Chapter Text
They’re wandering the gardens down the street from Angela’s place. She’s admiring the flowers as he’s admiring her. They walk hand in hand without speaking and it’s the most peaceful and content he’s felt in a long time. It stands to reason it’s time for his world to come crashing down.
He’s not wrong.
It happens so fast he has no time to react before Angela is crumbling in his arms, bleeding from the abdomen and eyes wide in fear. She’s reaching for him, clinging to his hoodie.
He doesn’t bother looking for Widowmaker. She’ll get what’s coming to her. After he takes care of Angela. He scoops her up into his arms as she clings to him.
“Listen,” she begins. “We both know I’m not making it through this.”
“No,” he says firmly.
She coughs and blood spews onto her blouse.
“Angela, you’re going to be okay,” he says and tries to make himself believe it. “Please. Just hang on for me.”
***
When he arrives at Overwatch Headquarters he fears for a moment that they won’t let him in, but the sight of their Angel bleeding profusely and unconscious in his arms has them ushering him inside.
Fareeha takes her from him and carries her to the infirmary where he’s left in the hallway.
His mistakes are weighing on him and he crumbles to the polished floor. He’s startled by the door opening and Fareeha stepping out into the hallway.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he says quickly.
“I know,” she says, not looking at him.
He looks up at her, fully grown and so much more than he could’ve imagined for her. “No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“I know,” she repeats.
He sighs and curls in on himself, forehead resting on his knees.
“Do you ever wonder--what’s the point?” he mumbles to himself. “What’s the point of having something good it it’s just going to be ripped away from you as payment for your sins?”
“She’s alright, Gabriel. Or do you prefer Reaper these days?” she questions idly. Her stance is formal as is her tone and he wonders how she can maintain such calm in a time like this. Then again professionalism was never his strong suit. “You’re not a bad person, Reaper. You were always kind as you are now. You’ve just lost your way. The others don’t see it, but I do.”
He sighs again, “I hate myself. That’s not going to change.”
“Would you like to see her?” she asks.
Reaper perks up, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. She smiles gently and opens the door.
He steps inside and the door closes behind him.
“Angela,” he says softly, approaching the bed. It doesn’t look comfortable, but he doubts she’s lucid enough to complain.
Her eyes open and she blinks slowly at him before softly saying, “Hey.”
“Hey,” he echoes back. “You were right, but I guess it’s a little late for that.”
She grins, “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.”
“You don’t hate to say that. You’re reveling in the opportunity to be right,” he says, smoothing her hair and smiling softly.
“We chose each other, but it was the wrong choice wasn’t it?” she says, turning her attention away from him and focusing it on the ceiling.
Part of him is ready to surrender; ready to give up the dream he’s trying to build with Angela. The other part of him is stronger, however, and is unwilling to relinquish what he has worked so hard for.
“No,” he says firmly. “No, it wasn’t.”