“Mercy Angst then Fluff Soulmate!AU where the s/o’s first words they say to them is tattooed on their body? Mercy has the words "Please don’t let me die” and it terrifies her. She meets S/O during a mission and S/O is a civilian who got stuck in the crossfire between talon and overwatch. You can decide readers tattoo, and the ending (plz make it happy my lil lesbian heart is fragile). Also, preferably female pronouns.“
I tried to make this super gay just for you because I know how you feel, ok. Also had to cut it in half, you’ll get your fluffy happy ending I swear
tw; blood, gore, dying, that jazz
Angela Ziegler, head of the medical division of Overwatch, who pioneered a breakthrough in the field of applied nanobiology that improved treatment of life-threatening illnesses and injuries tenfold, was scared.
Every time she glanced at the tattoo along her collarbone in the mirror, or every time someone asked what hers said, or when she thought about it, her blood would run cold. Though, sometimes, she’d run her fingers over the oddly neat handwriting, wondering if her soulmate was alright. If she was happy.
She was called out on a mission during one week, as Commander Morrison expected many casualties. With Caduceus, she’d be able to slim that number down. Considering that Talon was involved, Angela expected many casualties, too.
On the dropship, Angela tugged the hat off of her head with a sigh. It had continuously fallen in her face, so to solve the issue, she merely pulled her hair into a short ponytail, humming contently. Caduceus was at her side, leaning against the wall, and with a harsh rumble, the dropship came to a stop at its destination, the engines shutting off.
Most of the other agents were already here, and the mission was over for the most part, so Mercy was just backup. She stood, taking her staff in her hand, and waited at the door by herself.
In the reflection of the metal, she could see it; her soulmate’s words poked out from underneath her suit, dark and bold against her pale skin. She didn’t think of it much, as it had been years, so when she started going through the medical tents and crossing the field, she didn’t expect you to be buried underneath some rocks, blood coating your neck and pooling around your abdomen.
When she saw you, crossing the open field to another tent, she stopped, wondering how a civilian like yourself got in this situation. You were in terrible shape; heavy breaths fell from your lips and your nimble hands were soaked in your own blood, trying to push against the large gash in your stomach. Your eyes were wide and frantic,hair matted with dirt and mud and semi-dry blood, and tears slipped down the sides of your face at the sight of Angela.
She glided down to your level, collapsing to her knees at your side, and quickly looked you over. Angela scooped up some rocks on your thighs and legs, checking to see if you were injured on them, too, but she was suddenly stopped by a crimson hand grabbing her wrist.
You were shaky, but pulled her back, looking up at her with tear filled eyes. Unable to keep your hand on Mercy’s wrist for long, it slipped and dropped back down to the wound on your stomach.
"P-Please…don’t…let me die…”
You were quiet. Your voice sounded utterly broken, and with small wheezes slipping from your mouth at the numbing pain that stabbed at your abdomen, you left Angela in a state of horrified shock. When you had spoken, her collarbone burned like fire, only giving her more action and motivation to grab her staff.
When she turned around to grab it, she gripped it with all of her might, and activated the healing stream. As it connected to you, the blood around your body started to dissipate, though it…it…wasn’t working.
Angela’s heart hammered away in her chest in confusion as she willed herself to continue healing you. Each second passing, she was expecting to see a small smile slip on your face in relief, but– the blood that was pooled around your frame was only replaced as quickly as it disappeared– and the damn thing wasn’t working. It wasn’t working and Angela was furious and upset and confused all at the same time…
It wasn’t fucking working! This was completely new for her staff, and she didn’t know how to fix it!
But– she could’t dwell on it for long.
Your lungs were starting to slowly fail you. Your eyes were full of tears as they slowly closed, and your hands were clenching into fists repeatedly as you tried to grasp onto what little life you had left.
What Mercy didn’t realize or know was how you ended up there in the first place. You, a civilian, not any kind of agent, had been hiding out in a building out of range. You were safe, though peeking out of the window, you realized that there was a little boy who wasn’t.
He was sobbing, a crying mess and his nose was running and he didn’t know where his mother was. Bullets whizzed past his ears, left and right, but he was too frightened to actually move. All he could do what cry.
And you? You were foolish. Foolish, reckless, and dumb enough to emerge from your safe place, sprint across the street and shove the boy into the building over, but you didn’t realize you had been hit until afterwards, and by then, you were a whimpering mess in the rubble.
Angela saw the light suddenly dying in your eyes, and to herself, she whispered a soft, weak mantra of “No, no no no, no, please, my darling, no…”
You had saved a little boy. But in return, it might have very well costed you your own life.
But it’s okay, Angela thought, scrambling to her feet. Salty tears started to well up in her eyes, and they slipped down her cheeks. She took a small glance at her staff, and using it to pull herself up, glanced down at you as her heart hammered in her chest. It’s okay, she thought, bringing her staff up off of the ground, and slamming it back down in a flash of gold, because–
I’m working on a Canada Day fic, but in the mean time here’s a new recruit!AU probably no one is interested in! :’)
The problem is that nobody on base really knows Pharah yet. Fareeha keeps to herself: sticks to the hangers, her dorm, the town, and hasn’t really talked to anyone– well talk, talked, she sometimes says greetings in passing and commands during missions over comms (both short and often terse, but probably not intentionally).
Hana blows a bubble in her gum until it’s about half the size of her head and then sucks it back in; there is music in the hanger that comes from speakers placed high up in the four corners of the garage space. It is turned down relatively low, but the bass cords of the rock song still rattle Hana’s eardrums and make the sticky candy quiver when she blows it out. She’s watching Fareeha bob her head to the rhythm as she tightens a bolt on the Raptora – hanging on metal chains draped over a steel bar – and then she turns back to her handheld and the game displayed on screen. (Hana’s already beaten it, now she’s just picking up collectables and upgrades she didn’t care about during the campaign.)
This is how they sometimes spend Saturday evenings; in here, in the gym where Fareeha teaches Hana knew techniques through sparring, in Hana’s room playing videogames (poorly, in Fareeha’s case) or out on the null behind the compound sipping tea or pop from thermoses, eating crap, and chattering about things. Hana misses Korea sometimes, Fareeha misses Egypt and the reputation she made for herself there, though she’s only brought it up once and maybe, maybe, Hana had a minor breakdown her first month here, and maybe, maybe Fareeha was the only person that seemed to notice or care. So they’re friends. Or at least, Hana’s pretty sure they’re friends.
So if Hana gets a bit annoyed when others on the team talk during lunch about how Fareeha seems a bit standoffish because she hasn’t joined them in the mess it’s only because none of them know her at all and nobody is even making the effort to try.
“-Hana,” Fareeha says, cutting into her game and thoughts, Hana hums absently, “will you hand me that screwdriver by your foot?” Hana looks over the handheld to see a screwdriver resting on the top of the tool cabinet her feet are propped up on and grabs it.
“Catch,” she says, and tosses it to Fareeha, who catches it easily. After a moment, Fareeha’s back to her again, Hana sits forward a bit in her swiveling mechanic’s chair.
“Hey,” she says, “you should come to dinner in the mess tonight.” This stops Fareeha, she doesn’t turn instantly, but she does rub the back of her neck with her free hand, smearing grease across the base of her neck.
“I don’t … think that is a good idea,” Fareeha says evenly, and turns.
Fareeha should be a pretty intimidating presence. She stands like a soldier, she’s tall, she has eyes which dare you to lie and she never looks down – Hana’s noticed. When Fareeha thinks, she looks to the side or up, and when she talks to Hana, it is only with eyes which flicker to meet hers; Fareeha Amari’s chin is always held high – despite this, there’s a softness to her confrontations and Hana never feels like she is any lesser.
Sometimes, the older members of Overwatch try to make Hana feel younger than she is; unready for the burdens of war. Hana doesn’t mind reminding them that she had been her country’s first line of defense against total annihilation and she can handle herself, but it’s still tiring. Fareeha never make her feel like anything less than what she is: a soldier … probably because Fareeha spent a lot of time trying to prove herself, too.
“Why not? It’ll be fun,” Hana pouts. Fareeha chuckles at her frown and sets her screwdriver down on the tool box beside Hana.
“What fun things are constantly happening at dinner?” Fareeha asks, humoring her. Hana rolls her eyes.
“Well, for starters, I’m there and things are always fun when I’m involved.” Fareeha looks skeptical. Hana groans, “… Have you even talked with anyone since you’ve been here? It’s been like three months. Do you even know anyone’s name?” Hana doesn’t mean for the bite in her tone, but she can hear it as she speaks. If Fareeha is hurt by it, it doesn’t show. Fareeha sighs softly, and sits down beside Hana in another swivel chair. Hana spins to face her and doesn’t miss the way Fareeha’s eyes flicker to the far corner of the room, her hands folded around each other rest between her legs as she leans forward, her elbows on her thighs.
“I grew up around most of the people here, Hana,” Fareeha tells her after a time, and looks briefly at her, “and I have read all the files. So yes, I know everyone’s name.”
“You’re going to have to explain to me why you don’t want to make friends,” Hana grumbles, “I don’t get it.”
“I’m not opposed to making friends,” Fareeha tells her with a light chuckle, “and I know most of the recruits to be good people, but you must understand: I will always be my mother’s daughter to the returning members of Overwatch,” at Hana’s confusion Fareeha rubs her shoulder and continues, “I did not come here to measure up to my mother and I did not come to rehash the same conversation with the heroes of my youth. I joined to make the world a better place.”
“So you’re just going to ignore everyone?” Hana gapes. “You could be such a badass.”
“I am not ignoring anyone,” says Fareeha, “and I do not need to prove myself. I am a good soldier; I know my value.” Hana rolls her eyes, but raises her hands in a mock show of surrender, just the same.
“Fine, fine,” she says, a pause, and then: “for the record, I think you’re pretty cool, too.” When Fareeha laughs it is a remarkable genuine sound. She closes her eyes, covers them with her hands.
“Thanks,” she says.
“I am astonished that you even managed this,” says Dr. Ziegler, an undertone of wonder beneath her exasperation. Hana shrugs through the pain of both her dislocated shoulders and debates telling the good doctor that it happened when Pharah pinned her into the mat during sparring, but decides against it. Hana Song isn’t a snitch.
Dr. Ziegler sighs heavily and places her palm just above Hana’s right collarbone.
“I’m afraid this is going to hurt,” she says. Before Hana can ask what the doctor means, Angela’s other hand is bracing her neck and with surprising force she rolls the younger girl’s shoulder back into place. Hana screams and responds colorfully in Korean. There are few pains Hana has experienced more excruciating than what the doctor has just done and Hana’s head spins a bit with the rolling aftershock. Here, she thought mercy was a description, not some creative anti-name … like some harry, raging, devil dog being named Cupcake.
“Perhaps next time you should be more careful,” Dr. Ziegler says without remorse, “now the other.” Hana scrambles back a bit on the examination table, to avoid the doctor’s hands, the protective paper bunches under her thighs as she moves and makes a rustling noise which breaks the tense sterile air around them.
“That’s okay, doc, I think I’ll leave this one,” Hana grins, pain shoots through her arm even as she says it, but for the sake of not reliving that particular experience, she hides it well enough.
“Nonsense,” says Angela and deftly pulls Hana forward. With fluid motions much too quick to be entirely human the other shoulder pops back into place as well and Hana curses again, much louder this time (the pain is substantially worse) as the doctor lets her go. Everything is sore and unpleasant; the room is spinning; fuck doctor visits. When the stars leave Hana’s vision, she’s able to blink up at Dr. Ziegler with what she hopes is an accurate expression of the betrayal she feels. Whether or not Angela sees it is hard to tell, as she makes no move to comfort or acknowledge Hana’s decided discomfort.
“I advise you refrain from physical activity for a couple of weeks and apply ice when you inevitably become sore,” Angela tells her, her voice professional and distant, “wait here,” Hana watches as Angela moves about the confines of the med bay. From a cooled cabinet at the far end of the room she pulls a vial of something iridescently yellow, and from a box beside it, a sterile syringe. “This should mend the fracture in your left shoulder and reduce the swelling and pain,” Hana nods in resignation as Angela fills the syringe. She sterilizes the skin of Hana’s left shoulder and applies the shot with steady hands, made sure by a lifetime of practice. Hana feels the relief almost immediately and wonders for a moment at the miracle of nanobiology technology as Angela disposes of the syringe, removes her gloves and stores the vial once more.
“Now,” says Angela, turning on her. Her entire body language seems to change; gone is the cold indifference of a doctor to her patient. She’s got the look of a mother, Hana thinks. That quiet disapproval and earnest expression – let me help you. Hana bites the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she doesn’t want to. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Hana lies. Angela slips her glasses off her nose and sets them down on a table beside Hana’s bed.
“Really?” Angela responds, unconvinced.
“Just a little accident,” Hana tells her. Angela sighs, crosses her arms and looks vaguely at the door; Fareeha’s out there, her silhouette leaning up against the frosted glass of the med bay wall. Hana’s not talking, she’s already decided, and Angela must see it too because she steps back a bit and shakes her head.
“Hmm,” Angela finally hums, seeming more tired than she has since Hana first entered the room. Hana knows why, of course she does, Hana knows basically everything. Hana knows that while Winston might be the instigator of the recall, it is Dr. Ziegler who is attending conferences and world leader affairs and client meetings – and healing the recruits (though now Lucio’s around to help, and that guy’s basically a godsend so soon Dr. Zielger should shoulder a bit less of the burden). “Overwatch’s budget does not allow for such potentially detrimental … accidents. I’ll inform Winston that you’re to be taken off the mission rotation until you have fully recovered, but please be more responsible.”
“Thanks doc,” says Hana, and then belated, as she stands: “It won’t happen again.” She flashes the D.Va smile; the one that has gotten her out of all sorts of messes in the past. Dr. Ziegler smiles faintly back at her.
“I am sure that it won’t.” Angela watches Hana open the door, but just before the younger girl can slip out she calls: “And Hana? Please have Captain Amari come in.”
Hana is caught off guard. She looks from the doctor, now vaguely flipping through some papers on her desk within the room, to Fareeha, leaning casually, arms crossed under her chest, against the wall just to the right of the med bay entrance. Fareeha raises a brow in confusion and Hana shrugs back at her, mouthing ‘I don’t know’. Fareeha pushes off the wall and glances into the room before looking back at Hana. Lightly, she pats Hana on the bicep.
“I’m glad you are okay,” Fareeha tells her, and: “I will see you later.” Fareeha glides past Hana into the room and Hana watches her until the glass door slides shut behind the Egyptian woman, before she decides its best to not stick around.
This is Fareeha’s first time in the Overwatch med bay. She is scheduled for an entrance physical in a couple of weeks – Dr. Ziegler has slowly been making her way through the recruits – but without the binding element of mandatory examinations, Fareeha makes it a general practice to avoid medical facilities when possible.
It is the smell, she has decided: the smell of bleach, stale air and stagnation. Like purgatory.
The automatic glass door hisses shut behind her, and Fareeha looks for a moment around the room. She takes in the white walls, the cleanliness of the examination bed and the stand beside it. The area where Angela sees patience is remarkably bleak - professional, efficient - an incredible contrast to the desk in the corner, three computer monitors mounted to the wall and small mountains of paper on and surrounding the space. Fareeha cannot begin to imagine what they are all for, and is not sure she would understand even if she asked. There’s a photo there, too, among the papers, of the younger Overwatch members, right before the fall – Jesse and Angela, Genji, Winston and Lena. Fareeha had wanted to be a part of that, but having been barred by Ana, had opted for the Egyptian armed forces instead. She doesn’t regret it, not at all, but if there is lingering bitterness she cannot shake, well, so be it.
“Captain Amari,” Dr. Ziegler says, looking up from her papers. It’s been ten years since she has seen Angela Ziegler, and it is almost as though nothing has changed.
“You fractured her shoulder.”
“It was an accident,” Fareeha responds lightly, roaming the room, reading the info-posters hung sporadically about the walls as a buffer.
okay, so obviously Tracer and Emily have a reasonable income of some sort, right? Like they have a pretty nice, spacious apartment in London, modern looking furniture, and I’m willing to bet that scarf must have been worth something since Tracer found it in a fancy ass store with clerks that actually wear suits. So yeah, they’re not living off pennies.
However according to the wiki Tracer’s job is “adventurer”
…..and unless something’s changed in the future I’m not sure “adventurer” is known to have a big salary and benefits package to go along with it. Admittedly she probably has some money saved from serving in Overwatch, from a severance package or whatever, but still, she’s only in her twenties, that’s not gonna sustain her forever.
Ergo, my assumption is that whatever job Emily has, she’s definitely the one bringing home the bacon
Which is all just build up for my headcanon that Emily is definitely a doctor.
So Tracer is able to keep fighting for the future of the world (an odd day job but there you go) and they still have a nice shared apartment for entertaining. And oh boy do they entertain. Seriously, there have been so many ex-Overwatch agents walking through Emily’s kitchen that it’s a really good thing she is chill af. Like all these big name heroes walking through her apartment? The likes of the Strike Commander Morrison (the poster boy of Overwatch’s heyday), Captain Ana Amari, the great Reinhardt Wilhelm? A little mind-boggling, but man it makes for good material for Christmas letters. Besides, as far as Emily’s concerned, once you get over the amount of weapons that get stored in their hall closet these guys are really just normal people and honestly if they’re friends with Lena then obviously they’re going to all be sweethearts, and anyways it’s always good to meet her girlfriend’s (weird) friends. Yup, Emily is chill.
But when Doctor Angela Ziegler is introduced? She fangirls so fucking hard. It’s the first time Tracer ever really saw her lose her shit like that but Emily cannot deal because holy fuck this is Dr Ziegler! She perfected nanobiology! She is like… the definitive name in field medicine. Emily’s used her papers as research material during her time in university. She is a legend and she’s standing in Emily’s living room and Emily currently has sweatpants on and bedhead because Tracer never tells her when guests are “popping by” and aaaAAAAAAAAAAA
I remember reading the OW wiki and it briefly mentioned Mercy using her “technology” on herself so like, what if she had some kind of self-healing device inside her? What if she had a bunch of little devices all over and they all pumped all that nanobiology gizmo into her and you can faintly see her veins glow a little in the dark(just barely)? Like what if she had to do regular maintenance and top ups so like, her entire chest can come off like a plate of armour using some kind of injection that dissolves special connective tissue so she can access her insides without doing any major surgery? It would make sense for her to be so damn tired all the time (aside from because she has to run after dummies) because a procedure like that means she’d loose some blood. Plus, the technology is slightly flawed because maybe her body has grown reliant on the “healing juice” and can’t run on it’s own, meaning that when the levels run low, it makes her feel tired, and after she’s done topping up some of the juice goes towards healing her tissue back up so she’s usually always running on half empty.
Rest, and by resting, I don’t mean reading all the books you possibly can while in bed, Pharmercy.
the billionth time that day, Angela had to turn away from her workstation as
her shoulders wracked with wet, ugly coughs. She didn’t have time to be sick,
not when the entire crate of Soldier:76’s newest healing canisters were all
malfunctioning and he needed at least 6 working ones by sunrise.
is wrong with you?” Angela mumbled to herself as she returned to work,
examining the wiring with a frown.
seemed to be out of order, the circuits were all connected and the healing
nanobots were working as intended, but they just wouldn’t deploy. The only way
to get them to work now was by smashing the exterior casing, and considering
that it was made to withstand even the impact of a direct grenade, it was no
coughed again, nearly falling out of her chair with the force of it. She could
barely sneak in a strangled gasp before she was coughing again, her lungs
sudden call of her name was all it took to send her sprawling out of her chair
with a startled yelp, “F-Fareeha!”
woman looked torn between worry and amusement as she strode over to Angela,
hands on her hips and a frown on her lips.
sick,” she said, her tone making it clear that it was more of a statement than
it off, Angela struggled to her feet, “It’s not that bad, Fare-”
was interrupted by another intense bout of coughing, so bad that she had to
bend over and lean against her desk for support. Fareeha frowned, definitely unconvinced,
as she rubbed gentle circles into her girlfriend’s back.
need to rest,” she said, cutting off Angela’s indignant protest, “I will sling
you over my shoulder if that is what it takes.”
huffed, regretting it immediately as it triggered more coughing. She had
experienced the indignity of being carried like a sack of potatoes by an Amari
before, years ago, and it wasn’t one that she would like repeated. Hana and
Lena would never let her hear the end of it.
wasn’t getting anywhere with her poking and prodding, anyway, and she had a few
dozen nanobiological textbooks and research papers in a drawer by her bed.
Maybe one of them would provide her the answers she needed…
she conceded, “I’ll rest.”
Fareeha repeated, and the look in her eyes told Angela that she had read her
mind. “And by resting, I don’t mean reading all the books you possibly can
while in bed.”
what mercy is: a jewish-coded character that probably suffers from ptsd due to both of her parents dying in the war that potentially lead to her dedicating her life to researching nanobiology to keep people alive. she probably developed an unhealthy, terrible savior complex where she believes in saving everyone and keeping everyone she cares about alive no matter the costs and consequences of her actions. she also has white savior imagery plastered all over her as a conventionally attractive blonde with angel motifs, which alone is an alright reason not to be fond of her. she also doesn’t have any true character development as far as the Overwatch canon goes and it makes her pretty uninteresting.
what mercy isn’t: a nazi witch that wants to experiment on poc
I've literally just come across your blog and it's freaking sweet! All your writing is really amazing as well, I guess I could procrastinate actually playing Overwatch and just read everything here :') I was wondering, for the soulmate au, if you could write something for Mercy, Tracer and Symmetra. I'm 100% hooked out it and everything else on the blog tbh :')
Thank you, anon!
Here’s more soulmate!AU (missing are now only Pharah, Torbjörn, and Bastion. I’ll get on that soon)
Spending time at a local university in King’s Row, Angela found herself cleaning up a lab room after running a small seminar for aspiring doctors and scientists. It was a medium-sized crowd, far more than she had expected. An old colleague asked her to visit sometime to give insight on how nanobiology operates, a request the blonde couldn’t turn down. It was a close friend from medical school and she couldn’t shy away from educating others on the fringe science she dabbles in.
True enough, many avoided her field of science altogether. She couldn’t blame them, though it did get lonely without having others to gush about findings with. Sure, she had the attention of her peers, but they weren’t true peers if they could not grasp what defines her findings. The most they could do is read the cliffnotes and nod in praise. Not exactly what she hoped for from so called ‘peers’, but she didn’t enter this branch of medical science for recognition from colleagues. Even if only one person goes on to remember her lecture today, at least they’ll carry with them more knowledge and a healthy skepticism over what is considered impossible.
Watching the students and professors starting to depart one after the other, Angela finished packing away papers into her briefcase with idle interest, her mind drifting to other tasks she’d have to take care of tonight. The seminar was the only thing she had set herself out to do in King’s Row, so she ought to get a ticket back to Gibraltar tomorrow. Sure, she could linger around in the bustling city, but Angela wouldn’t even know what to do with herself in a place like this. Call her plain, but she’d take a sleepy town any day versus overpopulated metropolises.
Um if you're needing some prompts, maybe Genji and Angela/Mercy having to wear formal wear and Genji doesn't feel comfortable doing so, so Angela/Mercy has to help build his confidence for a party or something. Maybe a lil dance? just an idea kinda long winded sorry
Okay so, I put my own spin on it because I honestly don’t think Genji would ever go anywhere formal, but I got the party and the lil dance so, here you go!
Gency. Oneshot. Fluff. Little Angst.
Mercy was asked to speak once again about her work on
nanobiology. She’s done it before, it wasn’t difficult for her. Overwatch
always needed more investors.
It was just
the whispers of an attack impending on this certain gathering that caused this
one to be different. There was talk about someone wanting to take down
Overwatch. Even attacking a medical conference to do it. Anything to get at
Overwatch, to shut it down.
she is. Speaking about her breakthrough that helps improve healing and wellness
of everyone. Her words memorized by now as she stands at the podium. As she
continues on, she looks over the crowd.
dressed women with men styled in tuxes sitting at elegant tables in a grand
building. Outlining along the walls are Overwatch officers, ready to react at a
drop of a pin. Guns and armor ready.
The show of
force is unnecessary, Mercy thought. Not liking so many battle ready men mingling
with civilians. Aware of the danger they pose.
Unfortunately, Yes, it is
necessary. The leaders at Overwatch hoping that the display of power will make
anyone thinking of doing wrong tonight thinking again.
her speech, getting an applause as she steps down from the podium. Going to her
table, she waits for another doctor to finish his speech. Then finally, she’s
free. Everyone begins to mingle as the party really starts.
away upstairs, she finds the doors to a balcony, but a guard stands a few feet
off to the side.
Zielger, you need go back to the party. It’s not safe up here.” He tells her as
only be a moment. I just need some fresh air.” She tells him kindly.
hesitates, and she adds, “When I speak, I get rather anxious. Please, I really
need some fresh air.” She lies sweetly.
caves him, and opens one of the doors for her. Then, it clicks softly behind
her as it closes.
balcony is a half circle, peering out over a lush garden. The moon is full
tonight, shedding light over the area, casting dark shadows.
she reaches the parapet, placing her hands on the cool stone.
Speaks his smooth voice, appearing out of the night air like the wind.
good thing about tonight is that she’s not alone. He insisted on coming,
covering the dark corners of the building and waiting in the shadows. Daring
anyone to come near this party.
to face him. He stands only a few feet away, his body shining in the moonlight.
The green visor now bright.
She says his name.
safe out here. You would have better protection inside.” He says, taking his
first step towards her.
out a soft sigh.
“I know. I
just needed a moment away.” She says, going over his visor with her eyes.
He stops at
this, looking over her. He’s just within her reach.
shouldn’t be alone.” He says softly. Moonlight glistening off his helm.
She says, reaching out to touch his face, when he suddenly turns his head away.
freezes at this, her hand coming back to herself.
doesn’t look at her. “You should be with someone that can take you to a party. You should be with someone that can dance with you. You should be with someone that doesn’t have to hide.”
finally understands. She steps forward, towards him. Gently, she reaches with
one hand, taking his face plate to turn his head back to her. Making sure he’s
want someone to go to parties with. I want someone to stay with me late at
night in the lab. I want someone to walk me to my room while I hold their arm.
I want someone to want to comfort me as much as I do them. I want someone I can
talk to on a balcony late at night.”
her other hand and makes sure he’s staring right at her. Holding his face
closely. She needs him to know what she says is true.
care about a party, I care about you.”
motionless in the moonlight, before his hands reach out to her. Slowly resting
on her cheeks.
“And I care
about you, Angela.” He whispers.
at him, knowing he’s heard her words.
His eyes travel over her dress,
before he looks at her again. “You are so beautiful.”
Her dress is beautiful. Long, smooth
and simple. The sleeves going all the way down to her wrists. A beautiful
tyrian purple that she almost didn’t dare wear. Its neck is wide, exposing her
collarbones and shoulders. Then, there’s the slit, going halfway up her thigh.
For once, her hair is down, curled.
give you everything, but I can give you this.” His voice resolute, looking her
in the eyes.
“May I ask
for a dance?” His smooth voice only trembles at the end.
arms, she wraps them around his neck, leaning against his body. His hands
slowly traveling to her side, resting above her hips before encircling her
completely. The metal cool but familiar. The scent of steel and musk making her
calm. His helm resting against her hair.
music, and only the moonlight and their bodies pressed close against each
other, they gently step and swirl. Mercy’s eyes closed and she just feels him.
His body that she knows inside and out. The man she wants to never let go of as
they slowly dance on the balcony.
close, is freeing. The hissing of his metal body, his familiar smell, his glowing
lights. The comforting pressure of his arms around her lower back. The curve of
his neck. The feeling of his chest against hers. He’s so gentle, so caring. He’s
beautiful, and she just wants to know that as well as she does.
His cool voice breaks the silence.
still dance, slowly and pressed against each other.
“You are my
angel.” He whispers into her ear, his voice so lovely.
and he stops with her. His hold starting to loosen from waist but she tightens
her arms around his neck. Burying her head against his neck, pressing her cheek
against his cool metal. His own arms somehow pressing her closer to him. His
head tilting to press against her hair.
Hey guys! So this is my first request, requested by the lovely @imlostinatunnel :) I have been very busy lately so I have had to kind of just crank this out to get it done before I go to Disneyland this week, but it is now here nonetheless! Please enjoy and I’m sorry it has taken so long!!
Looking up at the sign above the train platform, she confirmed she was on the right hyper-train and climbed on. Immediately as she entered the train, she cursed herself in her mind for not arriving there sooner. Almost every seat she saw seemed to be taken.
Holding her bag closer to her body, she slowly made her way down the length of the train, looking for a place to sit. Every compartment seemed to be full. She let out a sigh of discouragement. She was headed out for her first official meeting with the Overwatch field team, who would be using her nanobiology technology on actual missions.
Overall, she was very proud of herself for creating something that was deemed useful enough to employ on the most importance of Overwatch assignments. While she had been part of Overwatch for going-on two years now, she had never met the strike team. They were the heart and soul of the whole Overwatch organization. They were what made Overwatch, well, Overwatch. The soldiers of the strike team were the ones in the field, putting the developments of other divisions of Overwatch’s into use.
In the beginning, Angela was wary of joining the organization, but after she was told she would be working in the Medical Research department and developing technology to help the world’s sick and injured, she was on board. Though she had to admit she was nervous about her tech being used on the battlefield, she was ensured by multiple individuals that she was not participating in any harmful activity, instead helping others. She wasn’t sure if she believed that, because it was her device that was continuing to heal the ones doing the killing, but over time, she had herself convinced that even though the person using her new biotic field might be killing, it would be better for them to remain alive than die too.
She had reached the end of the train, and she still hadn’t found an empty seat. All of the train compartments were filled, some less than others, but nonetheless occupied. Making her way back up the aisle, she stopped at a compartment filled with a single man. Smiling gingerly, she offered a wave. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked, ”Every other seat seems to be taken. “ All the man did was nod stiffly, so she gave him one more weak smile before sitting down.
As the train started, Angela breathed deeply and focused on the phone she had in her hand. She was nervous about the meeting, and was not looking forward to the three hour train ride ahead. Even though the hyper-trains traveled much faster than a regular train had been able to, it was still a long ride. She began scrolling through the notes she had transferred to her phone, reviewing what she was going to say to the commander of the strike team in order to let him know that employing her technology was the correct action.
As she went through her speech in her head, she caught the man she was sharing a compartment with looking in her direction. Whether it was staring or not, she did not know, but it made her feel uncomfortable none the less, even though he was very attractive. Once she realized that thought had crossed her mind, she almost felt like slapping herself. Who was she to think of this random stranger in such a way? As she stole a sideways glance at him though, she definitely knew why she thought that.
Dressed up in a pair of black dress pants with a grey dress shirt and a tie, he looked like a very professional man. He was not too tall and not too short, and through his shirt she could tell he was muscular and fit. His blonde hair was complimented by his ocean blue eyes, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut through a diamond. Although she could imagine how many women must fawn over him, she ensured herself she was not going to be one of them. Turning back to her notes, she attempted to block out the attractive man in close proximity to her.
About thirty minutes into the trip, she could still feel his azure orbs peeking at her from the other side of his newspaper. After acknowledging his attractiveness, his stares made her feel less uncomfortable but more self-conscious. Did her hair look okay? Was there stains on any part of her clothing? Sneaking another glance at the man, her eyes quickly darted back down to her lap when his deep blue eyes met hers.
“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, a little more harsh than she had hoped. Looking back up at him, she noticed the look of surprise at the somewhat-forward move she had just made.
“Oh, no.” he apologized, running a hand through his soft, blonde hair. “I was just kicking myself for not introducing myself to you. I’m sorry, I get nervous around beautiful women.” He offered her a warm, lopsided smile, and she had to admit she was already slightly affected by his charm.
“I’m Jack.” he grinned, offering a hand out to her. She took it and gave it a firm shake.
“Angela.” she smiled back, failing to mention her title of ‘doctor’. She normally did introduce herself as Dr. Angela Ziegler, but didn’t want to come off as stiff or arrogant to the man.
“Where are you off to today?” he asked politely.
“Oh, just a meeting.” she shrugged, not offering up any other information. While Overwatch was not a top secret organization, the things that were shared in the meeting was not something that they wanted terrorist organizations to get ahold of, and she didn’t want to risk it.
“I am as well.” he said, rolling his eyes, “Not really looking forward to sitting and listening to people talk for a few hours.”
Angela laughed slightly, nodding her head in agreement. “Either am I.”
“You have a nice accent.” he noted, “Is it?…”
“German.” she smiled, “And from the way you speak, I assume you are from the United States?”
“You’d be correct.” he said, “I’m originally from Indiana.”
“You’re quite far away from home here in Europe.” she acknowledged, and he nodded.
“Is everyone from Indiana as cute as you are?” she asked teasingly, and almost slapped her hand over her mouth at her forward flirting. She was never like this. What was this man doing to her?
“No actually,” he laughed, “what you’re seeing right now is the best of the best.” he bragged with a playful wink.
Her golden laughter echoed throughout the compartment they currently shared. Angela started asking him questions about what his home was like because she had never visited Indiana before.
“Honestly,” he said, “you could live your whole life and never visit Indiana, and never miss out on anything. It’s honestly boring, but it is my home and I do love it.”
When he asked her about her hometown, she didn’t have much to say. All she really remembered about her birthplace was the fear and violence brought along with the omnic crisis and the death of her parents. Instead of describing these details she felt unnecessary to tell a complete and total stranger, she gave vague details of the sights she remembered and included the few good memories she remembered.
She was about to ask him what job he had that brought him so far away from home for a meeting before the ringtone of a phone broke the silence.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking down at his phone and getting up to go take the call. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Smiling, Angela watched as he answered his phone and headed to find a place where he could get more privacy. She assumed the call was for business. As soon as he left she noticed how much more spiritless the atmosphere around her was. Jack brought such an infectious energy to the room. It surprised her how easy he was to talk to, and how even though her description of where she was from was brief, he didn’t pry for any other information. Nothing about their interactions was awkward (well, minus the initial stares), and he was such a polite person.
Staring out the window, she tried to make heads or tails of what they were passing by, but the hyper-train traveled at such a fast speed that all that seemed to zoom by the windows was a blur. Yawning, she looked at her watch and realized that there was still an hour and twenty fifteen minutes left of this trip. Resting her head on the seat behind her, she stared up at the ceiling and yawned again. Her eyelids grew heavy, but she fought to keep herself awake until Jack came back. There was still a lot of conversation to be had between the two of them, and she wanted to know more about the gorgeous blonde that made her act and feel like she never had before. As much as she tried, her tiredness seemed to consume her, and she allowed herself to simply rest her eyes.
Minutes later she felt someone sit down right next to her. Fluttering her eyes open, she offered a sleepy smile to the attractive figure seated next to her.
“You sleepy, angel?” he laughed, and Angela’s heart fluttered in her chest. God, she felt like a lovestruck teenager who believed in love at first sight.
“Yeah, but I can stay awake and keep you company.” she giggled drowsily.
“No, it’s ok,” Jack smiled, “Get your beauty sleep. I’m tired anyway.”
“Are you sure?” she asked apprehensively. She didn’t want to make him feel like she was uninterested.
“Of course.” he smiled, leaning back and closing his eyes, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Smiling to herself, Angela closed her eyes and let herself drift off into a well-deserved sleep.
Angela felt so warm and comfortable when she woke up. Opening her eyes, she willed her body not to stiffen up at the position she found herself in. Her head was rested on Jack’s shoulder, and her legs were slightly intertwined with his. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her into him, and his head buried in her hair. To anyone that walked by, they would have looked like a couple.
Angela’s cheeks heated up at that thought. Why was she thinking about her and this man she just met in a relationship? Her questions were cut short at the groaning that came from beside her. She felt the hand around her draw back, and she quickly sat up as fast as she could. The sleepy smile that he offered her when he opened his eyes though, made her want to fall right back asleep next to him.
“I… I’m sorry.” Angela stammered nervously, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Oh hush…” he laughed, “A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to worry so much.”
God, why did her heart flutter when he said things like that? Yawning, she straightened her clothes and smoothed back her hair. A voice crackled over the speaker as she began to feel the train slow down.
“We are arriving at the Zurich, Switzerland station. We hope you enjoyed your travels and wish you a great day.” the synthetic woman said.
Standing up as the train rolled to a stop, she grabbed her bag and started to make her way to the exit. With Jack following behind her, she pushed her way through the crowd and out of the small door.
“I really enjoyed talking to you, Jack.” Angela said, turning around to address the man who was currently battling the crowd with her.
“Me too. I’m extremely glad that I was lucky enough to meet you today.” he grinned.
Turning back around again, she battled her way through the crowd. Her face contorted into a look of discomfort as she was squished between hundreds of people struggling to get out of the train station. As a doctor, she knew just how many germs people carried with them, and all she wanted to do was wash her hands and her body. Finally bursting out of the entrance of the station, she was able to take a deep breath.
“I guess this is goodbye for now?” Jack asked, looking at his watch and back up at Angela. “I need to get on my way to this meeting.”
Angela’s face fell a little. She really didn’t want to have to leave him. She felt such a connection with him! “Yeah, I guess.” she shrugged. “I should be on my way to my meeting too.” she said with a yawn. Gosh was she tired.
“Ok,” Jack scratched the back of his head, “Guess I’ll talk to ya later?”
“Definitely” she smiled sleepily.
As they parted ways, Angela felt increasingly more empty. “Oh, Ang…” she rolled her eyes at herself, “You’re definitely overreacting.”
While trying to shake this thought , another one crossed her mind. Jack had said he would talk to her later, but that wasn’t going to happen. They never exchanged numbers. She felt her heart plummet at that, but tried to talk some sense into herself.
“He lives in the States, so I’d probably never see him anyway.” she tried to tell herself, but it wasn’t of any use. She was still terribly disappointed. Walking farther away from the train station, looking for a coffee shop to get some caffeine for her tired self, she continued to try and convince herself it wasn’t meant to be anyway.
“Are you Winston?” Angela asked inquisitively, sipping the last of the coffee she bought before making her way to the Overwatch headquarters.
“Why yes I am.” the gorilla smiled, turning away from his work. “And I assume you are Doctor Ziegler?”
“In the flesh!” she smiled, offering him a wave.
“You are just on time. I shall bring you to the meeting room to present your newest invention to our Strike Commander and his team.” he gestured towards the door. He began down the hallway, and Angela followed closely behind.
“Please don’t feel nervous Doctor Ziegler,” he smiled, “your work has not been in vain and the fruit of all your labor is quite amazing. They will definitely see your work as an asset to the team and their missions.”
“Thank you.” she said, chewing on her lip. Was she really so nervous others could visibly see it?
The gorilla took a sudden turn to the right through an open door. Upon entering the room, Angela noticed a long table, with the Overwatch symbol above the head of the table. “This must be their official meeting room.” she pondered to herself.
The eyes of the occupants of the room turned to her, and her eyes immediately moved to the floor. She was normally not as nervous as she was in that moment, but she had to persuade some of the most important people in the whole organization that using something she had worked so long and hard on was the correct choice.
“Angela, this is the strike team of Overwatch.” Winston said, pointing at the people throughout the room. Looking up, Angela took a deep breath and waved, trying her best to mask her nervousness. “And I would like to introduce you to the head of this team’s actions, Strike Commander Jack Morrison.”
When her eyes came up to meet the ones of the Commander, her heart skipped a beat. She knew those blue eyes. Hell, she was intoxicated by them.
“Angela?” he asked, and she offered him an awkward, nervous smile.
Winston had a confused look on his face, wondering how these two knew each other. What were the odds that the person she had practically fallen in love with would be the person that commanded the strike team of Overwatch? Maybe they were meant to be? When the meeting started, Angela was so insanely nervous, but as time went on, the small smiles of encouragement she received from Jack made her more confident in herself and her words.
When the meeting had been adjourned, she shook hands with many of the members and shared some small conversation. She was glad that these people liked her work and were eager to employ it in their own. The minute the last person left the room (a very bubbly and talkative British woman known as Tracer), Jack gave her the same smile that roped her into him in the first place.
“Let’s do this the right way this time.” he laughed, handing her a scrap of paper obviously torn from the corner of his notes from the meeting. Smiling, she pocketed what she recognized as his number and left her hand over it to make sure she wouldn’t lose it.
Synopsis: Fareeha has a crush on super cool big-kid Angela, and she goes to McCree of all people for help.
The midday sun cast its rays upon the desert field, sending shadows directly underneath the figures that owned them. Small reptiles crawled out of their hiding spots to bask in the sunlight, while many of the mammals refuge from the blazing heat in their burrows and holes. A small woodpecker started to cut out a hole in a thick Saguaro, hoping to create a shelter to reside in.
The percussive noise reverberated along the sand, echoing off rocks, being sent in every direction.
Jesse McCree looked down range at his target, and walked out towards the paper cutout for closer inspection. While two shots were fired, only one hole seemed to be made. It was not until the paper was in Jesse’s hands was the imperfection shown. A small crescent deviated from the original circumference, another circle offset by millimeters, with barely any paper to puncture. Jesse smirked and flicked the paper with his finger, letting out a puff of his cigar. “Not too bad for warming up” he said to himself, making his way back towards the shooting station. He set the paper target aside on the small wooden table beside him, and he picked up six fresh victims to set out in the range.
When all the cutouts were put on their posts, he situated himself at the station. He clicked the release mechanism to his revolver, flicking the cylinder open. As he tilted the revolver upwards, two casings dropped to the gravel below, smoke still gently rising from their entry points. This time, Jesse readied six rounds to be fired, carefully placing each one in its proper slot. With a smooth motion, he flipped the cylinder back up into the revolver, the locking mechanism snapping in place with a click.
He glanced down at his wrist before checking his surroundings to make sure he was alone. Seeing nobody nearby, he smirked and placed his revolver in his holster, keeping it unlatched. He bent his right arm, hand hovering over the pistol, his left arm in front, ready for rapid fire.
“It’s high noon” he let out in a low drawl.
The low wind picked up, sending a lone tumbleweed across the horizon. McCree lined up each target in his sights, composing himself. With a sudden motion, Jesse drew the weapon from its holster. “Draw!” He shot each target along the horizon in a swift motion, his left hand cocking the hammer in between each sequential fire. When it was done, Jesse flipped the revolver about his finger before swiftly placing it back in the holster. He surveyed the scene, all targets had a sizzling hole right through the skull. He tucked his thumbs in his belt loops, “Heh, not so bad”
His reverie was cut short.
“Ugh, Jesse. So lame” A giggle came from behind. McCree snapped around on his heel, and saw little Fareeha jump down from her perch. He suddenly became quite flustered, especially now that Fareeha had seen him. She always liked to give him grief for his self-indulgent grandeur, not to mention the BAMF buckle he liked to keep fastened around his waist.
“Fareeha! What are you doing here? You know your Mom would kill you if she found out you were at the gun range” McCree said, emptying the casings just as before, and swiveled the pistol back into its holster.
“Mmm is the ‘BAMF’ scared of momma?” Fareeha said with a sly smile, “It is just you and me after all, she doesn’t need to find out. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”
Jesse sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to shake her loose until he paid the ransom. “Alright, what is it then?”
“You’re good with the ladies, right Jesse?”
McCree tugged at his collar awkwardly. No beating around the bush with this one. “I wouldn’t say the ladies per se.”
“Okay, fine. But you know how to sweet-talk them, right? I know you use that silver-tongue of yours to kiss mother’s ass, God help her.”
McCree rolled his eyes. “I guess if you put it that way. To be honest, though, this line of work doesn’t lend many opportunities to speak with many people outside of those in Overwatch. The only women I really know well besides my own mother are your Ma and Angela.”
At the latter’s name, Fareeha started shifted the sand around her feet, looking down the entire time. “What if I were to say that I wasn’t talking about anybody off-base?” Fareeha asked nervously.
Realization began to dawn on McCree, the corner of his lips turned upwards into a sly grin. “Heh heh, does little Fareeha Amari have her eyes set on a certain someone?”
Fareeha didn’t look up to meet McCree’s cheeky expression.
“A certain German lady, by chance?”
“Ugh, Jesse, she’s Swiss!” Uh oh. Now the cat was out of the bag. “I mean… no?” she said, trying to backpedal out of her previous statement, tapping the tips of her index fingers together.
McCree slapped his knee and let out a bought of laughter. He gave her a few teasing nudges with his elbow, while Fareeha tried to bat him away.
“Hah! A crush on Miss Angela Ziegler. I gotta say, kid, you have a mighty fine taste in women.” He said, not trying to fight down the grin that seemed to get broader and broader.
“…Shut up” Fareeha pleaded sheepishly, with heat rising to her cheeks.
“Heh” McCree grunted as his laughter started to subside. “So have you tried working the ol’ Amari charm?”
Fareeha shuffled her feet over one another. “I wouldn’t say that”
“Looks like we’ll need to fix that, then!” Jesse stood up and rotated his hat slightly. “Here, I got a few tricks up my sleeve…”
Angela nervously chewed on the cap to her pen, her foot bobbing up and down as her crossed legs moved about. She had already spent five hours tucked away in her cramped living quarters, trying to work on an article she had been drafting that dealt with the preliminary research in the usage of microscopic machines and how they could be used in the medical field. Juggling that and her responsibilities on base was proving to be a challenge, but it was something she found she could solve by holing herself up in her room. Not many people had access to Angela when she was busy with her workload, which to be fair was nearly every moment of her day. Being an unusually young age for her work, Angela was denied permission by Commander Morrison to look after her own patients. To keep herself busy in the times she wasn’t assisting the current medical director of Overwatch, she had taken to pouring through multitudes of published academic literature and research papers, hoping to gain some insight into the developing field of the nanobiology.
She heard the door creak, but she paid no mind to it. She was intent to carry on with her research, and didn’t want to get bogged down in any distractions.
“Hey Angela” a small voice came from behind, one that could only come from Fareeha.
“Hey Far” Angela said without turning around, still trying to focus on doing her work.
Angela was about to ask how Fareeha’s day was going, but she was interrupted by prying fingers at the collar of her turtleneck. “Fareeha?” She continued to try to turn the collar inside out. “Fareeha what are you doing?” She turned to face Fareeha.
“I’m uhh.. I’m umm..” Fareeha paused as if trying to remember something. “I’m trying to find the tag that says ‘Made in Heaven.’”
Angela paused for a moment, but realization spread across her face. Laughter came forth in droves. “Where did you get that one from?”
Fareeha was a little taken back, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She still wanted to continue, and she looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. Fumbling with the words she was trying to say, she stuttered out the next line “d-do you have a camera?”
Angela was taken aback at the strange request. “Um yes but I don-”
“So I can show my friends proof angels exist.”
Angela let out another fit of giggles before reigning herself back in. “You know you are just adorable, right? Did Jesse put you up to this to annoy me?” She said with a giggle.
Fareeha felt like she wanted to die of embarrassment at that moment. She couldn’t help but stare at her shoes. “Right… to annoy you” she said, defeated.
“Hmm! Typical. I’m going to go knock some sense into that troublemaker.”
Angela sauntered out the door, and Fareeha crumpled the piece of paper in her hand, throwing it out as she sulked back to her room.
~~Twenty years later~~
With a loud hissing noise, the carrier’s ramp opened and lowered itself onto the platform below, forming a rudimentary walkway for the passengers exiting the aircraft. Fareeha slung the duffel bag she was carrying over her shoulder, and stepped out into the midday sun. Looking around, the revitalized Watchpoint looked just like had twenty years ago. The atmosphere felt very similar to how she remembered it. She brought her gaze forward, locking on to the man who was approaching her, clipboard in hand.
“Captain Amari! It is good to meet you. I do hope your flight over was okay.” Not being one for idle conversation, Fareeha smiled and gave a small nod in recognition.
“If you would follow me, I will show you to your living quarters.”
The attendant ducked his head to enter the doorway to one of the entrances. Fareeha followed suit, smiling as she remembered the countless times Jack Morrison had hit his head there, too busy with paperwork to pay attention.
“Winston informed me to tell you to meet him in the officer’s quarters at 0400. Am I correct in assuming you know where that is?”
Fareeha returned her attention to the man beside her, coming out of her small trip down memory lane. “Yes, I do. Thank you.” She glanced down at her watch, just past noon.
Looks like I will have time to explore more around the Watchpoint, and see if anything has changed in the past two decades.
The man lead her to her room, a plaque was placed on the center of the door reading ‘Capt. Fareeha Amari.’
“So this is where you’ll be staying. If you want to request any additions or changes you can contact me and I’ll see what I can do.” He turned to give her space, but then added one last thing, “Oh, and Captain? Welcome to Overwatch.” Fareeha nodded, and he went on his way.
Less than an half hour later, Fareeha had her things set out and tucked away. She was not one to pack heavy, for all she needed were her different military uniforms, her workout clothing, and the other bare essentials. Much of the structured, militaristic attitude she had developed during her time in the Egyptian armed forces carried over through her time working for HSI and to the present. It made things easy for her to stay mobile, not being tied down to any location with mementos of home, but it would be untrue to say Fareeha did not secretly wish to possess said trinkets.
Feeling curious, Fareeha left the comfort of her bed to explore the corridors of the Watchpoint.
Many happy memories were made here, even in the short time her mother had been stationed at this Watchpoint. Whether it was hearing stories about the ‘Good ol’ days’ from Reinhardt, pestering Gabriel to play with her, or just hanging out with Angela while she worked on her computer, Fareeha had definitely made this place her home, even if it wasn’t for as long as she hoped.
As she walked down the corridor, a cracked door caught her attention, a faint pale blue light emanated from the cracks. A sudden giddiness filled her body as she read the owner of the room. She silently opened the door, and was greeted by the figure hunched over the desk, typing something at a furious pace. Fareeha leaned against the doorframe.
“Hmm, I really wish I had brought my camera with me” Angela swiveled around to face the unfamiliar voice, “So I can show my friends proof angels exist.”
Angela’s mouth crept up into a smile. “Fareeha,” she said fondly, “it has been far to long.” She picked her self out of the chair and walked towards Fareeha, bringing her into an embrace.
“It’s good to see that some habits never change” Fareeha said with a smirk, motioning her head towards the numerous papers strewn about her desk, byproducts of becoming a part of so many different research groups.
“It’s not work if you love doing it. And I can’t believe you remembered that horrible line,” she gave Fareeha a teasing slap on the chest, “I still remember the first you said it to me. It was so adorable!”
Fareeha rubbed the back of her neck. “To be fair, Angela, you wouldn’t let me live it down.”
Angela lightly touched Fareeha’s forearm, and the giggle she let out made Fareeha’s heart jump. “And I don’t think I ever will.” She let her giggling pause for a moment, and she looked into the deep brown eyes looking down to her. “It’s really good to see you.” She gave Fareeha a quick once-over. “You’ve gotten so tall too! It looks like the army really beefed you up as well, eh?” Now that she was thinking about it, Fareeha had changed drastically. Gone was the frail little Fareeha who bounced around wearing bright dresses her mother bought for her (much to Fareeha’s chagrin). The woman that stood before her had an aura of dignity, enforced by the muscular biceps put on display with her tank top. Angela allowed herself to glance over her frame, and she was impressed at how well she seemed to take care of herself and her body. Uh oh. Angela caught herself. She’s hot.
“You know,” Angela brought her eyes back up, and met Fareeha’s sea of deep brown, “Jesse never put me up to it. Quite the opposite.”
Angela’s face made an ‘O’ at the realization, and she slapped her forehead. “Oh my god. I laughed in your face! Oh my Fareeha I apologize for that.”
Fareeha softly laughed, “It is no matter, Doctor. It was twenty years ago. However…” a smirk crept on her face. “You can make it up to me by giving a tour around the Watchpoint. I have a few hours before I need to report to anyone, and I wanted to explore and see what has changed.”
“Well then, I guess it is only fair,” they both headed for the door. “After you.”
Fareeha gave her a thankful smile, which when straight to Angela’s heart, the beat picking up.
I wonder if she still kept her crush? Angela blushed at the wistful thought as they walked side by side, just as they had done so decades ago as best friends.
Author’s Note: So in other news I’ve recently converted to the lord and savior Scrivener. It’s just so useful. And I can get it on my phone too oh my god. Google drive we had a good run.
I also forgot to think of a title when I first posted it. Oops.
Genji, Reaper, and Mercy all operate using different developmental stages of the same medical tech.
Mercy was Overwatch’s chief medical officer, and specialized in applied nanobiology. She developed the Valkyrie Swift Response Suit while there. At some point after the inception of Overwatch, she used this applied technology to save the life of Genji.
Hanzo straight up thinks his brother is dead- whatever happened to him, it had to be pretty drastic for him to believe that he finished the job.
The same technology that created the VSR suit likely stabilized what was left of Genji Shimada, and his current “robotic” body is the direct result of a nano-tech suit being modified to bring a severely crippled man back from the brink and back into front-line fighting order.
At some point after the Omnic Crisis, Gabriel Reyes organized an armed rebellion that ended in a massive explosion at the Overwatch Swiss headquarters. He was presumed dead, and yet, he too is still here, under the moniker Reaper. In game conversation between himself and Mercy suggests that she’s responsible for his current state.
Reaper’s abilities could come from an upgrade of the same technology that saved Genji’s life. Mercy, likely seeing what turmoil Genji’s new “body” put him through (and what sort of doctor doesn’t do follow ups?) likely poured her efforts into refining her nanotech- and Gabriel may have been the first field test of that (either through panicked necessity or through calculated risk). Cellular regeneration without a full body robotic sleeve keeping you alive. Only…
Reaper’s cells are said to “decay and regenerate at an increased rate” (Overwatch Wikia), and it’s also said that the bodies of his victims seem to have undergone intense cellular degradation. So to add to the sheer edge factor, consider this:
Reaper is basically a nanotech vampire. The nanites that flood his system stimulate rapid regeneration- … and rapid decay as well. If Reaper wants to stay “alive” as he is now, he has to be in close proximity to things that his nanites can cannibalize for materials so his body doesn’t eat itself up in a non-stop biological overclock.
Years after the fact, Overwatch and its agents are recalled by Winston. When Mei and Mercy are on a team together in game, Mei expresses surprise, saying that Angela hasn’t aged a bit. Ostensibly, Mercy’s age is 37- for a woman pushing forty, she’s remarkably youthful. Now, Mei was frozen in cryogenic suspension, but Mercy hasn’t been exempted from the flow of time, so what’s her excuse?
A doctor committed to helping people in dangerous parts of the world should have at least two- maybe three tricks up her sleeve, right? Passive healing, an unusually youthful appearance given her age: I’m willing to bet that Mercy’s perpetual youth is a late stage refinement of the same nanite technology that saved Reaper. Cellular regeneration without the horrifying side effects. For a master in her field, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
It’ll be interesting to see if more info on these guys gets released, and how well it’ll line up with my two cents. Of course, all this is extrapolation based on character relationships, so take it as you will! |D
Can you do a story how Mercy first meant Genji? Before finding half-dead. It would be cute and fluffy that Mercy meet him back when he was a playboy. But then turn angsty when Angela find Genji after the fight with Hanzo.
This is literally the cutest thing I’ve ever written. I loved writing young Genji too, so thank you so much for the prompt doll! I just love this whole idea of them meeting before and not realizing at the time how important they would be to each other and oh I just love them! Here you go!
At First Sight
Gency. Oneshot. Fluff.
Mercy honestly doesn’t think he remembers, but sometimes,
she goes back to it. That night she first met Genji Shimada. Not when he was
half dead and fighting to survive. No, when he was his youthful self, alive and
full of energy. Confident, maybe even a little arrogant, but it was all part of
his naturel charm.
sent to a facility in Japan all for her new breakthrough in applied nanobiology.
Conferences and meetings in and out all day. Until, finally she was free to
enjoy the country she was in. She end up walking down streets and admiring the
view in the glowing twilight. She loved the cherry blossoms trees, the pink
petals were so beautiful to her. She managed to get a bench to herself, and nice
view of the trees. She sat with her hands claps between her legs, and drank in
the view as if her eyes were a desert and the beautiful blossoms water.
passing by on the moderately busy street. Footsteps always echoing against the
stone softly. She didn’t take notice of the strangers, until two figures came
to a stop just on the edge of her peripheral vision. Two boys, teenagers, both
appearing to be Japanese. One had long dark hair, and seemed to have an intense
air about him, eyes narrowed. The other boy had shocking green hair much
shorter than his friend beside him, and that was the object that originally caught
her eye. He was smiling, whispering something to the long haired boy before leaving
him to stroll up to Mercy.
She turned on
the bench seat to face him, smiling. She didn’t know any Japanese, having to
rely on a translator during the meetings to exchange information. Though this
made her nervous, nothing about the boy gave her reason to fear. He was giving
her a confident smile as he approach, an orange scarf trailing behind him.
He spoke, giving a small bow of his head.
She gave her own little bow, knowing at least how to say hello. “I’m sorry but I
don’t know any Japanese.” She quickly smiled apologetically, but the boy’s
brown eye seem to light up at this.
speak English?” He grins.
“And you do
too?” Mercy’s mouth opens in pure delight.
“Yes, may I
ask you your name?” He says, still grinning.
“Call me Mercy.
All my friends do.”
beautiful name for a beautiful women.” He gives a wink, and blush rushes her
cheeks before she looks down to hide her soft smile.
may I know yours?” She covers.
Shimada at your service.” He gives another bow, and Mercy giggles. “May I sit with
Genji.” She scoots over just a bit so he can sit next to her. He keeps a
respectful few inches between them, but turns to face her.
“I see you’re
admiring the cherry blossoms.” He speaks, gesturing with one hand to the
just so beautiful, I couldn’t help but stare at them for a few minutes.” She
gushes for just a moment, loving the scenery.
wonderful, but I rather like the breathtaking view I’m staring at now.”
to try and follow his to gaze to what he thinks is more beautiful then pink
cherry blossoms in the twilight, but he finds her staring right back at her.
Her cheeks deepen to a red scarlet at she realizes the compliment.
are so cute.” She tries to get the blood flow in her cheeks under control, but
it seems she’s losing the fight.
laughs, tilting his head to look at her, “It is only the truth.”
back, and for a moment, she has a brief fantasy of seeing this boy again. He’s
only a few years younger than her, obviously a charmer, but he seems to hold a
certain respectfulness. She wonders if she could have a boy like that.
Genji. I had a wonderful time, but I must be going back.” She stands up,
noticing the darkness blanketing the city.
have to go so soon? I could show you around. Be your own little tour guide,” He
winked, but his face fell as she took her retreating steps.
“I wish I could,
but I must be going.” She smiled a soft smile that would later run through
Genji’s daydreams. Her ocean eyes swallowing him whole.
“It was lovely meeting you, Genji.
Maybe we can meet again someday.”
“Maybe,” He said it slowly, still
being taken out by the tide of her blueness.
She stops her backwards steps, a
gently look crossing her face. Her face moves to his, and she gives his cheek a
small peck with her soft lips. As she disappears down the street, she notices
he still stands there, as if in a trance. The long hair boy approaches him,
saying something she can’t hear, and Mercy heads back to her Hotel room,
thinking of his green hair.
Genji never mentioned it to her,
but it’s not like she looked the same back then. She was only twenty one, and how
could remember one pretty face in the sea of millions? She doesn’t mind that he
doesn’t remember, in fact, she treasures it. Her only little view of Genji
before he was brought to her while knocking on death’s door.
Mercy flinches involuntarily at
remember that night. The call came in, and they told her his name. She couldn’t
believe it was the same boy. When they brought his body in, it was impossible
to recognize him through the blood and ribbons of skin and destroyed organ
tissue. The only thing that she could see, was the bright green hair, and her
intense drive to save him. To fight and save as much of his human body as she
When Genji walks into her room that
night, she stares a little longer at his green visor. No, she doesn’t think he
remembers. But she’s glad to have that piece of Genji with her always.
A/N: (The inspiration for all of this struck me about a week ago. Wanted to get it up before the release. I hope all my fellow Genji/Mercy fans enjoy! The present day portion of this story takes place almost immediately after the “Dragons” animated short.)
“Multiple deep lacerations, extensive burns across the torso and face, a punctured lung…partially severed spinal cord-mein gott Jack! How is this man still alive?!”
“A damn good question Angela, but I have a more pertinent one. Can you save him?”
“Define “save”, commander. I can…I might be able to keep him stable on life support, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to walk again.”
“Genji’s a fighter. He’ll surprise you Doc.”
“I don’t like surprises Jack. In my field…they’re rarely good.”
How about a massive attack on Sanctuary by an army of something (your choice), and it's the toughest battle for all the companions and Sole yet, who fights the hardest ? Who wants to run/hide ? Who'd die, who'd get badly injuired and who'd survive with a few cuts and bruises ?
Codsworth: He’s at Curie’s side, wildly flying around and tending to the injured. He gets a few bullets grazing his casing, but he overall survives with minor damage.
Cait: She’s very vocal, yelling expletives and lobbing explosives the entire time. She won’t go down without a fight, and takes out tons of the enemy soldiers. She ends up getting badly injured by a molotov.
Curie: She’s hiding most of the time, running to safe spots to heal and administer emergency medical attention to the others. She gets nicked a few times, the worst being a large gash on her right bicep.
Danse: Years of Brotherhood training have trained him for this, so he’s a force to be reckoned with. Equipped with power armor and a laser gatling, he makes a serious dent in the army. The worst injury he gets are a few bullets to the gut.
Deacon: Smooth and sneaky espionage give him a huge advantage. He sneaks behind the enemy line and launches a mini-nuke, taking out about 1/3 of their assaultrons. Gets out without a scratch.
Hancock: Similar to Cait, he’s going wild with explosives and a mini gun. He manages to destroy some Mr. Gutsy’s before a laser shot rips through his right shoulder, incapacitating him for the rest of the battle.
Preston: He’s desperately calling for Minutemen backup, while taking down some stray soldiers that were getting too close for comfort. He’s giving it his all, considering he’s helped this place become what it is now.
Piper: Piper’s a wicked shot with a modded pistol, dashing around quickly and felling enemies left and right. She ends up with lots of scratches and a bullet whizzing past her ear, but she comes out alright.
Nick: He’s in charge of the rocket launcher, perched on a roof in a small shelter. He’s taking people out left and right, but ends up with a minigun shot tearing through his chest, severely injuring him.
MacCready: He’s on a roof across from Nick, killing the hardest enemies with precise sniper shots. Mac actually gets out completely fine, due to his smaller stature and cat-like reflexes.
X6-88: X6 became a cold, killing machine. He ruthlessly vaporized soldiers with his upgraded Institute rifle, dashing from place to place. He actually loses a hand, but he will be fine since he’s got a nanobiology to grow one back.
Strong: Donning some armor, he simply runs out onto the battlefield, car muffler in hand. He bats at soldiers like they’re golf balls, sending many flying into the air. He gets several bullets in the arm and leg, but survives.
Dogmeat: He runs around, gathering resources like bullets and stimpaks. He gets out unharmed.
After the dust settled, the battle was won. Surprisingly, Sanctuary won with no fatalities, minus a few Minutemen. It would be hard, however, to heal and get things back to normal.
Blizzard has created a universe rich in lore and history, with characters that might seem stereotypical/generic at first (which I don’t necessarily agree with - I’d argue they’re more like affectionate parodies/homages, but I won’t go into that here), but when given a more thorough look, turn out to be more interesting than one would assume from a first glance.
Because of their well fleshed-out history, the characters of Overwatch have many intriguing connections and relate to each other in a variety of ways, but none have caught my attention as much as the enigmatic assassin Reaper (Gabriel Reyes) and the doctor-turned-guardian-angel Mercy (Angela Ziegler).
Let’s have a look at what we know about these two, their history, and the clues towards their relationship that Blizzard has sprinkled throughout the lore and game - and in particular, about what happened to turn Gabriel Reyes into Reaper, and how Mercy might have been involved in it.