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It starts like this: Pharah, flying too close to the sun. Mercy, too late, just barely too late. Like a scene from her nightmares brought to garish reality. Too late, always too late.
It starts like this: A metal-clad body falling limp to the ground. Half her face obscured by her helmet, the other half frozen in an expression of shock. Another body, smaller, lighter, flying over to her, wings spread and blaster drawn, a look of furious concentration on her face as she defends the fallen soldier.
It starts like this: The last of the bots falling motionless to the floor as the avenging angel turns to her fallen comrade. Blood and dirt streak her face, and her hands are shaking as she revives her, hoping that this won't be the time it fails her.
It starts like this: Pharah coming around to Mercy's relieved sigh. The soldier laughing and joking as tears dry on the medic's face. A silent understanding, of we don't talk about this, a peace wrought with tension, fragile and ready to break.
Mercy is silent throughout the return to base, is silent as she sheds her Valkyrie suit and returns to being Dr Ziegler, is silent as she tries to stop the slight tremor that won't leave her hands. She retreats to her office, not wanting to ruin the mood following the successful mission, and she doesn't notice that she's being followed until she arrives.
“Hey, I wanted to say thank you,” Fareeha said, leaning against the door.
Angela looked up, a slight frown on her face.
“I don't know what I'd do without you,” she continued, clearly made slightly uncomfortable by the lack of response.
“I should hope you'd be more careful,” said Dr Ziegler, her tone frosty, “Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
“I have faith in you, doc,” said Fareeha, a light smile on her lips, “I know you've patched up worse before.”
“That's no excuse,” she said, her lips thinning and a frown furrowing her brow, “You shouldn't get complacent. Even I have my limits, you know.”
“Well, I-” Fareeha began, her smile growing awkward.
“You died today, Fareeha,” interrupted the doctor, her voice cracking, “Doesn't that mean anything to you?”
“But- I mean, I didn't,” she said, her face falling, “I'm here now, aren't I?”
“You so easily couldn't be,” she continued, her voice rising, “If I hadn't been there- If I had been slower- If I was too late-”
“But you were there,” said Fareeha, stepping forwards, her tone soothing, “You weren't too late, I'm fine.”
“Don't you understand?” she snapped, her voice furious, tears welling up and spilling over and then angrily brushed away, “Don't you have any idea?”
“Angela, what's wrong?” Fareeha asked, a concerned frown on her face, “Why are you so upset?”
“God damn it,” the doctor was yelling now, her hands balled up into fists, “Because I love you, okay?”
Fareeha stood there, shocked, unable to speak. Tears were flowing freely down the doctor's cheeks now, and she angrily wiped them away on the sleeve of her lab coat before burying her face in her hands.
“Verdammt,” she muttered, her fingers flexing in her hair.
“I'm sorry,” Fareeha said, standing next to her now, a hand hovering anxiously over her back as she wondered whether the touch would make it better or worse, “I'm sorry, you're right, I should be more careful-”
“No,” interrupted Angela, shaking her head and looking up at her, “I'm being silly, I know, you're just doing your job-”
“I'm making your job harder than it has to be,” she said, her lips quirking into a half-smile.
Angela's laugh was shaky but there.
“You all do that,” she said, smiling through the tears that still spilled down her cheeks, “It's part of the job description, I think.”
“I'm sorry,” Fareeha said again, her hand gently falling onto the doctor's shoulder.
“Me too,” Angela sighed, looking up at her and then resting her head gently against her side, “Me too.”
“I should have thought about how hard it would be for you,” Fareeha continued, her hand slipping into Angela's hair, “Maybe we shouldn't work together-”
“God, that would be worse,” Angela interrupted, shaking her head, “It's fine. I'll be fine. It's my own stupid fault for falling in love with you.”
Fareeha laughed.
“Well, if it helps, I'm glad you did,” she said, leaning down to kiss the tears from her cheeks, “And hey, you know what?”
“What?” said Angela, looking up at her.
“I think this is the first time you've said you love me,” she said, grinning, “Maybe I should die more often.”
Angela's fist was sinking into her side before she finished her sentence, and for a doctor, she punched pretty hard.
“Don't you dare,” she said, her expression fierce.
“I won't,” Fareeha promised.