Mercy seeks a quiet moment to mourn the man she'd lost.

Author note: No gore or anything here. Just solemn peace. This was actually the first chapter I wrote, oddly.


Finishing her story, Mercy fell silent. Gazing at the picture again, the stillness between them grew, before Mercy looked up at her simian friend with a smile.

"Thank you, Winston, perhaps that did help. If you don't mind, I would like to turn in for the night."

With an understanding nod, he stood to let her leave.


Her feet knowing where to take her, Mercy thanked Winston one last time and traced her way to a secluded corner of the base. Memorials to fallen Overwatch heroes dotted the globe, but here was something the team had as their own. Over the years, names and pictures had gathered here, never officially, never publicly. The team preserved it as a quiet place, where they could mourn lost friends; a few small candles bearing witness to today's reverence.

Given the hour, Mercy expected to be alone, but the soft light revealed a figure seated near the memorials. Easing onto the bench, she found herself across from the glowing visor of Soldier 76. Silently turning to her by way of greeting, he turned back to his vigil.

As the stillness grew, she followed his gaze to a picture on the wall, one she realized she herself had placed. It was of an awards ceremony, where Commander Morrison was being commended for valor in battle. She was near him in the picture, face lit with pride. She remembered the ceremony, remembered the party the team was able to attend, the well-earned rest, the chance to spend the evening with Jack.

With weary sigh, she brought herself to the present.

"Did you know him?" She asked the stranger beside her, trying to read some emotion behind his visor.

"Commander Morrison?" came the rumble from behind his mask. "No. I never had the chance."

"He was an inspiration to us all." He added, filling the silence.

"He was a hero." Angela murmured, her voice weak. Hearing the tremor in her voice, the figure stirred, and Mercy felt the gentle presence of a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Ziegler." The warmth in his voice caught her off guard. He moved away, kneeling to light a candle. Finishing, he stood to survey the memorials to the fallen.

"I'm afraid it never gets any easier. He was a great man. Truly, I am sorry." With gentle compassion in his voice, Soldier 76 turned to place a brief hand on her shoulder again, before stepping silently away.

Mercy waited until his footsteps receded around the corner, pondering the lone candle the stranger had left. She glanced at Jack's picture on the wall, the picture she had placed years ago.

"No…" she said with a somber voice, kneeling to light her own candle. "it never does get easier." As Angela's soft footsteps trailed into the night, her candle burned gently next to the solemn soldier's.

Somehow, it felt right.