Choice
Angela wasn't sure how long she had been asleep before her communicator erupted into sudden, jarring life. Gabriel's arms tightened around her as it woke him as well, but then loosened just as abruptly so she could roll over to fish it out of the pocket of her coat that sat on his nightstand. She felt the bed shift as he moved but paid him no mind.
"Dr. Ziegler." Her voice was rough with sleep, even as she was coming more alert by the moment. A call at – she glanced at the clock on the other side of the bed, craning her neck slightly to see around Gabriel – slightly past four in the morning could only mean trouble. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she realized she could hear another communicator – Gabriel's no doubt – chiming incessantly from the other room.
"Angela." Ana's voice was crisp, and if it weren't for the hour Angela could imagine that the sharpshooter hadn't also been dragged from her bed. Still, it helped chase away the remaining lethargy. She forced herself to sit up as Gabriel slid from the bed and padded out of the room.
"What's wrong – what happened?" She was all business – even if she had only gotten approximately three hours, maybe, of sleep. Angela could hear Gabriel's voice, low and rich, as he answered his own communicator; presumably, Jack had called to alert him to whatever was going on.
"There's been an earthquake in the Basilicata region of Italy." At least it wasn't a terrorist threat this time – that had to count for something, right? "Thousands are trapped in collapsed buildings; death and injury counts are currently unknown." She nodded, as if the sniper could see her. "We are sending aid. We need you to pick the medical staff for the first response team."
"I will have a team picked and ready for you within thirty minutes." There were no farewells; Ana disconnected, off to speak to the next person that needed to be awakened, as Angela tossed the communicator onto the bed and rose. She'd change back into yesterdays' pants and sweater – she couldn't afford to run around the base in Gabriel's clothes, regardless of the time it would take to change – and then she would dash down to her office in the basement to figure out who they could afford to spare.
It was a matter of minutes for her to swap one outfit for another in the bathroom, taking only a brief moment to splash her face with water; then she was tugging her coat back on, communicator once more in hand, and striding to the door that separated his bedroom from the living area. He was on the couch, still in his sleep-rumpled clothes – probably to give her the space to change in peace, as he would know it was necessary that she was out the door first in this. He glanced up, rose to his feet – and paused.
"You're going, then." It wasn't a question; it was a foregone conclusion. Angela nodded with a sigh, raking her fingers through her loose hair to tug into a messy ponytail – it would have to do, for now. She knew that, even if none of the leadership core went, she would still be heading to Italy. While she couldn't see combat without restrictions, humanitarian aid was completely within her authority as medical director.
"I cannot shirk my duty." That ticking clock again, counting down the seconds until he was gone, was practically roaring in her mind – but it didn't matter. As she had told Gabriel only hours previously, they didn't get to choose. She would do her duty, she would fulfill her responsibilities, no matter the cost to her. "They will need me there."
It wasn't bravado or any pride that sparked those words. Her skills, learned from being the head of surgery and then head of medical here, would help in the chaos that came with triage camps – and even if that weren't the case, they would need all the skilled hands they could get. There was also the matter of the Valkyrie suit, which would be useful in reaching those trapped in the rubble. Quickly – time was ticking, ticking, ticking – she crossed the room to fling her arms around him.
"I have to go. You know I do." She could feel the resignation in his very being, but he couldn't refute the truth of her statement. Angela pulled back, rocking up onto her toes to press her lips against his – which was prolonged when he held her there with a fierce desperation, until finally he released her.
"I should be back – before." Angela told him as she shoved her feet into her heels, hoping that she didn't accidentally break an ankle running around in them. "I can't be gone too long; there are too many duties here." She could only hope that her words proved true and weren't just a gentle lie. They both knew that she would stay as long as she felt it was necessary, but he was kind enough not to point it out.
"I'll see you soon." She called out over her shoulder, and then she was gone.
In the hallway she called Gloria. And then called again when she stepped off the elevator because the redhead didn't answer the first time.
"Dr. Freeman." Her voice was grumpy, clearly unhappy with being woken so early. Angela felt a small twinge of guilt at waking her, but she pushed it down harshly. They needed to move quickly, and she needed her hands to make that happen.
"It's Dr. Ziegler." She said by way of greeting. "I need you in the infirmary." A quiet intake of breath and movement could be heard on the other side of the phone as she continued. "There's been an earthquake in Italy, and it's bad. We need to get supplies set aside, whatever we can spare without crippling the base." They had to be prepared for their own wounded at any time, so they had to be careful with what they gave.
"I will be there." Angela hung up and then unlocked her office door, not bothering to shut it behind her as she hurried to her computer. She quickly had a roster of any medical personnel within their base – combat medics, nurses, and doctors – as well as any base within two hours of the earthquake.
The challenge was balance. Any base had to be prepared for wounded, just in case, so they couldn't be left understaffed. Angela had to choose people that could, hopefully, be done without. She managed to pull together four – five if she included herself – doctors, seven nurses, and two combat medics. There were a number that weren't within Zürich itself, but she had managed to only pull from three locations. She felt guilty that the list was short – but she knew that this was just their first response from their closest bases. Angela had their names and locations printed out, and then she was out the door again. In her haste, she nearly forgot to lock the door.
While she was the authority in Overwatch for medical decisions, she still chose to wait until she gave the list to the others for review before calling them. She wasn't sure if she was pulling too much – or not enough – and wanted to lean on their experience in this. Angela knocked loudly on the door and was admitted by Gabriel. She offered the list to him, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary, and then he stepped aside for her to pass.
"I'm not sure how many people Overwatch intends to supply in the initial response; let me know what you think, and I'll adjust if necessary." She explained, and then she focused her attention on the many screens on the far wall. "Where is this?" Destruction – by nature for once instead of people – was everywhere she looked. Her fingers itched to do something, but there was nothing here that she could fix.
"Potenza and the surrounding cities." That was Jack, who turned slightly to regard her as she approached. "How soon will your people be ready, Angela?" Ana was seated at the table just behind her, flipping through what looked like agent files; she'd have to glance through them before they could be approved – yet another thing to do before they could leave. She gestured vaguely towards Gabriel.
"Once he tells me the list is acceptable, I can put out the call for the initial response." She considered briefly. "Here, in Zürich? Within the next thirty minutes hopefully. We're putting together a preliminary medical supply drop as well, but I don't know how long that will take. My staff in the Tripoli and Warsaw bases? An hour at least, probably a little longer."
"It looks fine to me." Gabriel set it down on the table next to her before coming to stand next to her as his gaze turned to the screens. She leaned against him and, after a moment, he uncrossed his arms to tuck her close to his side. Angela turned her attention back to Jack, trying not to squirm under his gaze.
"Did Gabriel tell you I intend to go?" The question was almost casual – though not casual enough to avoid the possessive tightening of Gabriel's arm around her – but she was worried that there would be an argument that couldn't be afforded. Jack opened his mouth as if to refute, and then paused. "It's not a combat mission," she said into the silence, "so neither you nor Ana have to go. This is one of the tasks you originally wanted me for." He sighed at the reminder.
"Are you sure, Angela?" Jack glanced at Gabriel, a quick look that she wouldn't have seen if she hadn't been looking at him. She was surprised that Jack thought she was willing to be so selfish after how long he'd known her – especially considering his speech about her and Gabriel serving in the field together and letting feelings get in the way not so long ago. Then again, that was before Gabriel was leaving; it wasn't like they ran missions with Blackwatch very often.
"I'm sure." Angela told him firmly, resolutely. "I should be back in a few days; I only plan to be there for the initial surges. I have far too many responsibilities here to be gone much longer." She knew everything would be fine if she were gone for weeks, if she chose – her staff weren't incompetent after all. But there were tasks that she needed to do, especially in the research division, that would pull her back – and there was Gabriel to see off.
Jack still looked uncertain, and she realized he wasn't going to tell her about Gabriel's promotion. Clearly Gabriel had wanted to break the news to her himself – and how could Jack know that he had done so only a few hours ago?
"I know, Jack." The words were tired. "I know. But I must go, regardless." She smiled, just a little. "I appreciate your concern." Then she was pulling away to the back of the room so that she could call her staff, the two men joining Ana to pick agents to help clear the rubble.
All medical staff were alerted and making their own preparations; Angela hoped to have Zürich ready in just a few minutes. She just had to finish scrambling through all the files the other three had given her, rapidly approving – and in a few cases disapproving – the agents that were selected. She was surprised to see McCree's name on the list and said as much.
"I want his first mission to be one that doesn't require a gun," was Jack's gruff response. Fair enough, she supposed, considering what she now knew about the cowboy – and the reception of other agents. It might be best that no one was going armed for this; she'd hate to think of what 'accidents' could occur in the ruins.
Just before she finished – less than a handful left – her communicator lit up again. Absently she answered it, eyes still on the files before her.
"This is Dr. Ziegler." She set the communicator on the table next to her, where she could still hear it but maintain use of both hands.
"It's Dr. Freeman. The supplies are ready." Angela nodded; it hadn't even been an hour since she had roused the woman from her bed. She was nothing if not efficient.
"Verstanden. I will tell the Commander. Please start working on a list of medical personnel for him for our future responses. You are in charge until I return." She wouldn't be able to put the lists together out in the field. Even if she had the time to do it – which she wouldn't – she wouldn't have access to the information.
"I'll get it done. Be careful out there, doctor." As the line went dead Angela pushed away from the table. "Zürich base medical supplies are prepared. All agents are approved. I need to go make my own preparations." She finished the cup of coffee – her second – that had been at her elbow; she was pretty sure Ana had brought it to her, but, honestly, she hadn't been paying attention. After a quick glance around the room to ensure they didn't need her further, her pause on Gabriel just a little longer than the others, she turned for the door. There were several things she needed to grab before leaving, and she refused to be the reason their response was delayed.
"Call me if there is something you need." Angela tucked the communicator into her pocket and left the command center. She took an elevator up to the eighth floor and rapidly made herself ready. Angela took the time to quickly fix her hair, brush her teeth, and change clothes. Normally, in the face of an emergency, she wouldn't care – but she was to be representing Overwatch. Then she was yanking out her backpack and stuffing it with scrubs – who would trust a dirty doctor? – and other extraneous items she would need. Slinging the full pack over her shoulder, she was back in the elevator and down to her office in the basement.
Angela had barely closed the door before she was pulling off the scrubs she had just put on. She wasn't yet sure if she were going to be in her Valkyrie suit when she deplaned or if she would remain in the scrubs. She was planning to ask Ana for an update when they were closer, and then she'd decide for certain. Since Angela didn't exactly want to strip in front of the entire plane, she would need her catsuit on before they left if she decided to wear the Valkyrie suit. Angela had managed to tug the suit up one leg when the office door opened.
"Shit!" The door slammed closed rapidly. "Sorry, Angela." Gabriel called through the door.
"It's fine." She was too exhausted to be embarrassed – not that she had the time for it anyway. At least it was Gabriel, she supposed, and not Jack. "What did you need?" Angela doubted it was urgent, considering he came down instead of calling.
"Brought you some more coffee for the trip. I know you didn't get much sleep." Angela knew she would be leaning hard on caffeine in the coming days, so she was grateful for the gesture. Still she wasn't fooled – and she doubted Jack or Ana was either; he had just found an excuse to come down. In fairness, there wasn't much for them to do aside from monitor the situation.
"I appreciate that." Angela finished pulling the suit on. She realized then that she had forgotten to call Gloria – or anyone, really – to help her with it, which she would have remembered to do if she wasn't running on three hours of sleep, even considering the two cups of coffee. Angela took a breath and reminded herself firmly that she didn't have time to be uncomfortable. "Get in here and zip this up. Please."
Angela was turned to her Valkyrie suit, which still needed to be packed, when the door opened again. She glanced back to see him set a thermos on the desk as he moved around it. Angela could feel his heavy gaze on her back, but there wasn't time. Time to be embarrassed or flustered or to examine how she felt at all about his eyes on her bared flesh. She pulled the Valkyrie suit's stand away from the wall and turned it, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands and breath as he pulled the zipper up from the base of her spine to the back of her neck.
"Thank you." Apparently, she did have time to be flustered, considering how breathless she sounded. At least her hands were steady as she disengaged the mechanisms that held the wings in place.
"Anytime." She could hear the smug smirk in his voice. Gabriel didn't move from his position as she turned to place them in the container that sat next to the stand. The chest plate went next, into a space between the two wings as she studiously ignored the weight of his gaze, followed by the halo-shaped navigation device. She opened a drawer for the two portable devices that would allow her to recharge the Valkyrie suit for extended use, as well as three power cells for her staff; these were tucked away carefully into the container as well. Finally, the remaining extra equipment was tucked inside and then she closed the container. Her staff would have to be carried separately, as there wasn't space for it.
At last she turned, looking up at Gabriel to tell him to move as she reached for the pants she had tossed haphazardly over the back of her chair. The look on his face, hot and heavy, gave her goosebumps and made her pause, words dying on her lips, time be damned.
"I hope you don't plan to go out in that." He said after a brief silence, voice husky; she knew, had it been any other time, he probably would have let that silence drag out. But he knew as well as she how important time was, so he purposely glanced away and stepped back.
"Of course not." Her response was late, off balance, as she made quick work of tugging the scrubs and sneakers back on. "Are you planning to help me carry the case?" The question was rhetorical, since she knew it was too awkward to carry by herself. Another reason she should have called Gloria before changing.
"Nope." Angela turned to remind him that they didn't have time for this, but it quickly became confusion as he turned to open the door; she hadn't thought he was serious. "Get in here." The order was a harsh juxtaposition to the tension that had lingered in the room, but as two men came into the office – there was barely enough space for all four of them – she was completely professional once more. She was grateful he'd thought ahead for her, though some small part of her – the part that was Angela and not Dr. Ziegler – wondered how long those men had been outside her door. It didn't matter. Angela quickly slung her pack over her shoulder and grabbed both the staff and the thermos he'd brought her so she could get out of the way.
"It's very delicate, so please be careful." Angela found herself explaining from the hallway as the two agents lifted the container up. "It needs to be placed in the storage area farthest from the cockpit, just by the loading ramp." She instructed as they moved down the hallway. They all fit inside the elevator – it was suited for infirmary beds, after all – and she pulled out her keyring. Normally she'd pass them off directly to Gloria, but, since she'd dropped the ball there, she'd give the keys to Gabriel.
"Get these to Dr. Freeman, will you?" She asked as he pocketed them.
"Of course." Then the elevator was open again and they were all shuffling out. Angela and Gabriel stepped out of the way of the agents and their cargo, but his hand on her elbow stilled her where she would have followed them.
"Please, be careful." They both knew it was a futile plea – she would run herself into the ground if necessary – but she smiled up at him anyway.
"I'll do my best." It was truth, but one that was meaningless when they both knew how bad she was at doing just that. Still, it was the only truth she could give. Instead of arguing, he pressed his mouth to hers, a quick peck goodbye, and then he was heading out the door to where the transport was. After a brief moments' hesitation, she followed behind him.
Gabriel moved to talk to a very large man – he looked familiar, but then again everyone would be considering she'd just flipped through every single ones' medical history not twenty minutes ago. She passed them to walk up the loading ramp and found her Valkyrie suits' container strapped just inside, behind the last row of the aircraft – on the opposite side was a large container that she assumed contained medical supplies. Angela placed her bag and badge on the seat that was in front of her container and braced her staff behind the seats; if she decided to change, at least she wouldn't be towards the front where everyone would be – generally – facing.
Then, she walked the aisle to make sure all her staff had boarded; it would do no good to send medical relief if there was no one to provide it. She expected to see five of her people – one doctor, three nurses, and one combat medic. There couldn't be more than thirty seats on the craft, so it didn't take her very long to find all of them.
She wasn't the last person to board, for which her pride was grateful – but sidling past them in the aisle was annoying. Angela had nearly reached the loading ramp once more when another agent arrived: Jesse McCree, still wearing that hat of his. As she laid eyes upon him, she remembered the terrible words spoken under a dark sky as well as the folded napkin of names that was still inside the pocket of her medical coat and came to an immediate decision.
"Sit." Angela gestured to the seat next to the one she'd claimed, the word closer to a command than an offer, and ignored his surprised look as he took in her effects on her seat. She could at least keep the trouble at bay; the last thing this mission needed was a fight on the aircraft. Right now, regardless of what he had done and how she felt about it, he was one of her agents – and since he was hers, Angela would protect him as she would any of the others.
"'preciate it, doc." He wasn't too foolish – or prideful – to turn away help from what was probably the friendliest face on the carrier. He slid into the seat next to hers as she stepped off the carrier once more. Gabriel was still there with the large man that she was assuming was to oversee the agents coming with them, considering that he was still speaking to Gabriel.
"Ah, Lieutenant, this is Dr. Ziegler; she will be the one heading our medical response. Dr. Ziegler, this is Lieutenant Wilhelm; he is the one who will be coordinating the agents who will be helping search for survivors." Angela gave the man a polite nod. They would be working together, then – especially considering she had every intent of searching for survivors as well.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Ziegler!" The boisterous voice was vaguely familiar. She'd ponder it later.
"Likewise, Lieutenant." She glanced between the two men, not really sure who she was reporting to in this moment. "I was coming to report that all of my staff are accounted for. We're ready when you are, sir." The last remark was directed to the Lieutenant.
"That is good news." She'd never had a problem finding him if this is how he always spoke. "Then we are all ready and accounted for, Commander." The large man snapped to attention, waiting for the order to leave.
"Look out for each other out there." Angela wondered if he'd told the Lieutenant about how poorly she managed herself; she'd probably find out in about twelve hours. "Dismissed." The German man turned and boarded the carrier, barely glancing back to see if the doctor was following.
"Goodbye, Commander." It wouldn't do for someone to hear her being overly familiar – even if there was a large aircraft roaring to life next to them.
"Take care of yourself, Dr. Ziegler." She inclined her head in acknowledgement, not agreement – they both knew she wouldn't, couldn't, agree – and then boarded the aircraft. She grabbed her staff – it would certainly be jostled loose by turbulence otherwise – before turning to sit as the craft began to rise. Angela saw that McCree had been kind enough to stow all but her badge away – probably to deter anyone from taking the seat. That allowed her to easily sit, staff braced between her knees and against her right shoulder, and reattach the badge to her coat.
"Here ya go, doc." McCree offered her the thermos, which she hadn't realized wasn't with her pack, once she was settled.
"Thank you, McCree." He nodded respectfully, then leaned back – as much as the seats would allow, which was to say not at all – and pulled his hat down over his face. She envied the ability to sleep, because there was no way she would risk it on the transport; she had no idea how she would manage on the ground. Hopefully she could reach that point of exhaustion that didn't allow dreams.
Resigned, she took a sip of coffee, already wishing she had more.
"How does it look?" The aircraft had been mostly quiet – many of the agents had chosen to get sleep where they could – but as they drew closer to their landing point the more agents were awake; the expected landing time was in about fifteen minutes. As far as she could tell, McCree was still asleep.
"Not good." Well, of course. "Triage camps have been set up in three different parts of Potenza, to supplement the two hospitals that are currently able to take in the most critical cases." She nodded, worrying her lip as she thought.
"Do we know how many critical cases are currently in the camps?" If the number was high, she would go to a camp; while the suit would be useful, her hands and staff would still be better suited to saving the severely injured.
"From what we know, many – if not most – of the current cases have been or are being moved to the hospitals. They are trying to get a few more clinics open for the critically wounded, but, as they weren't built for such things, it will take time." Angela nodded, not that the woman could see her.
"And the wreckage? How does search and rescue go?" Ana heard the unspoken question. While her medical prowess would undoubtedly save lives, so would her ability to drop into and from spaces others would not be able to reach for a long time – possibly too long to save those trapped.
"As it was so late, many were still asleep when the earthquake hit the city. The triage camps are steadily receiving patients as more are found in the wreckage." She sighed. "Many are working to find survivors, but you know how slowly they must work." Angela considered.
She wasn't foolish enough to believe she would be strong enough to make a difference in moving rubble – if she were looking for physical labor, she should go to the triage camps. However, she was light – and with the Valkyrie suit she could save herself if a floor suddenly gave way, not that that would help her if a ceiling gave way above her.
The largest frustration would be that she wasn't capable of true flight. Fortunately, one of her recent upgrades to the suit was the ability to make small jumps without the help of an agent. While, with an agent, she could cover distances up to around thirty five feet, she could make a small jump without one to cover about six feet.
"From what you can see, are there many places I would be useful?" Wreckage wasn't necessary rubble and toppled buildings; it could be destabilized floors and stairs unsafe to walk along. There was a pause. Angela knew Ana was looking over the camera footage with a critical eye.
"There are several buildings between the northeastern and central triage camps that may be safe enough for you to enter with the suit." Angela quieted, thinking. The decision was hers; no one could say what the better course of action was. Could she save more lives by working with those who made it to the triage camps? She wouldn't be able to save them all, but there was always a need for skilled hands in the camps. Or would it be better to go to those too far out of reach for help to reach them with any kind of swiftness? Even if she couldn't pull some out – she wasn't so foolish to believe she would be able to carry an adult out of a building even with the suit – she would be able to help them move to a safer location and give them medical attention or supplies.
"I'll be going there, then. Can you send the coordinates?" Now, with so many still trapped, she would probably be more effective in the search. Later – either today or the next – she would probably stay in the triage camps. It was a decision that would haunt her, she knew. Regardless of the choice, she would always wonder what would happen if she had taken the other path.
"Of course. You take care of yourself. If you get into trouble, call me." Angela had no doubt that the woman could manage to save her from almost a thousand miles away.
"I will." Conversation over, she tucked the communicator back into her coat pocket. Angela glanced at the cowboy next to her.
"Be honest; are you awake?" He was one of the few who would immediately notice her rise from her seat; she hoped to keep that amount minimal.
"Yeah, 'm up." He lifted the hat slightly to peer at her. "Y'need somethin'?" She wondered if he had actually slept or had just sat there, but honestly it didn't matter.
"Would you hold this?" Angela offered the staff to him. "I have to get up." There was absolutely nothing on this plane for her to do, as far as he was aware, so she was unsurprised the look of confusion. "Just take it, please? And keep your eyes forward if you don't mind." While the catsuit covered her completely, it still felt close enough to being naked – especially after Gabriel's look in the office nearly two hours ago – that she wanted as few eyes on her as possible.
Angela rose, which did draw the attention of those nearby – especially when she ducked behind her seat to open the container that held her suit. She pulled the extra items, such as her boots and gloves, out and set them on her seat; there wasn't much room back here and she still had to put the wings on the chest plate.
With careful, practiced hands she pulled the chest plate out and tugged a blue-and-white overcoat into place before setting it back-up on the ground behind her. After a bump of turbulence – thank goodness it came before she'd started pulling more equipment out – she worked on attaching the wings. She'd had enough practice that it only took her a few minutes to get it all together.
Before she lost her nerve – this wasn't the first time she'd changed in the sky around others, and besides she wasn't naked – she pulled her sneakers and scrubs off, which she also piled on her seat next to McCree.
"Th'hell are you doin' back there?" At least he was kind enough to keep his voice down – somewhat.
"Changing, obviously." Angela voice was dry as she grabbed her suit and rose, back to the rest of the carrier so that if people were staring at least she didn't have to see it, balancing carefully in her socks as the aircraft swayed and bounced. "Watch your head." She warned, unsure if the wings would hit him as she settled the armor on.
The turbulence became choppier as they started moving towards the ground, so she focused on fastening the buckles and pulling the straps to tighten it securely to her body. Angela snapped the container shut to protect the halo; she'd equip it once she was off the plane.
Then it was a matter of securing herself before the carrier landed; the seats weren't designed with the space she needed in mind. Fortunately, the cargo space was. She eased herself to the ground again and leaned carefully against the Valkyrie container.
"You comin' back or what?" He demanded as she reached back to tug on the straps securing the container; she should be able to grip the strap to keep herself steady. The landing shouldn't be terribly rough – it wasn't a combat zone, after all – so her low center of gravity and the brace should be plenty to keep her safe.
"I'm staying back here until we land. Would you pass me my boots?" She might as well pull them on while she was sitting.
"Are you outta your mind?" He demanded, half-rising and turning so he could glare at her. "You – what in the…" Angela could imagine he was unprepared for the sight of her sitting cross legged on the floor – with wings.
"See? I will be fine. My boots, please?" Dumbfounded, he grabbed the boots and passed them to her. "Thank you." While he stared at her, still trying to figure out why she suddenly had wings, she tugged the boots on and zipped them up to the knee. Briefly she hoped the gloves and boots would provide enough protection from everything she was going to be climbing through.
"You may want to sit down. We should be landing any moment." Once he sat down, she took pity on him. "This is my Valkyrie suit. It's the reason why they gave 'someone like me', as you so kindly put it, a gun."
"So, you're gonna fly 'round in that thing?" He responded after a long moment. She pushed her arm through the strap, winding it around once so that she had a stable, firm grip.
"Not quite, unfortunately. But it will be safer for me to look for survivors in the buildings that are standing." The technology was there for true flight, but she hadn't yet managed to adapt it to the Valkyrie wings.
"Thought you were comin' to be a doctor." She laughed softly; as if she weren't a doctor right now, sitting idle.
"I'll–" She nearly bit her tongue off as the carrier landed, bouncing once before settling firmly. "I'll be doing that, too." Then she was rising so she could climb out and stand out of the way of the agents that were also filing out.
Things moved quickly once they were on the ground. She had to brief her staff and give them instruction. Dr. Novák was to distribute the medical personnel as he saw fit. Until she returned to the triage camps, he was the one they should defer to; still, she was available to them via communicator as she was the one leading the medical response. Then she was on the carrier, equipping the rest of her Valkyrie suit and getting the supplies she needed on the ground. When she walked off the aircraft a few minutes later, she had a pack with a field triage kit, a change of clothes, and her power supplies hanging precisely between her wings.
Her hand dropped to the pouch at her waist and pulled her communicator out. Angela had made the decision on the ground in Zürich to shield McCree. Now, on the ground in Italy she was about to make that same decision – but she wasn't certain if it was the right one. It was one thing to make that choice while surrounded by others and quite another to make it in a disaster zone.
"Reyes." He sounded like he was flagging. Hopefully, he and the other two could rotate sleeping until they were all more rested. Just because she was going to be miserable out here didn't mean they had to be, too.
"Do you trust McCree?" She cut straight to the point. Angela knew he trusted the cowboy, knew it by the way he had no problems with her being around McCree – not even that first day in the infirmary – but she still needed to hear it.
"I trust him." If he was surprised that she was calling about the cowboy, it didn't show in his voice. "I wouldn't have brought him to Overwatch if I didn't." Gabriel was the one who had fought against him and had seen something worth saving, something that allowed Gabriel to trust him despite the bullets and the blood and the death.
"With your life?" Angela challenged.
"Yes." The answer was almost immediate, which made her wonder what had happened in America. It didn't matter right now, though.
"With mine?" She knew that he valued their lives differently – that he'd gladly take any wound to keep her safe, even if it were a fatal one. Where he might trust the cowboy with his own skin, he may not trust him with hers; his answer would seal her decision.
"Yes." The answer came after a short, considering pause, as if he were weighing her words. "He's not going to hurt you." He sounded confident. "Why?" The word was as cautious as it was curious.
"You know why." Angela started winding her way through people, looking for the loud German man and the cowboy. She would be surprised if he had paired McCree off with anyone yet; except for malicious reasons, no one wanted to be around him. Gabriel was still silent, so she sighed. "It will be less trouble this way."
"Jack's not going to like it." She huffed out a laugh. Since when had she let what other people liked or disliked color her decisions?
"He can yell at me all he likes when I get back." Or not; maybe if she came back in one piece he'd see there was no reason to scold. "I have to go. Get some sleep; you need it."
"I will. Don't worry about me." Angela sighed.
"I worry about everyone." It was the reason she had called, after all. "I'll talk to you later."