It was the moment of truth.
Genji's muscles and metal tensed as he stood under the balcony, watching as Angela raised the gun in her trembling hand to her throat through the bars. Once, he knew, he would have leaped up to her in an instant to swipe the pistol aside and sweep his delicate flower away to safety, just as he'd known her to do with him so many times before. Even now the feeling he got as the stars glistened on her skin sent a tingle through his spine, and the gentle wave of her hair in the breeze conjured up memories of her touch, her voice, her scent, their hands over each other's beating hearts as they twirled to the melodies of Strauss in that gilded hall.
On the night where everything changed...
But, he also knew as his hand clinched tightly around the silver and gold items he'd brought along, the reason why he was here was to not be forceful. A lotus blossom withered before its time if it was watered too much, nor could a sparrow spread its wings and take flight if it wasn't given the space to do so. A gentle, guiding hand was needed for healing, a lesson she'd taught through example just as many times and one that his failure to put into practice had brought both of them to this point.
Which was, indeed, why he was there.
This is my fault, he admonished to himself, setting aside the regret in favour of resolve. And now is the time to set it right.
With a small but eager step he brought himself closer, aligning himself under the moonlight to where his green-tinted shadow could make her eye discourse towards the lit path. He held his breath until his chest burned: Would she see it? Would she accept it? The fear of the effort being for naught was palpable, but he stood firm all the same. It was too late to go back on his promise, even if he wanted to.
He watched with a furrowed brow under his visor as her finger wrapped around the trigger, reached out his hand as her tearful gaze met the light, and finally let himself breathe as he heard her whisper float through the night.
"Genji."
The joyous swell the lovestruck cyborg felt as the memories and the sensations flushed forward all over again left him short of regained breath and nearly dizzy from the sweet intoxication of so many feelings all at once, and for an instant there was nothing he wanted more than to hear his bright angel speak again as he would fall onto the soft sand and listen to her sweet words sail upon the air as the grown fondness of absence took hold of his heart and never let go.
Purpose and promise, however, kept his mind and body sober as he climbed a vine that crept nearby on the wall up to the balcony and scaled the bars, setting down with the perfect, gentle touch of a bird on love's light wings, meeting the eyes of his heart's keeper directly and in complete silence.
The next minutes passed at speed Genji felt was glacial, and yet still with such tension as though he were caught in a whirlwind that sucked the breath out of his lungs. His actions were measured and deliberate: When Angela rose to her feet, so did he; When he removed his faceplate, he made sure she was maintaining eye contact; When he took a step towards her, he waited for her reaction before taking the next. That step led to another, and another, and then another until the distance between them was a matter of centimetres, closer than they had been in months. The light touch of Angela's hand upon the cold steel of his chest made his heart race, and the dip of each other's foreheads until they touched deepened the looks they shared to the point where their every thought and feeling was laid bare. Genji's breathing went shallow as his insides tightened, and his eyes spoke in long, poetic volumes about how he'd failed her and everyone else in her life, about how he'd betrayed every ounce of love and every belief she'd ever imparted on him, about how he could now see the error of his ways and how it tore him apart knowing what he'd done.
Ultimately, though, he couldn't manage in the emotional flood put together anything to say beyond a simple whisper. "I'm sorry. For everything."
But in return, Angela had nothing to say.
Genji stepped back. "I brought you something," he continued, telegraphing his words as much as his actions as the latter produced a black and white cylinder, small enough to fit in his palm. With the push of a button, the cylinder extended to a full six feet in length, glowing with a radiant yellow energy as the tips on the highest end extended outward. "I do not know if it's as good as new," he said. "but... maybe it will still work?"
He reached to give the rebuilt staff over to her, not seeing that she still clutched the vial. Even if it hadn't, Angela found that she couldn't make herself take back the staff. On one hand, it was incredible that he'd gone to such lengths to rebuild what she'd thought impossible to do so, and it flashed a reminiscence of the old times where impossible had been their specialty.
The other hand, though, reached beyond practicality or memory and into her wracked psyche. That was just it: Those were the old times, a day and age that was too far gone to retrieve.
And even if she could, she believed, she was too damaged to do so.
Where the many scars that lined the cyborg's sallow, damaged skin and partially reconstructed jawline were deep, but old and worn without pain, Angela's on her face and along her stomach that Genji could see under her curled-up shirt from when she'd been sitting burned a deep red against the dark blue night, and the soul through the gateway of which he stared carried a sense of abandonment, a resignation of losing what she felt to a silent, lonely fate.
And yet, as their gazes deepened and the distance closed to a hair's width again, Genji could have sworn he could see her form the smallest and briefest of smiles, as if it were a last beacon of pure, wonderful light in a storm of miserable darkness. With a finger he reached to her cheek, only for her to gasp and step back and draw her shoulders in further as she turned away, not even bothering to brush the lock of hair that fell over it as her head sank.
Genji fought back tears and the shooting tingle along his spine as he stayed where he stood, partially stepped forward and with his hand still reaching for Angela. This was it, he knew as he leaned the staff against the wall. It would be now or never, and he steeled his resolve to remember to accept whatever result came of his actions. This would be where he hoped he was right, and where he hoped that his promises to Fareeha, Tracer, and himself would be fulfilled.
It was the moment of truth.
"I won't pretend that I know how you feel," he said, putting all his courage into finding the right words. "or that I can fix it. What I do know is that there is always someone who will leave a light on, even if you choose to remain out in the snow." Following through with the step he was halfway through, he sank to one knee and opened his other hand, revealing the silver locket and Fareeha's golden key. "No path has to be walked alone."
Angela didn't look behind her as she raised her hand to wipe away the flowing tears across the sting of her wounds. To look him in the eye, to see her losses, failures, and regrets placed right before her and personified by the man she'd wished for so much alongside, was unbearable, much less to hear him speak of things she'd lost all reason to believe in. She sank into a crouch, her shoulders gently heaving as her head drooped lower than ever, as though a lonely, withered flower was about to shut itself away from a cold, cruel world forever.
Until she heard an unfamiliar tune.
It had hints of the song that played when the locket was opened, but this one sounded different: The voice was less delicate and more...impassioned, the instruments less refined and more... lovestruck, and the lyrics seemed equal parts an apology, a prayer, and a promise, and a proclamation.
And the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.
"You once used the gift of music to help me through hard times," he said almost on queue, even though she still looked away from him. "I only hope that this will do the same for you."
A quiet surprise rushed over her as she peered discreetly behind: Genji's silver locket had been opened with the golden key, and as the music played on so came with it a series of voices she recognized just as quickly.
"When the first explosion hit, it made a big hole in the floor that Mama and Papa fell in. My brother grabbed me and rolled under the bed, but the second one came and the whole building started to fall down. I couldn't move or see him, and everything hurt. Then this lady flew down on golden wings and freed me and made it stop hurting, and then she saved my brother too. I never got to say 'thank you', like what Mama said I should when someone helps me."
"I got this one from Prague, when we were outnumbered ten thousand to one and armed with nothing but my wits, my will, and the Hammer and Shield of JUSTICE! And this one came from the GLORIOUS - Oh, yes, right. All of these scars were healed by the finest doctor, and one of the bravest people, I have ever had the pleasure to know. She never gave up, and neither shall I!"
"To say I didn't know anyone when I came here would be a very big understatement. I mean, people don't exactly look at an ape scientist from the moon and think 'I want to work with him.' But Angela, and really Overwatch in general, aren't just anyone. She sees the good in everyone, and will give anyone a chance to prove themselves. I don't think I could have finished the chronal accelerator without her input."
"-Officials say that the casualty rates could have been much higher in the attack, had it not been for the timely arrival of Doctor Angela Ziegler, who immediately proceeded to help with clearing civilians from the area and treating the injured. Despite an overall mixed reception to Overwatch's return, the pioneering medical scientist receives continual acclaim in polls and publicity charts-"
"Angela's like a mother to me, and to everyone else as well. She's always so sweet and kind and caring, and every day she just makes me feel happy. Oh, Snowball agrees too!"
"Working with Doctor Liao, I had often heard about Doctor Ziegler and what she was like, but I never had the chance to meet her until the Recall. I don't think I could have ever predicted just how dedicated she is, or how important compassion is when you're saving lives."
"Sure, Reinhardt told me about how knights are chivalrous; he never really shuts up about it. But the first time I actually understood what that meant was when Angela explained it to me. She said 'it's one thing to act tough and sure and strong, but a real knight, a real hero, is strong enough to know when to be gentle.'"
"Y'see this here? It's like a Christmas list, filled with of all the things I've dreamed about building over the years. Most of them go 'BOOM' or 'BANG' and never got past the drawing board, but I don't really regret it. Instead, I built a bunch of things that saved lives rather than taking them, because of a little angel on my shoulder."
"On behalf of everyone here,"
"-Don't forget you and me!"
"We just wanted to say that, well, we miss you. We miss you, we love you,"
"-And we'd do anything for you 'cause you'd do anything for us."
"Heroes never die, and the people they help never forget."
"We'll always be there for you when you feel outnumbered, love. Always."
The music came to a soft, delicate end, as the last words from the hologram faded out, each one lingering even as their sound faded away into the still dark of the night as though they were waiting for an answer. For some time Genji didn't dare to speak or even move, fearing that asking what she thought would somehow be like sharing a wish upon a star in that it would doom the chances of anything coming true. Whatever choice she made, he'd reminded himself, he would accept it like how she'd accepted his.
What he soon came to realize was that acceptance didn't dim the feeling of sadness.
Nothing.
For all the time he waited, Angela seemed to make no change: Her head still drooped and her shoulders stayed folded in, seemingly giving him his answer, one that he took with a sigh that veiled disappointment. "Very well then," he said, placing the closed locket and key on the ground next to her before heading back towards the balcony. Before he left though, one last thing to say popped into mind. "Oh, and Angela?"
Again, she showed no reaction.
"You have a beautiful smile," he said, simple and sweet. With that, he turned back for the balcony, listening as the light tap of his footsteps echoed in the doorway on the wood and concrete.
Until her voice stood out over them.
"Do you remember?"
Even though it was just a whisper, Genji's ears drank it in like the sweetest wine as he spun around in place, hope leaping forth from within even though she still stayed motionless on the floor. "Remember what?" he asked eagerly.
"That night. Together, when we danced. Do you?"
His legs tingled with the memory of movement as the Strauss melodies soared in his mind. "Always."
In a single, gradual movement, Angela rose back up to her feet as she spoke. "Do you remember what I said? When we were on the floor, in each other's arms?"
Tears welled in Genji's eyes. "You said 'I wish this moment would never end. Just you and me,-'"
"Together." At last she turned to face him again. "Forever."
Where hope had swelled, joy now overflowed as the cyborg looked through the gateways to Angela's soul once again. Where once had been nothing now existed a deep, desperate longing, a feeling fostered by so many years of absence and back-and-forth and teasing that it could no longer stay put.
A feeling that Angela saw reflected like a mirror.
Impulse washed over the two, driving them forth until they were locked in a tight embrace and a passionate kiss, falling deep into the warmth of each other's touch and a cathartic ecstasy that made the world around them seem to melt away. In that moment under the stars, nothing else mattered but the flawed, beautiful person who had made the scars stop hurting.
The angel and her devil.
The sparrow and his saviour.
Two broken bodies, minds, and spirits made strong again through each other, as a guiding light to a bridge over troubled water.
Together, forever.
They gasped for breath as their kiss finally pulled apart, their cheeks flush and their hearts racing as they lost themselves in each other's eyes. "I hope you enjoyed that," Genji finally said between a breath. "It's been a long time since I was able to kiss someone."
Angela smiled with a laugh. "Why else would I have put you back together?"
"Well, now that you mention it," the cyborg bantered back. "I have been feeling a little sweaty recently, and I've been having trouble focusing." He wrapped his left arm around her waist, bringing her in even closer. "Do you have a diagnosis?"
Angela's expression turned both smitten and seductive as she walked her fingers up his chest. "Better yet," she purred. "a cure."
She kissed him again, snaking her arms up his back and neck as tears welled in her eyes. The words to describe her elation all fell short in her mind, and feeling how he held her showed he thought the same, and that neither cared to find words when their actions said so much more.
And yet, as a roll of thunder came from outside, she knew this moment, much like their time dancing, couldn't last.
Slowly she pulled back, much to Genji's confusion. "A storm is coming," she said.
Another rumble lingered in the sky. "I know," he said. "Our time is short."
"Then make it last."
Genji's eyes flicked down towards his feet, then back up. "I'm done making choices for other people."
Angela ran a finger under his chin, lifting it back up and sliding it along his cheek to wipe away the tears. "And I'm done ignoring the people who matter the most."
"Then don't."
The raspy snarl cut through the air like a bullet, turning their blood to ice and morphing Angela's expression to pure terror in an instant. Simultaneously they turned in the voice's direction, following the shadow cast in dull yellow light back to the tall, withered form that stood absolutely still at the other end of the room. Lightning bolted across the sky from outside, its blinding light breaking away the darkness for an instant to reveal his tattered jacket, inhuman grey faceplate and piercing blood-red visor, and the rifle he held like a grim reaper's scythe in front of himself.
Genji could barely make out just who it was, even with the voice, but as Angela hoarsely spoke his name aloud he came to the realization, though he could hardly compare it to the man he remembered.
The storm had arrived.
"Jack."