AN: Due to the fact that they are in Italy, I have used some Italian (from Google translate. If anyone has better spelling / verbiage, please let me know and I will correct right away!) throughout. I did try to make it sparing, and every phrase has a number that corresponds to the end notes for ease of access.
Trigger Warning: Infant death.
Conviction
Even though they had deplaned not fifteen minutes prior and the man had possibly the loudest voice she'd ever heard, it still took her some searching to find the Lieutenant. Angela waited patiently while he finished giving orders to a group of men before snatching his attention and pulling him away from the agents still waiting for orders.
"Lieutenant– " She began, but he cut her off.
"Call me Reinhardt, please! We are comrades, are we not?"
"Reinhardt," she corrected smoothly, staying on track, "please tell me we brought comm units – and that there is one I can use." Angela had absolutely no idea what equipment had been brought along but having a hands free mode of communication would make her life a lot easier.
"Ah, yes! Captain Amari told me you would be needing one." Angela silently thanked the woman, who always seemed to know exactly how to assist. Reinhardt turned to a container that was about half the size of the one for medical relief and pulled out the technology for her.
"Thank you." As she put the unit into place she continued. "I left personal effects on the carrier. Will you please let me know where they get stored?" Not only would it be extremely difficult to get the Valkyrie suit home without the container, she knew she would need a new change of clothes sooner rather than later.
"Of course! I will make sure they are taken care of." He assured her. She nodded her appreciation.
"Did Captain Amari also tell you that I will be helping in the wreckage as well as in the triage camps?" The large man nodded. "Right now, I'm going into the ruins. I will need an agent to go with me, just in case." They both turned, looking over the remaining handful of agents that had not yet been given orders.
Exactly as she'd expected, McCree was still there, standing apart and appearing bored.
"I will take Jesse McCree." She said before the Lieutenant was able to make a choice for her. He looked surprised, and then proved he could be quieter as he turned to face her fully.
"Are you sure, doctor?" No, not really – she was winging it on caffeine, adrenaline, and pure stubbornness – but Gabriel had assured her it would be safe. "You know how he came to us. I don't trust him." The same could be said of pretty much every person in Overwatch, except Gabriel.
But her duty was to Overwatch and to the people of this city. Taking McCree would serve both purposes: it was her honor to shield her agents from what harm she could. Angela knew that, should McCree be paired with other agents just now, there would be harm of some kind. That would cause unnecessary – and unacceptable – delays that could cost supplies at the least or lives at the worst.
Besides, she was never one to take the easy path if it was the wrong one.
"I trust Commander Reyes, and he trusts McCree." Angela told the man firmly. Gabriel had put his reputation on the line for a known gangster who had probably killed an Overwatch agent and had definitely put bullets in others. "I just spoke with him; he knows what I am planning to do." The large man was clearly torn between a want to keep her safe – probably his own personal morals and possibly some order shoved into him by Gabriel – and letting her go with the cowboy.
"Look, Lieu– err, Reinhardt, I understand. No one trusts him, and that will cause problems. What happens when he goes off with other agents?" Angela let him consider for just a moment before continuing, waving one hand. "Distractions happen. Either someone will be hurt – which will cost medical supplies and attention that are desperately needed elsewhere – or they will be too busy arguing to look for survivors." Just like they were – not quite – arguing now.
"And if he hurts you?" Angela shook her head.
"He will not. He has already had an opportunity and look," she spread her hands, "I am still here." Angela dropped her free hand to the side. "You and everyone else will know exactly where I am. You can call, any time to check on me. Send agents to work near or with us if you like." She paused, considering. "I might be busy, so if I don't answer your call, call again after a few minutes. If I don't answer then, call Captain Amari." She hoped that call wouldn't have to be made.
"I do not like this." He grumbled as he turned back to the agents.
"There's nothing about this situation to like." Angela agreed blithely, turning with him. "But we can do our best to protect our agents from what we can, all the same." Reinhardt glanced at her sharply, before nodding in resigned agreement and beckoning the cowboy over.
They left the camp a short time later. McCree was sporting a new pack and a pair of gloves. He had grumbled when nearly all her supplies went into it along with his own. Unfortunately, her pack was full to bursting with tools and medical supplies. If it wasn't necessary for her to have a few rations – just in case she was trapped – she wouldn't have taken any at all, for fear that she would give away something she knew she needed to someone who she would have to leave behind in the rubble.
It was easy going now – people had cleared out space around the triage camp, and paths were being formed like deer trails in a forest where necessary – but she knew very soon there would be rough patches and blockages. The area she planned to work in would have, in normal times, been a twenty or so minute walk. Now it could take up to an hour if the wreckage were bad, especially considering she would stop to give aid to anyone they came across.
Angela could feel his gaze boring into her from where he walked just a few steps behind her. Perhaps she should be more concerned with him behind her, but she refused to glance back; let him think she was indifferent to the threat he posed. Instead, she let the silence grow between them. Angela guessed about fifteen minutes passed – she wasn't the best judge of time – before he couldn't take the quiet any longer.
"Why'd ya pick me?" Angela nodded slightly, to herself. That was the question she had expected to be gnawing at him. It had been clear to anyone with eyes or ears that Reinhardt was very much opposed to the cowboy going with her, so it had obviously been her that had chosen instead.
"Why wouldn't I choose you?" She managed to keep her tone curious, almost bored. As if she had no reason to avoid choosing him, of being alone with him. As if, despite Gabriel's assurances and her resolve in the camp, she wasn't at least a little nervous. Oh, she knew the Lieutenant was going to send men after them – she was no fool – but for now it was just the two of them.
"B'cause I got Overwatch blood on my hands." Angela could tell he was exasperated. It was a fair enough point, after all. Here she was, practically defenseless even with a weapon, alone with a man that had probably killed one of their own. Still, she kept moving, dodging around loose debris as she went.
"Yes, you were very clear about that last night." She agreed instead, trying to make her voice dry and failing. While she could argue that she also had the blood of Overwatch on her hands, she could never compare it to his – no matter what her nightmares thought. Where she failed to fix the wounds, he had been the one to create them. She felt the weight of his gaze on her again like a cloak.
"Y'ain't worried that I might hurt ya?" There was incredulity laced with an aggressive bravado that had her glancing briefly over her shoulder at him. She didn't see anything to worry about. He was just the same as he'd always been, except now there was dust and dirt coating him. She tripped over a loose rock, forcing her attention back to their environment instead of the cowboy.
"If you were going to hurt me, you would have done so last night." Had he acted on that roof, no one would have known she was injured, or worse, until Ana called hours later and failed to get a response. There was no reason for anyone to go looking for her – even Gabriel had assumed she was asleep instead of somewhere else in the base.
"I did hurt you last night." Angela flinched slightly, body stiffening briefly as the quiet words struck home before nodding in agreement, acknowledging the point. He may not have landed a physical blow on her the night before, but he had managed an emotional one – and they both knew it. She blew out a breath and purposefully relaxed.
"You won't hurt me." The words were much more confident than she felt. Before last night, she could say with complete certainty that she was safe in his company. Now, there was that seed of doubt that nothing but time could uproot.
Before he could say anything, footsteps approached from ahead. Two men were bracing a third as they stumbled and staggered along. She hurried ahead to meet them, leaving McCree to follow in her wake. They were so exhausted by the events of the day that they didn't even seem surprised by her suit.
Her eyes swept over them critically; the only serious wound she could see was the broken leg of the man in the middle. They all had mild bruising and cuts that had already crusted with blood. She didn't have anything to splint the leg with – and her staff wouldn't help bones – so she was forced to step aside instead of assist.
"Ci sei quasi.1" Angela told them after a moment, pointing towards the way they had come from. "Altri dieci minuti in questo modo.2" That seemed to envigorate them some, which led her to believe they weren't searchers – at least, not officially. Perhaps one of them was just a good samaritan trying to help his neighbors. She watched them as they shambled farther away, McCree at her elbow. After a long moment, Angela made herself turn. Before she could move, McCree grabbed her elbow, forcing her to pause to look at him.
"Seriously, doc." The words were low, quiet. "Why'd ya pick me?" She spun to face him fully, dislodging his loose hold on her arm, one hand going to her hip and eyes flashing upwards to meet his own.
"I chose you," the words were clipped, precise, so that there could be no mistake, no misunderstanding, "because you are an agent of Overwatch." He looked at her in absolute disbelief, but she continued before he could argue or disagree. "Because you are an agent of Overwatch, you. are. mine." The last three words were firm, possessive – but in this moment it was nothing but truth. She ignored the look of surprise at the words and continued.
"My duty – my responsibility, my burden – is to protect what is mine from harm." She had learned, in this past year, that she was willing to do a lot of things she thought she would never be capable of in the name of her duty. She would go into battle, would run through bullets and carnage, would watch people die, would shoot a gun, would be shot so others would not. Would go into the wreckage of a city with a known criminal, who could certainly overpower her if he chose. She turned away from the stunned cowboy.
"If that is everything, we need to keep moving."
Angela checked their location to the coordinates she'd been given. Navigation in this mess was next to impossible, but it appeared that they had found a set of the buildings Ana had located. They had passed many searchers and victims as they went; Angela had paused more than a few times to provide medical care to wounded, sometimes in the form of the staff and sometimes just with her hands. As they made their way, two more agents had joined them. She had caught the looks of disdain thrown the cowboys' way, but otherwise they held their peace.
There were people here, too, digging through rubble to try to clear a path through to an apartment building that was now sitting at an angle as it rested against its' neighbor. The additional agents moved forward to assist those digging, though one paused and turned halfway when McCree stopped at her side; he was here as her partner, after all.
"Can I trust you?" She asked him as she assessed the building she was about to climb into, pointedly ignoring their watcher. There was rubble blocking most of the first floor, leaving no easy access to get inside. He chuckled.
"Bit late for that, ain't it?" He wasn't wrong, but now that she was faced with the actual task it seemed prudent to ask.
"Just answer the question." She tried to snap, but the words were just tired. Angela stepped to the side and flexed the wings, making sure everything was operational.
"Y'can trust me, doc. Honest." She looked at him, assessing, then nodded. Between his word, Gabriel's promise, and the two agents sent to watch him, it would have to be enough.
"I'm going into that building." Angela pointed. He was smart enough not to ask how she planned to get inside. "Try to get a path to the doors; if I can, I will bring people down that way." Assuming that anyone was in any shape to move – or the stairs were still stable.
"I will keep my radio open, so that if something should happen to me you will know." If she suddenly fell and lost consciousness, she wouldn't be able to tell him. It might become annoying – to him, at least – when she started talking to people inside, but it was better than her sustaining injury and him being left unaware.
"And if somethin' does happen t'ya?" McCree demanded.
"Call Captain Amari and then Lieutenant Wilhelm, in that order. If you can't get the Captain, call Commander Reyes." Hopefully, he could avoid calling Jack; the last thing he needed was a call from his least favorite person telling him that she was hurt. "Then try to get into the building and find me – carefully – unless they order otherwise."
"Alright." He ambled forward towards the small group of people, before pausing to point at her; vaguely she noticed the agent tense and reach for a weapon that wasn't on his hip. "Don' let anythin' happen t'ya. The Commander'll shoot me if y'do." Angela would have reassured him that no, Jack wouldn't shoot him because this was exactly what she had told them she was going to be doing – but he might hold McCree accountable anyway based on the simple fact that he was McCree.
"I will do my best." She promised, as she always did, looking back to the building. If she climbed some of the rubble, she was pretty sure she could use the Valkyrie suit to access the second floor. Hopefully, the floor would be stable when she landed, or this was going to be a very short lived trip. Angela climbed ungracefully up a promising pile of rubble and balanced precariously at the top to assess the distance. It would be a very near thing, but she was fairly certain she could make it.
She took a breath and then leaped.
Courtesy of the door breaching tool she had managed to snag from the various items Overwatch and other organizations had sent for relief, she was able to access all apartments in the building. There was no one left to save on the first or second floors. It appeared most people managed to escape, but she was relatively certain some of the caved in ceilings hid corpses. There was nothing she could do for the dead, so she turned away.
Angela continued to move carefully down the hall of the third floor, calling out for anyone who could hear, listening for any kind of response. The floor was more unstable here; the angle of the building was becoming more obvious, and it was making the already unstable ground more dangerous. That just made her more determined in her search. She opened another door and stepped inside.
"Ciao?3" Angela carefully moved through the apartment, ignoring the scattered trinkets and shattered glass that littered the floor. She entered a bedroom, looked dispassionately through the space to ensure no one was hiding or incapacitated, before moving to the next. Angela opened the door to a second bedroom and paused. Inside was a boy, no older than nine, beside what appeared to be the remains of a bed – and, presumably, his parents. It wasn't easy to tell, as the roof had collapsed into the space next to him.
"Oh, no." Angela had seen horrible things as a doctor, but this tableau was something else entirely. Rarely did her work cause her to deal with children – it had, in fact, been quite a while since she had even seen a child – and the sight of one in this place just made it more terrible. Resolutely she shook off the horror – there would be time for that later – and picked her way across the unstable room to the boy. He didn't appear to be hurt, aside from a few cuts on his hands from where he probably tried to dig through the rubble for whomever had the misfortune to be in this room during the earthquake.
She kept her voice soft as she spoke to the boy. She managed to pull a name – Luca – from the shellshocked boy after some coaxing. As Angela applied the staff, removing the cuts on his hands, he began asking her to help his parents. She put her staff to the side and convinced the boy to move to the hallway, where the ground was more stable, before she started moving what debris she could in search for some sign that his parents were still alive.
Angela was forced to concede defeat when she found a lifeless hand.
Desolate, she turned away to leave; she had to get the boy, at least, to safety. Luca was crying now, begging her to find his parents, and it broke her heart. In the end, she was forced to carry the boy out of the room. It took both of her arms, so she left the staff behind – and hoped there wouldn't be another cave-in before she could return for it. Down the stairs she went until she found the room with the window she had used to enter; there was no way those outside had cleared a path to the ground exits.
"McCree, I need you." With the comm unit open, she didn't have to reach up to summon him – fortunate, because she didn't have a hand to spare with around fifty pounds of a sobbing boy in her arms.
"Y'alright?" Came the almost immediate response as she approached the window. It looked like the rubble she had climbed was still there, so she would try to float further out to land on something stable.
"I'm fine." Angela confirmed, lifting one foot up to rest on the windowsill. "I'm coming out." She pulled her wings back, ducked her head out of the window, and pushed into the air in one smooth motion. Moments later she was on the ground, McCree moving to join them.
"Until we can send him to one of the camps, I need you to look after Luca here." She had set the boy down once they had landed – he wasn't light by any means – but he was still pressed against her side, one of her hands gently resting on top of his head. McCree looked down at the poor boy.
"His parents?" The cowboy asked gruffly. She shook her head. "Damn. That's rough." The man sighed. "Yeah, I'll keep him outta trouble 'til we can figure somethin' out." Angela turned to the boy, crouching so she could put both hands on his shoulders.
Gently she explained that he needed to stay here with McCree until they could send him somewhere safe – and that poor McCree here didn't speak Italian, so please be patient with him. Fortunately, some of the people here could speak English, so there shouldn't be any issue in translation when it became necessary.
"Have they given you any trouble?" She asked as she straightened, voice low, eyes darting to look at the two watch dogs. One had stopped his work to watch the cowboy, making no attempts to be covert about it. He didn't even glance back to see who she was talking about.
"Nothin' I can't handle, doc." Angela rolled her eyes; she couldn't care less about his – or the other agents' – egos.
"This is not the time or place for a fight." Really, she didn't think any time or place was appropriate, but if she had to pick one, she'd rather they did this in one of Overwatch's bases – when people weren't counting on them. "If they are being problematic, I need to know."
"It's jus' talk; nothin' to worry yourself over." Angela wasn't sure that he was telling the truth – she didn't know him well enough to say otherwise – but she nodded all the same. She hadn't heard anything that had probably been said. Unless they were brawling in the streets, there really wasn't anything she could do.
"If that changes, tell me and I will take care of it." She knew she normally had zero authority over the agents of Overwatch, but out here on medical relief she was the one with the highest authority. If the watchdogs decided to cause trouble, she would get involved directly – whether anyone liked it or not.
Angela had lost track of time – a normal habit of hers. While most apartments had been empty, one way or the other, she had managed to find quite a few people trapped within the building. Some were adults, which she couldn't carry out of the window. These were the ones she led to the stairwell in the hopes that the door would open and the ground team could help them down before the building collapsed.
These adults were usually the ones who were damaged in some serious way – a bone was broken, they were trapped under rubble they couldn't move alone, et cetera. In one especially horrific case, she had found a woman cradling what remained of her baby, which had been crushed by the ceiling that had fallen upon it. Angela gasped in horror, a sharp, sudden sound that she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to.
"Doc?" McCree's urgent voice came through the comm unit in her ear, cutting through her shock. "Doc, are you alright?" She took a moment to collect herself, to not allow her voice to shake. He needed to believe her and sounding panicked would not help anything. "Doc, answer me!"
"I am fine, McCree." Her quiet response was steady as she approached the poor woman. "I was just startled." A mild word for the scene before her, but he didn't need to know about that. He just needed to know she was unhurt.
"Y'sure?" He sounded much calmer now that she had spoken. Angela smiled, a brief, fleeting thing. Clearly, she had nothing to fear from him if he was so concerned for her survival. Then again, he could just be worried about Jack executing him.
"Yes, McCree." Angela managed to remain patient. "I need to go now; I have a woman to tend to." He made some noise of assent, and then the comms went quiet again. She checked the woman over but couldn't find any injuries to her. The woman didn't even appear to notice that Angela was there. Despite her best efforts, Angela could not get through enough to convince the woman to go downstairs – and she wasn't strong enough to force her out by herself. Hopefully, the ground crew would be able to get her out. She was forced to move on and find more survivors.
She moved as quickly as possible, healing what she could and splinting what she couldn't – there was plenty of wood and cloth laying around for that use. Then she would lead, or support, them to the stairwell. She worried that it would be too dangerous for her to try and help them down – the combined weight might be more than the increasingly dangerous stairwell could handle – but she couldn't just leave them there. So, painstakingly, she helped them down the stairs; in some places they were forced to skip steps or support themselves on injured flesh, and in other places a banister or step would give out and nearly send both down to their deaths. Each time she went to go back up, she worried that this time the stairs would collapse completely and leave her with no means to bring the injured down.
Then there were the children. Mostly they were with a surviving parent, thankfully. It was easier to convince those children to leave with her when a parent was there to urge them out of the building. All but one of those adults went down the stairs with her once their child – or children – was safely down, and that was because he was so thoroughly trapped that there was nothing Angela alone could do to dig him out. Once the people below managed to dig out the entrance, she could point them in his direction and hope it would be enough.
At some point she had fielded a call from Reinhardt; she was surprised the reports from his agents wasn't sufficient. She had been in the middle of splinting a woman's leg so that they could go downstairs, but she still managed to pull the device out to speak to him. After reassuring him that, no, those pained sounds were of a woman trapped in a building and not her – as if his agents wouldn't tell him if she were injured, and besides they sounded nothing alike – Angela managed to get him to disconnect. Two other calls had come through from her medical team, which were easily handled as she threaded her way through the building; she was grateful that there wasn't more. She had her hands full enough, climbing through the wreckage.
The ground was at a severe angle now as she stood on the seventh floor of the building, one hand on the wall next to her to keep her steady. Angela was exhausted from the climbing and from lack of sleep, but that wasn't important. There were more people to find. Fortunately, this was the last level of the building, and then she could take the rest that McCree had been pestering her about for the last hour. He had stopped her a few hours prior, too, to eat and drink something before she collapsed. He didn't understand that, for her, it was too soon for such a possibility; she was capable of many seemingly impossible feats when the death of others was the other option.
"We've got the door open." McCree's voice sounded in her ear. She breathed a sigh of relief – that was good, even if it had taken longer than expected. Then again, everyone was working on adrenaline at this point, so maybe they were right on time all things considered. Regardless, the people below would be safer once they were out of the building. As she had worked, she felt the building sway in the wind and groan ominously. A handful of times Angela heard the unmistakable sound of collapse – and she had been terrified that this time, when she went to the first floor, it would be caved in and filled with dead. Fortunately, that hadn't happened – which only made her hope that the collapse was in a room she had already cleared and not one with a living person still within.
Angela made her way through the apartments on the seventh floor, finding no signs of life as she dragged herself along. It was a challenge: between the floors' slope and the various missing or otherwise unstable patches, she was barely able to make it through all the rooms. Still, she wouldn't leave until all the rooms were cleared. In the second-to-last apartment, she found a small girl of about five. There was a decent break in the floor separating the two of them.
"Rimani lì4," Angela told her, turning to look in the second room, "torno subito5." She was fairly certain she wouldn't find a living parent within, but she still had to be sure. Angela pushed the door open – and was surprised. There was no one within, but there also wasn't any damage done to the room. The bed was still standing, but there was no adult in sight.
What kind of person left their child behind? It didn't matter now. She turned around to collect the girl that had been abandoned in this nightmare. The girl was still where Angela had left her, sitting against a wall with her knees up to her chest. She made the jump across with a little help from her suit and was grateful to find the floor stable – if angled – to make her landing smooth.
"Facciamo uscire di qui6." She extended a hand to the girl. It wasn't that she was unwilling to snatch her up to get out of the building; that was well within her power and she would if she had to. But she had already dragged one crying child out. If possible, she would like this one to be accepting of the trip.
After a moments' hesitation, the girl took her hand. Angela hoisted her to her feet, and then lifted her up. The girl was a little heavier than expected, but it would be doable; it helped that the girl had wrapped her arms around the doctors' neck, taking some – not much, but it was more than nothing – of the burden from Angela's arms. It was a little awkward, balancing the girl and her staff, but they managed the jump.
On the far side, Angela set the girl down but kept a hold of her hand. She would go first, Angela explained, but she would keep a hold of the girl so she would not fall. Then, they were winding their way out of the apartment. As they carefully moved, Angela questioned her. What was her name? Lucia. Where were her parents? She wasn't sure where her mom was – Angela got the impression that the mother wasn't around – but her dad had been at work, he's a policeman, so she didn't know where he was right now either.
Well, at least she hadn't been purposefully abandoned.
When they reached the hall, Angela paused to consider for a moment before turning to the final apartment. Best to clear it now while she was up here, and then she wouldn't have to come back up. Carefully they made their way up; it was much more difficult now, with only her staff to brace herself and a child to steady, but it was doable.
She left the Lucia in the doorway. The doctor had handed Lucia her communicator, with a firm instruction to hold this and remain right there, so Angela could comb through the apartment quickly without endangering her further by walking the unstable floors. Every few moments, she would glance back to ensure that the girl was still where she left her. Every time she found Lucia leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, one hand clutching the communicator to her chest, and watching her with fearful eyes as if Angela were going to disappear. Angela always gave her a small, reassuring smile – as if they weren't seven stories up a collapsing building – before turning back to her task.
The apartment was empty, though it did appear that everyone had either escaped or hadn't been present at all. It was reassuring even as it was frustrating, considering the child she had left in the hall. Angela walked the few steps to exit the small, internal hallway, before looking to the girl who was still waiting for her. Instead of walking the winding path through the apartment, Angela flew to her communicator. This ended up being a good thing, as the building shuddered again and the roof above Lucia was coming down. Angela turned her flight into a tackle, yanking the girl off her feet and carrying her into the dubious safety of the hallway.
Without pause, Angela turned and practically slid down the hallway, using her wings to slow her or go over holes as needed. Fortunately, it appeared just that section was falling; the building had quieted once more. Now she had to take the stairs, which would be a feat in and of itself with a child in tow. After all the people traversing the stairs, they were quite ragged indeed. There were sections of stairs missing – which would be much easier to drop to than they had been to climb up – as well as unsteady steps and missing banisters.
Lucia was clearly terrified – especially when she spotted the missing chunk of stairs just past their landing – and balked when Angela tried to move her forward. She sighed, but there was nothing for it. First, she snagged her communicator from the girls' hand and tucked it safely away. Then, Angela lifted the girl once more, who wrapped her arms tightly around her neck, legs around her waist, and buried her face into the blondes' shoulder so she couldn't see. That was fine; hopefully, she wouldn't shriek into her ear – that was the side with the comm unit, so it would be almost worse for poor McCree.
Down and down she went, tripping unsteadily over stairs that she had forgotten were unstable. With the child, she was landing more heavily than before and, at one point, she nearly fell as her leg broke through a step and sent her to her knees – well, knee. The other leg was dangling below. Lucia had screamed then, though Angela was quick to try and reassure her. With a grunt she regained her feet – and frowned at the blood on the boards. The suit had numbed the injury so quickly she hadn't even felt it.
"Everthin' alright?" McCree demanded as she carefully tested her weight on that leg and determined it was usable if a bit unsteady. She wasn't gushing blood, so her femoral artery had somehow been missed; that was good, because trying to patch herself up on this staircase would be a terrible idea. Fortunately for her, the wound was her left leg so she could lean against the staff as necessary. Once she was out of this building she could tend to it – unless it began to hinder their descent.
"Just a little fall; we are both fine." Angela reported, omitting the injury. There wasn't anything he could do about it from where he was, after all. Instead, she began moving down, favoring her left leg as she leaned on the staff. It wasn't much farther to the ground, and then they could get out.
"We are on the ground floor." She reported as she set Lucia down. "How is the path out of the exit?" Maybe the first floor window may have been the easier exit, but she wasn't about to climb back up the stairs to attempt it.
"It's a li'l steep. Need a hand?" Angela glanced down at the girl and then at her leg; she didn't really want to navigate all of that if she didn't have to.
"Can you just wait up at the top for me? Where I will be able to see you?" Better to fly than abuse her leg further.
"Sure thing, doc. Whatever ya need." Taking Lucia's hand, the doctor led her to the exit. There were still piles of debris to wind through – or over – but at least this time the floor was stable. Then they were out into the open air, the sky just barely changing into the oranges of a sunset. She had spent an entire day inside that horrible building, but at least she didn't have to go back. Angela looked at the slope of concrete and rubble. The path wasn't terribly far, though the rubble would have been precarious and she had had enough of that today. Her eyes moved up further and landed on McCree. Even in the shadow of the building she knew it was him because of that hat of his.
"Ancora una volta, va bene7?" After the girl nodded her acceptance, Angela scooped her up for the final time. Then she glanced up once more and jumped up towards McCree. Up they went, Angela tucking her legs up slightly so she wouldn't hit rubble as the suit dragged her in a straight line, until she was just before him. Unfortunately, she didn't plan her landing properly. Instead of landing at the top, she was just on the slope heading back down – and due to her landing, gravity, and her injured leg she was tipping back towards the building.
"Whoa there!" McCree reached out towards her, and she flung her hand with the staff towards him as she reengaged the suit to regain some balance. He easily pulled her back up the few steps of the slope, holding her arm just long enough to make sure she was balanced.
"Ya got her?" The cowboy asked, offering wordlessly to carry the child. Angela glanced down the small hill. As expected, his watch dogs were there – though what, exactly, they could have done to stop him from shoving her down the slope from over there was beyond her.
"I have her." Angela turned her attention, briefly, to the cowboy. "Meet you at the bottom." Then she was darting off, down the hill towards the surly agents. They were startled by manner of arrival – either rumors of her suit hadn't gone around the base or they hadn't believed it. "You did not think the wings were for show, did you?" Angela set Lucia down. "Will one of you please take her to wherever the other children are?"
"Yes, ma'am." The one on the left agree. A quick explanation to Lucia, and then the two were off towards what looked like the rest of the survivors she had led out of the rubble. They looked no worse for wear than when she left them, which was a relief. Angela glanced down at her leg to find her boot streaked with blood, before looking around for something to sit on. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she could feel the lightheadedness from blood loss.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" The agent asked, concern in his voice. Her gaze had drawn his attention – the wings had been rather distracting, it seemed. Angela found a nearby pile of concrete that was stable enough for her needs and lowered herself down; the agent had followed behind her – and McCree behind him.
"I will be just fine in a few minutes." Angela assured them both. When she looked past the first agent to McCree, he swung back around. It seemed he had remembered his orders to keep an eye on the cowboy now that the excitement was over. "Agent," Angela called, drawing his attention back to her. He wasn't so rude as to look over his shoulder, so he turned in a way that allowed him to keep McCree in his sights.
"I need you and your partner to go back inside and get the remaining survivors, if possible." She wasn't sure that it was, considering her precarious descent. "The stairs are really quite dangerous, so you may not be able to. However, there is a man trapped in rubble on the fifth floor and a woman who I could not move on the fourth." She gave him the details of where, exactly, they were located.
"If it seems too dangerous, do not proceed." The order hurt her heart, but she could not afford to lose the ones that were already safe. They would need all the help they could get to save as many as possible, and while it would be a tragedy to lose those two people, it would be worse to lose a rescue team as well.
"I have orders to keep an eye on him." The agent explained once she had finished, glancing towards McCree. She would have rolled her eyes, except that wouldn't be professional; to McCree's credit, he didn't even make a sound of annoyance. Instead, she propped her left ankle up on her right knee to better look at her thigh. It was a jagged cut that was bleeding sluggishly.
"Your primary assignment is to rescue survivors, is it not?" Angela did not glance up towards him for confirmation. She was too busy pulling out what wood splinters had remained inside the wound with her forceps. "As that is your primary objective, you will do as I say. Agent McCree is not a threat to me. I would not have chosen him as a partner if it were otherwise." The words were firm, as if she had a right to order him around – which, in fact, she did.
This was a humanitarian response, which made her highest authority here, whether the Commanders liked it or not. 'In all things medical, she was the final word' was what they said – and, well, she was fairly certain pulling people from rubble and operating on them in collapsing buildings counted; it certainly wasn't a battlefield, for all that she was dressed for it. Angela wasn't sure if she would push it to overriding a direct order from her superiors, but she could absolutely override the Lieutenants'.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have my orders." This was a replay of her labs, she thought dimly. At least here she had firm authority – it was written in her contract, somewhere in her rooms miles and miles away. And she wasn't being held at gun point; but then again, she did have a pretty nasty wound on her leg, so maybe it washed out.
"Who was it that gave you these orders?" Angela was almost certain that the orders came from Reinhardt, but it wouldn't hurt anything to verify it. After all, she hadn't been around the men at all; perhaps Jack had called to give them an order not even she could – should – supersede.
"Lieutenant Wilhelm gave me these orders directly." He was a little smug, as if he had her in some sort of a corner. If McCree had known she was in trouble for overstepping last night, this man certainly did, too. That was fine, let him be smug.
"Unfortunately, I outrank the Lieutenant." Angela set her forceps aside – all the wood was out – and pressed one hand firmly to her leg to try and staunch the bleeding. She had bled this long – what was a few more moments to look up at this agent? Angela caught the surprised agent with a steely gaze and a sharp smile. "We are not on a battlefield. We are on a humanitarian mission. That makes me the authority here." Angela tipped her head to one side, as if considering.
"I can certainly call one of the Commanders or the Captain to confirm, if you would like." That was slightly more dangerous. While she would win whatever battle that could potentially spark, she wasn't sure if it in the long-term it would be beneficial for Overwatch. "Though I am certain they are quite busy with other, more important tasks than this." Which was certainly true – she didn't believe any of them had gotten much more sleep than she had, working on this crisis as well as their normal duties. The agent hesitated.
"I… That won't be necessary, ma'am." She knew that the moment he pulled out of earshot – and possibly eyesight, but he might not be that respectful – he would be calling Reinhardt to determine the veracity of her command.
"I appreciate that, agent. Please, do as I have asked." Angela turned her attention to McCree once the agent was out of earshot. "I need to make a call. Could you please step away for a few moments?" He raised an eyebrow but left all the same. The doctor wiped her bloody hand on her catsuit before fishing out her communicator. The other hand was left to press against the sluggishly bleeding wound.
Angela dialed out to Gabriel, before enabling the speaker so she could briefly set it down. Then, she muted her microphone so that McCree would not be privy to her conversation and tugged down her backpack. She had realized, belatedly, that it was impossible to both point the staff at herself and depress the trigger; therefore, she needed some gauze to staunch the bleeding until she could call McCree back.
"Reyes." The voice crackled to life as she was slinging the backpack down. Of the three, he was the path of least resistance. Jack had a deep seated resentment towards McCree due to his actions in America, and Angela wasn't sure how long it would take for that wound to heal. Ana took Jack's side – which was fair, she was his right hand – so asking her would almost be like asking Jack himself. Gabriel trusted the cowboy. Besides, it didn't hurt that his judgement could be clouded towards her at times.
"It's me." She hoped there was no sign of her stress or injury in her voice – but knowing those three, they probably had a camera on her somewhere to make sure she didn't do anything too reckless. Angela carefully extracted some gauze, eying everything carefully to make sure she hadn't contaminated anything more than it already was. She had run out of gloves halfway up the building and had to make do.
"Is everything alright?" Well, she would say she was fairly alright – even with the gash in her leg – but Angela was well aware that he would disagree. Wisely, she chose to ignore the wound conversation altogether for now and focus on her reason for calling. Angela pressed the gauze to her leg, more effectively slowing the bleeding, before lifting the communicator back up and pulling it off speaker.
"I want to clarify something." Angela explained, omitting the part where she had already done the thing she needed clarification on. Either she had bet right and there would be no issues – or she had bet wrong and they would send her home. "Who has the highest authority here: Reinhardt or me?"
"Do I even want to know why this has come up?" Gabriel asked dryly. Angela laughed, a soft sound that had no place in this destruction. Probably, but she was trying not to lean harder on the favoritism card than she already was. She chose to ignore the question and provide more information that she felt was pertinent.
"Please recall that this is a humanitarian response, and that I was given authority over everything medically related when I agreed to join." If pressed, she would give him more context – how she had ordered agents away and overruled the Lieutenant – but she didn't think it really mattered why she was calling. If it was in her power, it did not matter what she was using it for.
"Angela." He sighed, but she kept her mouth shut. It was in his court. "You couldn't call Ana or Jack about this?" They both were aware of the dangerous line they were toeing with Jack in this call, but it couldn't be helped.
"I would, but…" Angela worried her lip for a moment. "It involves McCree. You know how Jack is about him. If I knew how Ana felt, I would have called her." And she would have, if only to avoid the stain of favoritism that Jack would point out when she returned. Just because Jack couldn't be trusted to be impartial about McCree – which was a fair assertion, she could admit, even if it had been months since the event – didn't mean the cool-headed sniper couldn't.
"Ana is more levelheaded than Jack, you know that." That didn't mean she wouldn't agree with Jack anyway. She was his right hand, after all. While Angela was aware that Angela and Jack didn't always agree, she knew that it was very rare to see them split publicly. Her communicator buzzed, and she pulled it away slightly to see who it was. Reinhardt. That agent moved quickly.
"I can call her if you think it is best." If Reinhardt didn't beat her to it, that is. Then it would be out of her hands – and possibly his if Ana decided to rule against Angela. She wanted to rush the man, but she held her peace.
"Do that. While I agree with you, you know how that might look." Angela sighed. That was true enough. Although they had kept it from the rest of the base – not out of shame, but because their relationship could cause exactly these kinds of problems with the majority – Jack and Ana would know, and possibly doubt.
"Alright. I'll talk to you later." She hurriedly hung up and dialed out to Ana, hoping that Reinhardt hadn't skipped calling her a second time to calling the Captain directly. Or one of the Commanders. After a period of waiting that set her teeth on edge, Ana answered.
"Captain Amari." She was fairly certain that – had McCree not been involved – she could have called the sniper directly, or even Jack himself. After all, they had let her leave the base today even though she had been given strict instructions about how she could leave the base – and even more restrictions after the lab incident.
"It's Angela." McCree was glancing back at her, but she shook her head. She wasn't quite ready for him.
"Are you alright, dear?" The amount of concern in her voice had Angela certain of two things: Ana was in the control room and that, somewhere, there was a camera fixed on her to broadcast her bloody leg for them to see. Apparently, Gabriel wasn't in the room, or he would have grilled her about it.
"I will be fine. As soon as we're done speaking, I will patch myself up." There was no point ignoring the wound that Angela knew Ana knew about. Hopefully, they could disconnect before Gabriel returned to the room and saw her bloody. "I need to know: do I outrank Lieutenant Wilhelm, or does he outrank me? On this specific humanitarian response, not overall." She knew that all agents outranked her, generally, on a battlefield and that she generally outranked most in the base. This was a grey area that needed to be clarified.
"Why would you need to override any of the Lieutenants' orders?" Ana asked, as Angela had expected she would. So, Angela explained the facts: She had chosen McCree for a partner, Reinhardt had sent watchdogs for the cowboy, and Angela had sent those watchdogs into the building to fish out the final two survivors. Just as she was finishing, Reinhardt called her again – so she warned Ana that the man would be calling her next.
"I do not know if that was a wise decision, Angela." The sniper said after a moment of consideration. It appeared she was making all sorts of wise decisions; she could add it to her list after 'stepping between guns and gorilla' and 'climbing a collapsing seven-story building'.
"This is a humanitarian mission – not a strike or a rescue mission. It is medical in nature, considering we are not here to rebuild but to save the survivors." It was all she could do to keep her tone patient and professional, instead of giving in to the mounting frustration. "As Overwatch's Chief of Medicine, anything medical makes me the authority." She tactfully left out that she could – potentially – even override Jack; that was best left for another day.
"And ordering away the two men meant to keep you safe was the right decision?" Ana asked instead. Angela pressed harder on the gauze that was turning too red for her liking. This needed to finish.
"If I sent McCree, one of them would have gone too – to 'watch' him. Then there would be an 'accident' that, hopefully McCree would survive from but most likely would leave him dead. Best to leave him outside with me, where he has caused no trouble, than into that building." Tensions were too high. This was the first chance any agent had to cause real harm to the cowboy. At least they didn't have guns. Ana hummed as she considered.
"While I do not quite agree with your decision," there was Jack, but in a nicer form, "I do agree that you would outrank the Lieutenant in this specific instance. I suppose you want me to inform him?" Angela agreed – coming from Ana would affirm the fact far better than Angela could. Ana sighed. "I do hope you know what you're doing, my dear. Your loss would trouble us all." Angela smiled; hopefully, the camera could catch that too.
"I hope so, too." The doctor agreed, before they disconnected. McCree ambled her way as she tucked the communicator away. That certainly made it easier than having to call him over, she supposed.
"Didn' have to go t'all the trouble, doc." He said by way of greeting. Angela shook her head. It wasn't for him, not really. It was a power play for her. She wouldn't have made it at all had the agent not made a big deal out of it. Instead, she had to pull rank – and she hated pulling rank, proving that she was playing in the same hierarchy as the other militaristic members – to get him to do as she asked.
"It was not for you." Angela corrected. It had been, mostly, for her. The agent had disobeyed her, thinking that he was able to do such a thing. That she had gotten in trouble for the very act just a few days ago had solidified that incorrect belief. Before it spread too far out of control, it needed to be handled – so she did. That it kept McCree from suffering an 'accident' inside the apartment was just a secondary bonus. "He was mistaken. I corrected his mistake, and now we move on."
"Whatever ya say." He agreed, clearly disbelieving her. That was alright. Let him believe whatever he liked, as long as he listened and didn't hurt anyone – or get hurt by anyone. Angela offered him her staff.
"I need you to help me."
AN:
1. Ci sei quasi - You're nearly there.
2. Altri dieci minuti in questo modo - About fifteen more minutes that way.
3. Ciao - Hello.
4. Rimani lì, - Stay right there,
5. Torno Subito - I will be right back.
6. Facciamo uscire di qui. - Let's get you out of here.
7. Ancora una volta, va bene? - One more time, alright?