Feathers of Faith and Steel

Chapter 2 – Ghosts

Watchpoint: Lyon

4 Months Ago- 2232 Hours

Only once the door to her office had firmly slid shut behind her did Angela let her shoulders slump with exhaustion. She was surprised to find how weary and ready for bed she felt, when just an hour ago she'd have been more than happy for the night not to end. It had been a busy and frantic day, but she'd been determined not to disappoint Fareeha by cancelling their evening game. That had proven to be the right decision, as once they'd gotten started, all the tiredness had just seemed to melt away. Now that she was alone though, it was coming back in full force, and she could barely even muster the energy to go through her nightly routine. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled past her paper-strewn desk and flickering computer terminals, into her room.

Angela's sleeping quarters were little more than an antechamber to her office. As one of the more senior members of the rapidly expanding Overwatch v2, she'd been offered some of the choicer accommodations, but she'd politely turned them down. She didn't require a huge living space, and here she was able to jump between work and relaxation with ease. At least, that was the theory. What actually happened was that, with access to her research never more than a few steps away, she usually spent most evenings studying long into the night, until leaden eyelids forced her to reluctantly crawl into bed. In fact, aside from time spent with Fareeha, she could probably count the number of hours she'd used for personal pursuits in the last month on one hand. That realisation made Angela chuckle sardonically to herself, as she thought back to how many of her past professors had led a similar lifestyle.

Wow, I'm getting old. Old and boring.

Maybe that was a bit unfair. She did enjoy her work after all, and there was no denying that it was useful for the team as well. If she was content and helping others, was there really any cause for complaint? Still, recently, it had felt like there was something missing. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of the old Overwatch. They'd taken on many new recruits recently, and it was bound to take time for everyone to settle comfortably with each other and find their niche. Until then, things wouldn't quite have the same family feel that it had in the past. There were, of course, the returning members, but most of them were somehow…changed. Angela didn't exclude herself from that assessment either. A lot had happened since the 'golden age'. All of them had been forced to endure the realisation that the world had slowly turned against them, and many had suffered personal grief and injury since then as well. That too would take time; to heal, and learn to rely on each other once again, as they had done so well in the past.

But despite such thoughts bringing with them almost painful echoes of nostalgia, Angela knew that they weren't the whole story. With so many talented individuals from every walk of life and corner of the world flocking to the cause, there was every reason to believe that Overwatch could once again be something great and unifying. So why did she still carry this uncomfortable hole in her heart? It was an emptiness that she hadn't felt since the first Overwatch had torn itself apart, so why had it returned, especially now that the future was once again hopeful?

With a tired sigh, Angela collapsed heavily onto her bed, bouncing slightly from the force of impact, before tugging open the top drawer of her nightstand. She knew the answer to that question, and it was in there. Reaching in, she rummaged around the back of the drawer, a safe place where no one would ever look, and withdrew her hidden prize. It gleamed in the soft light cast by her bedside lamp, although the surface of the object was slightly dulled from being handled every night for the past few weeks.

The trinket resembled a small metal rod, hollow down the middle, with a collection of traditional inscriptions and pictographic script on the outside. It was burnished gold in colour, although Angela could tell that it was actually made of a much more resilient material. The design was simple yet elegant, adhering to an almost utilitarian beauty that she found utterly captivating. In a way, it was a perfect representation of its owner.

Angela flushed slightly at that thought, despite being alone. She knew it was dishonest to hold onto the item without Fareeha's knowledge. It was hardly any better than outright theft. In spite of that, she couldn't bring herself to part with it, not to mention the fact that she would have difficulty explaining what she was doing with it after all this time. And it wasn't like she'd intended to steal it.

A few weeks ago, they'd been out in the field, neutralizing a rogue Omnic cell that had been attacking local villages. The mission had been a success, with no serious injuries sustained by any of the team, but the fighting had gotten pretty intense all the same. At one point, Pharah had caught a stray blast that almost knocked her out of the sky. Her armour had absorbed most of the impact, and prevented anything more serious than a few cuts and bruises, but the shockwave had sent the object Angela now held flying out of her hair and tumbling back to earth. It had landed straight at the medic's feet, and as an almost immediate impulse, Mercy had retrieved and pocketed it for later. At the time, she hadn't known if the item bore any personal significance for Fareeha, so she'd wanted to rescue it so she could give it back once the mission was done. But, as the fighting had picked up again, it had slipped her mind. It hadn't been until a couple of days later that she'd remembered she had it, and by that point, Fareeha already appeared to have found a replacement.

Even Angela herself could admit that it was a flimsy excuse. She should have taken it back the second she found it again, regardless of whether or not Fareeha had another. In fact, she should be returning it right now, but instead, she felt compelled to keep it. Not just keep it, but stare at it incessantly every evening. Even now, she was turning it over and over in her hands, sensing its weight and the grooves on its surface. The emotions it generated were a strange mixture of comfort and melancholy that Angela struggled to make sense of. There was no doubt that it was pretty, but that alone couldn't account for her fascination with it. If it belonged to someone else, someone she didn't know, she probably would not spare it more than a cursory glance. Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that, in reality, her interest lay with its owner. The piece of jewellery itself was just a catalyst that acted as a focal point for those feelings.

"Fareeha…" she murmured, mind wandering back to their game earlier that evening, and all the times they'd spent together before that.

The Egyptian woman had caught her eye the second she arrived, although that probably had more to do with the manner of her arrival than anything else. It was difficult to miss someone when they came blazing out of the sky like an avenging angel, slowing their descent mere seconds before fatal impact to alight neatly on the helipad. Angela had watched in stunned silence from the window of her lab, not quite able to believe her eyes. She'd seen many wondrous things during her trips all over the planet, and she'd even heard of the newly-developed Raptora suit and what it was capable of, but witnessing the results first hand was another thing entirely. True, unrestrained, personal human flight was something mankind had dreamed of for as long as they'd existed, yet had never quite been able to achieve…until now. It was just a shame that such a miracle of engineering had to originate from desire for more lethal weapons of war.

But if Angela had thought that the Raptora suit would be the most stunning thing she'd see that day, then she'd been wrong. Several Overwatch reps had gone over to meet the person on the pad, who rumour had it was an ambassador for Helix Security International. After a few seconds of conversation, the figure had removed their helmet, and left Angela speechless for the second time in as many minutes. The woman beneath had been, and still was, one of the most striking people the doctor had ever seen. Even from her vantage point on the other side of the courtyard, Angela had found herself mesmerized by the newcomer's every move, and had only stopped staring when she disappeared inside.

The memories made Angela smile to herself. Not much had changed since then. She still felt her heart flutter every time Fareeha entered the room, and still stole surreptitious glances whenever she thought the other woman wasn't looking. Of course, the fact that Fareeha was now a fully-fledged member of Overwatch meant that she had ample opportunities to do so. To her delight, they had quickly become the best of friends, despite some differences in opinion about how best to help the people around them. Angela might not usually have agreed with Pharah's militaristic approach to solving problems, but she couldn't help but feel inspired by her unwavering commitment to justice and the protection of the innocent. The Egyptian woman radiated an aura of determination and bravery, yet at times, when she was completely at ease, the veil was lifted, revealing a softer, more sensitive side. Angela didn't yet know the full depths of that gentler Fareeha, but she was determined to uncover more by coaxing her out of hiding at every possible opportunity.

Snapping out of her trip down memory lane, Angela realised that she'd gone through the motions of getting ready for bed without really noticing. Fareeha's hair ornament was still clutched firmly in her hand; a comforting presence in what could otherwise be considered a lonely room. Angela hadn't yet taken the time to decorate extensively, and it left her quarters feeling rather sparse and impersonal. It had seemed like it would be tempting fate to anticipate she would be here long enough to make it worthwhile. No matter how much she'd wanted it, she hadn't been certain that this new incarnation of Overwatch would ever get off the ground. Now that it seemed that it really was back for good, it probably was about time that she started making it feel more like home.

Having a certain someone to share this bed with would help with that…

Angela blushed again, shocked at the uncharacteristically brazen turn her thoughts had taken. She must be more worn out than she'd realised, if her mind was willing to wander into that territory. Not only was it unbecoming, it was also a painful reminder of the fact that she was totally unsure of how to proceed with Fareeha, beyond continuing to deepen their friendship. They had become very close these past months, but-…no, Angela refused to read anything more into it.

That's it. I prescribe a healthy dose of sleep. And absolutely no naughty dreams. Doctor's orders.

Sliding between the sheets, Angela was all set to hit the lights when she realised that she still hadn't put her little talisman down. A part of her wanted to hang onto it even now, but she knew she'd never be able to rest properly with something that hard in the bed. Holding it up to the light, she looked at it one last time for that evening.

"Goodnight," she whispered, pausing to place a loving kiss on its surface before putting it back in the drawer. She immediately felt silly for doing so, but somehow suspected that it wouldn't be the last time.

Oh scheisse. What am I going to do?

Blacksite: Cahors

3 1/2 months ago – 1110 Hours

"Do you get the feeling that this could go tits up any second now?"

"…I beg your pardon?"

"I said, 'Do you get the feeling that this could go tits up any second now'?"

"Yes, I heard what you said. What does it mean?"

"Which part?"

"Which part do you think?"

"I don't know. You'll have to tell me."

"*sigh*…fine. What is the meaning of the expression 'tits up'?"

"Ha, I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"That hearing you say the word 'tits' would be hilarious."

"I'm glad that I can be so amusing, but you still haven't answered my question." Pharah glowered at her diminutive companion, although perhaps diminutive was not quite the right word, given that she towered over the Egyptian woman by a good couple of feet when fully suited up.

D,Va shrugged, or rather, her mech did.

"It means that things have gone to shit. Not really sure why. Usually tits being up is a sign it's going well."

Pharah blinked a couple of times, before shaking her head and returning her attention to the complex in front of them.

"Forget I asked," she muttered.

Across the river lay one of Overwatch's old blacksites; covert bases that in the past had been used for top secret research and the development of prototype weapon systems. When the old Overwatch fell, many of the bases had been stripped bare and locked down to prevent the technology from falling into the wrong hands. However, from what 76 had said, some of the sites had been so 'off the record' that they'd managed to dodge the purge. Now, they were potential treasure troves for would-be insurrectionist groups and despotic governments. It was the job of the new Overwatch to reclaim these facilities and retrieve any sensitive information contained therein. They'd already successfully secured sites in the Ivory Coast and the UK; Cahors was next.

Except, this time, someone had beat them to it.

"So, just who are these Talon assholes anyway?" D,Va asked.

"Terrorists. Mercenaries." Pharah couldn't help but curl her lips in a snarl as she said it. "They're a twisted mirror image of Overwatch. Everything we stand for, all the good we've done; they want to tear it all down. Throw the world back into anarchy. They were the ones behind the assassination of Mondatta. If they get their way, we'll be right back to square one; humans and Omnics at each other's throats all over again."

"So they're the bad guys. Got it."

Pharah snorted in agreement. She still hadn't made up her mind about whether she found Hana quirky or intensely irritating. Were it not for the fact that Angela seemed fond of her, she'd probably have already settled on the latter.

And talking about tits right before the start of combat operations isn't helping her case.

"How many heat signatures are you seeing?" Pharah said, refocussing their attention on the task at hand.

"Five outside…no, wait, six. Looks like they're on standard patrol."

"Only six? I guess our intel was right. They're not expecting us."

Pharah quickly did a rundown of all her assets. Raptora systems were green across the board. Fuel tank was full. Ammo reserves were plentiful enough for a sustained firefight. It all checked out; they were good to go.

"Pharah here," she radioed in, linking up with the team stationed on the far side of the base. "We're reading six hostiles spread throughout the complex exterior. Waiting on your go to engage."

No sooner had she said the words than a huge explosion erupted from the fuel tanks in the north-east corner of the main courtyard. Smoke and debris were hurled in all directions as a huge fireball billowed into the air. The heat was intense enough to warm Fareeha's face, even at this distance. In the wake of the shockwave she could hear panicked shouts and the beginnings of automatic weapons fire, as the Talon troops desperately searched for their attackers.

"There's your greenlight," came 76's gruff tone through her earpiece. "Secure the courtyard. We've got you covered."

"Copy all. Pharah, out."

She turned to her companion, and was pleased to see that despite D,Va's irreverent attitude moments earlier, a look of grim determination now occupied her face.

"We blasting them?" the Korean asked, her twin fusion cannons spinning up in preparation. Pharah nodded.

"We are, indeed, blasting them."

The battle was short and decisive. D,Va leapt right into the fray, dropping into the middle of the mercenaries' ranks and drawing all their attention to her. While they pumped rounds harmlessly into her defence matrix, it was a simple matter for Pharah to dispatch them from the air. She used the smoke from the earlier explosion as cover, firing off a few rockets then dodging into the sooty plumes to break her enemy's line of sight. Four direct hits later, five of the Talon goons were down, and the last was dispatched by D,Va just as Pharah landed. She quickly swept the area, senses on high alert and searching for any targets that they'd missed in the initial engagement, but none emerged.

"All clear. The entrance is secure," she reported.

No more than thirty seconds later, 76 and Mercy arrived, one shouldering his way through the rubble of the collapsed wall, the other gracefully gliding in and alighting primly in the middle of the carnage.

"They don't make them like they used to," 76 grunted, kicking over the body of one of the unlucky mercs as he approached.

"Then let us count ourselves lucky," Mercy replied. She wore an expression that Fareeha was all too familiar with; like she'd just swallowed some vital but deeply unpleasant medicine.

"We sure did kick their asses. I don't think I even got any scratches on the paintwork." D,Va spun down her guns and lowered her mech into a crouch so she was at the same level as everyone else. "I don't get it. Normally loot as good as this has some big, bad boss guarding it."

"Look at their gear," 76 nodded to the nearest corpse. "Light armour. Survival packs. Long-range transmitters. This was some kind of scouting party."

"You think there'll be reinforcements?" Pharah asked.

"Probably. Find a few rats and more are sure to follow. Which means we need to get the job done." 76 gestured to the door behind them. "D,Va, you're with me. Pharah, Mercy, keep watch. We'll radio if we need backup."

Pharah tilted her head in acknowledgement, but deep down, she couldn't help but feel a little amused. If Hana's chirpiness grated on her, she could only imagine how the stoic Soldier 76 would take it. She almost hoped there were more Talon agents inside, if only to spare the poor man from what was bound to be an awkwardly one-sided conversation.

76 punched in the old Overwatch access code, and he and D,Va disappeared deeper into the facility, the door sliding shut behind them with a resounding clang. As they went, Pharah tightened her grip on her rocket launcher, ears pricked for the tell-tale hum of dropship engines that would signal the approach of fresh Talon troops. She panned her eyes around the area once again, but was brought up short when her gaze fell on Mercy. The medic was regarding her with a curious expression that looked like she was trying very hard to contain her amusement, and was only partially succeeding.

"What?" Fareeha asked. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Angela took it as a cue to stop restraining herself, and burst out into full-bodied laughter. Fareeha momentarily felt her breath catch in her throat, as she was transfixed by the lyrical, carefree sound, and the look of delight on Angela's face. However, the wonder was quickly crushed by self-consciousness, as she remembered that the other woman was laughing at her.

"What? What is it?" she asked again, wincing as it came out sounding more panicked than she'd intended. The thought of embarrassing herself in front of Angela was an ever-present fear, and now it seemed she'd somehow managed it without even realising.

"You've, uh, you've got a little something there," Angela replied between chuckles, pointing to Fareeha's chest. "And there, and there, and there, and, well, everywhere."

Fareeha quickly glanced down at herself, and finally realised what Angela was talking about. Her armour was caked in a fine layer of ash and grime from where she'd flown through the smoke cloud, turning it from shiny blue into a dull grey.

Oh great. This is going to take hours to clean off.

It wasn't as embarrassing as she'd feared, but Fareeha still struggled for something to say in reply.

"Is it on my face too?" she managed eventually.

"Afraid so," Angela said brightly, still snickering slightly to herself. "Here, I'll get it. You'll just make more of a mess with those bulky gloves."

Before Fareeha could protest or ask what she meant, Angela had closed the distance between them. She reached out and steadied Fareeha's head with one hand, and stuck the thumb of the other in her own mouth. Once it was wet, she ran it across Fareeha's cheek, wiping away the dirt. She repeated the process several more times, cleaning her thumb on her body sleeve as she went.

Fareeha's momentary response was to feel indignant at being coddled in such a way, but the second Angela had gently cupped her face to hold her head still, all thought of resisting had vanished from her mind. In fact, the whole world had receded into little more than background noise and colour. All she could sense with perfect clarity was the electrifying sensation of Angela's thumb lightly caressing her cheek. She could feel the other woman's inner warmth radiating from that point of contact, and could feel her own skin heating up in response. It took a conscious exertion of will to prevent herself from nuzzling into the touch, attempting to deepen that intoxicating connection. At the same time, she was also immensely grateful that her reflective visor hid her eyes from sight, because she was certain that right now, they were betraying everything she was feeling.

Oh gods, get a grip, before she realises…

"Dort, now you are presentable again," Angela smiled, pulling back to admire her handiwork, although it was a couple more seconds before she finally removed her hands.

"T-Thanks," Fareeha stammered back. Her face felt chill without the other woman's touch…that must be why she was suddenly trembling.

"Anytime," Angela's grin did not leave her face, but she did retreat a few paces, allowing Pharah to finally think straight again. "Now, we must resume our vigil for the enemies. I do not think Jack would approve of our, oh, what is the word…'lollygagging'."

Fareeha didn't know what it meant, but after her talk with Hana earlier, she decided against asking. Besides, she didn't trust herself to speak just yet; not without tripping over her own tongue at least. She turned away, glad that the fact they were on watch provided an excuse to conceal her raging blush.

Where are enemy reinforcements when you need them?

Angela sighed, and resisted the urge to check the mission clock yet again. She knew it would indicate that just thirty seconds had passed since the last time she'd looked at it, and that would only add to the feeling that time was dragging by at a snail's pace. They'd been stood on guard for twenty long minutes, with only one transmission from 76, saying that they had only encountered minimal resistance, and were nearing the main control room. By now, the atmosphere was cloyingly tense, but it wasn't the fear of enemy attack that was causing it. In fact, Angela almost welcomed the idea; anything to help break this awkward silence that had developed between her and Fareeha.

What was I thinking? What possessed me to touch her like that? Dummer idiot.

It had been an instinctual act, and one she hadn't properly considered until after it was done. Fareeha had just looked so cute, maintaining her stern, military bearing beneath a layer of soot. Angela hadn't been able to resist fussing over her. But, looking back on it, it had been both highly inappropriate and almost insultingly patronising. She'd acted like Fareeha's mother, which was definitely not the kind of signal she'd wanted to send. It was impossible to tell what Fareeha was thinking now, but the lack of conversation that normally flowed so readily between them indicated that she was probably uncomfortable at best, deeply offended at worst. Angela wanted to say something; apologise, if she could, but she couldn't find any way to say it without making things more awkward. All she could think of doing was hoping that 76 and D,Va would be back soon, so they could forget this whole exchange had ever happened. She also prayed that her over-eagerness hadn't just ruined any chance she had with Fareeha, if indeed she'd ever had any chance to begin with.

Just then, the radio crackled to life. Mercy had never been more glad to hear 76's gravelly voice.

"Database secured. We've signalled for evac, and are en-route."

"Acknowledged. We'll be ready."

Thank god. Not long now.

Mercy turned her eyes skyward, searching for any sign of their approaching transport. All was still and quiet in the lazy warmth of midday. It was almost peaceful. Suddenly, however, something on top of the opposite building caught her attention. It was difficult to make out with the sun behind it, but it looked like…a silhouette of a robed figure?

"Pharah, on the roof!" Mercy shouted, both embarrassment and tranquillity immediately forgotten as survival instinct kicked in.

"Get down!" The other woman's jump jets were already igniting, throwing up clouds of dust from the dry earth. Like a graceful jungle predator, she leapt the height of the structure in a single bound, mantling over the edge with gun raised. The lithe way she moved was as mesmerising as ever, but Mercy didn't have time to admire it, as she dove for cover behind a nearby wall. Clutching her staff, she steeled herself for the sound of rocket fire that would surely be erupting any second now, and prepared to dart back out if Pharah needed assistance.

But nothing came.

What?

Mercy waited for several long, heart-pounding seconds, before risking a peek out. Her eyes darted along the rooftop, but there was nothing there. No figure, no explosions, and for a moment, no Pharah. Then, she spotted the other woman, descending back down to the ground with a lot less urgency than when she'd ascended.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Mercy could tell that she wasn't, but both her professional role and her personal feelings required that she ask anyway.

"I'm fine," Pharah said, emphasising her statement with a thumbs up. "I'm not sure what you saw, but there's no one up there. Roof's completely deserted."

"Really? I could have sworn…" Mercy tried to conjure up the image of what she'd seen. It had definitely looked like a figure, framed against the backdrop of golden sunbeams, but…now she wasn't so sure anymore. Only half a minute had passed since then, but already, she was having difficulty remembering the shape and size of the silhouette. Maybe she had just imagined it? Or had it been a trick of the light? It wouldn't be that surprising, given how tense she'd felt.

"I…I thought there was something, but maybe…" Mercy shuffled her feet sheepishly as Pharah approached. "It must have been nothing. I'm sorry for alarming you."

"It's okay," Pharah said earnestly, and Mercy was delighted to see that a smile was slowly returning to the other woman's face. "Better safe than sorry. If there had been someone, your quick reflexes would have saved both our lives."

Ach je. Is this how Fareeha feels when I compliment her? When did it suddenly get so hot?

Angela was feeling awkward again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Fortunately, she was spared from having to endure it for long by the timely return of D,Va and 76. The soldier looked between her and Fareeha as he drew closer, and even though Angela could not see his eyes, she could tell that he was taking note of every little detail. No doubt their flushed skin and heavier-than-average breathing revealed the fact that they had been exerting themselves just a moment ago.

"What happened here?" 76 asked, right on cue.

Don't say anything Fareeha.

"Mercy saw a ghost," the Egyptian woman replied very matter of-factly, as if she was giving any other normal report. However, the grin she flashed in Angela's direction indicated that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Ooh, I'll get you for that.

76 took a moment to process what she'd said, then grunted.

"It's more common than you'd think."