Conflict
She was in the lab, helping her researchers with processing the samples she'd gotten from Winston the day before. Everything was looking as well as they could be, though she knew it would be weeks more at least before the gorilla would be released from his confinement – just in case. While she wanted to make sure he was healthy, she also wanted to restart his gene therapy as quickly as possible – but that required a base of information they didn't yet possess.
"Dr. Ziegler." The woman sighed, but didn't turn around from her work. She hadn't heard his approach, but she wasn't surprised that he was here. Even though she was surrounded by witnesses, even though she knew he'd wait her out – or worse, just start talking – she briefly considered ignoring him.
Resigned, she turned to look at Jack standing in the middle of her lab, as different as a robin among crows and gathering just as much attention.
"Hello, Commander." She considered him for a moment. "They've spoken to you, then?"
"You know they did." Angela nodded. She'd avoided going to speak to Jack, instead forcing him to come to her; it wasn't as if she had done anything wrong. It hadn't delayed the inevitable – in fact, he'd started this much more publicly than she cared for. Of course, after working together for more than a year, he would know she'd be stubborn enough to wait him out – so he called her bluff.
Carefully, she put aside the test tubes before pulling off gloves and goggles. As quickly as she could, she had the worked passed off to one of the researchers; while she didn't want to make Jack wait any longer than necessary – again, he might just start – she couldn't just leave her work open on a table for contamination.
"We can talk in my office." She told him before heading for the exit, the Commander hot on her heels. Fortunately, the trip was short, and soon he was closing the door behind him. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, Jack." She offered, resignation in her voice as she sat in her chair, and waited in silence for the shoe to drop.
"I'll cut to the chase, Angela." Jack fixed her with a pointed look. "I can't send you into the field with Gabriel again." She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "It's not safe for anyone – you, him, or our agents."
"I am fully capable of doing my job, regardless of who I am… involved with." Angela snapped. Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, lets say I send you out with Gabriel," he offered, his tone perfectly agreeable, damn him, "and he gets shot." He gave her a piercing look. "What do you think would happen?" She paled at the thought, then colored – though whether it was from anger or shame even she couldn't tell.
"I would give him medical treatment – just like anyone else." Angela retorted, though her words weren't quite as sure. She remembered, just as Jack surely did, what happened in Liechtenstein – concussion or no, it wasn't the way a combat medic should act, how she should act. "It's my job to worry about the health of the agents in my care."
"Fine. What about if you get shot?" Jack countered. Before she could even formulate a response, he was continuing. "When you did get shot, Angela, Gabriel left that factory – and the others under his protection – to make sure you would be safe." Angela colored, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap, which were clasped so tight it was nearly painful. She'd had no say in who had travelled with her, and she had been surprised when she'd woken to see him – but while it was a comfort to her, it shouldn't have happened and she knew it. "He should have sent another with you and remained behind, but he didn't."
"Angela," Jack's voice was gentle now, "we can't afford for either of you to be distracted with the other on the field." Angela squirmed slightly, because she knew he was right, damn him, but that didn't make the revelation any less upsetting. "It'll get someone – an agent or one of you – killed. It's happened before." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving the silent challenge – do you want that to happen? – to hang in the air between them.
They both knew that she would do anything – anything – to keep their people safe.
"Ana and I are perfectly capable of watching out for you." He reassured her after the silence became heavy, as if that was the problem. She knew they would keep her safe, just as Gabriel had – but that wasn't the point, because they weren't him. Gabriel knew about her nightmares and how stubborn she could get under stress, which the others would surely figure out how to deal with – if Gabriel didn't tell them himself out of some attempt to help them protect her – but the fact of the matter was that she just felt safer with Gabriel at her back.
He'd been there from the first, after all.
"Of course you are." She agreed, never having doubted that for a second. Angela leaned back in her seat with an exhale to stare at the ceiling, as if it were any more riveting than her hands. She knew that Gabriel would do something stupid – like step between her and a bullet – again. She probably would do something stupid too; she wasn't too proud to admit it – at least to herself. He'd ordered her to stay back in Venezuela, and she couldn't say for sure if he'd have done the same with another medic. Yes, he had made sure the immediate hostiles were down, but she doubted he had waited much longer than that. He might – would – get distracted, and that could get him – her, someone else – killed, and she couldn't live with that.
She wouldn't.
Her mind couldn't help but fly to that night in the hospital room. He'd even admitted that he was trying to keep her safe – which she had already known – but she knew realistically that couldn't happen when bullets were flying. He was one of two Commanders, one of the leaders of Overwatch, and he had a duty to more than just her. He couldn't be trying to keep her out of the line of fire – even if that meant using himself as a shield – when others were counting on him; Jack and Ana would keep her safe, but not at the cost of everything else like Gabriel would.
She knew it was the truth, even before Venezuela if she was being honest with herself. He would keep her safe, always – and that was a cost too high for their agents to bear.
"I don't like this." Angela said to the ceiling with a defeated sigh. Even as much as Jack was right, it didn't make her any happier. Gabriel had had her back from the beginning, and now it felt like she was abandoning him – or being abandoned.
"In this case, it doesn't matter what you like." She could feel his eyes on her. "I'm not going to let either of you get yourselves – or others – shot because you don't like something." She huffed a laugh, despite herself, looking back at the man in her office.
"You're right, of course." Angela admitted, though it took longer for her to admit it out loud than necessary. "I agree; I won't go into the field with him." Jack nodded, and his shoulders relaxed – she hadn't realized he'd been tense. Then again, even she knew she was argumentative – but where Gabriel fought based on emotion, Jack was using hard facts. She couldn't refute facts, as much as she wanted to. It didn't help that she couldn't stand the thought of Gabriel getting killed because she was on the field.
"But," she held a finger up, and Jack tensed again, "if he comes into my infirmary, I will be putting him back together." It was a shameless abuse of authority – she knew it was a conflict of interest, just as Jack surely did, but she couldn't, wouldn't, let someone else do her work, not when she was the best Overwatch had – but Jack nodded anyway. She was surprised he didn't argue with her. He probably knew there wasn't any way that he could conceivably stop her, not when it came to the operation of her division. She was capable of proper prioritization – she'd done it with Bianchi, well sort of, and she was mostly positive she could do it again.
"Did you tell Gabriel? About me going in the field?" She asked after a long moment. They'd each made promises to the other, but it didn't mean anything when Jack was giving direct orders that countermanded them – as she'd clarified in her apartment so long ago, Jack's orders were absolute. She couldn't stay out of the field; they had found compromise with those promises, and she worried about the next fight to come.
"I did." He confirmed, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't have to break the news to him, but she knew there would be an argument about it. There was always an argument when it came to her safety.
"Do you need me for anything else?" She asked quietly. Angela had work to do and an argument to avoid, both of which would be best done away from this office. He shook his head and he rose, Angela following suit.
"You should eat something." Jack urged her as they exited the office; she imagined it was nearing noon, but after that conversation she wasn't feeling up to doing anything but work. She shook her head.
"I'll eat later – I need to get back to work." She insisted, turning to do just that before he could drag her off to a canteen.
While she doubted it was necessary, she was wearing her Valkyrie suit and gun when she walked into Winston's' room.
"How are you feeling today, Winston?" She asked, setting the tray containing her tools on the bed near him. She glanced around the room, feeling a pang of guilt at the sparse conditions, before returning her gaze to the gorilla quickly – while she believed it was safe, she shouldn't allow herself to take her eyes off him, not that it would do her much good if he decided to snap.
"I'm feeling fine, Dr. Ziegler." He responded – but really, what else did she expect? He wasn't going to complain, not when he was a prisoner at their mercy. She glanced around the room again before pulling a pair of gloves on.
"Is there anything I could get for you?" She asked suddenly, surprising both of them. "I can't let you out," she said apologetically, "but I imagine you must be bored out of your mind." She knew that she would be, at any rate. Angela picked up a syringe and turned to the gorilla – there was no point in an alcohol wipe due to the sheer amount of fur the creature possessed.
"I don't want you to get into any trouble, doctor." The gorilla told her kindly. She'd have corrected him, seeing how she oversaw everything regarding him – except for the matter his imprisonment – it would be difficult for her to be in trouble with herself, but she knew it would be foolish to be so trusting this early on. It was one of the reasons she didn't wear her badge or keys in the room.
"I will ask before I bring you anything," she assured Winston, before administering the shot. She was surprised at how easy it was, that he would just allow her to inject him without any explanation. "If it's something harmless I don't see that my boss will have any problems." Angela lied easily, setting the syringe aside and reaching for a second.
"Some books would be nice, then." He told her as she gave him the next shot. There was only one more left, and then she would need to leave – no need to make her guards antsy. "I particularly enjoy engineering and medical manuscripts." Angela considered the gorilla before her appraisingly.
"A scientist, are we?" Angela asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't know why she was surprised, though. The gorilla had been a member of a research facility and had piloted what appeared to be a hand-made rocket from the moon to Earth. "I'll see what I can do." It may not be much – even she could see how giving him access to information might allow him to try to formulate some kind of escape, even though he appeared content to remain – but she would try to get him something.
"I appreciate it, doctor." Winston told her as she finished with the last shot. Angela pulled off her gloves and set them on the tray. It was time to go. She lifted it and turned away from the gorilla, careful not to hit him with the wings as she moved. Only when she exited did she turn her back to him, a small defiance of orders that only she and Winston knew about.
"One more thing, doctor." Angela glanced back from the door to regard him.
"Yes, Winston?" She asked cautiously.
"Do you think," he started hesitantly, and she suddenly worried that he was going to ask questions she wouldn't answer, not while he was a prisoner here. "Do you think I could get some peanut butter?" There was resignation in his voice, though Angela wasn't sure why. The question baffled her – it absolutely was not what she expected him to ask.
"Peanut butter?" She repeated, as if she may have misheard. She didn't understand why he'd make a special request of it.
"Yes, doctor." He sighed. "The therapy has given me an addiction to it." She considered the gorilla, before deciding that – of all things – peanut butter wouldn't be a problem.
"I'll make sure you get some." She promised, before exiting the room. She'd have to return in a few hours to take another sample – make sure that the injections were affecting the right places – but until then she would look into his requests.
She had delivered two books, as well as paper and pen, to the gorilla when she'd returned to his room – she refused to think of it as a cell, though that was truly what it was, considering the armed guards at all hours. He'd been pleased, even though she couldn't provide him with a writing surface, and she was happy that she had been able to bring some sort of joy to him. Angela had also assured him that he would get peanut butter with his meals from now on.
She was backing out of his room, tray in hand, when Gabriel found her.
"How's the monkey?" He asked, disdain in his voice. She raised an eyebrow and started walking towards the lab.
"He's a gorilla – and he has a name." Angela told him reproachfully as the man fell into step next to her. "It's too early to say for sure," the doctor continued cautiously, "but Winston appears to be doing quite well."
"Just make sure you're careful." He ordered her gruffly. "I don't trust it." Angela rolled her eyes.
"Why do you think I'm dressed like this?" She asked. Angela felt like an idiot, walking through the halls of Overwatch in her Valkyrie suit instead of her medical coat and scrubs. The uniform was meant for combat, not whatever this was. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she could detach the wings from the back, so she didn't look like she was trying to go to a Halloween party while she was working – or risk accidentally hitting someone if she turned too quickly. That definitely was going to be the next thing she looked into.
"I know." He sighed, and she felt his eyes run over her. "I've got to admit, though," he said quietly in an empty stretch of hallway, "it looks good on you." Angela glanced towards him sharply, blushing as she took in his intense look even as she preened at the compliment.
"What a coincidence," she teased back, ignoring her heated cheeks, "I wore it just for you." While it was true in theory – she was mostly wearing it because she knew he'd throw a fit if she faced a genetically altered silverback gorilla without some sort of protection – she still felt a rush of pleasure at the look of shock that crossed his face when her words registered.
"Careful, doctor," his voice was low and rough, "you might give a man the wrong idea." She pulled open the door to the lab, glancing back towards him with mischief and desire in her eyes.
"If he sticks around long enough, maybe he'll get the right one." She ducked into the room, hoping her cheeks weren't too red – and if they were, maybe it would be mistaken for anger – as she deposited the tray for processing. After briefly poking around, she left the lab again to find Gabriel exactly where she left him, leaning against one wall, and raised an eyebrow.
"You're still here." She'd expected that, once she'd disappeared into the lab and he hadn't followed, he would be gone by the time she came back out.
"You told me to stick around." He told her, pushing off the wall to follow her towards her office. Since she wasn't planning on seeing Winston again today, she could take the Valkyrie suit off and get back into her scrubs, which meant she was making a stop in her office.
"I suppose you're right." She acknowledged with a chuckle, tucking her arm through his as they walked. They reached her office; Gabriel shut the door behind him while she started fumbling with the clasps of her suit.
"Whoa!" Gabriel turned to the side quickly and her hands froze in place. "Angela, what are you doing?" He demanded hoarsely, and she colored suddenly as he realized what he thought she was doing, even as she appreciated his attempt to respect her modesty.
"I have a catsuit on under this, as you of all people should know." She said, suddenly self-conscious, but she forced her hands to continue. She'd taken the suit off before Ana and a dozen of her researchers that had helped her tweak the equipment – Gabriel had taken the suit off her at one point – so she hadn't thought anything of it. "You can step out if you'd prefer." She offered, her eyes on the task at hand. Angela didn't hear him move and the door remained closed. After a moment, she could feel the weight of his eyes on her once more.
She finished unfastening the suit, slipping out of the gear to reveal a black catsuit hugging her form from neck to ankle. There was nothing special about it – it was only used to prevent the Valkyrie suit from chafing against her skin – but it left very little to the imagination, though the same could be said of the suit she'd just removed. Still, with Gabriel's reaction, she couldn't help but feel naked. Angela turned, still studiously ignoring the man in her office, to put the suit on its' stand. Her scrubs were folded on her desk, but before she could reach them Gabriel had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back flush against his chest.
"Gabriel?" Angela gasped, startled, stiffening momentarily before relaxing in his hold and leaning against him contentedly.
"Did Jack talk to you?" Angela hesitated, but nodded just the same. There was no point in denying it – in fact, that would just cause more problems. She was more surprised that he'd bring it up now, especially when they were having such a nice time. She also didn't like that she couldn't see his face – couldn't gauge his reactions – from the position she was in. "What did he say?"
"He told me that we can't go into the field together. It's too dangerous." She worried her lip. "I agreed." She winced a little, ducking her head as she said it. They had argued long and hard about her going into the field, and then she went and agreed with Jack that it was too dangerous with barely a word against it.
"Jack's right." Gabriel admitted after a long beat of silence, surprising her. She wanted to turn to look at him, but his arms were firm around her waist. "If I wasn't being an idiot, I would have realized it too." Angela stayed silent, unsure of what to say. Instead, she opted to let him lead the conversation.
"You still plan to go into the field?" He asked quietly, and it made her heart hurt as her body tensed. They both knew the answer to the question, but she didn't want to vocalize it, make it real. Angela closed her eyes.
"You know I do." Her voice was small, reluctant, but unwavering. Determined. "Jack and Ana will keep me safe." She continued in the growing silence. He hadn't released her, hadn't tensed up, hadn't started yelling, so she took that to be a good sign. "I'll be fine, Gabriel." Angela just wanted him to say something, anything, to let her know what he was feeling, what he was thinking.
"I know you will." He muttered, arms tightening almost painfully around her. "I just worry about your safety." She smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it, and lifted a hand to rest on top of his, clasped on her stomach.
"I'll survive. Just like you do." Angela assured. "Just trust me – trust them." She urged.
"I do." He affirmed. "It's the ones shooting at you I have a problem with." The doctor chuckled as he relaxed his arms – but only a little. "Promise me you'll be careful." He murmured into her hair.
"Of course." She agreed readily. "Contrary to your belief, I don't want to get shot." Angela could feel his lips pull into a smile and relaxed. They weren't going to fight about this – again – which was a relief.
"You are important to me, Angela." He continued, and she tightened her grip on his hands briefly – not much she could do to acknowledge him from this position without interrupting, and she didn't want to interrupt. "Please don't put yourself in danger unnecessarily." They both knew she'd save anyone and everyone possible, regardless of the danger around her.
"I will try." She conceded, but they both knew the moment she was in the field all bets were off – it was how she'd gotten a bullet to the back in Venezuela, after all. He sighed, but he let it go, which surprised her but she wasn't going to push it. Instead, he loosened his grip on her, and she turned to look up at him. "I'll be careful, Gabriel." She raised her hand to lightly touch his scarred cheek.
"You'd better." His voice was rough but his hand was gentle as it covered hers. "I don't want to lose you." Suddenly, he dipped his head and captured her lips with his in a searing kiss, and her hand slid from his cheek to hook her arms around his neck. After a long, long moment, he stepped back – but not before she felt his arousal.
"You should get dressed." He told her, turning away as she blushed. Quickly, she turned to grab her scrubs, pulling them over her catsuit before grabbing her white coat. She cleared her throat and, once he saw that she had the slightly-less revealing scrubs, he nodded. "Come on; we'll get dinner."
Now that she was free of her promise to Gabriel, that she had more opportunities to go into the field, one would assume that she would be leaving the base as often as possible. Promises notwithstanding, however, she had obligations that forced her to remain in Zürich – namely in the form of the gorilla scientist named Winston.
She had managed to argue his case and got him released from captivity after two months. If he were going to do something, she had said, wouldn't he have done it by now? He'd had plenty of time to wreak havoc or attack her, and he'd been peaceful the entire time. They were still overly cautious around him – he still had a two-man armed escort everywhere he went – but he wasn't trapped in the room they'd set aside for him in the basement. Angela didn't blame them – there was still every chance that he might go as crazy as the other subjects still on the moon. He could do a lot of damage – but Angela didn't believe it would happen. If he hadn't gone crazy in the time it had taken him to reach Earth – without continued gene therapy – she doubted it would happen now.
Since he was rather intelligent, and no one wanted him learning combat skills, he was left under her supervision. He had been rather shocked to learn that she was a main player in Overwatch, but he'd gotten over it rather quickly. He was even more shocked when he found out that he was being allowed to work in her lab. The only caveat that the others had put to her was there were to be guards – and herself – present whenever he was in the lab. This was both to protect the other researchers as well as make sure he didn't get involved in something he shouldn't be – at least until they realized he wasn't a danger to anyone. The only exceptions to the rule was when she attended command meetings; Winston could work without her for an hour or two.
That meant either she was stuck in the labs or he was trapped in his rooms, so she chose to remain in Zürich – hoping that maybe if she waited it out they would allow him free reign, or at least allow him to work without her direct supervision. Aside from two trips to perform emergency surgery for agents, she remained in the Overwatch headquarters.
Once they got over their trepidation – and the shock of having armed guards in the lab – the other researchers worked relatively well with the gorilla, mostly. Some had to be discreetly reassigned elsewhere, but Angela considered her efforts to be mostly successful.
She had assigned him to work directly under her, researching how to replace a body with omnic parts. She had him working on the theory, while she headed up the actual experimentation – even she wasn't willing to allow him such a crucial part of her research. Partially it was a matter of trust and partially it was a matter of control.
"An– Dr. Ziegler." Angela, bent over to lean on the desk Winston was working at, glanced over one shoulder. Gabriel was striding across the lab, looking surprised, and she straightened. Her eyes darted past him towards the clock, where she realized it was after one.
"Commander." The doctor greeted from her position at the gorilla's side. Angela hadn't realized how late it had gotten – per the usual – but what made it even more disconcerting was that she wasn't the only one in the lab. It threw off their routine, but not for long.
"It's after one, doctor. You need to wrap it up." He told her tightly, his eyes hard as he took in the gorilla at her side. Gabriel was the strongest voice against Winston, while she was the gorillas' champion. While she didn't have a problem with Winston working as late as she was available – because let's face it, she'd be there anyway – Gabriel obviously did, though he was trying to be polite by waiting to lecture her for it until after the gorilla was gone. Angela sighed.
"Winston, we'll have to continue tomorrow." The doctor turned to look at the gorilla at her side. "Commander Reyes gets pretty bossy when we keep late hours." Specifically when she kept late hours, but that wasn't something Winston needed to know about right now.
"Yes, Dr. Ziegler," Winston acknowledged, ignoring the fact that Gabriel hadn't said a word to him, large hands moving to put things away. Angela brushed past him to her own desk, where she tucked her own notes into their homes before looking back on the now-rising gorilla.
"Good work today, Winston." Angela told him warmly as he passed between her and Gabriel. "I'll see you in the morning." She made to follow the gorilla out, but Gabriel stepped in front of her, cutting her off silently, though she was supposed to be heading to her rooms.
"Good night, doctor." He called over one shoulder, his guards moving to flank him as he left the lab. The door shut behind them with a quiet click. Angela put her hands on her hips and looked up at him.
"I thought you told me to go to bed." Angela told him, raising one eyebrow.
"Why was the gorilla still here?" He demanded, crossing his arms. The doctor rolled her eyes.
"He was helping me with my work. You may recall that he was placed under my supervision." Angela reminded him, her voice overly patient.
"At one in the morning?" He retorted.
"So it's okay for me to be in the lab at one, but no one else?" Angela knew he didn't like her staying up late – which was fair because she let her health take a backseat to her work – but he'd never seemed to have an issue with anyone else being there with her on the very rare occasion that it happened.
"You shouldn't be here either." He sighed. "You know I don't trust it. You're not even in your Valkyrie suit." His tone was nothing less than accusatory. Angela had stopped wearing the suit two weeks ago – not that he knew that – because she didn't believe that Winston was a danger.
"I'm not going to walk around my lab in a combat suit." Angela informed him. "He's not a danger to anyone; in fact, he's been extremely helpful in my research." She knew that Gabriel was coming from a good place, but he'd smother her if she let him.
"You don't know that." Gabriel told her, and she shook her head. They'd gone over this a hundred times – both in private and in the command center; repeating herself now wouldn't change anything.
"We're not arguing about this again." She responded firmly, and after a long moment he threw his hands in the air and headed for the door. Angela just sighed and followed after him, flipping the lights off as she went. He was silent as they waited for the elevator, and she looked him over before bumping his arm with her own.
"Pouting doesn't become you, Gabriel." Angela teased.
"I'm not pouting." He growled back, and she laughed. He absolutely was pouting, but she wasn't going to needle him any further on it. Once they were on the elevator, she tucked one arm through his and leaned against him, studiously ignoring his grumpiness towards her. Eventually he sighed.
"I wanted to talk to you." His voice was unusually serious – especially for a late night meeting like this, Winston notwithstanding – and it drew her eyes upwards. "Have you read the KIA reports from today?"
"I read the ones from before ten this morning." Angela responded cautiously. With her needing to be in the lab with Winston, she'd taken to reading the reports in the mornings to make it easier to facilitate her needs. With Gloria maintaining the infirmary and very few injuries requiring her attention, she'd remained focused in the research lab. "Why?" Trepidation crept into her voice. "What happened?"
She knew that Jack and Ana were fine – neither were out in the field, and even if they had been Gabriel would have found her immediately. While she felt fiercely protective over her people – all of the agents, really – he'd never felt the need to seek her out because of them, even though they both knew she read all of them. It must be fairly awful – did one of their teams get wiped out? They'd never lost an entire squad before, not while she was a member of Overwatch at any rate, and maybe he was trying to soften the blow?
"Commander Bianchi's dead." He reported quietly, ripping the bandage off. Angela gasped, clutching his arm tightly in shock. She'd cleared him for fieldwork again just a few months ago, after he'd finally gotten the hang of his new legs. He'd been the biggest thorn in her side, complaining about how long she was taking about letting him do his job. She was certain he'd never forgiven her for cutting his legs off, even if it had been the only thing to do. Now she'd never know if he'd have eventually forgiven her – he was a cantankerous man, so maybe not – because he was dead.
"What happened?" She asked through numb lips, even though she had a decent idea.
"What happens to agents in the field?" Gabriel asked rhetorically, humorlessly. "He got shot and he didn't get back up." Angela nodded. Yet another name, another face, to drive her, to haunt her. The doors opened and they were silent as they walked to her room, where she let them both in. This conversation was too private – too confidential – to talk about in the hallway, even if it was nearing two in the morning.
"What happens to Blackwatch?" Angela asked, voice hushed, once they were settled next to each other on the couch.
"We – Overwatch and the UN – are looking for a replacement." He draped an arm across the back of the couch behind her, and she leaned against him contentedly. "That's all I can tell you about it, though." He told her, and she nodded. She'd have known about his death – her job required her to know, or at the very least be familiar with, all the medical information for Overwatch and its shadowy counterpart Blackwatch – but what came after was not her business.
Sometimes, on late nights like these, they talked or did the things that couples did, to where she was comfortable with at least, or both until Gabriel sent himself away. Tonight, though, they stayed curled up in silence, the air heavy with yet another death.