"Rocket barrage, incoming!" Pharah shouted as she began bombarding a cluster of omnics with missiles.
When she ran out of rockets, she took off higher into the sky, propelled by the powerful jets of the Raptora suit. Jack began calling out the enemies that he spotted, raising alarm to the rest of the Overwatch team. Angela glanced to her left and spotted a foe approaching. She quickly took to the skies, following Fareeha and evading stray bullets. Despite being safer above ground, her heart was still racing and her hands still felt a bit clammy. She had been here a million times, but it still always felt like the first time. At least she knew she could get through it. All she had to do was white-knuckle her staff and try to distract herself from the sweat coating her palms until the fight was over. Opening her wings, she slowed herself amidst her descent and assessed the battle field. The way that things looked now, they outnumbered the enemy. However, it was only a matter of time before reinforcements showed up to the fight.
"Angela! Watch it! Reinforcements!" Fareeha shouted as a bullet zipped just beneath her feet.
Speak of the devil.
She pumped her wings and tried to match Pharah's height. The pair dodged numerous shots as they tried to maintain their altitude above the battle ground. Such a thing was easier said than done, so it wasn't a complete surprise when one of the wings of the Raptora was hit with a bullet. Fareeha began a total nosedive toward the Earth, firing an entire round of her rockets into the backline of the enemy. Just before she touched the ground, she fired a concussive blast into the dirt and stumbled a few feet as she landed. She flipped up the visor of her helmet and began speaking angrily in Arabic. Angela softly grounded herself and focused her healing beam on Reinhardt. As usual, he was bellowing with laughter and shouting encouragements at the enemy as they pelted his shield with bullets.
"Get behind me!" He called to Angela.
He didn't have to tell her twice. She hurried behind him and turned around to give Gabriel some healing as he took on a trio of flankers. The blasts from his shotguns outmatched the clunky bots and they hit the ground one by one. Gabriel began flanking on his own and Reinhardt took note of this. Within a moment's notice, he dropped his massive shield and swung his trusty hammer. A deafening boom filled everyone's ears as the ground cracked and sent a dozen null omnics to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, both Jack and Gabriel unleashed a flurry of shots upon the downed opponents. The air went silent and Jack stopped, looking around.
"That's the last of them." He breathed.
"Another glorious victory!" Reinhardt cheered, yanking off his helmet.
"Good job, team. Now, lets get the hell out of here." Morrison said sternly as he turned away and brought his finger to his com-piece.
It wasn't long before the portion of the Overwatch team had returned to the Headquarters. They had a quick debriefing and then resumed their usual routines. For Angela, this meant a shower, caffeine, then as much studying as humanly possible. She went about her ritual and was halfway through preparing herself a cup of coffee when she heard the familiar laugh of Ana Amari. Her eyes fell upon the older woman, who was accompanied by Amélie Lacroix. Angela picked up her mug and ambled to the pair. Ana greeted her with the typical grin and nod.
"Doctor Ziegler! Nice of you to stop by before you disappear into your office for the next week." Captain Amari joked, prompting a giggle from the French woman.
"It's the least I could do," Angela bantered back, "It's nice to see you again, Amélie. Has Ana been showing you around the headquarters?"
"Not yet. Captain Amari insisted on having some tea first. Care to join us?" Amélie offered.
The doctor hesitated, considering all of the research that she was eager to jump into. It would still be there if she chose to hang around for a bit… She shrugged her shoulders and nodded, a smile on her lips.
"I'd love to." Angela said as she sat down at the table with the two women.
"How did your mission go?" Ana inquired.
"It was a success. Everyone did well." Doctor Ziegler informed her as she brought her mug to her lips.
"And Fareeha?" She lifted her eyebrows.
"She's fine, Ana. Don't worry." The blonde woman chuckled, "We had a bit of a scare, but she's alright."
Angela was well-aware of the Amari policy, but she would still fill Ana or Fareeha in on what happened during a mission. The two never went on missions together because they were family. Ana said that it would distract her from the task at hand if she ever had to see Fareeha in danger. She never wanted her daughter to become a soldier in the first place, but Fareeha was far too stubborn to settle for a normal life. She was just like her mother.
"A scare?" Ana frowned, "Where is she?"
"She's fine, Ana. Probably fixing up the Raptora as we speak." Angela said calmly.
"I'm just going to go check on her. You can keep Amélie company." Captain Amari left her tea on the table as she got out of her seat and briskly exited the room.
Amélie took a sip of tea before softly clearing her throat, "Fareeha is okay, right?"
"Of course she is. I would never lie to Ana, she would shoot me if I did." The doctor exaggerated, provoking a giggle from Amélie.
"She seems nice enough." Amélie noted.
"Oh, yes. She treats everyone like family." Angela explained cheerfully as she drummed her nails on her mug.
"Are there any other family members stationed here? Other than the Amaris?" She asked, seeming genuinely curious.
"We have a few siblings, but that's it. Fareeha and Ana are unique." Angela told her, "I'd imagine it's tough to have family in the service."
"I'm sure that's how your family feels." Amélie added.
Angela shook her head and set her mug on the table, folding her arms over her chest, "I don't have any family. My parents passed away when I was very young."
"Oh, Angela, I'm so sorry. That is terrible." The French woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"What about you?" Angela quickly altered the subject, "How do you feel about Gérard being a part of Overwatch?"
There it was again. The sudden change in body language. Angela watched as Amélie shifted in her seat and wrapped a hand around her tea cup. She took a small drink before relaxing her shoulders and running a hand through her long ponytail.
"I just want him to be careful, I suppose." She answered, looking at the table.
"Don't we all." The doctor agreed, "Speaking of which, where is Gérard?"
"He was supposed to show me around, but he got called to go some place. I feel bad since he dropped me in Ana's lap. The poor woman probably has better things to do than babysit me." Amélie told her with a small shrug.
Angela could hardly believe her ears. Babysit? Amélie Lacroix? She was friendly and confident and bright. It was incredibly easy to speak to her and she was an excellent listener. How could Amélie think of herself as some sort of burden? That in itself was an injustice. Angela stood up and smoothed out her lab coat.
"Don't be ridiculous. Come on, I'll show you around. I'm guessing Ana will be a while." The Swiss woman suggested.
"You take the lead," Amélie smiled as she got to her feet.
Angela began her tour of the Overwatch headquarters, minus the confidential rooms. She showed her the shooting range, the laboratory, the living quarters, and even the debriefing room. They explored the base and made conversation, enjoying each other's company. It became clear to Angela that Amélie didn't get to speak to many people aside from her family, Gérard, and the people that she danced with. The way that Amélie invested herself in the little tour and their talks was refreshing to Angela. It was nice to have contact with a human being outside of Overwatch.
"So, where do you work?" Amélie questioned, walking alongside the doctor.
"Wherever the team goes. Otherwise, I'm in my office or the lab." Angela said as they entered an elevator.
"You get an office and living quarters?"
The blonde woman pressed a button on the wall panel before nodding, "Yes, but I practically live in my office."
"Do you have a bed in there or something?" Amélie laughed.
"No, but I have a couch." Angela said, causing Amélie to laugh even harder.
"You work too much, Doctor Ziegler." She told her.
Angela paused for a moment. A thoughtful expression crossed her face for a fraction of a second as she watched the elevator doors slide shut.
"Call me Angela," The doctor insisted, "All of Overwatch calls me 'Doctor Ziegler'."
"You don't like to be called Doctor Ziegler, then?"
"I don't have a problem with it," Angela stopped for a moment, "But I don't want to be 'Doctor Ziegler' to you. I just want to be Angela."
Amélie looked at her pensively. She seemed to understand what Angela meant. Of course she didn't want to be Doctor Ziegler to the first friend she had made outside of Overwatch in ages. If she had met some random person on the street, she would have introduced herself as Angela, not Doctor Ziegler. For the first time in a very long time, she simply wanted to be Angela.
"Alright, Angela." Amélie responded, eliciting a smile from the other woman.
The elevator doors opened to reveal a distressed Fareeha in the hallway. She looked at Angela and furrowed her brow.
"What did you tell my mother?" She demanded.
"I told her about the mission. Why?"
"I was trying to fix the Raptora and she came in and started lecturing me about being careful. The only reason I got away was because Reinhardt came in looking for something." Fareeha sighed.
"My bad," Angela said as she stifled a laugh.
"We tried our best to hold her back." Amélie added with a grin.
"Well, I'm glad you two have been having so much fun." Fareeha said dryly as she slipped past them and entered the elevator.
The doors slid shut and the two women shared a laugh as they started down the hallway. Outside the headquarters, the sun was beginning to descend behind the mountains and the sky was a spectacular mixture of orange and pink. It made Angela glad that there were so many large windows at the base. Switzerland was truly beautiful. Her eyes were glued to the windows as they made their way back to the mess hall so Angela could fix herself another mug of coffee. She would have to have a few more cups if she was going to catch up on her research tonight. The pair hung around the kitchen, waiting on the coffee maker. Amélie leaned back against the counter and watched as the blonde woman searched the fridge for her favorite coffee creamer.
"Do you ever drink water?" Amélie teased.
"Sometimes," Angela quipped, "But water doesn't cut it for an all-nighter."
"Do you ever sleep?" The French woman retorted.
"What's your record for most consecutive amount of questions asked?" The doctor wisecracked.
"So sassy," Amélie commented, a hint of admiration in her tone.
"Yes, well-"
"Good to see you've found a friend, Amé. I should've known you two would hit it off." A chipper voice called from the other end of the kitchen.
Their heads turned simultaneously to see Gérard, still adorning his full battle gear. He smiled wide and walked over to his wife, hugging her tight and giving her a peck on the forehead. Amélie gave him a measly half smile, but he had already turned his attention to Angela.
"Doctor Ziegler, I appreciate you being so kind to Amélie," He told her, turning back to his wife, "I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly, but I promise it won't happen again."
"Is she coming around again?" Angela couldn't help but ask.
"If she doesn't mind, I don't. Besides, it was nice to see her face after coming back from a mission. I could get used to it." Gérard gushed.
"I wouldn't mind coming back. Angela didn't get to finish our tour," Amélie said as a smirk threatened to cross her face.
"I didn't?" Angela echoed.
"Then I suppose another visit is in order." Gérard presumed, "Thank you again, Doctor Ziegler."
"It was really no trouble. We had a nice time." Angela told him, watching as Amélie nodded in agreement.
"I'm glad to hear it… Amélie, we should get you home. I'll go get changed." He said as he walked off.
"I didn't get to finish the tour?" Angela posed the question with her eyebrows raised.
"I didn't get to see your office. And you didn't even let me shoot a gun at the range!" Amélie answered with a devious smile on her lips.
"I suppose we can make arrangements." The doctor jested, faking disinterest.
Amélie stepped forward and pulled the smaller woman into a hug. She froze for a moment before embracing Amélie.
"Thank you, Angela."
It had been nearly two weeks since Amélie's first visit to Overwatch HQ. In that time, Angela had burned through three books about nanobots and had filled an entire journal with new schematics and possibilities. She had been so wrapped up in her research that she had barely spoken to any of her comrades. That, and they knew better than to try to talk to the doctor when she had her nose in a book. But Angela could be flexible. And that's exactly what she was when Amélie Lacroix appeared in the mess hall and asked her to take her to the shooting range. She knew very well that Amélie could have asked any other member of Overwatch to take her—even Gérard, who had probably led her all the way to the mess hall—but she still asked Angela. So, Doctor Ziegler temporarily abandoned her studies and lead her to the range. How could she say no?
"This one is yours?" Amélie asked, cautiously picking up an earlier model of the Caduceus pistol.
Angela nodded, "Mhm. It has received a few upgrades since then, though."
The French woman turned the gun over in her hands, examining the weapon. She pretended to take aim with it and then lowered it, turning it over in her palm once more. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and Angela looked at her expectantly. Amélie simply handed the gun back to Angela and continued walking through the arsenal of the shooting range.
"What's so funny?" Angela demanded, her brows knitting closer together.
"It's tiny." Amélie responded in a matter-of-fact tone.
"So?" The doctor challenged as she returned the handgun to the rack.
"Can that even cause any harm?" Amélie raised the question with a small laugh.
"It does a surprising amount of damage!" Angela said defensively.
"Sure it does," She snickered and came to a halt before a large sniper rifle.
Angela stopped beside her and took a moment to admire the weapon for herself. It was a steel rifle with a black finish, topped with a large scope. She had seen Captain Amari playing with it a few times, but she had never handled it herself. Why would she? All she needed was the Caduceus pistol. And even that felt like a little much sometimes.
"I want to shoot that one." Amélie decided.
"Are you sure? It's pretty heavy." Angela warned her, watching as Amélie reached out and ran her fingertips over the barrel.
"I'm a big girl, Angela." Amélie taunted as she lifted the rifle.
She visibly realized how hefty the weapon was, but quickly shrugged it off and carried it to one of the stalls. Amélie put on the pair of bright orange headphones that hung from a hook on the side of the stall. She stood with her legs shoulder width apart and then looked to Angela for further guidance. The blonde woman approached her and instructed her on how to hold the weapon. Angela positioned the butt of sniper rifle in the pocket of her shoulder and lightly pressed her cheek against the stock. She closed one of her eyes, peering through the scope with the other. Angela took a few steps back and folded her arms.
"Just take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger when you're ready." She instructed.
It was silent as Angela observed Amélie lining up her shot. A small crease formed between her eyebrows as she focused in on the sight. Her short ponytail swayed ever so slightly as she adjusted her stance. Then, her finger found the trigger and pulled it. At the end of the range, a target now had a small hole on its outermost ring. Amélie wore a shocked expression as she lowered the gun and pulled the headphones off.
"Sainte merde!" She breathed, handing the weapon off to Angela.
"Packs a punch, doesn't it?" Angela chuckled and put the rifle back.
"I've never fired a gun like that before," Amélie told her, "It's exhilarating."
"Don't tell Ana you think that, or she'll try to recruit you." The doctor said jokingly.
"With that aim?" Amélie pointed to the target, "She would be better off recruiting the blind."
The blonde shrugged her shoulders, "I suppose you'll never be a professional sniper, then."
"My dream career, taken from my hands before I could even begin." The French woman feigned disappointment as she dramatically placed her palm on her chest.
"You'll just have to settle for being a dancer," Angela bantered, trying not to grin.
"Oh, anything but that." Amélie shook her head.
"How long have you been dancing?" Angela wanted to know.
"Since I could walk," She said, following the doctor out of the range, "I still have my first pair of ballet shoes."
"Wow."
"There's just something about being on the stage, knowing all of the eyes are on you… I don't know… It's… Merveilleux." Amélie went on.
Angela admired how passionate she was about dancing. The way that her eyes lit up when she spoke about it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Even when she had first watched Amélie perform and embody a character outside of herself, it was evident that she had a peerless love for what she did. She imagined that for Amélie, presenting her choreography to an audience was just as intoxicating as the thrill of a successful operation.
"It's marvelous to watch," Angela told her, provoking a proud beam to find its way onto Amélie's lips.
"I have a show coming up in two weeks, it's Anastasia. It's my last performance in Switzerland before I leave for England to dance in another production. I would love it if you came." Amélie offered the invitation with a hopeful glint in her eyes.
"Absolutely." Doctor Ziegler nodded excitedly.
The rest of Amélie's visit consisted of stories from their childhoods. Some of Amélie's were about ballet, some were not. Either way, Angela didn't care. She simply couldn't get enough of hearing her talk. Maybe it was the accent. Or perhaps it was the way that she spoke with her hands. Whatever it was, it made her listen. It even made her want to hear more. She learned about Amélie's first dance recital and the time that she fell off of the stage during an audition. She listened attentively to tales of a mischievous, teenage Amélie that she could hardly believe existed at one point in time. Angela told her about the time that she had fainted during her first surgery and the time that she had accidentally spilled coffee on a patient after an all-nighter. They hadn't even noticed how much time had passed when Gérard came knocking on the door to Angela's office.
"It's open," Angela called.
Gérard stepped in and looked around the office for a moment. He was probably trying to comprehend the mess that sat before him. There were books strewn all over the place, with the occasional coffee mug thrown into the mix. Not only that, but there were also crumpled pieces of notebook paper overflowing from the trash can in the corner of the room. It looked more like a college dormitory than a medical professional's office. He looked to his wife and rested his hand on the door knob.
"There you are," He said, "Let's go, we still have some things to move."
"Ah, it must have slipped my mind." Amélie replied as she rose from Angela's prized sofa.
"You didn't tell me you were moving, Gérard." Angela stood as well.
"I didn't think to. You know this place is like my home, Angie," He laughed, "I just figured it would be best if I moved Amélie closer to HQ. She was staying with her parents until we could find some place. Now we just have to finish moving in the last of her things."
"Is it nice?" The doctor asked.
"It's lovely." Amélie told her.
"Yes, maybe we'll have a house warming party." Gérard suggested, "Imagine all of Overwatch in that little townhouse."
He laughed and Angela smiled at the idea of all of them crammed into a tiny house. What a ridiculous image. Amélie gathered her coat and her purse and joined her husband. He placed an arm around her and waved to Angela.
"See you tomorrow, Doctor Ziegler." He said.
"Au revoir, Angela." Amélie bid her farewell just before the door closed behind her.
Angela shook her head as she cleaned off Fareeha's bloody leg. The skin from her knee down to her ankle had been scratched up by the asphalt at the basketball court outside. Fareeha watched with a stupid grin on her face as the doctor tossed the blood-stained wipes into the trash can beside her desk. She reached into her little first aid kit and pulled out a single band-aid for a portion of the scrape that wouldn't stop bleeding. Carefully, she peeled off the plastic and applied the adhesive bandage to Fareeha's skin. She threw out the wrapper and shut the little first aid kit, tucking it back into the bottom drawer of her desk. This was a ritual that hadn't happened in quite some time. Ever since Fareeha had picked up a basketball, she had come running into Angela's office with different assortments of scrapes and cuts for her to patch up. Of course, now these visits were a lot less frequent. But that didn't change the fact that Fareeha got a kick out of making Angela play doctor.
"What was it this time?" The Swiss woman asked as she nudged Fareeha to get off of her desk.
Fareeha hopped down and examined her leg, "I just tripped over my own feet."
Angela couldn't help but laugh. She shook her head and returned behind her desk, sitting down in her office chair and leaning back ever-so-slightly. She picked up her book and continued reading where she had left off. Fareeha hesitated for a moment, looked toward the door, then looked back at Angela.
"Jack and my mom are fighting again." She sighed.
"What about?" Angela asked, turning a page.
"The Japanese government is complaining about Blackwatch again… And now they've got the majority of Asia in on it, too. Gabriel and Jack had a big argument about it and now Jack and my mom are going at each other's throats." Fareeha explained.
"People don't understand that we just want to help." She added, "The world is in a panic right now."
"I'm worried that Overwatch will get into trouble." The Egyptian woman admitted.
"We'll be alright, Fareeha. Don't worry." Angela reassured her with a kind smile.
The seat beside Angela was empty, save for the bouquet of white roses that sat where Gérard was supposed to have been sitting. Angela figured she would pick them up after she received a frantic call from Gérard, saying that he had to attend a meeting with government officials from who-knows-where. Despite being alone, Angela was more than happy to be attending another one of Amélie's shows. The familiar sudden hush of the audience brought about excitement for her. The dimming of the lights and the soft flow of music from beneath the stage only added to that feeling. She crossed her legs and straightened her back as the stage lights came on. They were a strange shade of blue, projecting directly onto what appeared to be two doctors and a patient sitting on the edge of a bed. Two groups of dancers looked on as the patient sat on her bed, staring blankly into the distance.
It was Amélie. She wore a mint green gown and sat as still as a statue while the stage cleared for a moment. Then, a group of soldiers crossed the stage, surrounding a man that held a small child. They pointed their guns at the pair and commanded him to sit down. A woman ran to them, but was pushed to the ground by two of the soldiers. More and more women ran out onto the stage, only to be corralled by more soldiers. And still, Amélie sat. Gunshots rang out through the theatre and one by one, the dancers fell. Angela jumped in her seat, surprised by the sudden change in events. Only then did Amélie rise to her feet and run to the front of the stage. She cried out as they dragged the "bodies" offstage. Then, the stage went black and a small, dim spotlight followed her. The doctors returned, as did the two groups of dancers from before.
This time, though, they brought chairs. They lined them up and sat in them, Amélie sitting in the middle. With their backs to the crowd, the lights were slowly brightened and aged war footage was projected on the back wall of the stage. Amélie pointed at the screen and rose from her seat. She returned to her bed and took hold of the iron headboard with a single hand. For a moment, she acted as though she was sobbing. Then, as the lights revealed another character on stage, she got up and moved about awkwardly. She looked as if she was taking her first steps. However, she swiftly turned around a few times and began to carry her body in tune with the music.
She was astonishingly elegant, but her movements conveyed a sort of harshness. Every second that she was on stage, she was the center of Angela's attention. Her eyes followed every twist and turn that Amélie executed flawlessly. She carried herself around the stage with confidence and poise that made it impossible to look away from her. Seeing Amélie perform made Angela feel… Giddy. She could hardly believe that "giddy" was the only word for her to make sense of how she was feeling, but it was true. At the end of the performance, she was the first in the audience to stand up and start applauding. The entire audience joined in and some people even tossed flowers onto the stage as the dancers bowed. The lights came back on in the theatre as the dancers left the stage. Angela gathered her purse and the bouquet of roses before setting off to find Amélie. She was somewhat lost, so it was even more terrifying when she felt a hand close around her arm.
She whirled around, ready to throw a punch at her attacker, but was surprised to see Amélie staring back at her. A mischievous look was painted across her face, as well as some smudged stage make up. Angela didn't have time to apologize for almost uppercutting her as she yanked her into a hug. Angela hugged her back and then offered her the bouquet. Amélie graciously took it in her hands and smiled.
"They're beautiful, Angela. Merci." She said, looking at the flowers.
"I'm glad you like them," Angela replied, "Gérard couldn't make it. He wanted me to let you know."
"Do you want to go get a drink?" Amélie asked.
Angela was a tad thrown off by her offer. Did she hear what she had just told her? She expected her to at least acknowledge the absence of her husband. But perhaps it was better not to ask questions. She blinked hard at Amélie, then gave a small nod.
"Sure, I'd love to."
"Bien! I'm going to go change. I'll meet you outside." Amélie told her before slipping back to her dressing room.
Angela shuffled past the remaining guests and stood outside. She reflected on the night that she had first seen Amélie dance. The memories of that entire evening would stick with her forever. She had truly enjoyed herself and the company of her friends. She was glad to have the opportunity to see another show and feel that sense of euphoria again. That false sense of normality was more refreshing than any amount of sleep. It was nice when things felt okay.
"Ready?" Amélie asked as she joined her.
Her face was bare now. It was the first time Angela had seen her without makeup. Even without contour, the angles of her face were still prominent. She had high cheekbones with a natural blush to them. Without mascara, her eyelashes were still long and perfectly framed her big, dark eyes. And of course, her hair was pulled up into the usual short ponytail. She was the epitome of beauty. The doctor couldn't identify the feeling in her gut. Envy, perhaps? Angela felt herself staring and quickly shifted her gaze to the street.
"Where are we going?"
"My favorite bar. I think you'll love it." Amélie said as she hailed a cab.
The two women got into the backseat and Amélie placed the bouquet of roses on the seat between them. She placed her dance bag on the floor by her feet and told the driver their destination. He simply nodded and pulled back into the flow of traffic. Quiet music with the addition of occasional static filled the inside of the taxi. Angela gazed out the window and looked down every street they passed. Eventually, they took a right and pulled to a stop outside of a brick building with a large, neon sign. A few people loitered out front, some of them smoking cigarettes. Music from inside the bar could be heard on the street and even the sound of the rowdier patrons. Amélie gathered her things as they got out of the cab. Angela insisted on paying for the ride until Amélie finally gave up and let her. Then, they entered the building.
Inside, a band performed live on a tiny stage while people danced in front of them. At the other end of the room, people ordered drinks and hung around at the bar. There were a few booths and tables set up as well, but it seemed like everyone was far too interested in the band to sit still. Angela followed Amélie to a booth where they set their things down. Angela scooted into the booth and watched the festivities as Amélie said she would go get drinks. The band played with excitement and the audience danced feverishly. It was really quite the spectacle. Amélie quickly returned with two jars containing clear liquid. A strange, white fog flowed from the top of the drink and over Amélie's hand as she set the jar in front of Angela. Angela looked at her expectantly, as though she was waiting for her to explain what she was about to drink.
Of course, she received no such explanation as Amélie began to drink from her own jar. She set it down before her and gave Angela a winning smile. The doctor picked up the glass and looked down at it cautiously. She slowly brought it to her lips and took a sip. To her surprise, whatever she had just ingested was pretty fucking good. She took another drink and looked at Amélie.
"What is this?" She asked.
"I can't tell you." Amélie said nonchalantly as she took a drink.
"What? Why not?" Angela demanded.
"Because if I don't tell you, you'll have to bring me along when you come back here for another one." She smirked.
Angela laughed and shook her head. She couldn't argue with that. The two finished their drinks, then ordered more. Angela lost track of how many times this cycle went on, but she didn't care. She was having a good time. She and Amélie talked and laughed and Angela raved about her performance. She even apologized for Gérard's lack of attendance. This caused a scowl to cross Amélie's face.
"He's always busy, Angela. Je m'en fous. I am fine on my own." She grumbled, "I don't want to talk about Gérard right now, anyway."
The duo were silent for a moment before Amélie stood up, "Let's dance!"
"I'm a terrible dancer." Angela said, taking a drink.
"Come on. Please?" Amélie pleaded as she gave Angela's shoulder a small shake.
Angela set her glass on the table and looked up at Amélie. She really wanted to dance. Who was Angela to stand in the way of that? She made sure to give a loud, exaggerated sigh as she stood up. Amélie's face lit up and they crossed the bar to the crowd. The band was in the middle of an upbeat, fast-paced song. Amélie had no problem jumping in and moving to the rhythm, but Angela imagined that she must have looked like a fish out of water. Thankfully, the alcohol made the situation a lot more bearable, and even a bit comedic. It was only a matter of time before the two of them were laughing hysterically at their drunken dance moves. Angela hadn't been drunk in a long time. Which was funny, considering the fact that most people her age would frequent bars and get drunk regularly. At least she could get a peek of what that was like every once in a while. The songs suddenly switched from swift and jaunty, to slow and smooth. The chatter in the bar got quieter as a number of patrons left the dance floor. Meanwhile, others found partners and settled into a leisurely sway.
Amélie extended a hand to Angela with that familiar, unrestrained smirk that she wore so often. Angela took her hand and the French woman lead her across the floor. At first, the doctor was tense and stiff, but Amélie carried her through the motions with ease. Eventually she was able to relax and even enjoy the dance. The cool voice of the singer seemed to make everyone unwind. Angela stumbled a bit, put off by the fuzziness of her vision. Amélie giggled and stepped a bit closer as Angela tried to maintain her balance. The hand that once held Angela's made its way to her waist as they stepped in time with one another. Angela's arms began to feel awkward and she absent-mindedly wrapped them around Amélie's neck, looking at the other pairings that danced around them.
"Do you think these people come here a lot?" Angela wondered aloud.
"Peut-être," Amélie looked over Angela's shoulder for a moment, "I'm sure some of them do."
"I would come here a lot. It's nice." She told Amélie, her speech a tad slurred.
"I told you you would like it." The dark-haired woman teased.
"I wish they would put a bar in the mess hall at Headquarters." Angela admitted, prompting Amélie to laugh.
"Please, chérie. That would be such a waste. We both know you would only touch the wine." Amélie teased.
"Wine is not a waste!"
"No, of course not. I like a glass of wine every now and then." Amélie told her.
"We should drink wine sometime." Angela suggested, a stupid grin on her face.
"That would be nice," The dancer chuckled as she swayed.
"Thank you for inviting me tonight." She blurted out.
"No need to thank me. I'm happy you attended." Amélie said as they stepped from side to side.
"It makes me feel normal." She told Amélie, although she wasn't really sure what she meant.
Sober Angela was probably smashing her head against a wall somewhere deep in her subconscious mind. At least alcohol was a good scapegoat for anything stupid that she said or did. Like that time that Fareeha talked her into going to karaoke on Halloween night and she ended up so hammered that she performed the entire "Ghost Busters" theme song on top of a table. Or the time that Gabriel had to drag her, while she was kicking and screaming, out of a wine tasting room because she had had too many glasses of wine and was trying to steal everybody else's. In summary, she often viewed being drunk as somewhat of a "get-out-of-jail-free" card to her own actions. Needless to say, it wasn't the best way of looking at it, but it certainly helped to ease her conscience.
"Normal?" Amélie echoed.
"Yes. You are the first friend I've made in a very long time." Angela confessed.
"It sounds like you really should get out more, Doctor Ziegler." The dark haired woman taunted as the corners of her lips turned upward.
"I suppose I should." Angela remarked coyly.
The idea had been getting tossed around for ages and now it had been getting argued over for almost a week. Doctor Angela Ziegler and Engineer Torbjörn Lindholm sat beside one another, both wearing the same frustrated expression. Winston stood at the end of the table and adjusted his glasses as he listened to Captain Amari's spiel, which is what had the two so worked up in the first place. In the doorway of the research lab, Gabriel Reyes hung around and did some not-so-discreet eavesdropping. The sniper slammed her rifle that had been decorated with various notches throughout the years onto the table before the group and gestured with her hands as she spoke.
"This could change the tide of combat!" Captain Amari exclaimed, clearly just as vexed as the two she was arguing with.
"I refuse to utilize the nanotechnology to harm others. The biotic rifle will undoubtedly be successful in the field, but only if used to heal." Angela shook her head.
"I agree with Doctor Ziegler," Torbjörn said, "We took a big risk just making the thing in the first place."
"But it will make things exponentially easier for our medics. They can heal and defend themselves." She insisted, pointing to her rifle.
"Captain Amari, you raise some valid points, but it cannot be done. If we were to go through with the idea and engineer anti-healing nanobots, imagine the repercussions once that news went public. The world would be terrified of us wielding that kind of technology. They're already questioning us now!" Torbjörn reminded her.
"People are only afraid of what they don't understand, Torbjörn. If we could-"
"It's unethical." Angela said sternly, "I refuse."
"War is unethical, Doctor Ziegler. All of it." Captain Amari growled.
"That doesn't change the fact that we created those nanobots to better medical technology and help people. Not to make it easier to gut them like fish. I refuse to use such a powerful technology for something like that." The blonde woman said, her voice growing a bit louder.
Winston cleared his throat nervously and Captain Amari furrowed her brow, "I see that you both have a very solid stance on this, then… I cannot say I'm surprised, but it was worth a shot. Meeting adjourned."
"I took an oath, Captain Amari. I do not intend on ever breaking it." Angela told her as she got out of her seat and exited the room.
As she swiftly rounded the corner, Gabriel started after her and matched her pace. Her fists were clenched just as tightly as her jaw. Reyes stuck his hands in his pockets and chuckled lightly.
"It's always a treat to watch the most stubborn figures in the organization go at it."
"Altering perfectly good technology to harm others… What a foolish idea…" Angela muttered under her breath, "That would really make us look good."
"Then it's a good thing you shut it down before it could happen." Gabe reminded her, trying to cool her off.
"Völlig lächerlich," She breathed as she jabbed the button to call the elevator.
"I agree," Gabriel said, coaxing a smile out of Angela.
Every time she would speak in German around him, he would say the same damn thing. And every time, it could still get a smile or even a laugh out of her. Most of the time it was the delivery of the line that got her. The fact that he said it in the same plain, serious voice every time was enough to make it laugh-worthy.
Noticing that he had effectively calmed down the doctor, Gabriel started again, "Say, what are your plans tonight?"
"I have a date with my notes. Why?" She asked as she stepped into the elevator.
"Jesse and I wanted to go out for drinks and I figured you could probably use a couple, too." He grinned, following suit.
"Hmm…" Angela put on a thoughtful expression.
"I'm buying." Gabe added.
"Then I'm in." She replied.
"I knew you'd be. I'll let Jesse know and-" He paused in the middle of his sentence, a grimace replacing his smile as his finger found its way to his com-piece.
"Looks like we'll have to reschedule." She sighed as she settled into the corner of the elevator.
"Lacroix's got a new lead on Talon… This could be big." Reyes said, clearly pleased with what he had heard on his coms.
"Have fun out there. Bring me back a postcard." Angela joked as the ride came to a halt.
"Always," He nodded as she exited the elevator, "Good luck finding new plans."
She did find new plans. Albeit completely on accident, Angela had gotten something to do aside from drowning in research. She was doing exactly that when her phone started ringing. And she was pleasantly surprised to hear a familiar French accent on the other line. Amélie asked her to come over and help her finish a bottle of wine. A few moments later, she received the address of the new place and by then she had decided that she had no excuse to not go. The doctor set her things aside and left the office, still wearing her lab coat. When she arrived at the quaint townhouse, which was about a half hour away from the Overwatch Headquarters, she checked her messages multiple times to make sure she was at the right place. Then, when she was finally completely sure that she had followed the directions correctly, she approached the front door and knocked.
Amélie pulled the door open and handed Angela a glass of wine before she could even come inside. She smiled and waved her in, eager to show her around. It had a bit of an aged feel to it, but it was incredibly nice. The floors were dark oak wood and they complimented the walls of each room nicely. The living room was a warm red color and the kitchen was a light grey. There was a staircase beside the kitchen that lead up to a small hallway, which connected to the master bedroom and bathroom. The only other bedroom in the townhouse was being used as an office for Gérard. It was a lovely little home. After their brief tour, they found themselves in the kitchen again.
"It's a lot quieter out here than in Paris." Amélie told Angela, "I imagine I'll miss it when I'm in London."
"You like the quiet?" Angela asked, taking a sip of wine.
"It's a nice change." She nodded, "I imagine that you don't get much quiet time at the Headquarters."
"The quiet scares me, actually." The doctor admitted.
"Scares? You?" Amélie echoed, as if Angela being scared of something was completely unbelievable.
"Er… Well, it doesn't scare me… I guess I just find it rather unsettling." She elaborated.
"Why?" She quirked a brow.
"It usually means that something has gone wrong… Or that something is about to go wrong." Angela elaborated, already finishing off her first glass.
The French woman laughed, "I guess I never thought of that."
"You act like I'm some sort of fearless daredevil," Angela exaggerated as she poured more wine into her cup.
"We're all afraid of something… But, I think you have to be at least a little crazy, non?" Amélie began with the rim of the glass pressed to her lips, "To be okay with cutting people up and charging into battle and all of that sort of stuff."
Angela raised her eyebrows, "When you put it that way, I definitely sound a little crazy."
"Don't worry, I still like you." Amélie said, giving her a playful wink.
It took everything in the doctor's body to stop herself from choking on her wine. She swallowed hard and took a shallow breath in an effort to prevent a coughing fit. She laughed awkwardly, quickly taking another drink from her glass.
"I'm glad to hear it." She replied in a somewhat hoarse voice.
Amélie waltzed out of the kitchen and into the living room. Her wine glass hung between her finger tips, still half full. She turned on some music and smiled to herself as she settled down on the sofa. Folding her legs, she took a sip from her glass and patted the empty space beside her. Angela walked into the living room after her, sitting down and sinking into the plushy cushion. Amélie stared into her drink for a while before she looked up at Angela and cocked her head.
"I saw a story about Overwatch on the news today," She began.
"Oh?" Angela responded.
"Yes. They aren't too happy with all of you." Amélie paused, "I think it's simple to pass judgement on the organization as a whole. But none of these people know anything about any of you."
"People are afraid. They don't know who to turn to now that there are so many outlets painting us as criminals." Doctor Ziegler sighed.
"I don't see what there is to be afraid of. I trust you. All of you." She told her.
"If only everyone felt that way, hm?" Angela said with a half-hearted smile.
"If only." Amélie repeated, finishing off her glass.
"I don't suppose you've given any thought to joining Overwatch after you get tired of ballet, then?" Angela inquired jokingly.
"You're hilarious," Amélie said dryly, although her weak attempt at hiding a smile caused Angela to grin back at her, "Perhaps you can let me play doctor and I'll let you borrow a pair of ballet slippers."
"I must say, it sounds like a pretty even trade," The blonde woman replied, earning a laugh from Amélie.
She couldn't keep herself from taking note of every little thing that Amélie did when she laughed. Hearing her laughter made her feel warm and fuzzy, or maybe that was just the wine. But buzzed or not, she always appreciated the little crows feet that formed by Amélie's eyes when she smiled. Or the way that she would sometimes try to cover her mouth to hold back a giggle. Noticing things like that gave Angela a strange cocktail of feelings… One minute, it was a pleasant, fleeting thing and in the next it was an envious, angry thing. She wondered if Gérard ever noticed the things that she did. She wondered if he even appreciated them. And if he did, did he appreciate them as much as she did? Probably not, since he was never around… Angela's brows drew closer together as she slouched a bit. Amélie had long since stopped laughing and was now looking directly at her.
"Do you ever get lonely?" Amélie asked, as if she had been reading the doctor's mind.
Angela shifted anxiously for a moment, "I… Well… Like any other human being, sure."
"I like being alone every once in a while, but lately… It feels more like a burden." She explained, looking down at her hands.
"It must be all the quiet." Doctor Ziegler said with a nervous chuckle.
"Perhaps…" Amélie trailed off briefly, "It's nice having you around. It feels a lot less lonely."
"I'm always happy to come around." Angela replied with a genuine smile.
As her gaze shifted to her once again empty glass, she felt Amélie's eyes still fixated on her. She rose to her feet to retrieve the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, but stopped after a few steps when Amélie caught her wrist. Her long, slender fingers closed around Angela's skin and caused her to turn around and look back at the French woman. She was leaning forward on the couch with a distraught look about her. A small crease had formed between her eyebrows and she looked like she was fighting back tears. Angela felt her heart sink in her chest as she looked at her.