Work Text:
it is angela who finds you, sitting on the edge of one of the numerous cliffs of gibraltar, staring out at the sea. it is at once both a familiar and unfamiliar sight, the memories of your younger years spent on this base blurred by the passage of time. now, you do not know how to think of that time back then, whether it is tainted with the knowledge you now know.
others would call it wisdom. you just know that it tastes like ashes in the back of your throat, suffocating and acrid.
“it used to be my dream,” you say as angela sits down beside you, looking as tired as you feel, “to join overwatch, bring order out of chaos and to protect the innocent.”
angela doesn’t say anything, just slips her hand in yours.
“but it feels like no matter what,” you continue, “nothing ever changes, no matter how hard we try, there are always casualties, always too much blood and death. is it even worth it?”
“fareeha,” angela says, her crisp voice breaking through your thoughts, “it is. of course it is.”
“how can it be? when–” the child’s face flashes before your eyes again. you do not even know their name. they were so young and trusted you to keep them safe.
closing your eyes, the bloody scene of the battlefield keeps replaying in your mind and you grit your teeth as a wave of nausea rises. you lash out, “how could you understand, angela?”
“you think i do not?” angela says, voice cold. “i am a doctor, fareeha, i see death daily, countless lives start and end with me and do you think that i am so heartless to never feel that every death is a personal failure? that i do not fear the day it may be you on my operating table? and that there may be nothing that i can do to save you?”
she is crying and you can not help but reach out to her. you cup her face in your hands and gently wipe the tears away.
“i’m sorry,” you say, voice hoarse.
she presses a kiss to the palm of your hand and curls her fingers into yours.
“we’re all just doing our best,” she says, her eyes bluer than the sea and sky. you lean in to kiss her and it tastes like the bitterness of today mixed into a heady hope for tomorrow. it’s perfect.
“to make tomorrow a better day,” you say when the two of you part and you share a smile with her as you watch the sun dip below the horizon.
in your mind, you say a quick prayer for the child’s soul. it will not be the last time you think of them, there will probably still be many sleepless nights and quiet regrets that sit in the back of your mind for a long time to come, but here, sitting next to one of the strongest women you have ever known (and you have been fortunate to meet many strong women), you feel like you can believe again.