Angela's wrist ran across her sleepy face as she trudged down the hallway, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a disheveled mess after an incomplete sleep, and with every blink of her eyes, the light from her phone still remained burned into her vision as she grumbled obscenities to herself, only somewhat thankful that Reinhardt wasn't around to hear them. Her slippers flopped behind her, her lightly plaid pajamas waving behind her as she walked somewhat with a pep in her step, having been told she was needed "somewhat, not entirely, urgently".
Reinhardt hadn't said much in his text, though Angela could assume it had something to do with Ana, seeing as how he'd said to come to the control room- however, access was always denied unless Winston or Lena with there as well, so Angela wasn't entirely sure what could have been happening with the tight ship Winston often ran here. Still, she made her way along, eyes barely open, finally coming to the large door to the control room which slid open at her arrival.
Her eyes narrowed even further as she stared at the sight of Winston in his chair, his head slumped back over its head rest as he quietly snoozed there, arms falling to his sides in a rather unsettling sight, given the gunfire Angela suddenly heard from the shooting range below. She instinctively turned to the large window to her right, noticing Reinhardt there, leaning against the glass with his arm as he peered down toward the gun range. Angela sighed, running a thumb at the point of her eye beside her nose before approaching the old man with as much curtesy as she could muster, given the hour of night.
"Yo," she managed, lazily.
Reinhardt didn't move as Angela approached the window, staring down to see Ana there, in full gear, aiming with her wrong eye once again, her neck crooked in an unnatural position in order for her left eye to peer awkwardly down the scope.
"She's gotten one or two good hits," Reinhardt explained heartlessly, "I keep telling her to take a break, but she won't listen. I figured the doctor could convince her."
"The doctor is me, Wilhelm," Angela replied, pithily, sighing heavily as she watched Ana take another shot, again sending the bullet wide, "Her week is almost up. I asked her to try for one week before deciding to go home."
Reinhardt turned his head to just see Angela from a sidelong glance, "She wanted to go home?"
Unable to answer, Angela bit her tongue.
He sighed, shaking his head, "She never told me. I mean, she did, but I…"
"She wants to be where you are," Angela explained quietly, "You want to be here, so."
"I just didn't want her to feel as helpless as she thinks she is, but this is just- She's been at this for hours now; I don't want her to hurt herself. God knows I don't want her losing her mind sticking to this for longer than she needs. You said a week? I'm concerned this won't end there, not if she has something so massive to prove," Reinhardt sighed with a shake of his head.
Angela eyed him critically, "So why did you call me here?"
"Because as much as I'd like to be the one to prop her up and keep her standing when she's weak and tired, I know that she's the farthest person from the type to allow such a thing," he shrugged, easily, "I figured some tough love might be in order, even more so from the physician whose clearance is required for her to ever see combat again."
Her eyes rolling, Angela groaned, her head falling forward in defeat, "You know, if it were anybody else, I wouldn't even consider that."
"I saved your ass enough times to know how many favors I've accumulated, my dear," Reinhardt replied with an amused tone, "All I ask is this one thing. Just help her. If she physically can't perform, if you're the one telling me so, that's fine. If she can't, well… My place is beside her, now. If she's sent home, my place isn't here."
Angela's eyes turned to meet his, surveying the dreary look on his face, surrounded by white hair that scraggily spun every which way along him at the moment, his lips curling into a smirk, "And I do trust you enough to know you won't blow smoke just to keep me here. I know what I've seen for the last few hours."
The doctor bit her lips, quietly accusing with an unsure voice, "Are you wanting to lea-"
"Doctor," Reinhardt nodded toward her, "Ms. Amari needs an inspection, I believe."
Suddenly groaning, Angela turned away to leave the control room, quietly making her way down into the targeting range, not needing to follow any sort of protocol since Winston was snoring up a storm. His dreamy growls were all that accompanied Wilhelm now that he was alone up there, slowly shoving his large hands into his pockets as he watched Angela emerge along the end of the shooting stalls, Ana still hunched over her counter with her head tucked far against her opposing shoulder, her wrong eye trying to sneak its peak down the scope.
BANG
She yanked the bolt back.
BANG
Again.
BANG
Once more.
BANG
She dropped her rifle on the counter as she stared off down the range, finding her target swaying there, only two holes managing to strike its perfect shape. A lackluster result, given the hundreds of bullets she had expelled. Even then, she barely frayed the edges. She grasped the edge of the counter, tightening her grip as she grit her teeth, trying to squeeze her anger out of herself silently, aware that her lover stood just above her, knowing her every move. She kept her head low, making sure never to turn herself to the side for fear of him catching her with tears staining her skin.
Standing there a moment in tension-fueled reflection, she slowly began to reload her firearm, her breaths deepening as she focused her mind, strain building up behind her eyes as she stared down the range, the target hanging there as if mocking her by this point. After a genteel sigh, she crouched down again, unaware of Doctor Ziegler's presence behind her.
"Amari," she muttered, trying her best to sound polite.
Ana groaned loudly, dropping her rifle to the counter as she stood up, whipping her head over her shoulder to stare at her, "Bet you're ready to gloat, huh? Almost done for the week, and that hag, Amari, still hasn't made a dent, eh?"
Angela mere raised her shoulders for a moment with crossed arms, staring down the range, "You made two."
"Two more than you were hoping for, I'm sure," Ana scolded, matching the doctor with her own set of crossed arms, "So what, come down here to formally sign my resignation? Get me on the red eye so I'm out of your hair as soon as possible?"
Angela's lips pulled to the side with difficult indecision, ultimately speaking up, "You know, I was actually rooting for you, believe it or not. Not only is that man up there a hell of a soldier, you used to be one too. I'm not against you, particularly since I'm with your daughter, one, so you can quit the act; I'm not trying to get you out of here. If you're able to perform, we do need you."
"If I'm able to perform," Ana repeated, shaking her head, "Y'know, I've been bent over this wooden shelf for hours now, thinking. The only reason you gave me this week was because you wanted me partaking in my own death march of futility- you wanted me gone as soon as I arrived, but lo and behold, you respect Wilhelm enough to put up with me."
Angela shrugged, "I didn't put that rifle in your hand."
"Yeah, but you knew I'd never do what that man thinks I can do. It's one thing to tear my spirit to shreds, it's a whole fucking other thing to break that man's heart. I've stood here fifteen hours, unable to show my face, because I know it would kill him. He'd tug me on home and go with me. This whole charade of your- I'm fighting like grim fucking death, not only for me, but for two of us to stay here."
Ana reached over toward the counter to grab her bandana, "Well I'm done fighting when there isn't even a war. He wants us to both be home, and I've got to tell you, I feel far more welcome there than I have, here, this entire week."
"Amari," Angela spoke up, though the sniper wasn't having any of it.
"You get your wish, Ziegler," she muttered, starting off, "I'll leave my resignation on-"
The doctor reached out to grab her arm, holding her back as she struggled to free herself mid-stride, "I have to sign of on you leaving too, you know."
Ana frowned, "Gonna make me suffer, huh? What do I have to do? Shine your shoes? Say that you were right all those years? that my consciousness doesn't bite at me every now and then over all the lives I've taken? The fuck gives you the right?"
Angela replied, drolly, "Literally? Gabrielle Adawe. Now get back in that stall; you have four more shots to take to empty your weapon. Standard operating procedure."
The sniper scowled as she turned her head back toward the counter, gritting her teeth as she spoke, coldly, "You know I can't."
"Well, you've got four shots to prove me wrong," Angela replied with an even tone.
Ana watched her with a tightened brow, slowly returning to her stall as she dropped her bandana next to her, cursing under her breath as she readied herself for her final shots as an Overwatch operative, for all intents and purposes, she figured. Angela turned her gaze up toward Reinhardt, watching the man's fist held up to his lips in suspense. She didn't know what he wanted, outside of Ana coming to some sort of closure regarding whether to stay or go. For all she could tell, he seemed to want to stay, though his loyalty to the woman he'd called a friend for decades, whose bed he now kept warm, she knew was stronger than any tie he had to this organization. It was the same way Angela felt about Fareeha oftentimes- she'd give up all of this for the woman she loved.
BANG
Angela's head jerked around in surprise, just in time to see Ana's head fall forward in defeat. She eyed the sheet of paper that served as a target, still with two holed near its edges, leaving Ana three shots away.
"Again," Angela spoke.
She nearly felt her lip give way to blood as Ana lifted her head, staring down at the target. She wanted to be here, so truly; it was beyond duty to her role as a soldier. She had a duty to her daughter, to right the wrongs they'd made before their disbanding. A duty to her lover, a duty to herself, to prove that whatever ailment she had incurred, it wasn't enough to fell her. Not in this way; now for this doctor's amusement, she thought.
BANG
Angela's eyes narrowed, "Agai-"
"Fuck you!" Ana shouted, raising her rifle into the air and swinging its butt-end into the counter, smashing it into pieces as she dropped the rifle, spinning her body around and pointing a defiant finger toward Angela, "I don't have to take this shit from you! I'm not your fucking puppet!"
Angela's arms spread apart innocently, "Ana, I-"
"Don't even tow that party line shit with me, princess; you don't have a fucking clue what's going on with me!" Ana shouted maddeningly, "Sitting in your pristine fucking chair- You know, you never once understood what any of the rest of us were about; I was right to tell you, to your face, in front of everybody, how stupid your ideals were! Any goddamned second in the field- had you made any fucking effort whatsoever, you'd maybe, maybe, understand the shit I'm going through! What we're all going through, except you."
She trembled like a flag unfurled, "You don't get to make these decisions; you have no idea. No idea what Wilhelm, or Jack, or me; all you know is your pretty face and your nice fucking shoes. Well fuck that! I don't need your judgement!"
Ana began to storm off past Angela, though the doctor reached out once again to grab her, the sniper's arm flailing away more violently this time, breaking away, as Angela spoke up, "You've got two more-"
"Fuck you, bitch!" Ana shouted, almost hysterically, tears pouring from her eyes as though this entire moment were a torrent of emotion threatening to drag her away from any semblance of reality, "You have NO idea what I've given up for this chance to stay in this organization!"
Angela tongue fell full as she tried to brace herself without showing any movement, "Fareeha's father, for one?"
Ana's eye bolted wide, sheer instinct kicking in as she took a step forward, throwing her arm into a wild arc as she punched Angela square in the face, sending the doctor into a daze as she collapsed backward onto the floor. Ana quickly followed behind, more due to her legs growing numb than with intent, as she fell to her knees beside her, reaching down to grab ahold of Angela's shoulders as if she were trying to shake some sense into her, though such a motion never came.
Angela felt the blood trickling from her nose alongside her burning tears from the pain as she looked up at the old woman's face above her, Ana's tears rolling down her face like an avalanche. Less so from her appearance, she seemed so much younger, Angela recognizing the soldiers from years ago after agonizing missions, nearly breaking down on the way back to base. She had only ever seen Ana like this once before; the day after he had perished. After that, she never allowed even a hint of emotion to cross her, until now.
"You don't know," Ana cried in anguish, shaking her head, "You don't know."
Angela shut her eyes as she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, her hand lifting up toward her face to allow her finger to swathe along her upper lip, taking a dab of her blood and reached up toward Ana's face. The soldier recoiled at first, though in that moment, understood what the doctor was doing, having forgotten so long ago what hidden asset this particular doctor had. Angela carefully ran her finger along a cut that had appeared after Ana had destroyed the counter, sending shrapnel across her face, leaving a line of blood there and leaving a red line that Angela could make out beneath her tears.
"I gave up everything but my body, so that I could offer you, Wilhelm, everybody, I could give you guys everything, including my body, if I ever thought any of you had needed it," Angela spoke, weakly, "If you all weren't so damn good."
Ana felt her chin begin to tingle as Angela's blood stained her skin, her cut slowly beginning to heal as the doctor spoke up again, "Sometimes, I wonder how much of a waste my life is, having not died. My blood being filled with this stuff, I forfeited the ability to ever bear a child; but here I am, with nothing to show for it. I spend hours at night, thinking of how I gave up so much, just so I could die, and- I'm still here."
"This blood, and these tears," Angela quietly went on, weakly, "They took any child away from me, but they gave me the love of my life back. I brought your daughter back from death that night in Ilios, and for fuck sake, Ana, I'm trying to bring you back to life too. Just hit that goddamned target, please; not to prove it to me, or anybody, but to yourself."
Ana's breathing had slowed since Angela had begun, and she now sat above her own knees, having relinquished her grip on Angela's shoulders a few moment ago. She turned to look at her stall, watching its destroyed frame with regret in her eyes. For all her emotions she tried to keep from others, anger was one she hadn't ever been truly good at concealing. She reached a sleeve up to wipe away her face before standing up, not bothering to help Angela to her feet, knowing the doctor was far more concerned with this task at hand.
She humbly bent down to grab ahold of her rifle, taking a step back to move to a different stall when she paused, realizing she had fifteen hours of practice at this specific angle, knowing it best not to start anew. Still, with the counter dismantled, it left her with no solid base to steady her body upon, leaving her confused for a moment as to what she should do.
Angela picked herself up, reaching up to massage her face before eyeing Reinhardt once again, finding his face buried in his large paw. She wasn't sure if he wasn't able to watch, or if he was simply hiding tears, but she inevitably returned her attention toward Ana as she grumbled to herself, widening her stance as she stood within the stall, burying the rifle into her shoulder as she bent low, foregoing any sort of help when it came to balancing or lining up her shot. Strangely enough, it almost felt more natural this way, just like she used to do. Just her, her weapon, and the target.
She leaned into her rifle, cricking her neck just right so her eye could peer blurrily down the scope from its position just before the edge of its socket, her finger trembling as-
BANG
Ana pulled herself away as she stood up straight, lowering her arm to her side as she stared off down the range to see where her bullet had ended up, leaving Angela to approach her from behind, pulling a sheet of paper out from her back pocket along with a pen, frowning as she turned her glance up toward Ana.
"You got one more, so you want to go again?" she asked, indifferently, "I mean, you're signing this reinstatement sheet regardless, I presume."
Ana's eye stared at the third hold in the target, her face remaining still, emotionless, as she turned toward the sheet of paper in Angela's hand, "You sure, doctor?"
"That's two deadlines you've beaten. Unless I wish to get hit again, I doubt I'll have any further objection," Angela shrugged with something of a smile, "I mean, standard operating procedures dictate that you're require to unload your entire-"
BANG
Ana simply raised her rifle toward the range, firing off the final bolt without much effort before sliding the weapon down in her hand until she held its firing end, resting it against the wooden frame of the stall, "How's about we sign it over some tea? I'm sure my daughter has introduced you to some of our blends?"
"Koshary, I think," Angela confirmed, "She said something about Saiidi putting more hair on my chest than she cared to ever see."
Ana smirked, "Well, if my daughter has treated you to one, allow me to treat you to the other."
"It's a deal," Angela assured, sincerely.
