"A call sign?" No one had told her about this, and now she was expected to come up with something presumably permanent in less than 15 minutes?

She didn't get much help beyond Gabriel's initial explanation; the transport quickly descended into murmured conversation about mission preparation that left her consumed by her own thoughts.

Cool metal kissed the back of her head as she gazed upward. "A call sign ..." It needed to be something meaningful, that much she knew. Something that didn't just identify her to her teammates ... A name that inspired hope, safety and compassion to the people she helped on the battlefield.

Her eyes searched the rivets on the ceiling for a clue to her question, a hint to help her toward the right answer.

Hope.

Safety.

Compassion.

Angela needed to be the embodiment of benevolence. Her physical being - Caduceus staff and Valkyrie Suit - trained the eyes to understand kindness, but there had to be something more.

A name that transcended senses like sight, sound or touch.

A symbol.

Something those hardened by war and violence would not understand.

Her mind wandered to the day she had saved that little girl in the rubble. Covered by debris, frightened and crying; innocence amid chaos. Angela's job was to save, and save she did. She could almost feel the girl's fingers digging into her armor, the cries that felt like they would tear her fragile little body into pieces. The shield within the storm. A repellent to evil and hatred.

Mercy for those who could not help themselves.

And then it struck her, the thought so poignant and intense that it almost made her wince. That's what that little girl had cried for, was it not? Mercy. Mercy from the fighting, from the horrors of war and the dead-eyed men who wanted nothing but to pillage and plunder.

Mercy from the darkness.

Angela was the light illuminating the shadows that threatened to swallow the helpless.

She tasted the word on her lips: Mercy.

Never again did she want to witness the terror in that child's wild eyes. That is what she would become, the salvation that those thrown on the battlefield cry out for. The mercy their adversaries won't give them. Forgiveness.

"Even the sinful deserve to be saved."

The frown etched into her forehead smoothed out as the stress faded away. That was it.

Engaging the comms attached to her ear, Angela spoke briefly to the personnel on the other end of the line. She didn't notice her absentminded nods or the softness of her features in the dim lighting of the transport.

"Yes, I would like to register an official call sign for Dr. Angela Ziegler, head of medical research."

Unnoticed by her were a few inquisitive stares.

"Registered. Please state the call sign when ready."

One slow breath. That was all she needed to be sure. It just felt right - felt correct in her very bones.

"Call sign register: Mercy."

"Confirming Mike, Echo, Romeo, Charlie, Yankee?"

"Confirmed."

"Affirmative, stay safe out there."

Comms links illuminated as each person received the updated call sign registration. Ana gave a quiet nod, almost lost behind Reinhardt's beaming small and cheerful encouragement.

"Fitting," Jack said. "Welcome to the team, Mercy."

Something in her heart warmed at his giving acceptance. No judgement, just confidence and affirmation. It never ceased to amaze her how he was an endless fountain of inspiration for those around him. Simple affirmation that she was one of them - one of Overwatch. She cherished his friendship. Jack always knew how to make her feel sure of herself.

Her gaze inevitably pulled itself to Gabriel. Dark eyes glinted back at her through the gloom, offering nothing.

Defiance suddenly flashed through her breast, hot and fast. She didn't need his approval. This felt right. It was right, she knew it. Instinctively, she raised her obstinate chin, a silent dare for him to say one damn word.

A small smile was his only reply.

It caught her off guard. She'd expected something entirely different, something aggressive or snarky or rude.

Not a smile.

Before she could stop it, she felt herself smiling back.

Why? Because something deep inside her heart craved his approval - and his approval she had.

Her fluttering chest came to a fast stop when the transport began to descend. Everyone's body language stiffened with the reminder that they had no idea what they were actually walking into. Reinhardt would be the first out of the drop door followed by Gabriel, Jack, Ana and finally herself. Angela would stay by Reinhardt at all times unless there was a clear route to the injured. Ana would split off to find higher ground for suppressing fire and Gabriel and Jack would take flank and point, respectively.

A loud thunk echoed through the hull. And then another. And another. They started to come so fast the sound bled into one continuous staccato.

The pilot's voice crackled through their earpieces. "We're coming in hot! Activating shields. I won't have time for a gentle landing ladies and gentleman, so hold on to something. I'm setting you down as close as I can but we'll be landing on the beach."

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the barrier engulfed the plane. Angela stepped up close to Reinhardt, knuckles clenched tight around a handlebar. They were coming down fast, so fast her ears popped painfully and her stomach lurched up into her mouth. She could feel the sweat on her brow and the slight taste of acid in the back of her throat. Nothing good was going to be on the other side of that door.

"Prepare for drop in 5!"

Latches unlocked and the transport ramp opened to reveal what she could only process as complete chaos. Omnics - both alive and dead - littered a once beautiful tourist destination. The crystal turquoise waters were stained with an ominous tinge of red. Billows of smoke plumed from fires licking greedily through shattered windows.

"Stay close!" Reinhardt shouted. Angela nearly stumbled landing on the uneven ground but managed to pivot in time to regain her footing and pull up against Reinhardt's left side. She switched on her damage boost, basking in the small moment of satisfaction when the beams bathed her teammates in a soft blue glow.

The roar of gunfire combined with the sound of the plane's engines deafened their hearing to the point that Gabriel was forced to use hand signals. Their movement was reduced to a crawl thanks to the deluge of bullets blasting off Reinahrdt's shield and made worse by the sinking sands underneath their feet. They had about 50 feet to cover before they could rely on any sort of building coverage - 50 long feet of nothing but open ground and a whole hell of a lot of guns pointed at them.

Jack, Gabriel and Ana's guns blazed to her right, picking off the easiest targets with ruthless precision.

Angela scanned for any survivors; she didn't expect to find many on the beach, there was nowhere to hide and Omnics weren't known for leaving wounded. They weren't - couldn't be - her first priority, regardless. Her team came first. After they'd neutralized any immediate threats, and only then, could she render significant assistance to anyone who may be in need.

And so they trudged.

Each step felt like a thousand bullets. It was impossible to comprehend the sounds, so deafening in their howl that she was sure she would have lost her mind if not for the steadfast wall of technology and muscle in front of her.

They'd made it probably some 30 feet when something unexpected happened: A portion of the Omnics so intent on their annihilation abruptly turned, cyclops eyes flashing as something more interesting caught their unified attention.

"Oh fuck."

"Move!"

Whatever had distracted the Omnics they could figure out later but it had given them enough breathing room to charge down the remaining 20 feet of sandy death and find precious cover against the corner of a precipitous building.

Only then did Ana have a moment to point out what she'd seen. The French military had airdropped in reinforcements, except the landing was so botched that the Omnics had easily picked the chopper out of the sky and spilled its contents onto the bloodied streets.

Apparently, Overwatch wasn't the only one with bad intelligence.

What had at first been a suppression mission now became something much more dangerous.

"We have to help them," Mercy said.

The group met her statement with hushed acceptance. She was right, they couldn't leave the soldiers to die.

"Ana," Gabriel barked. "Find us a path."

She slipped alongside the building and vanished, leaving the four to contend with half a group of very perturbed Omnics.

"We'll wait until Ana can get us some sort of path over. Reinhardt, what are your shields at?"

"Tzwenty percent and charging."

Plaster and molding splintered off the wall and showered them in razor sharp shards. Jack returned fire in quick succession, jerking around the corner just in time to avoid the white hot flash of a bullet.

"Thirty percent."

The French were sitting ducks, she knew. Time was not on their side.

"Ana?"

Static. Then, a violent crackling ripped through their comms.

"Ana, report."

"Fvorty percent."

"My path, first rig-"

More gunfire. What sounded like a dying Omnic. And then two.

"First right," Ana gasped. "Through the white building one block up into the alley. That looks like it will lead you away from the worst of them, maybe even provide some flanking coverage. I'm close to the roof, I'll be in touch."

"Roger, out."

She cast one last look over her shoulder before they rounded the bend, somehow worried the pinned soldiers might disappear if she lost sight of them.

"Eyes ahead, stay close."

An involuntary shudder at Gabriel's unexpected closeness raised the hairs on her neck. For a second she almost felt like she was back in her kitchen with her back pressed a little too firmly against the kitchen counter. A sharp nod was all she could manage.

Thank goodness for armor.

Ana had found a remarkably clear path for them. They encountered no hostiles upon reaching the white building and slipped inside unnoticed - aside from Reinhardt's brief struggle to fit through the doorway. Wafting smoke hid the shattered glass until it crunched under their boots. Picture frames hung from walls. A bottle of wine tottered precariously on a badly damaged kitchen table. Bright splashes of red colored taupe walls.

Gabriel didn't follow them into the alley, instead disappearing through another fractured door and toward the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire.

"Wait, does anyone else?" Mercy paused, brow furrowed as she fiddled with her comms link. "Is anyone else getting this traffic?"

"Bird do-

eapat-

Hostiles inbo-

uesting back-"

She had no idea if it was a one-way frequency. Anyone could be listening in, or anything.

"Stay alert," Jack whispered. "Whoever has a radio and stumbles on that channel will be able to hear me." He shouldered his rifle and took a knee behind Reinhardt's shield.

"Roger, transmission received. Identify yourself."

A tense silence filled the air around them. One heartbeat. And then two. Three.

"nk God-

This ... forward tea-

4th Spe ... ces Helicopter Regiment. We could use-

elp."

The connection may be garbage, but they got what they needed. "Roger. Overwatch Alpha team en route. Keep your heads down and try to stay off this channel."

More static mixed with gunshots.

"-oger Alpha team."

"Ve have a problem," Reinhardt pointed forward. "Zer is no vay ve can eliminate all targets. Ze Omnics vill know ve are coming."

From what Ana had seen, there were anywhere from two to three Omnics between them and the French and another three to four pinning the wounded down from the beach. Overwatch would be able to get to their destination, but every angry robot in the area would know where they were.

"We can't leave them," Mercy glanced at Jack.

"I don't plan to," he gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm willing to bet we can take out two in an initial charge, that is, if you're feeling up to it Reinhardt?"

The roar came from behind his visor. "Vatch and learn."

Reinhardt's thrusters erupted to life and hurtled him straight toward one Omnic in sentry mode. If robots could panic, the brief twitching of its barrel must have been sheer dread. Reinhardt collided with it so violently that bits and pieces of metal went whizzing off in every direction. Jack and Mercy weren't far behind him, one sending a pair of rockets ripping into the side of the second Omnic, the other flying close beside him. One final hammer swing finished the second threat off. "Ve should be-"

Just ahead of them, piercing through the darkness between two buildings: A red light.

She didn't have time to react, to scream or move. Her body was paralyzed in fear.

"GET DOWN!"

Reinhardt attempted to activating his shield as Jack hauled Mercy behind him, but it was too late. There was no way they'd be able to ...

Except the sound of the whirling barrel never turned into that bright flash of gunpowder and death that had ended so many other's lives.

It didn't turn into anything at all.

The angry glow flickered into nothing; the Omnic clunked to the ground, half of its left side now a smoking hole of sparking circuitry.

Gabriel gave the dead machine one last look to make sure it was dead and then stepped out of the shadows and made his way over to the group. Something irked him in that moment as he walked up to the trio. Reinhardt looked startled and Jack had Mercy in a protective semi-bear hug, one arm wrapped around her waist and pulling her into his half-pivoted chest. It almost felt like the beginning of a headache in the back of his skull - just annoying enough to be acknowledged.

"You're getting sloppy Jack," he snapped. "Not sure how you thought hugging her was supposed to help." He cast his accusing eyes to the larger man, "and you. Did none of you clear the area before patting yourselves on the back?"

Bristling. Unnecessarily perturbed. He felt like snapping Jack's fingers.

He didn't bother waiting until anyone replied, "Move out, they're just around the corner and there's more than a few wounded."

That got Mercy's attention. She stepped out of Jack's grasp and glided to catch up with Gabriel. Now that the immediate threat was taken care of, she needed to get to those soldiers.

She broke into a run when she spotted the men - worse for wear was an understatement - and the moment her suit locked onto a body signature she was lifted off her feet, wings spread wide to carry her to her patients.

"Mercy at your service," she said as she landed, already doing a quick visual triage. "Injury report?"

They all gaped at her for a moment and did shameless head to foot stares. The one that seemed to come out of it the fastest stepped forward and pointed at a man propped against the hull of the helicopter. "Captain Marshal, ma'am. You're a sight for sore eyes. Jensen needs the most immediate assistance, he took a round to his left leg and shrapnel damage to his upper torso."

She knelt next to Jensen and offered him a warm smile. "A pleasure to meet you. I'll have you feeling better in just a moment, please stay still."

Her healing beam enveloped him and got to working its magic. Immediately, the pain in his features ebbed and his body began to relax while the nanobiotics ran through his body stitching together broken flesh. The French watched in awe as she moved from soldier to soldier, healing them with both her technology and her words. She offered smiles, a gentle touch and kind words.

"This," she thought to herself. "This is what I am meant to do."

"Ma'am, I ..." Marshal fumbled for words. "Pardon my language, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'll send you my dissertation when we get out of here." She looked up to find Gabriel. "Speaking of, what's our extraction plan? Stabilizing these men won't be an issue although it would be best to get them to a proper medical facility sooner rather than later."

"Ana's checking for a good LZ. We can move once she confirms a location and we know extraction is inbound."

Ana's voice crackled into their earpieces. "A step ahead of you. I've found a spot about two blocks from you that seems to be clear of any hostiles. ETA seven minutes."


The transport was quiet on the way home. Not a bad kind of quiet, no, more like the type of silence that comes with a sense of accomplishment. Each team member absorbed in their own tasks or simply enjoying doing nothing. Not everyone was relaxed, though. Mercy chewed on her lip as she stared at Gabriel. She'd done a post-mission check with each person as they initially departed and no one had sustained anything more than a minor burn or scrape.

At least, that's what she had thought.

Her eyes narrowed. He wasn't displaying any visible signs of discomfort but she'd been a doctor for long enough to feel it in her bones. Something wasn't right.

She stepped in his way, arms folded, after they arrived back at Overwatch.

A raised eyebrow greeted her.

"Something is wrong with you."

The left side of his jaw ticked in irritation. So she was correct, then.

"Not sure what you're talking about, doc."

"Do not lie to me, Gabriel," she warned. "Your specialty is war. Mine is medicine. I know something is wrong."

His eyes rolled to the ceiling with a begrudging sigh. "It's nothing serious."

None of his armor showed any major signs of trauma so she confidently ruled out a gun wound. Maybe it was internal trauma? Irregardless, he was coming with her whether he liked it or not.

OK. She was over humoring a stubborn man child. "As the head of medical, you will go directly to the medical ward and wait for me, ah," Angela snapped a finger the moment he tried to open his mouth. "This is non-negotiable, and unless you want Simon giving you a very thorough physical exam, I suggest you don't dally."

His jaw ticked again. He had the authority to bench her from missions. Too bad she did, too.

Gabriel brushed passed her without another word, footsteps ringing through the hangar.

A frazzled nurse directed her to exam room four when she arrived at the infirmary 20 minutes later dressed in her usual medical coat, slacks and loose-fitting top. Angela wished she'd had time to shower, however she didn't want to test Gabriel's patience more than she had to.

Stepping into the room, she shut the door and turned to the brooding man staring at the wall. She did her best to push down the immediate anxiety that poured over her when the door clicked shut; there it was, that slow black hole that always showed up whenever she was alone with him.

"Chestplate off, please."

His hard expression became a grin and he very obviously swept her form, "Only if you promise not to keep your hands to yourself."

No.

No.

She was in control right now. Not him. "Off. Now." If she could just bury her weakness down far enough maybe the predator in the room wouldn't sense it.

A doctor's eye spotted it immediately. Gabriel favored his left shoulder and appeared to have some difficulty reaching his armor's side clasps.

Holy hell.

For a fleeting moment she hungrily soaked in his naked chest and the memories that came with it. Angela hadn't seen him like this since ...

"Ahem," she motioned for him to take a seat on the exam table. "Your left side hurts?"

"It's fine."

"Gabriel," Angela hesitated for a fraction of a second and then placed her hands on his dark skin, desperately trying to push away the growing heat in her body by focusing a little too intently on her search for tears or sprains. "Stop playing the tough guy."

Hot breath tickled her neck as he leaned over her. "I am the tough guy," he murmured.

Fuck.

She didn't know why she did it. She shouldn't have done it. Yet she did.

"I know."

Why did the room feel so hot? Was it just her? She didn't like him. She knew she didn't. Right?

Thankfully, he left her in peace to do her work and try to collect her thoughts. There was definitely some tearing and more than a few bruised muscles. Nothing her staff couldn't fix. It baffled her that he hadn't just told her - men and their pride.

"Lucky for you," Angela said. "It doesn't seem too serious. I'll need to go grab my staff, so please wait and I will be right back."

"Wait."

God, she needed to get away from him. Standing this close to him - without a shirt - was doing bad things to her mental state.

"Yes?"

"How about I prove to you that it's not that big of a deal?"

Prove it? "What do you mea-"

And then he wrapped her up in his left arm and she was being hauled up and over the table like she weighed nothing at all. Angela flailed for a moment and ended up grabbing his torso with her legs firmly planted on either side of his hips to find her balance.

"See?" Gabriel's chest rumbled under her fingertips. "I told you it doesn't hurt that bad."

What? What had just?

Oh double fuck.

She tried to pull away but his arm was like a vice around her waist. Little sirens were blaring in her head; Angela was most certainly not in control anymore.

"Gabriel, let me go."

He scoured her face, that stupid smirk still tugging at his lips. Whatever he was looking for he didn't seem to find. With a tilt of his head, one hand lazily started to make its way down to rest comfortably on her hip.

"No."

"What do you mean no?!" Angela burst out. Her heartbeat set a frantic pace in her chest. Blood rushed to all the parts of her body she was doing her best to ignore. Gabriel had seemed so ... so uninterested and cold after their first encounter. Had she been reading him wrong? Wait. Stop. It didn't matter if she read him wrong or not because this was not right and she had told herself she wouldn't repeat that mistake again.

Was it really a mistake if it felt this good?

The hand dragged her back to more pressing matters, like the fact that his thumb was tracing the waistband of her pants and a not-insignificant portion of her brain wanted him to keep exploring.

"Gabriel," she managed weakly.

How he tucked her body closer to his made her heart flutter in anticipation. Anticipation of what, she wasn't sure, but it was clear her willpower had left her the moment her hips had settled on top of his. Her breath hitched as his right hand slid the zipper down to gain access to the sensitive skin below. It felt good. Fuck, he wasn't even doing anything and it felt amazing. Those voices yelling at her to stop seemed so far away now, a distant echo of caution lost in the howling inferno of heat licking at her senses.

"You seem stressed," he purred in her ear. "Let me help, doc."

Logic wavered at his seductive words.

It was blown away completely when he brushed over that sweet spot. All the air escaped her lungs in a single strained groan as she clutched his chest. His ministrations became bolder, encouraged by the way her body so openly reacted to his. A familiar sensation began to emerge in her gut - hot, heavy and solid. Fingers stoked her nerves until little gasps and mewls filled the exam room.

Angela's neck had fallen forward at some point, her body too entranced to give any energy to holding her head upright. Gabriel's pupils were blown wide. She had no idea what she did to him. He wanted to take all of her defiant innocence and strip it down and teach her what it felt like to break the rules. The way her hips bucked against his hand drove him wild. All he wanted to do was free himself, guide her hips and settle her down on top of him.

Not right now though. He had other goals in mind. His doctor would leave her exam room addicted to the feelings he gave her.

His fingers were wet with her arousal and he had to fight the urge to fuck her so hard her eyes rolled back in her head. She was close, he could tell. He slid his thumb across her entrance, delighting in the way she stopped breathing and tensed against him.

"What do you want?"

Gabriel had asked her something, that she was sure of. What he'd asked she had no idea. She didn't care. Nothing mattered except the urgent need for him to press harder, rub faster, thrust into her heated core and give her the release her body was hurtling toward. Angela let out an annoyed whine when his hand retreated.

"Angela, what do you want?"

She wanted him not to stop, dammit. Why was he torturing her? Every nerve screamed for his attention. Angela didn't care anymore. Didn't care that this was so wrong or that anyone could walk in. Not to mention how unsanitary it was. She didn't care that she was Angela Ziegler and he was Gabriel Reyes. Right now it just felt so correct and right and delicious and wonderful.

No.

All she cared about was the release he was withholding from her.

"Please," Angela gasped out. "Stop teasing me."

He wanted to hear her say it. He needed to hear her say it before he gave her the release she so desperately craved. "Tell me what you want," he commanded, fingers doing maddening circles that were never quite close or fast enough.

Slowly, Gabriel eased a finger partially inside her.

"Oh my God." She tried to pull him deeper but he took his hand away, leaving her feeling empty and crazed. The heat was threatening to consume her, to melt her brain into a puddle of pleasure she may never recover from. What was left of her sanity understood the weight of his question. What did she want? She wanted him, of course. But to say it out loud ... There was no taking that back.

"Tell me."

His thumb pressed down unexpectedly hard on her clit and Angela was pretty sure stars danced in her eyes.

"I want," she choked out. "I want you. Please, don't stop."

And he didn't.

Gabriel crushed her body against his chest as he plunged his fingers into her aching, wet entrance. He pumped his curled fingers at a relentless pace, eager to feel her fall over the edge.

Her body came undone violently when he invaded her so intimately. She bit her lip hard to stop the scream from escaping her throat. Her walls clamped down around his fingers again and again, milking them for something they did not have. The orgasm slammed into her like a ton of bricks. She surely would have fallen off the table if not for the possessive hold he had on her. Angela had no idea if she was breathing, no idea what was right and what was wrong. Only that this felt so fucking good.

Angela came down from the high sluggishly, content to ride each wave of pleasure to its completion in his arms. Her shirt was soaked in sweat but she didn't care.

They laid like that for a few minutes until she mustered up enough strength to roll off him. Distance. That suddenly became an urgent priority. The haze of lust wasn't dissipating and if she didn't get herself the hell away from him she wasn't sure what she would do.

Gabriel, on the other hand, made no indication he planned on moving. He had folded his hands behind his head and was watching her with a thoroughly satisfied look on his face. Languidly, he flexed his left arm.

"I told you my shoulder's fine."