Mercy

The human psyche had a curious way of dealing with trauma. Only when the immediate danger had passed did the mind take a moment to gather itself and comprehend precisely what had come to occur. Angela Ziegler was more than aware of the letdown that would threaten to ruin her. She felt it more than most. She had to work twice as hard as anyone to not let it consume her.

Helicopters were somewhat primitive at this point in human history, but that didn't mean there couldn't be some solace found in how noisy the method of transportation was. They were more difficult to track as well; perhaps the primary reason for Winston opting to use the loud piece of machinery.

Angela tried to focus on the sounds all around her, closing her eyes and leaning back in the chair as if to give in to her exhaustion. Fareeha was a good woman, and she had tried saying little things to Angela since they boarded, but the doctor couldn't respond adequately. Her mind was cracking, and it was taking every distraction she could focus on in solitude to prevent her from screaming.

She was going back to Overwatch. Talon had given her no choice. No matter where she went now, they would eventually find her and hurt everyone around her without a second thought. It wasn't a difficult formula. There were only two options, and Angela wasn't ready to humour the second. Her abilities and scientific discoveries were too valuable not to target. She had changed the tide of battle so frequently during the first Omnic Crisis that she was surprised Talon hadn't targeted her earlier. Perhaps they were simply biding their time. If Talon was a patient enemy, Overwatch had their work cut out for them.

Angela grimaced, subduing the urge to be overly obvious with her internal struggle.

She didn't want to rejoin Overwatch. She didn't want to become a criminal. What good could she do behind bars if they were found out? Overwatch's disbandment was ugly, to say the very least. Blackwatch's cancerous involvement couldn't have been completely removed so easily. Although Angela agreed with Overwatch fundamentally, she feared history would repeat itself, and that would be mortifying.

As mortifying as accepting the fact all those patients had been slaughtered because of her presence and nothing else?

Angela's eyes squinted shut, and she felt Fareeha's hand tentatively touch her shoulder. It was really too loud to converse comfortably, and the headsets made it so that the pilots would hear anything said as well, so the exchange was kept quiet, with a sympathetic expression being the only mode of communication Fareeha managed. Angela appreciated the gesture, but she didn't want to think about it.

"We'll be landing in Ilios to change our ride and take a breather. This bird might be hot, and we can't take any risks. Still a couple of hours to go, but just wanted to let you both know."

Ilios. That was in Greece. Overwatch Gibraltar must've been the station they were going to. That made sense if Winston was the instigator for all of this.

Angela insisted on keeping her eyes closed, and although it didn't feel as though she was sleeping soundly, she must've been fading in and out of consciousness, for the helicopter blades soon slowed to a halt, the notion of elevation dissipating and the sky already having turned to night. Angela's breath felt sour, and that was the true indicator that rest had found her somehow.

'We've landed.' Fareeha said quite seriously, unbuckling herself and removing the headset. 'Do you need assistance, Dr. Ziegler?'

'Taking off a seat belt and headpiece? I think I'll manage.' Angela jested, but Fareeha seemed confused.

The door to the helicopter snapped open, and the two pilots greeted their guests.

'Winston reserved a small room at a hotel nearby for the two of you. Our new flight will be departing tomorrow at dawn so that we can make it to the base by about midday. We're going to be performing a circle check of this ride before handing it over to the necessary powers that be for disposal. Make sure you don't forget anything.'

'Where will you two be sleeping?' Fareeha asked for Angela, since the doctor was curious as well.

'Oh, we have a room, too. Don't worry about us. There are a few good places to drink around here, so, we'll be enjoying some of Greece's finest for a bit. Shouldn't pass up the chance, right? This area is fairly peaceful, so, it's best to soak it in.' The slightly more talkative of the two men tapped at his phone, causing Fareeha's own to beep at the reception of information.

'There. The coordinates of your arrangements are in that message. I kept it somewhat cryptic just in case. Can't be too careful, right?'

Checking in to the hotel felt wrong. It was a beautiful facility, perfect for the destination and vacationers alike. The pearl whites and smooth architecture gleamed with professional, authentic care. A person could only feel like one of the wealthy daring to stay in such a place. Gorgeous plants perfectly arranged about, expensive paintings with perhaps even more valuable frames, a shining, mirror-like floor.

'I suppose this is the place.' Fareeha said quietly, not seeming overly taken aback by its design. She took the lead without hesitation, approaching the front desk with her single, not terribly large suitcase in tow. Angela heard her speaking to the front receptionist, but their words floated through her mind like the wind. She couldn't grasp any of it without effort; effort she didn't feel inclined to put forth.

This felt wrong.

Why was she staying at a premium hotel in Greece while her patients' bodies lay strewn about back in Iraq? It made the woman sick. It always did. Logistically, she knew staying alive meant helping more people, but with Talon murdering so easily, how many could she save in contrast to the terrorist's vicious ambitions? She was outnumbered. Those who wanted to harm, and those who wanted to help; the scales were ever tipped.

'Hey.' Fareeha's face was close, her scent sweaty.

'Yes?'

'I have our room keys. Here's yours.' The taller woman handed Angela a card, and continued to lead the way. She was somewhat curt; rather different from Ana and her sarcastic, charismatic persona. There was something almost masculine about her, truthfully, despite her obvious feminine build and smooth, bronze skin.

Angela followed, feeling like she was dragging her feet that weighed double what they should. She was a wreck. She had seen war and death during the first Omnic Crisis, but nothing so personal and morally antagonistic. Omnics gone berserk were one thing. Witnessing a small army of humans slaughtering helpless souls young and old was another. She was expected to be strong, but the act was sinking the doctor into a familiar, terrifying abyss she had no desire revisiting.

'Here.' Fareeha swiped the card and opened the door for Angela, waiting until she made her way in before proceeding herself, flicking on a fancy lamp and sighing outwardly.

'Thank-you.' Angela forced herself to say. She found one of the two beds and sat upon it. It was more comfort than she had experienced in weeks; perhaps even months. The mattress formed around her backside, sinking yet supporting in the perfect way.

'Would you like to take a shower?' Fareeha asked, pulling at the curtain and looking outside.

'I'm fine…'

A beat, and then the Egyptian insisted.

'I recommend it.'

'Do I smell foul?' Angela asked, pushing the pitch at humour for herself more than anything.

'N-not terribly.' Fareeha stumbled, her skin tone shifting around her cheeks. 'It's just, I always find such a cleansing to be beneficial when I am troubled or upset.'

Angela thought about it, and had to agree that the luxury of a hot shower would be quite pleasant. It still felt wrong, but guilt could only weigh the experienced doctor down for so long. She needed to stand. She needed to steel herself. She needed to avenge in the way she knew she could; not sulk forever. This pain in her chest and heart wouldn't go away, just as all the other scars refused to, but she also couldn't stop living altogether. It's why she modified her own body, wasn't it?

'I will take your advice, Fareeha. Thank-you.' Angela stood, still a sense of disconnect from her body disorienting her, and she made it to the washroom, closing the door softly and being startled by her reflection in the mirror. The nanomachines within kept her jarringly youthful, but even those couldn't hide how hollow her cheeks appeared. Discarding her clothes only provided more evidence that Angela had seriously neglected herself during her stay in Iraq. How hadn't she noticed before now? Her ribs were grossly prevalent, and her breasts had shrunk notably. Her hips stuck out, and her thighs lacked muscle. It didn't bother Angela Ziegler aesthetically too terribly, but she did care when her body wasn't being properly cared for, and the nanomachines could only do so much.

It took Angela a moment to start up the shower, but it was simple enough to figure out. Soon, hot water was pouring over her naked form effortlessly. She didn't have to pray the pipes were still working. She didn't have to endure a chill the entire time. Soap, shampoo, and a sponge were all laid out for her. Angela simply stood, however, head tilted back just slightly, and allowed the heat to sprinkle about her. She closed her eyes and tasted some of the fluid ricocheting this way and that, her lips slightly parted.

Her cheeks were soon lined with a very different kind of water, and her mouth clenched, her chest convulsing and hands gripping at her heart. She felt the floor upon her knees, and the water trailed over her nose, dripping down and joining its brethren. She sobbed lightly, sniffing and shaking with despair and anger.

Talon. A new and terrible enemy. Unlike the omnics, they knew exactly what they were doing, and the rage filled Angela the more she fathomed how low her fellow humans could fall. Crying would solve nothing, but Angela understood the act's value as an emotional relief mechanism as well, and thus, she allowed her feelings to overwhelm her rather than restrain them further.

She was thankful that the washroom's fan and the raining water itself drowned out her sorrow.

Angela stepped out of the shower after the pruning of her fingers just started to take place. She wrung out her blonde hair and wiped her face down with the towel available. However, when it came time to change, the slightly calmer doctor realized she was without clothes. Indeed, she hadn't had the opportunity to bring anything with her whatsoever. Putting on her outfit from her stay in Iraq was out of the question now. If she did, she may not have bothered with a shower in the first place.

Surely, the housekeeping staff had something she could change into for the time being. But what about the following day? What would she wear to Overwatch's H.Q. in Gibraltar?

Angela wrapped a towel around her slender body and exited the steamy washroom, finding Fareeha on her phone and looking somewhat intense…although that wasn't completely extraordinary.

'Did you want to speak with her? She's here.' Fareeha cut herself off, nodding to Angela. 'Do you mind?'

'Not at all.' Angela held out her hand, taking Fareeha's phone and trying to smile. She noticed the younger woman's eyes avoiding her, as if she may be embarrassed by Angela's lack of clothing beyond the towel. A funny girl, this one.

'Winston, I presume?'

"Uh…yes."

'Why do you sound sheepish?'

"Ahem. Ms. Amari told me what happened. You…have my condolences."

Angela breathed out, her body's spasm at the recollection powerful against all her efforts.

'I do not agree with fighting hate with violence, but I have seen with my own eyes what form of evil Talon embodies, and I do not wish to ignore the terror they wish to spread.'

"So, you will join Overwatch again?"

'I do not have a choice, Winston.'

"You do. If you simply need a safe place for the time being, I will assure a necessary haven is reserved for you here. You do not have to fight."

'Heheh. That's very kind, but you say that knowing what my answer will be, so the offer becomes somewhat null, wouldn't you agree?'

"…The world needs us, Angela."

The sincerity in her old friend's voice was enough to send goosebumps over Angela's bare skin. She bit at her lip, but then nodded slowly.

'Yes. It needs a hero…'

"Overwatch is that hero. With new recruits, like Fareeha, we can save humanity from Talon. I'm working on Jack, Reinhardt, and others. It won't be like last time."

'You can't make that promise, Winston.'

"But…"

'The moment you include humans in any equation, you do not have a stable formula. The variables are ever changing. You know this.'

"I…I suppose you might be right…"

'But yes. We have learned some things since the last war. We will adjust our actions accordingly.'

"Precisely!"

Angela felt a tug at the corner of her mouth. His honesty was truly enlightening. It was refreshing. It's what she needed.

'I'll speak with you further tomorrow, Winston.'

"Good! Good! Oh, and before you go, what do you think of Fareeha? Will she be a fit for our team?"

Angela glanced down to the daughter of Ana Amari; the legendary sniper. Fareeha's clear eyes looked back. She had resolve, that was without a doubt.

'I think she will be a perfect candidate for the revived Overwatch team, yes.'

Fareeha clearly attempted to withhold a broad smile from spreading across her face, but she failed mostly, looking all the more adorable because of the breakdown.

"Thank-you. Thank-you, Angela."

'Goodnight, Winston.'

Angela managed to click the call off and handed the phone back to Fareeha, who held the device tenderly.

'Um…Do you feel a bit better?'

'Yes. I appreciate you asking. I have managed to bury my feelings for now. I suppose it's best I become used to doing that again.'

'Oh…'

'Hm? You do not agree with my method?' Angela challenged, wondering a bit about her roommate.

'If I might be frank,' Fareeha spoke just slightly lower. 'It does not seem healthy.'

This impressed Angela.

'You're right, of course. But it's a survival mechanism for the time being.'

A beat, Fareeha fidgeting with her phone absentmindedly. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

'If…if you ever need to vent, Dr. Ziegler, I think I can be a good listener.'

'Truly?' Angela raised a brow, amused and bewildered at once.

'I've been told as much, anyway…'

'I do not doubt it.' Angela smirked. 'You choose your words carefully, in most cases, and are very considerate toward others. I don't dislike such traits.'

Fareeha didn't respond, but she was obviously content with the praise.

'Perhaps I might take advantage of your offer now, then?'

'O-of course!'

Angela stretched her arms out, scanning her own body.

'I am currently in a precarious position as far as my clothes are concerned. Can you provide some advice?'

'Oh!' Fareeha almost fell backward, immediately going to her suitcase and rummaging through her outfits, extracting a black t-shirt and pair of red shorts, since the weather was somewhat toasty. 'Would this do?'

Angela held up the plain shirt and shorts. They weren't exactly her style, but due to Fareeha's size, they would most assuredly fit…if a little loosely.

'My thanks.' Angela shrugged before proceeding to the washroom and changing with some haste. She didn't want to be alone, apparently, for her thoughts frightened the doctor. Despite what she said, her feelings wouldn't remain confined in her distant psyche. Angela returned to Fareeha, the shirt quite large over her frame, the already wide collar slipping off her right shoulder, while the shorts struggled to stay just barely on the doctor's hips even with the string meant for tightening them pulled in hard.

'I must look like a fine piece of work.' Angela self-deprecated intentionally, feeling some warmth on her cheeks as Fareeha blinked in seeming interest curiously.

'Er…We might have time to purchase some clothes for you tomorrow before departure.' The younger women offered.

'That would be ideal.'

'But…You are still every bit the angel I viewed upon our first encounter, Dr. Ziegler, if you do not mind me saying.'

Angela thought it was a joke, at first, but Fareeha's gaze made it clear she was very serious, as was to be expected. This made the doctor's pulse jump, and then she giggled shyly.

'An overstatement if ever there was one, but that was a rather smooth line. If you were a man, I might be in trouble, no?'

'I-I meant nothing flirtatious! I just…do not want you to feel bad about yourself, Dr. Ziegler.'

'Then contribute to my comfort by calling me Angela, if you would not mind. You did it before once, and I did not mind the familial notion of your seeming slipup.'

'…It does not seem proper.'

'I don't care for such formalities. I am just as human as you.'

'A human who has saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives.'

'Directly, somewhat, but you have done similar acts of heroism in the Egyptian army, correct?'

'I don't think they are quite comparable.'

'Well,' Angela sighed. 'Before this conversation becomes even more cyclical, let us just agree that you call me by my first name and leave it at that.' Her tone got the message across, and Fareeha eventually nodded.

'I will do that…Angela.'

'There. Not so difficult, is it?'

'I just…have always looked up to Overwatch. By association, I've always admired you and the other heroes that truly made a name for themselves during the first Omnic Crisis. I mean, you can self-regenerate! How amazing is that? I dreamed of joining the fight, and just as I was almost able to apply, the disbandment took place, and my future didn't look quite so certain.'

'I see.' Angela took a seat on the opposite bed. 'That was poor timing. Overwatch could have used more individuals like yourself, I believe.'

'I hope I can help now, at the very least.'

'You will. You pilot the prototype Raptora Mark VI, correct?'

'Yes.'

'Such a powerful weapon in the hands of a level-headed woman like yourself? I have faith it will assist us all.'

'I will do my absolute best not to let you down, Dr. Zieg – er…Angela.'

Angela smiled. She had a feeling she would like Fareeha based on their first serious conversation, but these new interactions only confirmed her theory.

'So, I would suspect a shower might be a pleasant idea for yourself as well, yes? We best go to bed sooner rather than later, for I predict a busy day tomorrow.'

'Agreed. I will do just that. Call for me if you need anything at all, Angela.'

'I will, Fareeha.'

Angela observed Fareeha subconsciously as the other woman withdrew some more clothes from her luggage. She was so very tall, for a woman, and moved about in a rather virile way, lacking the idealized "grace" expected of their sex in most cases. Angela suspected the army had that effect on a girl, but it wasn't without its charm when paired with the Egyptian's naturally attractive visage. Her raven-black hair and tanned, smooth skin were aesthetically pleasing, and her build was athletic, but not without the curves a man would find irresistible. She hadn't mentioned a partner of any kind, but Angela wondered, for but a second, if this honest individual couldn't have a boyfriend somewhere in the world. She seemed focused on work and bettering herself, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she was single, which seemed like something of a waste.

Not that Angela could talk, if she were to allow some slight vanity and confidence into her thoughts.

The doctor fell back onto the bed, putting her arm over her eyes and allowing her mind to follow such a train of consideration to allow for a viable distraction. She had been on a few dates herself, but absolutely none were worth a second outing. She could tell within the first few minutes if there was compatibility or not and, unfortunately, the conclusion was generally the latter. Jack had called Angela "picky" at one point, while Gabriel was quicker to claim she was "stuck up". "Not desperate" was what Angela had countered with, and that seemed to shut both men up quite hastily.

It was the truth. Perhaps it's why Angela found herself connecting with Fareeha so easily. They had goals, dreams, and aspirations beyond attracting the attention of the opposite sex. It was a fun game to play, on occasion, but hardly the primary focus of either girls' life. Angela derived much more fulfillment out of helping others and developing new ways to heal the sick. Flirting, dating, and all the complications that such concepts brought with them could be occupied by others. Angela had better ways to spend her time, in her mind. At thirty-seven, despite the nanomachines' ability to maintain a youthful appearance of half her actual age, Angela simply didn't care enough to bother, and it seemed like another world not worth investing in anymore.

A softness consumed Angela's body then, and the doctor realized she had completely dozed off, lost in her subconscious thoughts. A blanket was pulled over her form, and she squinted just barely through heavy eyelids to see Fareeha climbing into her own bed, a tight pair of black short shorts giving way to a surprisingly pleasing view prior to the light being switched off completely.