Oh! You Pretty Things

It always took people a while to get used to the pungent and sterile stench of the air within a hospital, but for Dr. Ziegler and her compatriots, they had spent so long here that the lack of the smell was more alarming. Sitting in her "new" office, Dr. Ziegler was behind her desk, the room was confined and cramped and the tack board behind it filled with impaled notes made for a confusing and incomprehensible mess, but it had to be done. Her real office was in the middle of renovations, so she had to substitute with this one until she could move back, but she didn't really mind.

All was fine at the moment; previously in the day, she had been checking up on the victim of the chemical accident that had occurred at the beginning of the month. After fearing that his life was over from such a dire injury at the plant, things were looking well for the almost-amputee. The operation had allowed her to rectify the damage done from the accident, and after the checkup, it looked to be that the wounds were healing properly and all motor functions would return to normal. Sure, it was disgusting and delicate work to be a surgeon, and people could joke about her reattaching penises all day as much as they wanted, but it didn't matter to her. It had been a good day, and it wasn't because of the money, or the posterity of having another successful operation on record. Simply doing good was the right thing, but the true fee for her service was seeing the gratitude of someone who thought that they were never going to walk again be granted a second chance, that was more than enough for her.

So, it looked like the rest of today was going to be a simple and boring, which usually was a good thing as there was no other major emergencies happening. She sat at her desk, updating the patient profile after the checkup and listing the new prescribed medication and physical therapy, estimating that everything should be back to normal in about three months. She saved the draft of the update, and then began to reread it as it was. About halfway through it, she stopped, looking at the time and deciding that it was a good time to go to lunch. She saved the draft once more for good measure, and then shut down the program, thinking it best to clear her mind before checking her work over.

Just as she pushed her chair away from the desk but before she could stand, there was a rumbling in the room. She looked around, surely she wasn't that hungry? It wasn't until she caught something moving in the corner of her eye that she remembered that her phone was sitting on her desk beside the keyboard.

"Odd." She thought. She didn't often get a call at this time of day, and when she did it was normally work related and would come through the landline. Curious, Angela pulled her chair back up to her desk and woke up the screen on her phone. It kept rumbling, and instead of a name showing in the contact, it was just a line of numbers. At first, she thought it was a telemarketer. Why else would some stranger be calling her? But as she thought of it, she couldn't remember the last time a telemarketer actually called her. So, without further protest, she accepted the call and put it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

What responded was a woman's voice, English, and a bit timid. "Hello? Is this Dr. Ziegler?"

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"Oh, uh, hello." She continued, "My name is Emilee, Lena is my fiancée. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before." Dr. Ziegler's eye shot wide open, like a cat dragging rotting animal corpses into the house, this… drama kept rearing its ugly head again and again. Her stomach twisted and turned into knots as she awaited her ear to get shouted off once more. In the fleeting moment that she had to herself, she just had to wonder how this kept happening to her. Before Angela could respond, Emilee quickly stated. "I'm sorry if I called you at an inappropriate time. I tried to figure out the correct time zone and reach you at a reasonable hour. I'm sure you're quite busy. If there's a better time to talk I'd be more than happy to-"

Angela interjected, "No, its quite alright, dear. I was just about to go to lunch. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing well." She said, "Planning for a wedding really takes a toll on your psyche." Chuckling nervously as she finished the statement.

"Oh, indeed." The doctor replied, both pretending to not acknowledge the landmine that they happen to be tap dancing in circles around, gradually getting closer until one finally tripped the mechanism.

"If you don't mind me asking," she began, "Lena has told me so many stories about her time at Overwatch and all of her friends, but I don't think she ever mentioned if you had been married before?"

Angela gave a sigh, preparing for the inevitable explosion as her foot was placed on the tripwire, "No, I haven't had the privilege yet."

"Well," she laughed, "let me tell you; don't. I have five older brothers who all got married, and I've thought I've seen it all already. After all I've been through, I would've been happy to just get married in front of a judge, but it was Lena who wanted the whole wedding." Angela gave a nervous chuckle, waiting as more pressure was placed on the mechanism. "Both of my grandparents were Irish Catholic on my mother's side, and believe it or not, my mother said that all of that combined is only half of the hell that was caused when she decided to convert and marry an Anglican."

For as much as she didn't want to admit it, Angela had been defensive, keeping herself guarded for the inevitable and to defend her position when the attack came. Yet, for some reason, Emilee's previous statement caused her lips to grow tight and allowed a genuine laugh to escape from her fortified position. Keeping with the levity, Angela added. "And for good reason!"

Emilee laughed in return at the joke. It was strange, like a sour candy with a sweet surprise center, it was just… pleasant to have a normal girl conversation with someone. The world of guns and bones, politics and medicine was so impersonal and grandiose, it was refreshing to just talk with someone on a personal level, even if that someone was sharing the same bed with somebody who had called her late in the night to curse her name multiple times this month.

The two waited for the joke to subside. Afterwards, Emilee said, "Listen, Dr. Ziegler,"

"Please, just call me Angela."

"Okay… I just wanted to call and apologize for what Lena's done. We've both been under a lot of stress with this wedding, and, well, you know how she can be sometimes."

Angela rested her free elbow on the desk and used that same hand to hold her forehead and support it as she closed her eye in thought, "yes… yes, I know what you mean."

"She's too ashamed to say it, but she's really been beating herself up over what happened. I mean- I know you weren't trying to insult us, but she can just be impulsive sometimes. She's been very upset and regrets what she's done, but she's too afraid to apologize. Like it's too late to try to make amends.

Alone in her office, Angela slowly nodded to her caller. "Yes. It's alright, I understand." Angela thought for a moment and decided that it was no wonder that pride was one of the deadliest of sins.

"I'm terribly sorry for all of the trouble she's caused." She began, "Now, I know that you have your objections, but I want to let you know that you're still invited to attend. She may not say be able to admit it, but it would me a lot to the both of us if you would decide to come."

Angela's mind began to race, jumping in her seat as if an axe murderer had just kicked down the door to her office. Although she, herself, hadn't had to plan one before, she had heard more than enough wedding horror stories from her friends and colleagues. The cost of meals, the seating arrangements going to hell, not having enough seats or places to house all of the guest, late guest fees, the works. Quickly, she blurted out. "Please, don't burden yourself over me."

"No, no. It's really nothing," Emilee replied, "One of my brothers is catering the entire thing, it really won't be much trouble at all. We still have a seat for you, and your friend Winston will be there as well."

Dr. Ziegler covered her eyes with her hand, thinking "Well, if that just doesn't make me feel terrible." She waited for a moment, thinking of using a verbal cyanide pill to just end the proposition now by just saying "No." and saving them a whole lot of trouble in the works. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it, Emilee, a woman she had hardly known before, had decided to do the right thing and call her up on her own and apologize on her soon to be wife's behalf. What would it mean if Angela didn't even have the grace to give her the charity of a chance? To forgive the trespasser who had brought so much trouble into her life?

Finally, she had no other answer than to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

The doctor gave a sigh, wondering why she kept doing this to herself, saying "I'll need to think about this. Can I call you back later?"

"Yes, you can reach me on this line. I don't mean to rush you, but the wedding is this weekend."

Still covering her eyes, Angela said, "Alright, I'll call as soon as I can." She waited, and then felt a sour guilty feeling well up in her chest, "I'm so sorry I caused all of this, this is your special day, you should be… I'm sorry if I made this all about myself."

Like a verbal pat on the back, Emilee said, "It's alright, Doctor. It's not your fault. I'm sorry all of this had to happen."

Dr. Ziegler sat with the phone up to her ear, waiting to see if her caller had anything left to say, while Emilee returned the action as well. Angela felt the urge to rake her hands through her hair while the guilty feeling kept bubbling over in her stomach. This was their wedding, how many guest were they dealing with? How many other problems did they have to solve before the big day? Angela came to the realization that she really had made this all about herself. For as much as she hated it, Lena's perceived lack of empathy had caused her to make this more of an issue than it had been, she felt like a victim, but by virtue of being one, she had made Lena and her spouse aggressors, and in a way reversing the relation as well. If she really was sorry about making this about herself, then she had to do something, anything, to prove to at least one person that her words were real.

After a silence that was too long, Angela uncovered her eyes and asked, "Emilee, please tell me, do you love Lena?"

There was a pause, as if the English woman was decoding the question to find a deeper meaning, but after considering the weight of her answer, Emilly gave an affirmative, "yes."

Soon after, both of the women said their salutations and the line went dead. After the call over, Angela set her head down on the desk and covered it with her arms.

Surely, somewhere, there was a joke about a catholic attending a protestant congregation. Angela would admit that her being here was unusual, but she never raised a fuss, and the community was more than welcome. It wasn't that there weren't any other options for her in Oasis. On the contrary, the Abrahamic religions were founded in this region of the world, and even with the political turmoil and extremism that plagued the Middle East in the early 21st century, the Omnic Crisis had almost cleaned the world's slate, and with the construction of the city-state of Oasis, all peoples were welcomed here and protected. Like how some of the most beautiful mosques in the world were located in Spain, one of the greatest modern cathedrals was located here in Oasis, and Angela had attended mass there once before. There was nothing wrong with it, per se, on the contrary, it gave ancient teachings a more modern delivery and had accessibility to all peoples, but her problem had more to do with the purpose of the service. Although she would never level the accusation against them, it seemed that many were using the patronage there as a status symbol rather than divine worship, and the priest, a man only a few years older than her, seemed to come off more as a televangelist building a brand than a shepherd guiding his flock.

Waiting in the office in an old fabric chair, Angela kept her eyes low as she awaited counsel. The office was modest, an old desk made up the center while an equally old and cheap fabric chairs were on both sides. A large paper desk calendar covered the majority of the surface, an average, but outdated, laptop computer sat on the corner by the chair. Behind the desk and high on the wall was an oak cross, decorated with the sculpting of Jesus Christ, and below it was a cheap particle board bookshelf that held several different variations of the bible as well as scrapbooks of the church's public activities and missionary trips.

The door opened, and Angela turned around. "I'm terribly sorry for the wait." Spoke the pastor, closing the door behind himself and then taking a seat at his desk. Angela apologized for the unscheduled visit, to which he said that it was no worry.

Originally from Syria, Pastor Serif Al Hussein was not the typical minister. Although born in his original homeland, he did not spend much time there, for the Syrian Civil War had made his family flee north into Europe. Settling in Germany, his decision to join the clergy was done out of gratitude to the sponsors that had taken him in years ago. With tight dark skin and at a respectable sixty five years of age, Serif had decided that it was time to finally head back to his homeland and bring his faith with him to this new city. After all, with hundreds of millions of people wanting answers after the Omnic Crisis, there was a demand for somebody to offer them peace.

He was welcoming to all that wished to attend his services, and after seeing her more frequently in the pews on his Sunday sermons, he had introduced himself to his new guest and learned of her interesting predicament. True to his faith, Pastor Serif would not offer indulgences or confessionals to Angela, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't offer assistance when something was on her mind.

Angela had always tried to be a good catholic, she attended mass as often as she could, she tithed, observed Lent, blessed her meals, prayed every day before bed, and for as much as she would never admit it, she practiced abstinence. But she did have her shortcomings, she didn't often observe the Sabbath -her idle hands needing work-, her attendance here was probably a sin in its own right, and although she had accepted it now, she had killed during her time with Overwatch. But, redemption and improvement was a virtue in its own, and life was a journey after all.

After exchanging pleasantries, the main joined his hands together on top of his desk and asked, "What is on your mind, doctor?"

Dr. Ziegler, who had made her visit to the church immediately after she was finished at the hospital, took a deep breath and said, "I've been… conflicted, Father. The path before me seems clear but… I have doubts in my heart."

Both of these two had seen the complexities of the world, through one means or another, they had both experienced the conflict's almost unending lists of casualties, the twenty five million orphaned children around the world, the seeds of hope that could still grow in times that seemed forsaken. In a world of uncertainties, there was nothing that humans, young or old, desired more than a simple and defined answer to their problems. "What seems to be the issue, child?"

"I have a friend, she's getting married soon and wants me to bear witness to her union…" she hesitated for a moment, finally stating, "she's also a homosexual." At that word, the pastor closed his dark eyes and nodded in understanding. "I thought that she would understand, I've followed the Lord's teachings, but it's been a struggle and… well… I don't know what to do."

After a moment of thinking, Pastor Serif said, "I see your predicament. If you don't mind my asking, do you harbor ills for your friend?"

Calmly but still quickly, Angela answered, "No, of course not." She waited, then added, "I'm afraid that my friend will not forgive me for my beliefs. We… well, she's very upset."

The pastor's eyes wandered, drifting up to the ceiling as he thought about the situation. Angela thought that he was searching for the answer in within his memory of divine scripture, but his next question surprised her. "If your mind wasn't so conflicted, or if this union was as the Lord had demanded, would you go?"

So sure in her objections had Angela been that she honestly hadn't considered the possibility of actually attending. It was strange, like a sports team playing in a tournament but not expecting to make it past the first game, it hadn't occurred to her to entertain the possibility of attending the wedding. After thinking about it for a moment, disconnecting her mind to make sure that her logic and feelings were in concert with each other, she answered in the affirmative.

"Yet, your heart will not let you go"?

"I don't think I can." She answered. Faith in God was not a luxury. She couldn't choose the tenets of her faith like shopping from a catalog. Throughout her life, the things she's seen, the struggles she's endured, she always held faith in the Lord. People could mock her for her beliefs, but she knew what she held in her heart, she believed that it was the moral way of life. Even if she was wrong, that possibility was even more frightening. The trials and tribulations that she had endured in life, her parents, the millions of people each day who wake up not knowing that this would be their last day on Earth, the incomprehensible tragedy that had occurred thirty years ago, the idea that there was just… nothing? What was the point in living or suffering if it all turned into a zero sum gain? The people she had met only saw the evils of the world, the atrocities that had happened and used it to justify the absence or malevolence of God, but she had seen the good thing, the horrors that people had survived, that she had survived, miracles that didn't make sense, she knew in her heart that there had to be meaning behind it.

If her faith was false, then what was the purpose in doing good? Logically, why wouldn't she take her wealth and fortune and forsake those in need by living in opulence for the rest of her days? What she had was structure, order, and meaning. Psalm 130; 1-2; the Christian virtue that she had adopted as her name; Mercy. Her purpose in life was to be the ear of the lord, the listener who heard the world and answered to their call for mercy. What would it mean if she didn't truly believe what she spoke? To her, it could only be described as blasphemous.

The two sat in the office for a moment, Pastor Serif with his hand on his chin in thought while Angela waited for his guidance. Finally, he sat forward and began to speak, "Child, I understand your conundrum, and while I am not your Father, here is the guidance I can offer." Angela perked up, eager for his teachings, "The Lord's house is a temple, and it must be kept sacred. The Lord's teachings instructs us to turn the other cheek and not answer injury with revenge or hatred, but an insult to the Lord demands correction. When our savior visited the temple and found it infiltrated by beasts and hagglers, he drove them out, demanding sanctity of his home and creed. Your protest is well founded. If you truly harbor no ills in your heart for your friend, and love her as the Lord loves his children, and if she reciprocates this love, then I am certain she will understand in time."

Angela breathed a sigh of relief, looking down as she listened to the teachings. Pastor Serif was not often one that would preach fire and brimstone, but she supposed that the answer to the question she sought required it. Angela waited for a moment considering what she had heard, and when she was ready, thanked the pastor and prepared to leave. In return, Pastor Serif Al Hussein smiled and blessed her for the visit. He declared that he would pray for her guidance, and as she departed, he left her with the same final proclamation that he ended all of his sermons with, "and always remember, God forgives".

Still midday, Angela sat in her automobile in the parking lot of the church as she mulled over what she had heard. It was over, she had her answer, even if a part of her was upset, she could take solace in knowing that it was all over now. For as complicated and twisted the world and its people could be, getting a simple and affirmative answer to her conundrum was a relief. Come this weekend, Lena and her Fiancée would be getting married, and Angela would be free of the responsibility to her conscience to be there. While those two and their families would be getting ready, sitting in the pews, saying their vows, and cutting their wedding cake, Angela would be a thousand miles away, at her desk, at the operating table, or on her knees praying to God and knowing that it was all finally over. As Angela sat in her car, she considered what would happen, maybe Emilee and Lena would curse her name when it came to them standing at the altar, or maybe Angela would realize the err of her ways when it was too late? Or maybe that fateful day would come and when the sun set over the horizon that night, it would rise once more and then begin a beautiful new day.

At the end of it all, both parties would go on and close this chapter and continue on with their lives. Angela didn't know what to expect or what would happen in the next coming days, all she did know is that it would all be over and she was relieved at that.

But if it was so relieving, what was still making her feel so upset?

She had her answer, whether she wanted to attend or not. The final decree had been given and that meant that there was no alternative, no backdoor, no other way about it. Yet, for as black and white as everything had become, there was something that she was missing, a riddle hidden in the teaching that was just outside of her grasp.

Like looking into a mosaic, she kept pondering what the pastor had said and kept making out the hint of something more, something deeper. But what was it? She understood what the Lord had preached and saw it as scripture to follow, and that there would be wrath and consequences for disobedience, but what wasn't she seeing?

Then she saw it, the stars aligned, he vision unfocused, and the mosaic rearranged itself to show its true meaning.

God forgives.

Quickly, Angela rummaged through her purse and found her cellphone. Looking through her recent phone calls, she found the number she was looking for and gave it a call.

Many years ago…

The Swiss street was completely unremarkable on this day. Cars passed by, people walked with animals, and Lena Oxton was standing with her back to a street corner reading a newspaper. All would seem to be normal, except Lena was here on official "Company Business". Special Agent Tracer pretended to read her newspaper, a change of clothes and a large drab coat hid much of her identity while she focused on her real interests; a doorway down the street. It was fun, a real change of pace for once now that the global crisis had settled down, and as for what she was doing, she felt like an old-school suave English secret agent. She had the ridiculous gadgets, a secret mission handed directly from the head of the agency, and all she was waiting on now was her bombshell leading lady.

Her mission, as she had chosen to accept, was simple: keep a watchful eye on Overwatch's chief medical officer. As she had learned prior, today was the good doctor's birthday, and as such, the higher ups had decided to throw a surprise party for the soon-to-be twenty five year old. As had been expected, she requested to have the day off, a strategy that allowed her to only come in for a half a day in the morning to get paperwork done before going home. The plan was that once the party was ready, a fake emergency would happen and she would be requested to return to the medical facility, where much of the organization would be waiting for her. As she left, Lena had tailed her back to her condo and was now keeping an eye on her so that she didn't accidentally ruin her surprise.

All was calm, until Dr. Ziegler's front door opened. Trying to stay incognito, Lena raised her newspaper while trying to peek around the side. The doctor wasn't on the street for long, only walking from her door to her car, but what she saw in that moment was almost mesmerizing. When Lena had the day off, she often would just order Chinese food and sit around her place all day in her underwear and watch professional wrestling, so she thought that the doctor would just be inside all day. Instead of laying around or doing nothing, it seemed that the doctor was getting ready to go out. Although she only saw her for a moment, Lena saw that her hair was down, straightened and flowing like a river of gold, and she was wearing a pure white dress. It was almost mesmerizing to look at, like a blinding hypnotic light for the few seconds that she was visible on the street.

Dr. Ziegler got into her car and drove off at a leisurely pace. Immediately, Lena hailed for a taxi, and was lucky enough to have one be nearby. Quickly, she pointed at the doctor's car and told the driver to follow her. As she watched in the back seat, Lena's mind began to ponder, thinking of what the doctor was doing. Normally, in her experience, a white dress like that was for someone who was trying to hide something, and being that it was her birthday, it left only a few things to Lena's imagination. Wherever she was going, it was important, and to whoever she was going to see, she had to look good.

It wasn't long until the doctor's car stopped. The taxi hung back and pulled over as the doctor parked on the street. Lena watched, wondering what she was doing. Quickly, Angela got out of her car, checked the street and the sidewalk, and then entered into a store. She was in there for a good two minutes, Lena was about to pay for her ride and investigate, but soon after, she reappeared once more. Now, she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. Still only visible for a few moments as she got her car open and set the arrangement inside, Lena saw the package and almost immediately knew what they were. The reds were roses, their tight bulbs wrapped together like fine chocolates, the gladioli stood on tall stalks and speckled the bouquet, and finally the carnations were pure and white.

Angela was back in her car once more, and without prompt, Lena's taxi followed. Her mind raced, thinking of what exactly was going on and began to piece together what her suspect was up to. Her fantasy became more and more vivid, until finally her cheeks blushed and she had to put a hand up to her mouth. As far as she knew, Dr. Ziegler didn't have a boyfriend, and definitely not a husband, where ever she was going, she had to look nice, and so it only made sense that she was going on a date. A romantic escapade on her birthday, a treat to herself. Only time would tell if it became a booty call, but what truly got Lena's mind racing were the flowers.

Nobody in their right mind buys flowers for a man, so that only meant one thing. For as much as she did the innocent and pure catholic girl routine, it seemed that Dr. Ziegler was into the lasses herself. This drama was getting too juicy, and the only thing better would be to find out who was the special lady Dr. Ziegler was going to meet. Even in work clothes, Dr. Ziegler was stunning, so that begged the question, how beautiful would this lucky girl be who even Angela was trying to woo with a fancy dress and flowers?

Lena's phone rang, it was a text message from the Commander requesting a situation update. Lena gave her position in pursuit as the cab followed the doctor out of town and asked for them to wait as she figured out what she was up to.

Gradually, Lena still following in a taxi, Angela led her stalker out of the city and into the Swiss countryside. After following for thirty minutes, the doctor pulled out into a small alpine village and began to travel down back country roads until finally pulling into a driveway. The cab driver pulled over, not wanting to give away his passenger completely, and Lena payed for the fare. Lena took in the environment and began to investigate the area.

The place Angela had pulled into was an old brick and stone building. The rest of the yard was quaint and blended in well with the countryside with a long stretching field around it and a curved driveway that lead to a small parking lot. Although never having been into one, it looked a lot like a postcard of an old English country club that Lena had seen before. Hiding from view, Lena scoped out the parking lot and found the doctor's car parked there while two other cars were in the lot as well.

"Well, this looks like some fancy getaway." She thought, "and there seems to be more than just her here…" she continued.

Quickly, Lena ran across the open area and up the driveway to the front entrance to the club, across the cement embankment and up to the front doors of the establishment. Now that she was closer, she noticed that there were some words on the wall by the entryway, but she couldn't read them. But, just by judging, it looked like the name of some sort of fancy place. She gave the large double doors a tug, and sure enough, they were unlocked. Checking her surroundings, Lena gave the outside one last look before entering inside.

What she expected to see when she went inside was some sort of fancy restaurant, maybe a grand fireplace with some armchairs and couches, a host or hostess waiting for reservations, or even to have her expectations completely subverted and be walking into a hardcore BDSM club, but none of it was right. Sure, the insides were fancy and continued the stone and brick construction, but the room was largely empty. The marble entryway quickly turned to carpet, there was a lonely guest book, but for the most part, it was just a large gothic room with etched stone walls and almost nothing in it. Near the door looked to be an office, and there looked to be a hall on the opposite side of the foyer that lead somewhere else.

Not sure where she was or what the place was, she timidly took a step forward, not wanting to break the almost crushing silence in the building, but after standing there like a statue for almost thirty seconds, she chanced a sound.

"Hello?"

It was still quiet, Lena was about to move her way towards the office, but then she heard the sounds of footsteps. The room was so big and sound echoed so loudly, she wasn't sure where it was coming from until Dr. Ziegler appeared coming out of the side hall. Shocked the see that her ears weren't deceiving her and that she did indeed recognize the voice, Angela approached and asked, "Lena… what are you doing here?"

What she had seen before was only a preview, the sample of what was to come, Angela was indeed just as magnificent up close as she was darting from her home to her car. Her skin looked smooth, and dress was pure and had a glowing sheen to it. Her hair was down and curled around her shoulder. Her lips were as red as vermilion, but it was at that point that Lena noticed that something was wrong.

Although Angela Ziegler looked like a picturesque marble statue given life and flesh by Aphrodite herself, she had one imperfection. Although care undoubtedly taken in applying her makeup, there was a running smudge around her eyes, and a matching mark around her wrist, almost as if she had been weeping.

Thinking of a non-answer on the spot, Lena said, "I was just in the area and decided to stop by. What are you doing here?"

Angela, almost unsure as to what she was being asked, slowly answered, "I was… I was just visiting my parents."

It seemed normal enough, but what was so peculiar about all of this? Why the preparation, why the getup, why was she taking a day off to sneak away and just visit her parents?

Lena had many questions, and she knew that the doctor wasn't necessarily buying her story either, but hoping to explain herself, Angela motioned for Lena to follow and lead her down the hall.

The side hall had a glazed stone floor, which echoed the clicks of Dr. Ziegler's heels as the two women walked. It seemed like the building as just a fancy structure just for the point of being a fancy structure, nothing inside of it made any sense to Lena, no people, no furniture, no decorations, just a building.

After turning a corner, Angela stopped at what seemed to be an arbitrary place along another long hallway, the doctor motioned her hand towards a low spot on the wall that had some letters engraved into the stone. Before she spoke, Lena noticed that the bouquet of flowers that Dr. Ziegler had picked up way lying on the floor at the base of the wall.

"Lena, this is my father, and this is my mother."

It took her a moment to think about what she was doing, but then Lena's eyes shot wide open with what this place was. "This isn't a country club. " she mentally shouted at herself, "This is a mausoleum, you bloody twat!"

Dr. Ziegler wiped her eye once more, adding. "We've been so busy for the last few months that I hadn't been able to see them very often. I wanted to come by and check in on them. To… give them my thanks for all they did for me." Changing her tone, she returned to Lena and repeated, "But I still don't understand, what are you doing here, Lena?"

Completely lost for words, Lena looked down towards the ground, stammering as she thought of something witty. It was at that moment, she noticed that there was some dirt and dust around the knees of Angela's dress, which made her feel even worse as she realized that, in her fantasy of the doctor going on an unhinged hedonistic and debauchery filled escapade, she had interrupted the woman as she was praying. But then, as she realized it, an idea popped into her head.

"well," Lena said, "don't let me interrupt you then." Lena wasn't the religious type, on the contrary, she thought the idea was harmful to the world, but she didn't see the trouble in giving it a shot for just a moment. Slowly, she got down on her own knees, and conjoined her hands together. Angela was confused for a moment, but then saw what she was doing and, although more interested in answers to her question, decided that it was more important to compliment the symbolic action.

Psalm 130: 1-2:

"Out of the depths I cry to you, lord;

Lord, hear my voice

Let your ears be attentive

To my cry for mercy."