Note: Happy New Years. To start 2017 off right, here's another chapter of The Midnight Theory. Comment and follow and whatnot. Enjoy.

"It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Dr. Ziegler," Lena said, her hand outstretched. "I've heard so much about your work."

The woman known as "Mercy" smiled kindly at her. It was not often Lena saw someone descending from above, though of all people, it made sense that it was the woman who looked like an angel. With piercing blue eyes, bleach blonde hair, and a perfectly sculpted face, Dr. Ziegler was probably the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes upon. She felt embarrassed to only be wearing a flight jacket with her chronal accelerator; the doctor's Valkyrie suit was truly a marvel to behold, and it only became more impressive as she touched down and extended a gloved hand of her own.

"Please, call me Angela," the doctor stated in a thick Swiss-German accent that sent shivers down Lena's spine. "And thank you. You're Lena Oxton, correct? I've read quite a bit about your case. It is great to finally meet the woman behind the miracle."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Lena said sheepishly.

"No, it is truly remarkable," Angela insisted. "You must let me examine you sometime when I am not so busy."

Lena smiled for the next several seconds without answering, primarily because of the images her horribly immature mind conjured up when she heard the word, "examine." It finally took Angela speaking up to break her from her trance.

"You're still shaking my hand."

As it turned out, Lena had been shaking the doctor's hand for roughly twenty-two seconds. Lena was not bothered; however, as first impressions went, it probably wasn't the best start.

"Yes. Yes, I am," Lena laughed nervously. It took another three seconds for her to let go, and by then, Winston had already thrust himself back into the conversation. Lena had completely forgotten that he was there. In fact, he was supposed to be giving her a tour of the watchpoint, which had been going very successfully until she became distracted by the angelic thirty-ish year-old woman testing out her equipment in the medical lab.

"Dr. Ziegler will be accompanying you on field assignments," he stated. "She's there to make sure nothing too bad happens to you."

"Well, I'm certainly looking forward to it," Lena said excitedly. "I'll hope you take good care of me, Doc."

"I'll try my best," Angela said with a sincere smile. "Now, if you excuse me, I have some kinks to work out of this suit. I'll see you later, Lena."

As Winston led Lena out of the medical lab and onto their destination, she walked with a noticeable spring in her step. She turned to him, enthralled, and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"You should have told me she was cute," Lena noted.

"You're not dating her," Winston said knowledgeably.

"Not into girls?"

"I think she's more into nanobiology. Also, she's ten years older than you. Also also, as someone with a lot of outside information, dating within teams is usually a bad idea."

"Oh, relax, Winston," Lena teased. "I'm not going to ask her out. I'm saying that as far as human beings go, she's not half-bad."

"Right, right," Winston nodded. "I'm sure you two will end up as pretty good friends."

Lena hoped he was onto something. Friends had always kind of been in short supply for her. It was hard to meet people when she lived as she did, always on the run. However, things were finally looking up. Angela wanted to examine her, which gave her the perfect excuse to spend time with her. If something else were to happen, she wouldn't have minded. But a friend would not have been bad, either. It would be very welcome indeed.

It terrified her how close the image was to her imagination. Every person stood exactly where they were supposed to be, sullen expressions plastered across their downturned faces. Lena stood away from them, a stranger among friends. Somehow, it felt wrong if she stood next to them, as if her knowledge of the present events disallowed her from feeling any of their sorrow or pain. Naturally, none of them said that to her face, but she knew deep down that they resented her, and at least partially held her responsible. Perhaps that was her own anxiety; but, as she looked onwards at her team, huddled around the broken body of her friend, it seemed obvious to her that was the case.

"Is he going to be okay?" Mei asked. She held Angela's Caduceus Staff uncomfortably, trying to control its energy as she aimed it at Winston.

"You are holding that correctly, right?" asked Reinhardt.

"I don't know," Mei said shakily. "Angela is the only one whose used this thing before. It's not like she ever taught us how it works."

"I can't believe she would do something like this," Fareeha whispered. She rested on her knees, holding Winston's paw in her hand, precisely as Lena pictured. "I know we were supposed to expect this, but…"

Lena sighed, hugging her knees close to her chest.

"We shouldn't waste time moping around," Jesse said suddenly. "What we need to do is figure out what to do with Mercy."

"Winston is hurt, you heartless bastard," Fareeha hissed. "Can't you even wait until he's stable before trying to enact revenge."

"I ain't enacting revenge; I'm planning ahead," claimed the gunslinger. "Besides, Winston is going to be fine. No point in worrying about him."

"What makes you so certain?" Fareeha asked.

"Because he isn't supposed to die yet," Jesse said bluntly. "According to Lena's vision, Winston dies in London, so unless we take a dead body into an active combat zone, I'm going to assume that he makes it out alright. Right, Lena?"

All the eyes in the room fell upon her, and in that moment, Lena felt more worthless than she had her entire life.

"I… I don't know," Lena said softly, looking down at the floor. "Maybe… I guess…"

"Or maybe Lena's vision was wrong in the first place," Fareeha stated. "How do we know you really saw the future? Maybe it's even changed from what it once was. There was no guarantee this was supposed to happen."

"That's… that's not true," Lena admitted. Fareeha went silent. "Last night, after I passed out, I had more visions. I saw Winston lying on that table, with everyone standing exactly where they're standing right now. You even said that thing about not believing Angela could do this."

Fareeha's protests quietly vanished into shock. "You knew this would happen?"

"I passed out afterwards. I tried warning Jesse, but… I didn't make it in time."

"So," Fareeha said, putting into words what was on everyone's mind, "that means that your predictions are correct. And that means—"

"We don't know that," Lena exclaimed defensively.

"But we know that you're right some of the time," Jesse grumbled. "Did you have any other visions that we need to know about?"

Lena did not know what to say. The visions flashed in her mind as vivid and clear as if they were happening right in front of her. Yet, it seemed wrong to say them, and she did not understand why. They felt oddly personal, like a dark secret about herself she had known for years. Could she bring herself to tell them? Did they not deserve to know the truth?

"Nothing else, huh? Or did you forget?"

"I didn't forget," said Lena. After all, it was impossible to forget shooting herself in the head. "I go talk to Angela, probably sometime in the next few minutes. She insists that she's innocent and did nothing wrong. And then, later... Jesse tries to shoot her in the head."

McCree was taken aback. "Why do I do that?"

"You think that shooting her will stop the future from coming true. I didn't see anything beyond you pointing the gun, but either the gun fails or you can't go through with it, because the rest of the vision is the same: We fall in London. That's all I saw."

Jesse said nothing more. With a grimace, he turned away from the rest of his team, who stared at him in horror. None of them dared to ask how he could be so willing to turn against one of his own, even after what Angela had done. Lena could not blame for that, either. She buried her face in her knees, ashamed.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do?" Fareeha asked, struggling to comprehend the news. "Shouldn't we be able to prevent this? Can't we just not go to London?"

"That's not how it works, apparently," Lena stated. "At least, that was what Winston said. I really don't know what we can do. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," said Reinhardt comfortingly. "You tried you're best."

Lena cradled herself tighter. She did not respond. Jesse, muttering incomprehensibly to himself, left the room altogether, while the rest of the team processed their options. She knew them well. They would not want to give up on their own future. Most likely, they would try to figure out what happened to Angela, and find steps to cure her. It would be difficult without their two most prominent researchers, but they would probably spend days rifling through medical files and looking up information on the internet, trying in vain to save the Swiss doctor. And—despite their best efforts—they would fail.

Winston suddenly groaned, and the team became alert.

"Winston? Can you hear me?" Fareeha asked.

"I think it's working," Mei said with relief.

"Keep it up," Fareeha instructed. She gently petted Winston's massive hand. "Don't worry. It'll all be better soon."

As Lena watched the group huddle closer around him, she felt something cold pierce her heart. She involuntarily hovered her hand over the chronal accelerator, letting its ever-present pulse vibrate through her skin. She gently rose to her feet, careful not to further injure herself. It was a difficult task; the migraine had not faded in the slightest (because of course the medication took several hours to kick in), the world spun around at her feet, and she could still feel the intense sensation of Angela's fingers around her throat. It took all her strength not to scream. Without a word, she slipped out of the medical lab like a shadow, and staggered through the reflective grey corridors. She did not have a destination in mind. Her feet guided her, acting on the part of destiny to move her where she was supposed to be.

For a normal person, it would take seven minutes to reach the holding cells from the medical lab. On a good day, she could make the trip in a minute and a half. But Lena was not having a good day, and by the time she stopped outside of the often seen but rarely-used holding cells, thirteen minutes had gone by, and she could hardly catch her breath. Her hands trembled as she pushed the doors open and turned on the flickering lights. Row after row of rusted bars lined the path before her, an ineffective, outdated way of keeping prisoners, a sign of their irrelevance. She followed the sound of hushed whimpers to the end of the room, running her fingers across the curved steel with every taken step. She stopped outside the last cell on her left, and peered into the shadowy chamber, which was occupied for the first time in years.

It was the way Angela trembled that affected Lena the most. The medic sat in the back of the cell, nestled tightly into the corner away from the judging eyes of her peers. Her knees were hugged closely to her chest, much in the same way Lena's were moments before, though Angela had longer legs to contend with. Her eyes were closed and her mouth contorted, yet the most noticeable feature was the bright red gash, four centimeters in length and untreated, running from her hairline to past the outside of her right eye. Her fingertips grazed the opening on her skull. With every touch, she winced and let out a pained gasp. It was difficult to gauge how much pain she was in, but considering the thickness of the wound, and the copious amounts of blood spilling over her clothes, hair, and the rest of the floor, Lena could only assume the worst.

"Angela," Lena spoke softly. The doctor's eyes shot open, moist with tears.

"Lena," she said, her voice shaking. "W-what are you… what are you doing here? Where a-am I?"

"You're in the holding cells," Lena stated, pressing her forehead against the bars. She gripped the steel tightly with both hands, partially to get a closer look at Angela's wound, and partially to stop herself from collapsing.

"My head…" Angela moaned. "What happened to me?"

"You don't remember?"

"I remember… working with Winston," she said, lost in thought. She perked up. "Did you take that medication? I told Jesse to give it to you."

"Uh… yeah. I did," Lena said unsurely. A smile flashed across Angela's face before becoming lost to the pain.

"Good to hear. At least one of us will feel better." She choked down a sob, and wiped her eyes clear. "Can you… can you let me go to the medical lab to get some gauze? I don't w-want this to get infected."

Lena studied the doctor's face. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find a trace of insincerity. The woman in front of her was clearly hurt and confused, which made the words she spoke next sting even more.

"Angela," Lena sighed, "I can't let you out of this cell."

And with that, Angela's heart shattered.

"What… what do you mean?" she asked, stunned. "Lena, I need your help."

"I'm sorry," Lena said, turning away her gaze. "I want to help you, really. But I just can't."

"Why not?" Angela asked, unable to hold back her tears. "I don't u-understand what's h-happening. I w-wake up alone in the d-dark, I can't think st-straight, and I'm b-bleeding… and n-now I'm some k-kind of prisoner? I don't… I d-don't understand…"

Lena was speechless. She had never seen Angela in such a state. The Angela she knew was dignified but gentle, stoic but kind, unwilling to fight but stronger than anyone else she knew. The woman before her was nothing of the sort. Maybe it was all a ruse. Maybe she was still under the strange spell that made her attack Winston. Yet, something told Lena that was not the case. Maybe, it was the real Angela after all. Maybe the stress was simply too much. She had been ostracized by her friends, led to believe that she would bring death to everyone she cared about, overworked to hell and back, and cast into the darkness, left to sit and dwell in her own agony. If that was not enough to break a person, Lena did not know what was.

"Winston's hurt," Lena admitted. Angela stared at her in a daze. "You triggered an explosion in the central hub. He's being treated by the rest of the team."

"I hurt Winston?" Angela asked, genuinely hurt by the accusations. "That's… that's not true…"

"Angela—"

"No!" Angela cried through her tears. "Don't 'Angela' me! I don't care what your goddamn visions say, or what any of them say. I would never do that."

Lena was taken aback. It was the first time in years she had ever heard the doctor swear.

"I'm innocent. I swear I didn't do it. I would never… I couldn't, I just couldn't…" She turned to Lena, afraid. "You believe me, right?"

Lena said nothing. Angela repeated her question, desperation rising in her voice. Lena still did not respond.

"You…" Lena said slowly, after a long moment. "You tried to strange me, Angela. You said you wanted me dead."

Lena turned away from the bars, and sat on the floor. She could not stand the sight anymore, the feeling of pure helplessness. Angela's sobbing came to a sudden halt, as her actions sunk in. She removed her bloodied hand from her head, and stared at it, unsure of how it could be capable of such an evil thing.

"I tried to kill you?" Angela whispered. "I actually… did that?"

Lena nodded. "It was like you were possessed. I've never seen anything like it."

"And Winston," Angela said with a whimper. "He's hurt because of me, and I can't even remember it."

"It's not your fault," Lena stated. "You weren't yourself."

Angela was no longer listening. Her words abandoned her, and she retreated inwards, trying to escape from her guilt. Lena sat in silence. She couldn't bear to leave her alone, not in her current state. Angela had always been there for her since she first joined Overwatch. She had tended her wounds, supported her through the toughest times, and treated her like the sister she never had. She needed to be there in return. It was her turn to be the healer.

"Look, Angela," said Lena, "I don't know what made you do this, but I'm going to find out and set things right. There's something more going on that we don't know about. I know you didn't mean any harm; we all think that. No matter what, you're not a bad person. And for the record… I do believe you."

She did not know why she added that last part. It was not remotely true, and hardly made any sense at all. Yet, the instant she said it, Angela's sobbing softened, and as she sniffled and brushed away stray tears, the ghost of a smile returned to her face. Realizing the power behind her words, Lena rose to her feet, steadying herself. She smiled back at her dear friend.

"I'm going to get you some bandages. It won't be easy to put them on through the bars, but I'll see what I can do."

Lena left the holding cells more confidently than she entered. Seeing Angela so distraught lit a fire within her. The woman she had known for so many years would never be capable of such horrible acts. If she was going to find someone who was, then she knew she would have to go to the source. It did not matter that she could barely stand, or if her teammates wouldn't let her leave the base; her friend was in trouble, and she was going to do everything in her power to save her, and that meant hunting down the woman responsible, even if she had to do it alone. The future of Overwatch depended on it. From that point onwards, she swore that no more visions would come to pass.

She was going to find Amélie, and she was going to get some answers.