Reyes settled at his desk, clutching a mug of coffee, and glanced over the latest suspected Talon activity report.
Assassination….
Intercepted black market weapons shipment…
Suspicious transfer of funds…
He yawned. Same old, same old from Talon, if all of this really could be traced back to them. Still, it would require Overwatch to mobilize if these incidents were linked. Apparently Athena needed some additional time and input to verify this, and he decided not to worry about it right now. He took another sip of lukewarm caffeine, then paused, frowning into the dark liquid. Maybe his fatigue was something he should report. He just thought it inconsequential, chalking it up to insomnia and drowning it in coffee. He wondered what, if anything, the two doctors would make of it. Angela would probably act all concerned, but Moira…He still didn't have a good idea of how, exactly, the geneticist would react, but he didn't put her laughing at him past her. Speaking of which…
He checked the time and started. For all his lecturing her about not being late, hewas the one running five minutes behind. He grabbed his gym clothes and bolted, and by the time he got there and changed, he discovered Moira was already present, jogging on the treadmill, earbuds in to drown out the exercise machine's annoying humming. She wore somewhat baggy workout clothing that she probably borrowed from someone else, but she glanced over at him and smirked, not breaking stride from her run, her face barely pinked from exertion. McCree was right. She absolutely looked like some mythical creature of the night, what with her nearly-skeletal appearance, her unusual height, and her very pale skin that apparently refused to hold any color.
He waved her over. She obligingly stopped the treadmill and pulled her earbuds out.
"Commander Reyes."
"Doctor." He folded his hands behind his back. "You're part of the team now, and I've got to train you whether you end up coming with us or not."
She raised a sharp eyebrow. "You expect me to fight with you, though I have no combat experience?"
"You need to be able to defend yourself. I trust you're familiar with the Overwatch dossier I sent you by now, and are therefore familiar with Overwatch's enemies?"
"I am."
"Then you know they'll do a whole lot worse than knock you on your ass. Mimic me." He moved to the center of the exercise mats and assumed a martial arts stance, his weight balanced, his fists up.
"I fail to see the point of this if they're carrying guns."
"It's protocol. Now get over here."
She scowled at him but joined him, settling into a stance that mirrored his own.
"Rule one, Doc; don't get hit. You can dodge or block, but you gotta not take a hit in order to hit back."
He coached her through several blocks, adjusting her stance and technique where he needed to. They worked through several techniques together, making rapid progress. She got a little short with him when he tried to correct her, but she caught on quickly, a fortunate thing, since the fatigue that he'd been experiencing had returned with a side of dizziness included, which grew steadily more intense. Moira appraised him silently every time he faced her, her gaze piercing him, silently asking the question that he didn't want to acknowledge. He knew he should cut the session short to avoid passing out right in front of the doctor, but he didn't want to spend more time training her than really necessary; cutting the training short meant he'd have to carve more time out of his already-packed schedule to try to fit in lessons he could have finished today. He'd hired the woman for her brains, not her brawn, and it was highly unlikely that she would be cleared for missions. Still, he liked to make sure his team was well-equipped enough to handle most situations, and this was simply a step towards that well-equipped team.
So when Jesse entered, he could practically hear a hallelujah chorus, despite the evil eye the cowboy gave the pair of them before crossing to the weights. He let Jesse do a couple of sets before making up his mind.
"Good," he remarked as the geneticist blocked yet another punch. He turned and called across the gym. "Hey Jesse! Come here."
Moira said nothing as the cowboy set his weights down with a little more force than necessary, her gaze tracking his movement as he made his way over.
"Yeah?"
"I want you to go a few rounds with the doc. Play nice now; she's brand new to this."
Jesse stared at him as though he'd gone mad for a long moment, then crossed the floor and took his place.
"Start when you're ready," he told them, crossing to a bench and sitting down heavily on it. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes for a long moment, willing the dizziness away. Someone grunted, and he heard the smack of a body hitting the mat. He opened his eyes. Jesse stood over a disgruntled-looking Moira, half-heartedly holding out a hand, which the Irish woman ignored as she got to her feet. She cast a glance back at him.
"Don't get distracted. If you do, you're done," he advised her. Her response was a mere twitch of an eyebrow before she turned back to the cowboy. This time he watched them. Jesse's blows were heavy but well-placed, using his considerable weight to keep him from losing his balance. He would have hit too, but... god was Moira fast. She ducked and blocked and weaved, making up for her lack of strength or knowledge in agility and even landing a few blows herself. He hadn't been able to see that while teaching her, as stop-and-go as the lessons were, but she was impressive for having taken no lessons herself.
"Alright, stop," he called after a few minutes. The two combatants broke apart. "Doctor, you can go. Well done."
She glanced in his direction, smoothed her slightly sweaty hair back, then left. Odd.He got to his feet. Dammit.The dizziness had returned as soon as he stood up, and he hobbled over to Jesse.
"Thanks for the assist. I need to go talk to Angela," he said, clapping a hand on Jesse's shoulder.
The cowboy's smoldering expression vanished, replaced by concern. "You gonna be okay, Gabriel?"
"I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just dehydrated. You?"
Jesse shrugged. "I'm fine. Just bruised the pride, s'all."
"I know you don't like her. I'm not asking you to. Just…maybe pretend not to hate her so much?"
The cowboy grimaced. "I can try, but I ain't promising you anything."
"You did pretty good just now."
"Thanks. I tried not to hurt her." He chuckled shortly. "Figured I'd break her in half if I actually hit her full force."
"Yeah, she sure does look breakable."
"See you around, Commander."
"Same." Reyes nodded and left the sweaty stink of the gym behind. Upon returning to his room, he took a long shower, trying to compose an email to Angela in his head. He sat down at his computer, flipped it on, and opened his emails. One new message. From Moira, no content, just a long title that told him why she wanted to get his attention.
The lab is set up. Come see me. We need to talk. Bring your medical records.
A/N: I wanted to capture the agility that Overwatch's developers supposedly designed Moira with. So this happened...
Hope you liked it! More to come soon!
Go dtí go gcomhlíonfaimid arís!