Work Text:
Angela just about throws herself out the window when she realizes the coffee machine is broken.
She pushes the button again, with more urgency this time, but absolutely nothing happens. With a groan, she looks back to the half-full cup that she has left. Wonderful.
She's sure she'll be able to get her hands on a new one by tomorrow, or perhaps even get it fixed, but it'll be exactly then- tomorrow. In the meantime, she has a long night of work ahead of her, and now she has nothing to keep her going through it all.
Angela stares morosely into the brown liquid that still remains in her mug. It looks more like sludge than liquid; she wishes she could say it's because it's been sitting out for the better part of an hour, but really, that's how all her coffee always looks. There's a reason nobody will ever drink it.
Well, Angela decides with a flash of rebelliousness, they can all go to hell just for once, because she happens to like her awful coffee, and with it nearly gone, so is her lifeline. She sits down at the table next to the counter with a sigh, coffee in one hand and papers in the other, and bends her head over the data reports. She's in the process of working on a new piece of biomedical equipment, something that should come in handy both in civilian life and on the combat field, but her efforts don't seem to be paying off much so far. Logically, Angela knows getting some sleep should help her see things from a new perspective, but she's also too far gone to heed said logic by now.
She's so preoccupied with the words- which are beginning to float off the page, to her mild concern- that she doesn't notice someone's entered the room until she sees a flash of dark from the corner of her eye. Angela lifts her head quickly. She isn't sure who she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the person she finds hovering in the doorway. He doesn't seem to have been expecting her either, if his posture is anything to go by; he shifts almost awkwardly, as if thinking of leaving once more.
"Genji?" Angela blinks, setting her cup down on the counter. "Shouldn't you be resting? You had a long day."
She thinks back to the Blackwatch party that arrived back to base earlier that evening, only a few hours ago. They'd been gone for nearly two weeks; as expected, Moira kept everyone in good physical shape, but when they filtered out of the Orca BW, they were all clearly exhausted, irritated, and frazzled. Angela didn't know what happened during the mission, and she didn't dare ask, but as one of the group's primary combatants, Genji absolutely should have been resting by now.
"Nothing I am not used to." Genji shakes his head. "I didn't know you were here."
He doesn't apologize, but Angela hears it hidden between his words anyway. She musters enough energy to chuckle. "It's alright. Did you need something?"
"No." Genji's eyes bounce off of her, traveling to each wall of the room before returning to a spot just over her head. "Why are you working this late?"
"You know I always do." Angela frowns, setting down her papers and tucking a flyaway strand of yellow behind her ear. "Is something wrong?"
Genji doesn't answer, but he does shift slightly, turning so that his right side is facing away from her. It's likely a subconscious movement, and that makes Angela all the more suspicious; she squints through slightly fogged lenses, realizing he's holding his arm at an odd angle.
Genji steps forwards, as if to move around her, but Angela moves over in front of him, eyes narrowed. Genji has no choice but to back off until his legs bump into one of the chairs at the table. Angela pulls out the seat across from him and sits back down; after a reluctant moment, he copies her.
"Let me see." Angela holds out a hand now that they're settled, curling her fingers in a slight come-hither motion.
Genji hesitates, tracking the movement of her hand with his dark eyes. Angela can feel his gaze burning into the furrows of her palm; he doesn't meet her gaze as he answers. "I am fine."
His voice grates on the silence of the room, mechanical undertones buzzing, but Angela has long since become acquainted with the synthetic melody. She taps her palm and does her best to give a smile, though the weariness tugging at the corners of her eyes dampens the effect. "I'm not asking, Genji. I'm telling you-"
Genji's eyes shoot back up to hers, and Angela shakes her head minutely, though she does back off a bit, withdrawing her hand to lay it flat on the table between them. "I'm telling you," she repeats, softer now, "as Dr. Ziegler- not as Angela, not even as Mercy. You're in pain, yes?"
"No." Genji sits a little straighter, and in his stiff posture, Angela can see what must have been remnants of his old life- not even that of himself, but of those around him, resentful and bitter. Ironic that it should only rear its ugly head now, after all is too late. Her sharp eyes do not miss the flinch of his shoulder as his fingers clench again, nor the wrinkle in his barely exposed brow. "I am fine," he says again.
You are not fine. Angela aches to take him into her arms, to soothe his wounds and soften his hastily constructed edges, but she knows she cannot- and besides, it is not that simple; nothing ever is. She leaves her hand on the table, palm facing upwards, and lowers her gaze to the worn wood between them. "Why can you not let me help you?"
It comes out harsher than intended, and Angela winces, cursing herself over in her mind. Stupid, stupid; she has always been warned against letting her more base emotions in the way. She chances a glance back up. Genji is still staring at her, nearly the same as before; now, though, his head has tilted over partially. "Why do you want to help me?" he counters, and then presses forwards before Angela can form a response. "What do you want from me? I know I am broken. I know I am not worthy of your kindness. Why do you insist on-"
His fingers curl into a fist; sparks rise from his arm, and his hand goes limp, falling forwards across the table. It lands barely a centimeter from Angela's. "Why do you insist on all of this?"
Angela stares down at their palms. Her own skin looks soft and delicate next to the rough metal of his. She wants so badly to take up his hand, but she refrains. "It's only my job," she says. A half-truth at best.
Genji makes a sort of sound somewhere in his throat, between a scoff and a laugh. "Your job is not to coddle me, doctor."
"Well, it's a good thing that is not what I intend to do. Nor have I done any such thing." Angela catches his eye again and forces him to hold the contact. "You mean to insult yourself, but in doing so, you also insult me. Why should I not care for you, Genji? What have you done that is truly so terrible, so awful that I should not treat you with respect and love, as everyone else?"
Genji is silent for so long that Angela begins to fear she's said something wrong. This time, she is the one to look away and instead busies herself with an inspection of Genji's arm from a distance. Even now, she can see that some of the wiring has been worn through; several of the plates will have to be replaced, especially before the next mission. She takes a deep breath, ready to put it bluntly, but that's when Genji finally speaks.
"I know what I have become. A monster." He glances up to her. Despite the fact that most of his face is covered, Angela can always see his eyes. The eyes are the most expressive part of a person's face, and his burn with a thousand flaming coals. "You ask what I have done. See for yourself."
"But... I don't understand." Angela shakes her head, bemused. "You didn't choose to 'become' this. And it isn't as if it automatically makes you a terrible person."
"Look at me." Genji leans forwards over the table, shoulders tensing as he balances himself on his other arm. "I am not even a person anymore. You would never understand."
Angela pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose where they've slipped down a tad. "Maybe so," she says quietly. He's right; she can't understand, not exactly. "Maybe you think so," she amends. "But that doesn't mean that I can't still care."
Genji's eyes bore into her for a moment more. When Angela lifts her glance to meet him evenly, they round at the corners with a bit of barely concealed surprise. She wonders if she imagines the weight that seems to lift off of him as he sits back into his chair with a heavy sigh. "You are a strange person."
Angela hums, relieved that some of the tension seems to have been mitigated at last. "I don't know about that, but I do try. Will you let me see now?"
Genji gives her a final once-over that would be calculating, if he had a truly calculating bone in his body. "Fine," he sighs, extending his arm to her.
Angela finally lets herself take his fingers between her own, marvelling again at how warm they are; she might have thought them flesh and blood if not for the color and overly smooth texture. Gently, she skims her hand up his forearm, testing for weakness or fluctuations in temperature, and she thinks she sees him shiver from the corner of her eye.
"We'll need to get you a few replacement parts," she announces at last, once she's satisfied with the extent of her observations. "Try not to overexert yourself, please. No extensive training and no missions until I've gotten you fixed up. Yes?"
Genji doesn't answer. Angela hesitates with her fingers dancing along the edge of his wrist. "Genji?" she calls out, quieter.
He starts, as if waking from a trance. "I... Yes. I understand."
It's the first time she's gotten him to agree so swiftly. Angela raises a slender brow, letting her hand drift down cautiously to settle in his. Genji blinks at her, lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks, and then he closes his fingers around hers. It's a loose grip, barely enough to qualify as a hand hold, and yet Angela finds warmth rising to her cheeks anyway- as well as in her heart. Genji's hand is slack, as if he's afraid of breaking Angela's; Angela takes the initiative, squeezing his instead.
"Do you understand now?" she asks, barely daring to even speak at all, lest she ruin it.
Genji is still wary, she can tell, but this is the most progress he's made so far. He flexes his fingers in her grasp. "I am not a child."
Angela pauses, and then moves to apologize, but then she realizes that Genji's eyes have curved up at the bottoms. She cannot see his mouth, it's true, but it almost seems that he's....
"Are you smiling?" she blurts out, which... may not be the best thing to say, but damn it, she's barely seen him express himself at all since he came to the base, and it's enough to bring a quirk to her lips as well, almost enough to wipe days' worth of exhaustion from her mind.
"What, I'm not allowed to?" Quick as it had come, it's gone, but Angela can tell by the new tint to his voice that he is still teasing, and she realizes that he's just given her a glimpse of something deep inside of him, hidden away beneath the layers of hurt. Perhaps a hint of his past that she has only heard of- or maybe he hasn't really changed all that much after all.
Angela exhales through her nose, running her thumb quickly over his. "Please," she says. "If you are in pain again, or if you need anything, come to me. I'll be here."
"... I know."
It's not a yes, but it's not a no either, and Angela knows it's the best she'll get for now. She can't hold back a sudden yawn; with a blush of embarrassment, she flicks her eyes over to the clock hanging over the counter, and they widen immediately.
Genji follows her gaze. "It is late," he observes, entirely unnecessarily. "You should rest, doctor."
"Ughh." Angela tears her free hand through her hair, suddenly acutely aware of how tangled the blonde locks are. "I have so much left to do, though. Will you pass me the coffee on the counter?"
She starts to turn in search of her clipboard where she'd been taking notes, but is stopped by a firm tug on her arm. She turns in surprise.
"No," Genji decides in answer to her stare. "You can do that tomorrow. For now, you must sleep."
"I only need to do a bit," Angela lies through her teeth.
Genji huffs through his nose in what Angela has recognized by now as a frustrated habit of his. "You have helped me tonight- in more ways than one, I think," he says sharply. "Now let me help you."
It's enough to startle Angela into stillness, and that's enough for Genji to start leading her out of the kitchen, taking her back towards the hallway where their rooms are situated. Angela doesn't struggle against him, even once her mind catches up to the meaning of her words; she's too busy turning them over in her head. She glances to him once on the short journey there, and though his fingers tighten minutely around hers, he does not look back.
Angela doesn't realize they've arrived outside her room until Genji pauses and releases her hand. Her palm is sweating slightly, she realizes, and she wipes it on her pants as surreptitiously as she can manage. Genji looks at her quietly. "Go."
"... Oh." Angela coughs and reaches into her pocket for her room key, hurrying to unlock the door. Genji lingers behind her even as she manages to wrench it open sloppily and winds her way into the room. She pauses, turning to regard him.
Angela finds that she has no words, not yet, and she is grateful for Genji's punctuality when he simply says, "Goodnight, Doctor Ziegler. I will see you tomorrow."
He moves, but Angela wedges her hand between the door and the frame before he can close it. Genji stares at her inquisitively, and Angela coughs again. "Please," she says, "you should call me Angela."
She half expects him to argue, so it's a pleasant surprise when he agrees quite readily with a, "Goodnight then, Angela. Rest well."
Then he's gone, and Angela is left to stand in the half-open doorway, thinking with baited breath of the way her name rolls on his tongue.