Angela buried her head deeper down, her cheeks pressed against Fio's icy skin as the tears flowed forth. It was all she wanted, all she cared for, to simply stay there on the hard, red-stained floor and mourn everything until the strange peace she felt in the body's clutch overtook her.
Until the piercing beep of the datapad demanded attention.
A tear welled in her poorest eye, blurring its suspect clarity even further. She looked around with what vision she did have, trying to peer above the edge and past the other pieces of equipment. At her angle, they stood as towering monuments to her work.
With a hand on her bent knee as support she tore herself away from the pilot. I'm so sorry, she thought. I'll bury you later. I promise.
For now, however, she had to dry her eyes, brush off her clothes, and get back to work.
The first order of business was to silence the datapad. She clutched it in a balance on the palm of one hand while the other brushed away the alert and clicked the prompt that insisted on announcing its presence.
Analysis Complete, it read. Diagnosis: Severe trauma of retina, pupil, and lens leading to degeneration of vision. Prognosis: Permanent blindness in affected eye without intensive treatment. Suggested course of action: Removal or immediate daily direct applications of nanobiotic therapy for up to sixteen weeks.
The words, straightforward as they were, carried as much weight as anything else that had been said or done that day, weight enough to make Angela's extremities feel like they weighed several tonnes apiece, and enough to add yet another burden to her conscience. Almost without thinking she reached for her pocket, retrieving the recorder that had made the past two weeks possible.
Listening through it wasn't her intention; By this point she knew it would have only made things worse. And yet, she reached for the replay button, bringing up the last thing said. "I did it. By Gott in Himmel, I did it."
I did it, but...
She rubbed her bad eye again until her fingernails scratched into the lids as they pulled away, balling into a tight fist and crushing the recorder to fragments. "Fuck you, Ana," she spat defeatedly.
Her legs shook as she rose back up on them, using the counter and her forearms to hoist herself when they threatened to fail, and brushing aside the mess of devices along the counter with an attracting clatter that heightened her emotions. Her head sunk onto the dirty fake granite and though her voice was muffled, her cries grew louder and louder as her mind raced.
This isn't what you told yourself you wanted.
Moira was right. It wasn't going to stop with them.
Reyes didn't give you a blessing in disguise. He gave you a wolf in sheep's clothing, a curse that's only added to his body count.
They both warned you and you didn't listen. Jack will never let it end, and now there's no coming back.
Angela screamed at the top of her lungs as her arms flailed uncontrolled across the counter, sending machines and devices flying in every which way before crashing down in a shower of shattered glass and bent plastic until there was nothing left but the centrifuge and its contents; The second dose of Ghost Serum-killer, sitting in that vial.
That same, red-smeared vial.
It was then she finally collapsed, first burying her head into her hands before an unmatched weariness overran her and brought her to the floor again. For an unrecorded stretch of time she simply stared up at the popcorn ceiling as though nothing around her was real.
Nothing but the sting of her scar and the breaking point of the weight she'd carried.
And the faint glow of something above it all.
The light was dampened through the newspaper, but even so it was as though it beckoned to her, reaching for her like the arms of an angel. Almost like she wasn't in control, Angela rose, tore the paper aside, and opened the door out to the balcony. Had Jack seen her do it he would have likely killed her on the spot, but she wouldn't have cared even if that had crossed her mind.
There were bigger things on it anyways.
Through the opening created a stiff, sandy wind blew, breaking the stifling heat within the room and meeting her face-on with a refreshing chill. From even such a small and distant point Angela could make out the dunes on the horizon, shifting with an aloof, attractive serenity under a midnight blue sky, while slightly further off were the faint twinkle of lights in the nearest city. Even further still, just peeking over the horizon's edge, stood what looked like a traveler crossing the dunes on foot under the cool moonshine. A mirage, she presumed. An illusion of the desert and nothing more.
They, however, paled in comparison to the radiance above, a full complement of stars dancing on the moonlight. For some reason gazing up at them called to mind something Genji had once said, a story about how the stars kept people's memories. It was poetic and certainly beautiful, but she'd never actually given it much thought.
And yet, as the stars returned her gaze, a memory of the last time she'd seen them shine so bright sprang to life...
Sitting on the grass at Versailles, Angela couldn't help but smirk.
Though she couldn't see it from the fountain she sat at the edge of, she knew that on the other side of the palace streamed out a parade of black limos and their owners, silently gliding down the gravel road and through the rows of topiary hedges with virtually no fanfare to impede them. It seemed almost strange, she thought, that the night had ended with a relative whimper instead of a bang. After all, peace of her time had just been marked on paper no more than twenty minutes prior.
The night's meeting had marked the culmination of months of compromise, arguments, hard work, and sleepless nights. For the first time in almost thirty years, there was a formal agreement in place to defuse the powder keg of human-Omnic relations that had been lit when Null Sector declared war on the organic world two years ago. Despite the best efforts of a few determined hawks that Angela swore had given her grey hairs before her time, the doves had sighed with relief when diplomacy and cool heads finally prevailed. The part though, most of all, that prompted a jubilant swell for herself was that for the first time in her life, it had all been done her way. From where she stood, or rather sat, it was perfect.
Which was why she smirked.
History had never been her favourite subject, but she knew it well enough to be able to draw parallels where they existed. The fact that the last armistice signed within those walls had led to a war three times worse than what was called "the war to end all wars" wasn't lost on her one bit. It had been something loudly cited in more arguments than she'd cared to remember, and silently mulled over during the longest and loneliest hours of those sleepless nights. Sometimes, when what felt like the unending length of mirrors and the lonely echoes in the gilded halls made her feel small and enclosed, she'd wondered if that was how the creators of the Treaty of Versailles had felt one hundred fifty years ago.
The train her mind had boarded when that happened, and now as she ran her fingers through first her hair and then the moonlit pool, always led to the same place: How would they have felt twenty years later, knowing where it would all lead? Did they believe they'd failed? Who would they blame? What would they have done?
How would they have dealt with the guilt? How could they have?
For now though, she put it out of her mind and enjoyed her solitude, focusing on the gentle bubbling of water and the stars above.
"It's a beautiful night out."
A mild gasp let him know that he'd startled her, but when Angela turned around to see who it was she smiled warmly. "It certainly is, Genji."
The cyborg put a foot back. "If I startled you, then I apol-"
"Don't worry about it," she laughed. "It's alright. I didn't expect to see you out here, that's all."
A moment passed where neither made any move, until Angela subtly rolled her eyes and chuckled. She'd almost forgotten how nervous Genji could be at first, like a turtle hiding in its shell. "Well don't just stand there. Come and sit down."
Genji bowed before obliging her, brushing the robe he wore into position as he criss-crossed his legs. Angela almost felt under-dressed by comparison, despite wearing a smart dress suit herself, though she declined to show that particular feeling. At the moment, she was remembering just how cute Genji was when he couldn't decide what to say next.
The ninja, meanwhile, twiddled his thumbs inside his folded hands, hoping the long sleeves of his robe hid them from her view. "I was wondering where you were," he finally said at last. "I didn't see you leave with the rest of the dignitaries."
"Yes, well, it's been a long night. Actually, a long month," Angela sighed. "I suppose I just needed to clear my head."
Genji looked around slowly, following the path of a firefly's blinks until his gaze fixed on the dazzling night sky. "Well, you certainly picked a wonderful spot," he said. "It reminds me of the monastery at night; Peaceful, quiet, beautiful. A place fit for an angel."
Angela tilted her head away slightly, afraid he'd see her blush. "In that case, what's my favourite little devil doing out here?" she bantered back.
"Would you believe that I just wanted to talk like old times?"
The doctor's smile faded at the mentioning, leaving her grateful that she still wasn't looking him entirely in the eye. The cyborg, however, knew just what to do. "What about if I told you that just before I could leave, I saw you where you are now and thought 'but soft? What light through yonder window breaks?'"
Angela fought it playfully, but a smile broke through with an easy grace. How Genji knew Shakespeare when he'd once professed to never reading or seeing it was a mystery she didn't think she'd ever solve, nor did she want to. "Well, we are near the east wing," she replied through a chuckle. "but I don't know if I could have reached the envious moon even if I hadn't left my other suit at home, let alone killed it."
"I could always do it for you. I'd think you deserve a rest after finally getting Miss Thatcher to be silent like you did."
She rotated towards him, folding her legs and hanging her one arm down until her hand was just above the water. "Now wait a minute; You helped me with that. Don't sell yourself short. Sarah looked like she was about to have a heart attack when you walked in, wearing your sword and..." She gestured at his robe, semi-jokingly unsure of what it was supposed to be called.
Genji feigned a bashful modesty. "It's no hoodie, but perhaps, even for a night like this," He scooted closer and reached for Angela's hair, let down rather than in its usual ponytail, as she pretended to try and swat him away until he held up a single, long silver hair between two fingers. "maybe I overdressed by comparison. Also," he teased. "since when did you and her get on a first-name basis?"
Angela played up her own response to match. "Didn't you hear; we're the best of friends now! They brought in her coffin so she could sleep at the palace and it's like she was a different person!"
"And meanwhile here I am, still calling you 'Doctor Ziegler'."
Angela raised a pointed finger to go with her grin. "Now wait a minute; That's your own fault. How many times have I told you to just call me 'Angela'?"
"At least once more, 'Dr. Ziegler'. The former playboy reached for her hand, delicately grasping it with a suave, dramatic style akin to an old movie. "Though perhaps the reason I say that to only the most exquisitely beautiful women I've known."
Now she knew he could see her blush, and with a vindictively playful grin she splashed water in his face for it, in response to which he pretended to spasm and short-circuit, despite his prosthetics being completely weather-proof. He reached in closer to teasingly try and pluck a grey strand out, to which she laughingly swatted at him until he lost his balance and fell into the pool. She covered her mouth half in worry as she continued to laugh, but Genji emerged from the shallow fountain without an issue, aside from that he was sopping wet.
When the doctor offered her apology, Genji chuckled. "It's alright. I may have deserved it," he said as she offered a hand to help him climb out. "but I always know you will be there to save me."
A mild concern coloured her expression. "I just hope that I didn't ruin your..." Again she gestured to his robe. "Silk doesn't do well in water."
"There's no cause for concern," he reassured. "This robe may be a family heirloom, but it will be fine by when I need it next weekend."
Angela's eyebrows raised inquisitively. "What's the occasion?"
Gradually, Genji's posture shrank inward. His eyes and head sank downward and his shoulders curled in. "They will be holding a gala to celebrate the peace accords," he explained. "and I was hoping that... that..."
The gentle hand she placed over the one he had on his lap soothed his nerves and allowed him to collect his thoughts. "That I might bring a date."
A sudden pang in her chest slowly drew Angela's hand back, and a chill began to run down her spine despite the warm night. Late-night talks, shoulders to brood on, and battlefield banter about one buying the other dinner was one thing, a comfortable thing that what she felt now was nothing like. Angela wasn't naive; She knew what this feeling was, but she'd always told herself that there were so many things standing in the way. The Hippocratic Oath, her work, his own work, her own problems on top of his. There was simply no way to get past that state of 'will they, won't they?' without putting too much in jeopardy.
The part that struck closest, though, was that Genji seemed to know all too well. "I understand who you are, and if you don't want to, then that is alright," he explained. "It is just that you seemed troubled these past few months. I hope we can enjoy ourselves."
Angela kept her expression unchanged, but the feeling grew until she felt like her heart would burst.
"I've also missed you ever since you left Overwatch again. We all have."
Faster than the snap of her fingers, it froze. Her eyes dropped and she hunched over with her arms crossed over her stomach like a flower closing at sundown. Despite being born to two practicing Lutherans and spending how many Sunday mornings alongside Torbjorn and Brigitte as Ingrid preached a sermon, reconciliation was a concept she'd rarely grasped. It was her job to cure bad influences, not potentially allow them to metastasize. It had been a high price of time and mental health to get from there to here, and with more than a fair share of missteps along the way. The ghosts of Overwatch past, both times, were ones she couldn't shake soon enough.
Genji began to lean in to ask what was wrong, but the faint drop of water landing on stone provided the clue that shifted his own gaze down in shame. "I didn't mean to," he explained. "I'm-"
"Don't," she answered, almost with a quiet force that she sighed at when she caught herself. "It's not your fault. It's just, it's just that I guess I've made a lot of mistakes." She placed a hand on her temple as her head lowered again, and let it slide off as she looked back up over the stillness of the shimmering pond. "I've made a lot of mistakes and I've seen a lot of mistakes be made, and..."
For a split second she questioned herself, asked if this was something she wanted to share. But really, the only answer she could come up with was what was there to question?
"and I've finally managed to put it behind me," she said. "For the first time in my life I feel like I can change things the right way, and I've finally managed to make something come of it." She drew her fingers down into the pond, watching the water swirl with each movement. "The last remnants of the old Overwatch have been swept away. No more casualties, no more playing hero, no more reunions, and no more promises left to break."
On those last words, she swiped her fingers outward and up, stirring up white-water which dissipated after a few inches into small, persistent ripples that distorted their starry reflection of the night sky as they sailed outward.
As Genji drew closer, he removed his visor and placed it on the grass. When it came to latent themes like what he knew all too well were at play, some things were best said eye to eye. "I think I know what you mean," he said.
The side eye Angela gave in reply was telling, so he elaborated. "After I left Overwatch and before I reached the monastery, I spent a very long time searching for 'the right way' for myself. I felt betrayed, unwanted, alone. The world was against me, and it was impossible to escape what I'd done and what I'd become. It tore me apart better than any blade or arrow could, until I was tired of having to put up with it anymore."
Angela looked down when she felt ripples on her fingers coming from another direction, seeing to her surprise that Genji was stirring and obscuring the reflection too.
"But then, when I felt I couldn't get any lower, I remembered that there had been someone who cared even when no one else did," he said, his voice trailing off longingly as he gazed up at the stars. "Someone who always listened, even if she did most of the talking during those late nights, and someone who would do anything for me even if I couldn't give her anything back. I remembered, and I realized that no matter what happened now, those were the happiest days of my life. So long as I remembered them, I would never be alone because at that time, I knew love."
Angela lifted one leg up to prop her arm on her knee so she'd have a place to bury her face. Her eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates and she almost had to physically stop her jaw from dropping. Whatever she could have possibly thought of to say next was lost in the existential deluge created by the fact that, in the sort of poetic way she'd admired so much, he'd basically said he'd fallen in love with her.
Or maybe, she pondered much to an emotion she couldn't quite stick a pin on, just to what degree he was right about what she meant.
And to what degree she'd have to reconsider where her place in their relationship was.
It was something her mind stalled on until the cold sensation of wet metal on skin kissed her fingertips before spreading across her palm, drawing her look out of its shell and down to where the cyborg was now holding her hand, calming the waves they'd both sent out and letting the stars dance on the water's surface. When her eyes traveled up and met his, she could have sworn the moon didn't sparkle as gently or as bright.
Despite half his face being covered, Genji blushed. "I know, it's a lot to say just to get a date. I'm-"
"Don't," she answered before inching in close and planting a kiss on the cyborg's cheek and pulling her lips off even slower. For all the cold steel he wore, his skin felt as rich and warm as velvet.
Genji, for his part, could barely put together the words. "I'm happy that we've got peace this way too," he finally stuttered. "I-I guess I just want to share it with my angel."
"You have the heart of a romantic," Angela replied.
Genji's eyebrows curled into a furrow as he exhaled with audible sense of feeling touched that made Angela smirk. "Besides," he added, capitalizing on her amusement. "I can't imagine Miss Thatcher wanting to dance very much."
"Alright, alright," Angela laughed. "You've got yourself a date. I accept."
The gasp Genji made was so loud the doctor almost thought he was going to start hyperventilating, and she saw in the corner of her eye that he was clinging to the edge of the fountain with his free hand as though he was about to fall in. "Tha-I mean, this is... you..."
She placed her index finger over where his lips would be. "It's alright. Just say what you mean."
Finally letting out his breath, Genji's shoulders dropped and his eyes met hers again. "Thank you, Angela. For everything."
The moment they shared in silence was immeasurable by any aspect. Anything that could have been said or done had already happened. Now, it was just them together.
Them, and an understanding as close as their touching foreheads, as deep as the looks into each other's eyes, and as entwined as their fingers.
It was only when their shadows under the moon grew long and formless across the grassy field, rising over hedges and enveloping stone columns before poising to disappear entirely behind the palace, that the thought of anything but the here and now crossed their minds. "It's getting late," Angela finally whispered, sitting back up straight. "Or rather, early."
This time it was Genji's turn to smirk. "Then perhaps it's time we parted ways for tonight."
Raising their hands, the cyborg began to pull his apart, each finger sliding longingly away from Angela's. At the last moment she squeezed her grip back together, trying to keep his embrace for just a little longer, only to feel a heavy pang on her pounding heart when his touch had completely left. On the other end, Genji exhaled heavily and blinked several times in swift succession, his eyes swiveling back and forth between the sky, the water, the grass, and her.
Angela brushed an errant lock of hair back off her forehead, where it'd been pressed in place, before bringing her legs to the other side of the fountain. "Until we meet again, then?" she said.
The cyborg straightened a crinkle in his robe as he responded. "Until then," he replied, but just as he went to rise up he cocked his head to one side. "though parting is such sweet sorrow."
Angela smiled as she closed in one last time and kissed him where his lips would be. "And so I say good night," she replied, pulling back. "'til it be morrow."
Genji retrieved his mask, arose with nothing else said, and left Angela alone with the stars again.
She looked down into the water's reflection again, where it showed the glint of the night sky and the one on her eyes clearer than ever. Behind her, she could hear the spring in Genji's step in the brush of the grass underfoot; It wouldn't have been healthy to watch him leave.
With nothing left to focus on but the serenity of solitude, her eyes drifted towards the sky and her thoughts towards familiar destinations, bringing back feelings that couldn't be named and yet could all be called the same thing.
The same thing that made Romeo and Juliet feel more real than any class she'd taken ever could.
The same thing that made her breathe in deeply, feel the warm air fill her lungs and, for the first time in months, make her feel lighter when it left than she had been before.
Light enough that Valkyrie suit or not, she felt like she could soar into the sky, graceful as a bird and as bright as the stars that twirled just out of reach.
The same thing that answered the question that had lasted for two stints in Overwatch and all the years inbetween.
She will. THEY will.
Angela's head collapsed into her hand as her shoulders heaved and her knees threatened to buckle. So much had happened since that one perfect night, so much that had taken what she felt and scarred it beyond recognition; The writhing corpses of the dead Omnics, the agony of pointed steel ripping her stomach open, the bloody sting of her scar and the frothing corrosion of rage as monsters took everything she loved and left only hate in their wake.
No, she suddenly realized. They didn't take everything.
There was one thing, nay, three, that had come and offered a way out, a bridge over troubled water that was burned down with barely a second thought by the man who'd once given her his metal heart.
But all that was left inside her was a void, as empty as Jack and Reyes' eyes, and a guilt that she could never carry the burden of.
It was now that her knees finally gave way and she fell to the ground in an unkempt mess, her neck whiplash-ing as she landed on the balcony's cold cement. Readjusting it, she cricked her head upwards where the stars hung as always, though a sudden desert storm threatened to obscure them behind a dark bank of clouds in under an hour. For now, though, the stars felt a lifetime away, forever out of her reach.
Reyes and Moira may have taken her life, but her heart, body, mind and soul had been cast aside on her own accord, and for what? The lonely, loveless pursuit of the most worthless of causes? For the shell of a good man that a monster now inhabited to pick up for himself and corrupt with his own black, broken heart? For the swirling tempest of bottled death she held in one hand, paid for in her own blood, to consume her like it had Jack?
Her scar burnt sharper than ever, and for the first time in weeks she felt like her stomach had been freshly gutted like a fish again. The distant lights outward and above, and anything aside from the sheer weight of how tired and hurt she felt, were impossible to focus on.
And yet, even with anguished thoughts and tear-blurred eyes, there was one thing left to see clearly.
She was alone. There was no one left to love or be loved, no one to give everything or do everything for, no shoulders left to cry on.
And only one thing left to do.
In one hand her grasp on the vial opened up, though the bottle refused to roll off her fingers. In the other, the stubby grey piece of plastic and steel that she removed from her belt loop and closed her fingers around the grooved handle of, even as it tied enough knots in her stomach to make her vomit over the balcony's edge.
The storm was closing fast. The time had finally come.
She tilted her head skyward one last time, seeing the moon casting its long shadows down as the cold ring of steel at the barrel's edge was pressed under her chin, a happy dagger that tonight would find a new sheath to rust in. There was no other way; Everything, everyone, had left her alone on the dark, lonely road.
Left her feeling cut off from the stars.
Left her feeling alone, betrayed, and unwanted.
Left her void of hope, and of the peace she wanted from death.
And void of love.
Her finger shook as her trigger finger went stiff, as did her chin when the last whisper from her escaped her lips and escaped on the cold wind. "There's no going back."
But it was too soft, too meaningless and forsaken, for even her own racing thoughts to hear.
Too alone.
Until another shadow crossed her own.
It was barely visible, coming from the corner of her tilted eyes and through the drapes of her messy hair over her face and forehead. And yet it was there all the same, demanding attention that she found impossible to deny.
The pistol was pushed away as her neck lowered. Below the balcony the shadow drew closer, looming larger with each step and casting itself over a greater territory under the fleeting moonlight. For an instant she thought that Reyes had finally caught up to her, and despite the abject terror of such a notion she knew she'd welcome it.
But this shadow wasn't black. It shone green.
Angela leaned in closer, nearly doubling over to see just what, bescreened in night, had stumbled upon her counsel. As she followed the trail of neon green almost straight down from the concrete edge, the shape became more and more familiar. It was small and peculiar, like an illusion of the desert.
A mirage, but one that up close proved to be more real than could be possibly imagined.
Angela gasped, loud enough that the mirage looked up to meet her squarely in the eyes, shining steel glinting off his faceplate. In even less than an instant everything rushed back through her memories again, leaving the fallen angel in a state of shock that nearly collapsed her over the edge. Only one whispered thing, one name, could be coaxed from her lips, but even so it felt fitting.
Her favourite little devil had returned.
"Genji."
