Mercy

"Dr. Ziegler, you're needed in the medical wing immediately. Sergeant Gracion's unit has returned from their mission and they require first aid."

Angela's eyes were already open. It was as if she innately knew this was coming. She simply awoke, stirring in the night all the while, and stared at her ceiling until, as if expectantly, Athena's calm voice notified her of her sudden need as one of the most brilliant doctors in the world.

'I'll be right there, Athena. Thank-you.'

She didn't want to admit it, but a knot filled her throat instantly as Angela put on some tight, black pants and slipped a lab coat over her loose t-shirt. Fareeha had been part of Sergeant Gracion's unit. The mission had been downplayed in danger, but Angela knew better. It all sounded too simple for a mostly green skillset to be dispatched. She was concerned; more than she had been in quite some time, and it was a piece of truth Angela had difficulty believing.

Was the unit okay? Was Fareeha herself okay?

Angela checked her phone, and quickly scanned the mission's update according to Sergeant Gracion. Five Fatalities. One severely wounded. No names. No further details. Who had been lost? Who was severely wounded? Was Fareeha okay?

Angela shook her head. What was wrong with her? Playing favourites wasn't her job, but why couldn't she get Ana's daughter off her mind? It wasn't fair to anyone else in the unit. Angela actively reconfigured her thought pattern.

Fortunately, the moment Dr. Ziegler stepped out of her room, a cart was waiting for her with an Overwatch grunt she didn't recognize ready to drive her where she was needed. Small pleasantries were exchanged, and soon enough, Angela was on her way, bypassing night guards and the like. Overwatch Gibraltar was a fairly large base, but for this very reason, Angela's quarters were only a minute or two away from the medical wing, where her personal lab extended off of.

'You have my thanks.' Angela nodded to her driver, and picked up the pace, her footwear clacking against the flooring as she let herself into the wing, her I.D. allowing her access to nearly every sector of this particular Overwatch base without issue.

She could smell the blood the moment she entered, and Gracion's unit, or what was left of it, stood about a single individual on a bed, the person's armoured suit still equipped making for an awkward display. Among the unit was Jack Morrison himself, his scarred face and cold eyes showing only a hint of concern…which was enough to bring alarm to Angela beyond her immediate realization of who lay upon the bed.

'The armour is caked on because of the blood. Removing it could tear the wounds open. I wanted your expertise before proceeding.' Jack stated clearly, his rank as second-in-command keeping all the other troops silent beyond the worried glances and shame. Bradley, in particular, was clearly devastated, staying overly close to Fareeha and speaking to her in their native tongue.

'I need space.' Angela declared, embarrassed by how much relief she felt on top of the sadness that almost half a dozen Overwatch agents had been lost.

The unit dispersed, Jack even stepping back, but Bradley remained, hardly budging, which frustrated Angela.

'Please, Bradley.' She repeated the need calmly, and he finally did as was asked.

Angela looked down at Fareeha, seeing the young woman's eyes just barely cracking open.

'Angela…' Fareeha managed, and her voice sent a shock through Angela's system. 'Sorry…' She uttered, and the doctor couldn't help but bite her lip, trying not to tear up.

'It will be fine, Fareeha.' Angela attempted to remain distant, but emotion tugged at her intonation, and she doubted Jack didn't notice as much. A protectiveness for this individual had latched onto Angela's very being. She connected Fareeha's survival to an old, painful memory. It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else could she not stop herself from caring so?

'The rest of you come with me if you need minor first aid. Leave Dr. Ziegler to her work.' Jack dictated, and Angela wondered if he did so out of respect for her privacy, or because of something else. Either way, the room was cleared fairly quickly, despite Bradley's obvious reluctance, and once the door leading out to other medical services was closed, Angela exhaled shakily, going to the pharmaceutical tools and medicines available to begin the process of stripping Fareeha's suit off of her damaged body.

'On a scale from one to ten, how do you feel?' Angela asked, her palms heating up knowing Fareeha was watching her.

'One…being bad?'

'Yes.'

'…Four.'

'Truly?'

'Yes.'

'You're stubborn. I would certainly say at least a three or two. You're barely conscious. You should rest. I will watch over you.'

'I know…but…' Fareeha's voice cracked.

'But what?' Angela sighed, looking down at the young Egyptian's dark eyes.

'…I don't want to lose you again.'

'P-Pardon?' Angela stuttered, hearing exactly what Fareeha had said but dismissing it readily. She almost forgot to begin applying the necessary salve upon the woman's face to help ease the need to unequip her Raptora suit.

'I…couldn't stop thinking about you when I was fighting. I…think – '

'I think you're delusional right now.' Angela's face felt fuzzy, and she blinked rapidly, the heat in her cheeks rising.

' – you're beautiful…'

Angela's hands froze, and she couldn't meet Fareeha's eyes. She had been called beautiful before; many times, in fact. At the multitude of conferences and conventions she had attended in her past, she was approached almost every time. She never had a date, and therefore, the single (and even the not so single) men saw Dr. Ziegler as an opportunity that shouldn't go to waste. They always commented on her aesthetic appearance and her intellect. However, the conversation rarely moved beyond that, and when it did, and when Angela had even allowed a select few the chance to treat her to a drink and further discussion, she never felt the desire to proceed in the courtship. Angela Ziegler had always been married to her work and her passion to improve the quality of life for mankind. She had little to no experience with men intimately. As a child, of course, she had dabbled in silly kissing games and the like, but the moment she could actively pursue her academic passion, she was untouchable, and had remained as such well into her late thirties.

But now, at thirty-seven years old, and due to another woman's words, no less, she felt her heart skip at the compliment. Like everything about Fareeha, it was sincere and untainted by ulterior motives. Perhaps that's why Angela reacted so. She knew Fareeha meant what she said with all of her being. She thought about Angela in a life or death situation and…she thought she was beautiful.

'I…appreciate that, Fareeha. Although, I just woke up, so, I suppose you truly are seeing things through a skewed vision of delirium due to the pain. We'll remedy that hastily.'

'It's funny…' Fareeha's lips curled into a small grin attractively despite her battered appearance. 'Because, right now, I don't think…I've ever thought you were more beautiful…'

Angela sucked in some air shakily, turning away from Fareeha for a moment to gather herself. Again, her chest pulsated, and she couldn't explain why adequately. When she finally had the courage to face her patient again, she found Fareeha's eyes closed, exhaustion having overtaken her. Angela could exhale now, and she shook her head, regaining her focus.

'Evidently you say some outrageous things when you're in a state of shock and near unconsciousness, hm, Fareeha? I've dealt with such mannerisms before. It can be quite sad or utterly comedic. I will be sure to tease you about this once I have you back in shape. It will be rather fun, I imagine.'

Angela went on, convincing herself that her own rationale was truth. She worked diligently upon Fareeha in peace from that moment on, the process flying by due to her own thoughts spiraling through a mixer of analytical detailing and reasoning. She felt like a little girl again. She felt like she had been told she was pretty by a boy for the first time all over again. She felt as though she was being truly acknowledged, despite all her awards and accomplishments, authentically again. It was foolishness, Angela knew, yet she couldn't deny, at the very least, that she cared about Fareeha, quite obviously, to some extent. They had sincerely bonded, despite Angela attempting to downplay the connection she felt, and although Angela wished to keep anyone and everyone at an arm's length after her failure in the past, Fareeha's unconscious presence only brought that very failure to the forefront of Angela's brain, and she couldn't keep the other woman back enough.

The Raptora armour was damaged, but not beyond repair. It lay in its various pieces on a table nearby, and Angela continued to peel Fareeha out of her Overwatch uniform until she was in nothing but her black sports bra and matching boy shorts underwear. Her body was bruised and cut in more places than Angela would have liked, but she would ultimately be fine, if not without a few minor scars that would hardly be visible after Angela was done with her. What concerned Angela, however, was the deep gash on Fareeha's face, starting at her cheek and tracing down to her collar. With the medical advancements Angela herself had contributed to, she could reduce the amount of scarring that would remain, but it was an expensive procedure, and she wasn't sure if such methods would be seen as frivolous when viewed through the lenses of Overwatch's budget that no longer included U.N. support.

'I'll do what I can, in any case.' Angela told herself, knowing that, even without the new processes available for skin reconstruction, she herself could use her portable vial of Caduceus healing solution to at least assist with the skin's natural reconstructive abilities when all was said and done.

It was approximately two hours' worth of work, at the end of the entire procedure, but once bandaged and cleaned, Fareeha looked infinitely better than she did upon Angela first stepping into the intensive care centre. Angela leaned back in her chair and stared at the damp cloths she had used to wipe up all the blood. Fareeha's body was firm and toned, her abdomen stronger than most of the males' Angela had worked on. Her legs were obviously powerful, shaping her hips and backside pleasingly. Her arms were tight, not without just enough muscle, and her upper body retained a "feminine" allure despite its fitness as well. How did this woman not have a significant other? She was practically a model. She claimed to be more passionate about serving justice, but still; it was baffling.

Angela touched Fareeha's pretty, raven-coloured hair, stroking her bangs to the side and taking in the woman's features. She generally held a rather stern visage, but asleep, there was a softness to her that Angela almost felt blessed to see when so many never would. Would she remember what she said before passing out? It felt so long ago already. It didn't feel real.

'You are truly an interesting individual, Fareeha Amari…' Angela giggled, the worst of her worry over.

The door leading into Angela's space slid open abruptly, and the doctor jerked back, a wave of panic pulsating in her veins. She had unknowingly stayed quite close to Fareeha as she began playing with her hair, and she knew it was as unprofessional as one could be, given the circumstances.

'How is my daughter?' Ana asked sternly. She likely didn't catch Angela's compromising situation due to the doctor reacting so quickly, but she couldn't be sure.

'Vital signs are stable. Her physical condition is sound. Her Raptora suit…will need repairs before going into the field again.'

Ana nodded slowly, getting close enough to look down at her child. Even with the older woman's long, grey hair practically concealing half her face, Angela could see the worry in the mother's eyes. It was only natural. Ana was against Fareeha participating in Overwatch's war to begin with. Would this be the finale? Would the legendary sniper remove Fareeha's chance to rise in the ranks right here and now?

'She's reckless.'

'Perhaps…but she's also courageous. Must be in her blood.' Angela commented slyly, and Ana moved to a computer, signing in under her profile and bringing up a file, projecting it before herself and Angela.

'Did you read this yet?'

'No. I just finished with her. It was a delicate procedure. I needed to ensure that she would be okay.'

'It's Sergeant Gracion's report. She abandoned her unit to retrieve her suit. She then crashed through the tower and used her rockets within. Wasn't the point to reduce the damage done to the facility? Reckless.' Ana repeated, sighing loudly.

Angela took a moment to review the document before proceeding. With all the studying she had done in her life, it took her little time to consume such a simply worded piece.

'She saved her unit, Ana. If she hadn't acted, they could have all been lost. Sergeant Gracion is doing little else than praising her. He's recommending she be promoted to class Diamond immediately.'

'I understand that, Angela, but it doesn't negate the fact she could have…' Ana trailed off, looking down at her daughter once more. Angela paused, but then touched the other woman's shoulder gently, her voice softening.

'You have every right to be concerned, but she is a grown woman who has chosen her path. Unfortunately…or, perhaps, fortunately, she has chosen the same one you did: to fight for justice no matter the cost. There is no going back for her. She is hastily becoming an asset to our forces. Her command of the Raptora Mark VI is further proof of this. Only she could have pulled off such a gamble, and because of her abilities, the entire unit wasn't lost, and the mission was a success.'

Ana didn't respond, her lips tight, and her body as still as could be. Thus, Angela went on.

'What would you have done if we lost her, Ana?'

'…Be careful, Dr. Ziegler.'

'I will not.' Angela answered quickly, a sense of responsibility and protectiveness overcoming her. 'She's your daughter. She deserves to know you're alive. I shall not tell her; you will.'

'How I handle my family is my business.'

'You have a second chance. You shouldn't squander such an opportunity.'

'It's for her own good.'

'You're both so unbearably stubborn at times.'

Ana turned to Angela then, a glimmer in her knowing eye. The look immediately made Angela somewhat uncomfortable.

'What is Fareeha to you, Angela? You haven't known her long, yet I cannot help but gather the impression that there is more than a simple acquaintanceship between you both.'

Angela swallowed, gathering her thoughts proactively in order to respond with the calmness she needed.

'I…would consider her a friend. Although our time together was short, I find myself valuing her as a person. Perhaps it isn't fair of me, but that is the truth.'

Ana smiled, that mischievous grin ever present now.

'Heh. Good taste.'

'I would like to believe so…'

'It's rare to see you squeamish, Angela. Is there something else?'

Angela sucked in some air, having thought she hid the memories teasing her now more than ever.

I couldn't stop thinking of you…

…I think you're beautiful…

'You know something of my past.' Angela answered, playing her hand safe. 'She reminds me of what could've been, I suppose.'

Ana's grin instantly disappeared. She breathed out deeply, facing her sleeping daughter anew.

'I see. I'm sorry for prying.'

'Do not worry. We all have our ghosts, yes?'

'…Of course.'

Ana touched Fareeha's hair then, showing an incredible amount of affection in the motion. She paused, and then withdrew, going to the door.

'I will consider what you have said, Angela. Forgive my stubbornness. It is a difficult thing considering the way her and I parted.'

'She will understand, Ana. She will.'

Ana paused at the door, and then allowed herself out, silently moving as her skills allowed her to. Angela remained, and as she turned off the various electronics, she knew she should summon a guard to look after Fareeha as she slept. It was late, and Jack likely already had the rest of the unit taken care of and off to their quarters. Angela was always on call, and thus, sleep – good sleep found in her own bed – was imperative. She prepared her phone to call down whomever was available on the night shift, but hesitated at the number.

Angela looked to where Fareeha lay, the taller woman's breaths coming in steady, the blanket atop her partially clothed form rising and falling steadily. She was fine. Angela didn't need to remain. It would be strange if she did. Call a guard. Be professional. No favourites allowed.

And yet, Angela found herself sitting in a rolling chair, bringing it close to Fareeha's bed, and resting her head next to the girl's body, wrapping her arms under her face like a pillow. She was asleep in seconds, capable of such rest because she was exactly where she wanted to be.

…gie…

...ngie…

…Angie…!

I can't…

…I can't…

…see you…!

Angela shot up, one side of her face pulsating and her right arm numb. She pushed some hair from her mouth, and glanced around fervently, unsure of where she was for a few seconds.

'Good morning.' A smooth voice said quietly, and Angela found Fareeha sitting up in her bed, her body propped up by some pillows and the angle of the resting area. Angela felt her blood move to her face, but she controlled the embarrassment, collecting herself quickly. The Egyptian seemed a little tentative with her gaze, and Angela could only imagine why. She too wasn't sure how to exactly speak with this woman now.

'How do you feel?' Angela asked automatically, still adjusting her hair and posture.

'Better…thanks to you, I assume.'

'An expert's touch was required. Your armour was caked to various parts of your skin, and the potential scarring was troubling. I managed to reduce all signs of extended damage, however.'

Fareeha touched her own face, tracing where her deepest cut had been. The bandage over the wound prevented her from making direct contact, and the woman nodded subtly.

'Thank-you…again.'

Angela smiled, giggling a little. Something about this girl brought her sincere joy and comfort.

'Is this going to be a recurring scenario, Fareeha? You risk your life to save others and I take care of you afterward? Not a healthy lifestyle, one would argue.'

'I know…' Fareeha mumbled sheepishly, obviously a little ashamed. Angela thought of Ana, and followed up her critique with gentility.

'You're not unlike a real hero these days, are you? Saved what remained of your unit and completed the mission during impossible odds? A most impressive display, I would imagine.'

A grin tugged at the corners of Fareeha's mouth, and she met Angela's eyes, her much darker ones beautiful in the way they filled her determined gaze.

'It was reckless. I know. I just…didn't know what else to do.'

'You should speak with Lena when she gets back. She'll tell you all about how recklessness and heroism go hand in hand, I'm sure. One might say the word "reckless" and the word "bravery" are interchangeable in some cases. It all comes down to ability, and you proved yourself yesterday.'

'Thanks.' Fareeha still sounded sombre, but not nearly as shy as Angela might anticipate based on what she had said before passing out. In fact, according to Angela's evaluation, it was quite possible Fareeha didn't even recall the words that hung heavy in Angela's mind even now. Nonetheless, the curious doctor had only one way of setting her mind at ease, and she wished to do so for her own sake.

'Do you recollect much of what happened upon the mission's completion, Fareeha?'

'Hm?' Fareeha's brow went up, her black bangs trickling down the side of her strong face. 'Not really. I think I passed out, or was on the brink of passing out, shortly after handling the OR14. I destroyed the rest of the omnics, but I was working in autopilot until I knew my team was safe. Beyond that…I could only tell you bits and pieces of temporary consciousness. I think I remember seeing you briefly, but that could've been a dream.' Fareeha caught herself, shutting her mouth quickly but unable to take back what she had said. Instead, she attempted to clarify.

'That is…there's been a lot on my mind recently. My life has changed dramatically, and you've been a part of that change from the beginning, you know?'

'I do.' Angela agreed softly. So, it was somewhat clear that Fareeha had no idea what she had said prior to falling asleep in her current bed. All the better. That was a particularly difficult situation to handle. Angela felt a little more at ease, but she also felt…agitated? Why? What could she do about this sudden irritation in her chest?

'That being said,' Fareeha continued, turning away from Angela shyly, it would appear. 'I…I am glad to see you. It feels like it's been a while.'

The itch dissipated immediately, and Angela giggled.

'I would have to agree with that.' Angela answered simply, and Fareeha turned, her eyes shimmering attractively. Angela didn't realize she was smiling until she took personal note of it. 'There has been quite a bit to do since we arrived. Your basic training and rank measuring needed to be completed…and now re-evaluated.'

'Oh…' Fareeha twisted her jaw.

'In a good way, Fareeha. Your accomplishments are being recognized.'

'Oh!' The other girl repeated, elated, of course.

'Yes. Yes. I reviewed the reports myself, and I wouldn't be shocked if your rank went up. Your responsibilities and consideration for leading your own missions will certainly be presented before Winston, Jack, and the rest of Overwatch's leaders.'

'I see.' Fareeha was glowing, but it was also cute how she tried to restrain herself.

'Your mother would be very proud.' Angela couldn't help herself, and Fareeha's shoulders straightened.

'You think?'

'Yes.' Angela shuffled in just a little closer. 'I'm very proud.'

'T-thank-you.'

There was a small pause between the two women, and Angela could feel something inside of her shifting. She only saw Fareeha as a sister figure, correct? That's what her original diagnosis was, after all. Thus, if that was the case, why was she so…uncomfortable emotionally? This was a new notion, and the doctor disliked anything she couldn't evaluate properly. Her eyes continued to take Fareeha in carefully and attentively. She was performing mental photographs without intending to.

Angela's phone rang, startling both girls, and she fumbled with the device before answering.

'Dr. Ziegler.'

"Angela. How's Fareeha?"

'Up and well.'

"Good. She's fine, Bradley. Now, leave me alone."

It was Jack. He was calling for Bradley, the young man who was obviously romantically interested in Fareeha. The itch returned. The agitation festered.

'Do you need me?'

"Not yet. Take a second, if you must. But the mission to Russia is underway. The moment Winston returns, we'll be formulating a conclusive plan. You might need to be in the field for this fight. It's that out of control. Even Russia is struggling, and if they lose, the rest of the world doesn't stand a chance. We contain this now. Winston's report is all we need. I'll give you more details later."

'Understood.'

Bradley's voice was heard in the background, and Angela's grip on the phone tightened.

"No. She needs her rest. You won't be visiting her now." Jack spoke away from the speaker with agitation. "Sorry, Angela. I'll discuss more with you later. Bye."

'Goodbye, Jack.'

'Everything okay?' Fareeha asked, her hands neatly in front of her. She was such an imposing, strong woman, yet she relaxed so before Angela, displaying a softer, ginger side. Could she act in such a way with Bradley? Would she if she let him in? Would she hold his hand? Feel his long, black hair? Kiss him? Make love to him?

'Angela?'

'Fine. Yes. Everything is fine.' Angela answered, frustration building for whatever God-forsaken reason.

Would he listen to her worries? Would he treat her right? Would he understand her needs?

'Your face is…a little red, Angela.'

'It could be a cold. Perhaps. Yes. Perhaps that's precisely what it is.' Angela met Fareeha's eyes and turned away, her chest hurting. What on earth was wrong with her? She needed to make a graceful exit. She needed air. But she didn't want to leave Fareeha alone; especially when she appeared to be so vulnerable.

'I better return to my quarters for the moment. A rather large mission is approaching, and I may be needed. There is a call button on your bed. Please use it should you need anything. Breakfast will be brought to you soon. I…I will speak with you later.'

Angela turned, moving toward the door, almost tripping over her feet. This wasn't like her. This wasn't her at all. She was almost forty years old. What on earth was her mind and body doing at a time like this?

'Angela!' Fareeha called out suddenly, and a chill made the doctor shiver.

'Yes…?'

'Um…if it is alright with you…And I hope I am not imposing…but when I am able, might I…er…treat you to a drink…A-as thank-you for treating me so well in my time of need?'

Angela hated it. She hated the warm sensation that consumed her heart. This wasn't correct whatsoever. She had blocked herself from such relations for so long. Her hands were outstretched, preventing anything beyond acquaintanceship to belong in her life. It was safer. It didn't hurt. She didn't want to experience that pain ever, ever again. And yet…and yet…

'I would like that very much. Yes.'