bench, rolling her shoulders and balling her hands into fists. Her new arm was responding well.

Angela hesitated at the door, watching Fareeha as she picked up some weights to test her arm. She wasn't wearing much more than a tight tank top and work-out shorts, which gave Angela a full view of toned muscles and a broad back. Both of Fareeha's arms were synthetic. Her right was flesh from the shoulder to just above the elbow, and the left was synthetic all the way to her shoulder blade. Her left leg was also synthetic up to her thigh. Angela could only guess at where those injuries had come from and she didn't think she knew Fareeha well enough to pry just yet.

"Enjoying the view, doctor?" Fareeha glanced over her shoulder, glad for the sputtering, flustered reaction she got.

"No. Yes, I mean…" Angela brought a hand to her face. "I wanted to check on you, see how the new arm is doing."

"It's lighter than the old one. I might have to consider putting in for a full refit."

Angela frowned. "You sound like you are talking about a ship or tank."

A smile passed over Fareeha's face, as she turned to give Angela more of her attention. She didn't put the weights down. "I'm a soldier, Angela." She set down one of the weights, then slid her foot under it to lift it up. "How is Lena?"

Reminding herself that she was a doctor and it was impolite to stare, Angela coughed. "She hasn't woken up yet."

"That wound, it couldn't have been caused by the explosion."

"No, it wasn't. It's…" Angela didn't have any other word than 'complicated' to finish that sentence. "She was wounded before, but it got better. Something keeps happening to her, thanks to her chronal disassociation and the wound keeps reappearing, as though it were fresh."

Fareeha nodded. "Thank you, that makes sense." She dropped the other weight, and came over to Angela, rubbing her hands on her shorts. "I was reviewing some of the reports after the battle. I think there was another combatant."

"What do you mean?" Angela tilted her head, meeting Fareeha's eyes. They were beautiful, with humor and an intense intelligence behind them.

"They found some Talon operatives knocked out from some kind of sedative dart. Someone was discreetly taking out some of our enemy and relieving the pressure. I don't know if it turned the tide, but it certainly helped."

"I doubt they decided to take a nap on the job," Angela offered.

Smiling back at her, Fareeha replied. "Everyone knows you need an afternoon nap before unleashing hostile AIs."

"Of course."

"How is Wid-Rêverie?" Fareeha had accepted the sniper's presence easily. If Angela and Winston had trusted her she wasn't going to argue, at least not in public. But Rêverie had proven herself beyond anything Fareeha had expected. And seeing the way she'd cradled Lena's body…

"Still with Lena. She hasn't said much." Angela gestured in the direction of the infirmary. "The others are doing better, though."

Besides the two lost in the diversion tactic, another three had died and a half dozen were injured. Fareeha knew Angela had done everything she could. Though she'd heard of the doctor performing miracles, she also knew that such miracles often came with a price and no miracle was perfect. "Thank you. I know you did your best for them."

"Sometimes, my best isn't good enough. But we could have lost more. The doctors here are very good. I don't think I could have saved Lena without their help." It had been so hectic. Lena had needed emergency surgery, and one of the other wounded had been touch and go as well. Dr. Hussain had shown her a new technique that was sure to get a lot of use.

Fareeha nodded. Cairo had some of the best hospitals in the world. Between Angela and the skill of the doctors here, she couldn't have asked for better treatment for her squadmates. Sometimes you lost people. Fareeha didn't like it, but she understood it. That was simply war. She'd lost both her mothers to it, and too many friends. Someday, she would give her own life to it too. Thinking about it too much was unhealthy.

Needing to talk about things other than blood and death, Fareeha picked up a towel and slung it around her shoulders. "Do you want to get lunch with me? I don't want to go far until I'm sure my teammates are okay, but there's a place down the street. They make an amazing spiced chicken molokheya."

"I'd… ja, I would like that." Angela put a hand on Fareeha's arm. She could use some breathing space away from the operating table, and the company was certainly nice.

The window in the infirmary looked out over the street. Rêverie could see Angela and Fareeha walking down it together. Interesting. She had mixed feelings about Fareeha. On the one hand, she was someone who could be respected. On the other, Rêverie detested the adherence to duty. It was too close to Talon's brainwashing and she wasn't sure she saw much difference in the end.

She moved her eyes over to the figure on the bed. For three days, Rêverie had kept a vigil. Such things were not unusual for her, though typically her vigils involved laying in wait for her prey. Except for others coming and going, she was mostly alone in her thoughts. When McCree had checked in, he'd seemed a little distracted. He'd been one of Tracer's teammates so it made sense that he'd check on her, but Rêverie could only guess at the thoughts going through his head. She surmised that he finally knew what happened to his old mentor. He talked too much, and she didn't offer much in the way of insight. Rêverie wouldn't know where to begin.

They'd found Tracer on top of a young girl, shielding the child with her body. It hadn't been the explosion that had gotten her. No, the blood that stained Lena's jacket and shirt had come from the same bullet that had sent Rêverie's life spiraling out of control. And now Lena may actually die from it. Rêverie still remembered that day. There'd been that moment of elation, the flood of adrenaline she felt from a good kill. And then something else. Anger and grief and more emotions than she knew how to deal with. In that moment, with that kill, Widowmaker had learned that Tracer was the one she might actually regret. At least, among those she remembered.

Rêverie lifted hand to her own forehead, then pulled some hair into her line of sight. Talon's dye was still there, and she'd have to do something about that soon. She could cut her hair shorter but it was already short enough for her taste. But maybe she'd bleach it again and not even dye it. Rêverie had started to grow fond of that color. Like a clean slate. Maybe, once Talon was torn down and the people responsible for Widomaker were dead, she would dye it red. A dark, bloody red. It would be fitting. Either way, it let her reclaim some amount of control over her own body.

Were there other kills she might have regretted? So many memories were shells or shattered mirrors. Closing her eyes, she tried to force herself to confront her past. There had been a memory, when Reaper had used her trigger word. Not the one with Angela, but a later one. That boy who had accused her of killing him. But she'd never killed a boy. She'd only ever killed her targets. A boy had never gotten in the way, nor had he ever been a target and Widowmaker had been very good at avoiding too much collateral damage.

The cracks in her memory made trying to find the right one like reaching into a box of broken glass. Some memories had three differing versions of events. It made her head ache. When she actually wanted to remember, she couldn't. When she wanted to forget, the memories wouldn't leave her be.

"Ugh." She opened her eyes. Rêverie knew she couldn't find the answers just sitting here. The longer she did nothing, the more time Talon had to prepare and the more time they had to hide.

Picking up her phone, she paged through it. She'd made sure to copy the files Tracer had retrieved, and she'd been studying them when she could. It would not be difficult to track down Talon operatives, even those in deep cover. If she could not chop off the head, she would dismember them instead, finger by finger and limb by limb. If Talon's reach was shortened, perhaps that might be worth something. At least to ease her conscience, the one that too often had the face of a certain annoying girl.

The decision made, Rêverie acknowledged and accepted it, then turned her gaze to Lena.

Lena was still laying there, machines beeping and her breathing shallow. Rêverie stood, and walked over to the bedside. She fussed with Lena's hair, adjusted the sheet in case she was cold and then just stared at her. "We worked well together on this mission. Better than I ever expected. But what I must do next, I must do alone. I am still a spider after all, and as much as you might wish it otherwise, a spider must hunt."

Touching the tattoo on her own arm, Rêverie dropped her voice to a whisper. "They wanted a nightmare. First, they buried Amélie under it. And now Widowmaker has joined her. Maybe you will too. But dreams and nightmares are the same thing, it is all in how you interpret it." She had a list of names and locations. One in particular that had been placed at the top of that list. A scientist. Her eyes darkened. "They wanted a nightmare, and I will show them one."

Pressing her lips to Lena's forehead, Rêverie mouthed the words she could never trust herself to say. Running her thumb over Lena's mouth, she allowed herself just one more minute. "Merci, cherie. Au Revoir."