Angela Ziegler stared into the distance, her surroundings dulled out completely. She didn't pay attention at all when she was stirring her coffee on the table in front of her. Her thoughts were spinning around the conversation she had with her best friend the day before, tiny snippets and seemingly irrelevant details popping back into her mind as clear as if she was re-living them right now.

Asking Lena for a moment of her time had already started awkwardly, simply because Angela had phrased her request in such a horribly worded way that Lena didn't even get what was expected of her. Mercy had to start three times over until Lena got it and followed the good doctor to her office for a private chat. Not that starting the conversation there had been any less awkward. She must have been rambling completely incomprehensible gibberish, because Lena had actually told her to stop, take a deep breath and just spill the beans of what she wanted to tell her. It had been such a weird, foreign experience and Mercy still felt her cheeks burn at how embarrassed she had been when she tried to ask Tracer a very specific question. She had acted like a inexperienced teenage girl and not like the full grown woman she was. In retrospect Angela didn't have the slightest idea anymore why she had such a hard time talking to Lena yesterday. The woman had been her best friend since forever. They had talked about any and everything in the past, shared the most intimate details and secrets and never once failed to provide decent advice for the other. They trusted each other with their lives and they knew it too. What made starting this conversation so incredibly difficult for Mercy was probably more the fact of admitting to herself that there was a question to be asked in the first place. That the answer to that question would be of personal relevance to Angela. How did Lena find out that she was attracted to women? How did she notice? What did she do? Those were the questions burning on Angela's tongue.

Lena never answered. She had looked at Angela intensively, her cheeky smile gone from one moment to the next. As usual, Tracer knew exactly when things were serious. And she had immediately known that Angela was in absolutely no mood for any jokes. Hell, the poor doctor had seemed like she was close to losing it.

It had seemed like an eternity passed before Lena had reached for Angela's badly trembling hands and had held them reassuringly. Angela could still feel her best friends touch on her hands even now.

"It's Fareeha, isn't it? You want to know these things because of her, right?" Lena had asked, the words feeling like someone had just slapped Mercy across her face with the back of the hand. For some reason she had thought that she might be able to pull her line of questioning off in a hypothetical way, but she should have known Lena better.

No such luck.

Obviously.

The gay Brit only needed moments to figure out what was going on. At least that's what Angela told herself. It was way more likely, if not as embarrassing, that Tracer had figured out ages ago what was going on and just chose to keep quiet about it.

Angela had only been able to nod and listen dumbstruck to Lena telling her how it didn't matter at all if she liked women or men or whatever. As long as she knew that she liked Fareeha, all Angela would have to do is let the other woman know. The rest would come naturally. Contact, conversation, harmless flirting, a date. Angela would soon know if her feelings were reciprocated or not and that no matter what she did, the answer wouldn't change. Either Fareeha was interested, or she wasn't. Then Lena had pulled Mercy into a careful hug, before she left her alone again, telling her to always come to her, should she need help.

The whole exchange was playing in front of Mercy's eyes for the umpteenth time as she was desperately trying to find a flaw in Lena's logic, anything really, to have an excuse to not do what her best friend had advised.

Her smart brain just laughed at her, knowing full well that there was no flaw and that she was only trying to postpone the inevitable, fearing rejection. Angela frowned at herself. She was never a coward and she wouldn't start now.

As soon as she was back at the Watchpoint she would go and talk to Fareeha. Maybe invite her to a date. Not to dinner. To a date. She'd just finish her coffee with Reinhardt and then she'd go back and get a move on. She had been postponing this for too long already. Way too long. Even back in Zürich before Talon had to ruin so much of her and Fareeha's life she had to admit that there was a certain... attraction between her and Pharah. A playfulness they shared in their exchanges. Maybe not everything was bad? Maybe there was hope.

"Angela?" a deep voice asked and Mercy's head snapped up, allowing her busy mind to return back to reality. She looked into the worried face of Reinhardt Wilhelmson, whom she was currently sharing their traditional Wednesday afternoon coffee with. They had taken the short trip into the small town near the Watchpoint and had found a quaint little coffee-shop, with a friendly black haired waitress. Their usual place was unfortunately closed due to renovations, yet their replacement was more than adequate. Maybe they'd switch in the future.

"Uh... Sorry, Rein, I zoned out for a moment." Mercy said in German and laughed awkwardly. It felt good to speak her native tongue freely again. At the Watchpoint both her and Reinhardt used English most of the time It was simply a matter of politeness and consideration to their colleagues, who didn't understand German. But when they were on one of their regular coffee-breaks together, they could easily converse in their native language.

"If it would have only been a moment. What's bothering you Angie, you haven't said a word all day."

Oh, it's nothing, I'm just falling heads over heels in love with your daughter. You don't mind, do you?

"I'm fine, don't worry. Just a lot on my mind." She smiled weakly, mentally slapping herself. It wasn't like Reinhardt wouldn't find out about this. At least, should it ever work. In any case, now was definitely not the time to tell him, though. She didn't even know if there ever would be such a time at all.

"Patients?" Reinhardt provided, taking a big swig from his large cup of coffee, which still seemed absolutely tiny in his huge hands.

"Yeah." Mercy replied, technically not lying, and before she could stop herself she had added: "Your daughter, to be honest."

His expression darkened immediately, concern replacing the laidback, relaxed twinkle in his eyes. "She's going to be fine, isn't she?" he asked, looking sternly at the good doctor.

Mercy twitched slightly, regretting her choice of words. "Of course." She replied immediately. "I can promise you that. It's just that her body doesn't heal as fast as I wish it would. I might have to resort to a treatment I would have preferred not using." Angela sighed, realizing that she probably couldn't stir her coffee long and hard enough for it to warm up again. She took the spoon out of the cup, tapped it on the edge of it twice, to get rid of the last drop of brown liquid still refusing to drop back into the cup and set it down on the small saucer provided.

"Angie, you aren't exactly boosting my confidence right now." Reinhardt gritted through his teeth and clutching his cup in his paw like hands, probably bringing the ceramic close to breaking point.

"Relax, Reinhardt. No need to worry. You see it's like this." She said, taking a sip from her cold coffee and doing an excellent job at now showing any outward sign of the disgust she felt while her tastebuds had to deal with the cold liquid. "Her nervous tissue in her neck had been severed by the gunshot, alright?" she looked at him to check if he was following, and Rein nodded. He was a good man, a strong and a honorable man, too, but he knew that he wasn't exactly the smartest. Not that he was dumb, but his mind worked in simple ways. He always liked that Mercy was able to explain the highly complex magic she did in a way he could understand. It was something she shared with his late wife. Ana had been able to do that as well, without making him feel like a giant idiot who needed things to be explained to him. Mercy smiled at him before she continued "I'm trying to get her body to replace the nervous tissue. This way she would be healed. I programmed nanoprobes to act as a bridge for a bit, to stimulate the severed nerves and prompt them to start growing back together. This way she learn to move again."

"Isn't that working? I saw her exercising just yesterday." He interjected, leaning forward and the table. It made a strained creaking noise, obviously struggling to support the weight of the massive heap of muscle suddenly leaning on it.

Mercy sucked in a deep breath of air, tilting her head to the sides. "Well, it's working in a way. But not the way I want to. You see, the nerves aren't showing any signs of growing back together and the nanoprobes I programmed are only a temporary solution. I have to replace them every two days so she can continue with her progress. Yes, she is working out again, but walking is still difficult for her, as is keeping balance. She can't run, yet."

"So it didn't work?" he asked in a pressing manner. "She'll need to see you every two days for new probes?"

"No, she won't. As I said, there are two solutions. The second one would entail a functioning nanoprobe system, which is self sufficient. It would permanently repair the damage to her body, but..."

"But?"

"Look at me." Mercy said and gestured at the general vicinity of her face. "How do I look?" she asked.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Like the angel you are, obviously. You are a lovely woman, Angela..." he said, his voice betraying just how much he wasn't sure why she wanted to hear that from him. She wasn't the type of woman who would need to fish for compliments.

Angela smiled warmly at him, but shook her head no. "Thank you, Rein. But that's not what I meant."

He looked confused now. With all due right.

"What I meant was how I look in comparison to when we first met. I'm sure you remember, despite it being a long time ago. Tell me how much did I age in all the time we knew each other?"

He gulped, thinking back and coming to a conclusion that he needed to process. He had a picture on the wall in his room from the day he was transferred to Overwatch. He had just left basic training and was welcomed into the ranks of Overwatch agents along with most of his class. Mercy was one of them. The picture on his wall could have been taken today if only Angela was shown on it. It was like no time had passed at all. "You didn't."

"I didn't." she confirmed with an edge of discomfort. "And neither would Fareeha once I'd implant her a working Nanoprobe system. It's not something I just want to push on her. The long term consequences of what I did to myself are only now starting to really dawn on me, now that I see you and Torbjörn and Morrison and how you all turn..."

"Old and weak?" Reinhardt said with a shrug. He had to admit that he never really thought about Mercy not aging anymore. But now that she actually mentioned it, he couldn't help but admit that his old friend had a very valid point. Of course she had.

"Old, yes." She laughed and reached over the table to give his massive upper arm a playful slap. "But calling you weak might be a bit soon, don't you agree?"

"The time will come. But I hope that day is still in a far future." He laughed. "As for Fareeha, well, you have to talk to her for that. I don't get to decide for her, I have no right to do that."

"She might want to hear your advice" Angela offered with a warm smile on her lips.

"Maybe." He shrugged in a heartbreakingly defeated way "But it would be the advice of an old fool."

Mercy wanted to reply something when the buzzing of both their phones stopped their conversation. Exchanging a confused look they took a look at their screens and froze.

Attention all personnel. This is an automated emergency alert message updating high priority procedures.

Dark Star protocol enabled.

Agents within defense-perimeter 01 are ordered back to Watchpoint: Gibraltar for immediate evacuation. Please report to your section commanders immediately.

Section commanders are advised to report to Mission Command in a timely manner for detailed updates on the immediate proceedings.

Please remain calm and organized.

Mercy felt the blood drain from her face as she slowly looked up again, fearing that her comrade would just look as shocked as she felt. "Rein?" she whispered.

"Back to base!" the old warrior exclaimed, shooting up from his place and grabbing her arm. "Now!"

-/-

Lena Oxton was flipping through some loose papers barely contained in a overflowing light brown dossier while she was purposefully striding down the hallways, finding her way without looking up. She had walked so many times through the endless labyrinth that was Watchpoint: Gibraltar, that she had memorized every corner from heart. In a way this place was more home than her actual home, at least considering the time she had spent here. Her friends. Her family. They all were here, not in London.

Still, this was not the time to muse about sentimental affairs. She had a job to do and to her own discomfort, she wasn't exactly well prepared. Contrary to how she might have seemed, Lena liked being prepared. It was a pilot's mentality, pre-flight checks and mission preparation where key to success. Even if they were done quickly, they were always done with care and precision. Right now Lena felt like she was fumbling in a dark pool of data, having no idea what to make of it.

In her defense, Morrison thrust this task onto her just a few hours ago, claiming that he had to take care of some important business and that she would have to take some new recruits through the first day of training. He might have mumbled something about them probably not needing much work, but Tracer had been so dumbstruck, she didn't quite catch it. Before she had even blinked twice the Commander had wished her good luck, patted her shoulder and vanished out of his office. She was left alone, with a pile of paper in her arms and none the wiser. And contrary to what Tracer should have done, she didn't start reading immediately. She pinned the folder under her arm and went to see Widowmaker in the infirmary, thinking that there was still an abdundance of time until she would be needed for the training. A short visit to her girlfriend surely wouldn't be a problem. Or at least, that had been the theory.

Wonderful. Tracer thought. There are at least 25 new recruits and I can't even read, yet alone pronounce half their names. She stared at a sequence of letter she had never seen in her life before and seriously wondered how she was going to pull this one off. As she was skimming through the loosely paper-clipped documents inside the dossier, she knew that she wouldn't get anywhere even if she had the time to sit down and read all of the files in the first place. Every word of it was Cyrillic. A tongue not commonly known as Lena's forte. I should have taken Amélie with me after she took up so much of my time.

Lena needed to think about something, because she was no three steps away from the door leading into the hangar, where the recruits would be waiting for her. Her mind didn't surprise her with a sudden surge of bright ideas. Groaning in a more than frustrated, maybe even slightly angry, way Tracer decided to simply wing it and see how far she got. From what little she actually managed to gather from the personal files of their new recruits these people all had some military background. At least judging from their grim faces on their files. She could work with them if they weren't complete rubbish.

Just about now Lena half regretted not starting to read the files the moment she got them. Not that Widowmaker would have let her, oh no. Still, she would have noticed the language these files were drafted in sooner and maybe Widow might have been able to help. She was fluent in more languages than she cared to count. But no, her purple girlfriend and something totally different in mind when they had seen each other. Leave it to Amélie to not care for a second that Mercy might catch them having steamy lesbian action in the infirmary again. By now Angela wasn't even shocked anymore.

The memory of being caught the last time brought a ever so faint blush onto Tracer's cheeks when she walked through the automated door into the hangar. One of the many Orca shuttles at the Watchpoint was just taking off, filling the large hall with the mighty roar of its massive engines as it was taking its leave. This sight was something Lena would never grow tired of, it was simply amazing on so many levels. As the shuttle cleared the hangar it revealed a group of men standing a little father back. The new recruits for sure.

Slapping the dossier with the files shut to prevent them from being blown away by the engine's thrust, Lena pinned the stack of paper under her arm and proceeded to walk over toward a group of waiting people.

They all were wearing the same type of woodland camouflage with blue berets and their pants tucked into their combat boots. Clearly they were a unit, not only because of the matching uniforms, but also because of the way they stood together, how they interacted and were at ease with each other. As someone who had served the majority of her life with brothers and sisters in arms, with comrades and with other soldiers, Lena only needed a short moment to figure that out.

She approached them and was about to clear her throat when she thought they might not notice her. But a pair of ice blue eyes spotted her a few steps away from the group and spoke up loudly

"Smirna!" the stern, deep voice, fitting so very well to the hard blue eyes, shouted. The loose group of soldiers idly chatting away disappeared immediately and was replaced with perfectly still soldiers in rank and file. Impressive.

The blue eyed man approached Tracer, giving her a proper salute. "Lieutenant Alexej Pavlovena, 501st Special Purpose Detachment, at your service, Ma'am." He said with a thick, heavy Russian accent with hyper pronounced ch sounds. Lena had to give it to him, his no-nonsense expression on his face easily rivaled Morrison's. He stood head and shoulders above her and despite his uniform it was easy for Lena to tell that the man was pure muscle.

Special Purpose Detachment, Speznaz. Lena had of course heard of them before. The Kremlin's iron fist.

She saluted, too, prompting him to take down his hand. "At ease." She said, grateful to see that the entire group of soldiers relaxed somewhat. "So tell me, where did Morrison get you Speznaz people from?" she asked.

"With the best regards from Olek Volskaya in hopes we might be helpful to bring down the enemy." Pavlovena replied seriously. Glancing up at him, Tracer highly doubted that this man had laughed even once in his life. There was just no way his face would even be able to form a smile, she was sure of it. It helped her to ignore the pang in her stomach when he spoke the word Volskaya.

"And which enemy might that be?" Tracer wanted to know, just to be sure.

"Talon of course. We are ready to strike whenever you want us to. Commander Morrison told me we would be led by one of the best. He didn't lie. Let me say that it's a honor fighting at your side, Agent Oxton. I've heard much about you."

"You give me too much credit." Tracer shrugged. "Spend a few days under my command and then we decide how we all get along, sounds good?" she suggested, not really feeling comfortable in her skin at the moment. She wasn't completely dumb and could easily explain why she now had a bunch of Russian special forces to take care of. Katya Volskayas husband naturally found out about her supposed suicide and most likely didn't buy it for a second. Somehow he must have figured out that Talon was behind everything and sent Morrison some support. The man was highly influential in Russia after all, so this would have been easy enough.

The problem was: Olek was completely wrong. Talon had nothing to do with the death of his wife. So what would happen should he ever find out? All Tracer could do at the moment was to trust in Morrison's ability to keep this under wraps.

"I assure you, Ma'am, we are excellently trained and have lots of experience. You will not be disappointed."

Lena smiled warmly at the lieutenant. "I never doubted your professionalism, luv. I just thought, well, maybe we see how we get along, you know? I might not lead the way you're used to." She said and noticed how there was the slightest twitch in Pavlovena's eyelid when she called him luv.

"Yes, Ma'am." He replied with the smallest bit of hesitation.

"Good. So, let's-"

"Attention all personnel. This is not a drill. Dark Star protocol has been enabled. I repeat: Dark Star protocol is in immediate effect. Self destruct sequence has been initiated. I repeat, self destruct sequence has been initiated at t minus one hour 59 minutes. All personnel report to their section commanders immediately. Sections cleared for evacuation please report to the main hangar bay in a timely manner. Sections not cleared for evacuation please keep calm and stay on station until your section commanders are given the clear signal. " The voice was followed by the immediate screeching of an alarm sound and the activation of the red emergency lights. Lena was frozen in place for a microsecond before her training kicked in. She felt the sharp, stinging sensation of adrenaline flooding her blood and accelerating her heartbeat. It was easy for Lena to hear her own pulse drum in her ears, dulling out even the blaring alarm. Tracer hadn't even fully processed what implications that order had before she already started acting. It didn't matter now why the Dark Star protocol was activated or because of what or anything else. The only thing which was important now was to do her job.

"Alright, guess we'll have to get to know each other the hard way." She shouted. "Lieutenant, I want five of your men down into the basement. Help Torbjörn clear out everything he needs, he'll tell you what to do. Five of your men will report to the staff sergeant and do whatever he needs to speed up the process. The rest will help wherever they can. You're not familiar with the evacuation procedure, so just make yourself useful and make sure there won't be any panic. I'm the section commander for our air force, so I will be needed elsewhere."

"Yes, Ma'am!" He replied sharply, bellowing out commands in Russian, before groups of five soldiers each rushed off to do what Tracer had ordered.

"Check your watch." She told the Lieutenant, pulling the sleeve of her bomber jacket back. "It's 1343" she stated, waiting only a moment for the Lieutenant to also check is watch and confirm the time with a nod. "I will be piloting the last shuttle myself. And I will not be leaving until the very last moment. Which means I expect you and your men to appear in my shuttle at 1538. At the latest. That is if you aren't ordered to leave with an earlier shuttle. I will wait until then. A minute longer and we won't escape the blast. Got that?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good. Now go make yourself useful." She hissed, sprinting off to the location she was expected to be in an emergency situation like this. Briefing the pilots on their evacuation procedure and their flight route was what she had to do now. She would receive a destination shortly. Luckily for Lena, her body was functioning on its own and she was taking care of all the necessary steps in an almost automated fashion. Never had she really imagined that this specific situation would ever occur outside of drills. Now it obviously had and she was morbidly curious what had happened. But that was a question for later, once they had arrived at their gathering point. Wherever that may be.

She had barely reached the door leading out of the hangar when the Orca shuttle, which had just left the Watchpoint minutes prior, came back booming into the hangar in a large cloud of orange-yellow dust. After a tight turn inside the hanger it touched down hardly on the hangar floor.

Soon there would be chaos.

A/N:

"so you have time for writing again, but not me? Is that how it's going to be from now on? First it's all thesis, thesis, then it's all work, work, and now?"

-Wait, what? No, we were on vacation, weren't we?

"One small vacation during the last two years and you think that will be enough?"

-I never said-

"You're neglecting me"

-Now that is just rude! I'm not neglecting you. I will finish this up and then I'm taking you out for dinner! Go on, get changed!

Alright my dear friends, jokes aside. I have no idea if anyone is still reading or if there is an interest after such a long time, but I want to apologize and explain real quick.

I'm sorry for taking this long. This is the part where I apologized. Now for the explanation: As you all know, I wrote my master thesis. There were delays due to problems with the data. Now the thesis is gone and the people who caused the data problems offered me a job. Now I work for the government. That is the super short version and also the explanation part.

I want to quickly take some time and say thank you to everyone who has supported me so far. Someone defended my long absence in the review section and for that I am really grateful. Special thanks of course goes to my amazing supporters at tipeee, who have, suprisingly, not left me in all that time. And I am absolutely, beyond all imagination, happy about that. Especially Nachte who has been with me for then (10) months by now. Holy shit. Thank you also to Michael Johnson, to Finicky Cat, to Rawreverie, Nomville, Biscuit, Lun K, JellyNolven and tatzecom for their support. I really hope I haven't forgotten about anyone here.

As for the schedule:

I do work a lot now, so I will try and update as much as possible as soon as possible. But yeah, I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. Love you all!

See you in the next one

o7

E82

P.S. My Inbox blew up. I will try and work through all your messages as soon as I can!

Reviews are still very much appreciated! :)