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“I always wanted to serve here.”
The Gibraltan sun beats down on them all; a single angry eye in a sea of brilliant blue sky. The old Overwatch base is deserted, the creeks and ticks of warming metal giving the place a haunted feel which would have spooked her, had she not been enjoying the heat of the coming day.
“It’s too bloody hot for me. Always has been.” Tracer sighs, shoving her aviator sunglasses higher up her sweaty nose, her forehead and cheeks slowly turning pink to herald in a thousand fresh freckles.
Brits. They can’t handle the sun. Fareeha muses to herself, checking her rocket launcher again just to make sure. It is in meticulous condition, like all her gear. Every bolt is tightened, every hinge oiled and clean, ready for action. Green across the board. Satisfied, she turns her gaze to the gleaming sea below the cliffs, inhaling the salty sea air happily. After dreary London, Gibraltar is like a small section of paradise.
The sound of Angela’s heels turn Fareeha’s head. She is striding towards them both, two water bottles clutched in her hands. Hair tied back beneath the golden strip of her halo, Angela looks as beautiful as she always does, the wings of her Valkyrie suit bobbing cheerfully at her back.
Tracer leaps to her feet from her reclining position on her crate, blinking towards Angela with her characteristic whoosh and a cheerful, “Cheers, love! I was dyin’ up there!”
“We have to make sure we’re hydrated.” Angela smiles, passing the water to Tracer. She cracks the bottle open, taking an enormous gulp, before blinking away again, faster than any bullet.
Smiling under her helm, Fareeha turns back to the horizon, idly fingering the safety latch on her rocket launcher. Delicate as a breeze, Angela lands beside her, the brilliant yellow of her wings illuminating the world around her, brighter than any sun. They stand together in silence for a few moments, before a water bottle appears under Fareeha’s nose.
She looks down at it. “Thank you, but I’m all right.”
“Humour me.”
Fareeha takes the water. Securing her rocket launcher onto her back between her Raptora’s wings, she opens the bottle with a quick twist and takes a sip. It is cool, and has a slight lemon flavour; refreshing, driving away the last dregs of morning grogginess. Humming appreciatively, Fareeha thanks Angela and receives a glowing smile in return before they fall into a slightly awkward silence.
A quick glance around tells Fareeha that they are alone together; they hadn’t been since the night in London, when Angela had kissed her.
No, when we kissed each other. I didn’t just stand there dumbly while she tried to stick her tongue in my mouth.
Angela hadn’t actually tried to stick her tongue inside Fareeha’s mouth, but part of her wishes she had. She privately wishes other parts of Angela had been inside her mouth, but she doesn’t dare let the thought linger for more that a few moments. Fraternization is punishable by dismissal for a reason, and an underground, newly instated Overwatch cannot afford its members being compromised.
Besides, even if she started something with Angela, it wasn’t as though she could continue it if she moved back to working with Helix. A long distance relationship in jobs as dangerous as theirs, the thought of the unknown scares her more than a fraternization charge. Not knowing if Angela is alive or dead, not knowing where she is or where she’s been, or who she’s fighting. There are too many unknowns for her.
Apparently unaware of the frantic scrambling of Fareeha’s mind, Angela herself sighs peacefully and leans back against the crates Tracer had been sitting on, setting her Caduceus staff carefully aside.
“It’s so beautiful here.” Angela says. Fareeha glances around to see her shading her eyes, squinting at the rolling ocean. “When I was a girl my family would take holidays to the south of France. Naturist camps, would you believe it.”
Fareeha has a few moments of her brain short circuiting as an image of a very naked adult Angela pops into her mind’s eye. She clenches her jaw and shakes it away like a dog trying to rid itself of a bothersome fly, and listens to what Angela is saying.
“I used to run down to the sea with my father and leap into the water. I was seven, maybe eight at the time.” She sighs again. “My father used to tell me never to be afraid of the sea, but to have a healthy respect for it, otherwise she will suck you under and never spit you out.”
Fareeha, conscious of the fact she has never known her father’s name, or even what he looked like, nods. “He sounds very wise.”
The faint lines around Angela’s eyes tighten with an old pain, her lips pressing into a slight line as she continues to stare out to sea. “He was wise, yes. He is gone now, though. Taken by war.”
Made clumsy by awkwardness, Fareeha doesn’t quite know what to say. She apologies with the stilted tone of someone struck by surprise, wincing when she realises it doesn’t sound sincere.
Angela laughs, though. “It’s not your fault. My parents were the reason I joined Overwatch - I didn’t agree with the way Overwatch kept the peace, but I realised that working for them would allow me to save more lives. So here I am.”
“You’re very noble.” Fareeha says sincerely, and when Angela shakes her head, she continues, “And you’re modest. And brave. I couldn't sweep around the battlefield like you do, keeping everyone on their feet.”
Fareeha takes to examining a small stone when she feels Angela’s gaze on her, scrutinising, piercing as the bullet she was shot with. Summoning the last dregs of her courage, Fareeha braces herself, “What I'm trying to say is-”
“Talon forces incoming!” Tracer’s voice electrifies Fareeha’s radio, sending her heart into a thunderous gallop. Angela offers her a last, wide-eyed look as if to say they would continue talking later, before she grabs her staff and leaps down off the edge of the building. She sprints towards the facility to where Winston and the others are emerging, shoulders rolling, armour gleaming in the morning light.
“What’s their position?” Soldier 76’s voice is hard in Fareeha’s ear as she follows Angela, her Raptora slowing her fall so she glides down towards the group. Torbjörn’s eye is roaming the courtyard, his hammer thundering against his turret as he sets one up at astonishing speed, matching the uncomfortable lurch of Fareeha’s heart. The heady cocktail of fear and anticipation is dizzying. She takes her rocket launcher in hand, weighing its comforting bulk in her arms, having forgotten her water, and waits for orders.
“They’re not far away, travelling by shuttle due east!” Tracer is saying, her voice throbbing with excitement. There is a flash of blue light, and Tracer is standing beside them, panting lightly and grinning toothily. “What’s the plan, then?”
Soldier 76’s visor glows enigmatically, his brows tightening behind it, clearly thinking quickly and carefully. He looks around, flexes his fingers on his rifle, and then speaks. “Pharah, take position on high, and keep a look out for that shuttle. Torbjörn, Winston, hold this position and defend the courtyard. Tracer, you and I will scout the facility. Mercy?”
“Sir?”
“Do what you always do.”
Fareeha watches as they share a look, and squashes a rising, roaring jealousy when Soldier 76 takes Angela’s hand, squeezing it gently. Thankful her helmet hides most of her face, she kicks a heel into the ground and soars into the sky, using the pressure pads on her thumbs to direct her thrusters until she lands lightly on the overhang above the door. She watches as the others follow their orders from above, her visor labelling each member of her team. At the last moment she presses a small button on her helmet, muttering Angela’s call name. The visor locks on, and she satisfies herself with being able to keep a tab on the medic’s whereabouts at all times.
Running a final check on her systems and getting a green light across the board, Fareeha turns her gaze to the skies, ears perked for the sounds of a shuttle approach. Angela’s symbol - a small red cross - darts around her vizor like a pinball, no doubt as she keeps a pace with Soldier 76 and Tracer. Winston and Torbjörn are circling below her, double and triple checking the turrets while Winston sings softly to himself.
The first sign of them is the muffled throb of an engine.
Tracer is the first to spot them, and Fareeha’s stomach leaps up her throat as she hears muffled gunfire both in her radio and from across the compound. Angela’s marker blinks furiously and Fareeha restrains the urge to burst up into the sky and join the fight, preoccupied with watching the way Soldier 76 and Tracer’s name start returning to the courtyard.
“Incoming!”
An enormous explosion rocks the entire base. Fareeha drops to one knee, aiming her rocket launcher at the entrance to the courtyard as Angela, Tracer and Solider 76 dart around the corner. She must be as calm as the falcon, as steady as the eagle. She calmly flicks off the safety, inhaling slowly as she feels the ghost of her mother rest a hand over her own, finger resting lightly on the trigger.
Swift as snakes, the Talon agents burst into view. Four. Five. Six of them. The thunder of Torbjörn’s turrets scatter them, sending them diving away from the bullet storm. They escape by the skin of their teeth, and Fareeha adjusts her position.
Her mother’s whisper comes to her on the breeze, calm as the desert, steady as steel.
Strike as the falcon strikes, Fareeha. Never hesitate.
She keeps her gaze fixed on one of the doorways, and the world collapses, becoming nothing except the steady pump of her heart, the rise and fall of her breathing and the darkness beyond the door.
Movement. The slightest flash of a boot.
Now!
She pulls the trigger, and the world explodes. Her body braces as the rocket launcher belches out a rocket, kicking her back slightly with the force, sending the screaming projectile hurtling into the doorway. There is an almighty crash, and screams rend the air. Fareeha lets loose another howling strike and the screams cut out, muffled by the roar of the turrets below.
Tracer is laughing as she blinks around the battlefield, her pistols matching her cackle for cackle in tiny bursts of light. Soldier 76 is firing suppressive shots either side of the courtyard entryway while Winston comes galloping forward, his fists pounding the ground as he unleashes a roar which makes the hairs on the back of Fareeha’s neck stand on end. Torbjörn is hammering at his turrets, keeping them stocked with bullets, keeping them informed of their integrity with his gruff voice.
Angela… Angela is the shining beacon of light in the middle of the courtyard, her wings fully extended, burning brighter than the sun as she faces the entrance, her staff at her side. Fareeha finds herself filled with an impossible feeling, so powerful she finds her voice calling a blessing to God, Arabic falling from her tongue.
Thank you, God. Thank you, God, for blessing my days with this woman.
At her outcry, Angela turns to look at her, radiant with hope. Their eyes meet, the sea and the sky crashing with onyx, as the Talon agents form a united force at the entrance, barriers raised against the onslaught of Torbjörn’s turrets. Some of their shots find their marks, blood blurring through the air as Winston and Soldier 76 take hits. Tracer nearly crashes into the defensive line, her high pitched shriek of laughter cracking through the air like a whip.
She knows what to do.
She kicks her heel, Raptora roaring as she bursts up into the sky, the sun gleaming off her wings as she flies out over her team. Her fingers press all five buttons in her gloves and her suit vibrates thunderously, hatches bursting open with fierce certainty. She hears Tracer whooping, Soldier 76 barking for the others to find cover, Angela’s voice filling her mind.
I’m not a hero.
You are to me.
“Justice rains from above!”
The rockets come screaming out of her, blasting past the energy shields of the Talon agents and sending them burning and dying, scattered and broken under the onslaught. She feels her mouth curling open to add her cry to the thunder of fire, her thrusters keeping her airborne until she is spent. The whole universe is a mess of light and shouts and out of the chaos she sees Angela soaring up to meet her - they crash together, metal against metal, arms wrapping around a thin waist as Fareeha says the only truth she knows.
“I’m staying! I’m staying with Overwatch!”
They fall together slowly, landing lightly, still clutched together in a tight embrace. The others creep out of their shelters, surveying the devastation and clapping each other on the shoulders.
“That was wicked!” Tracer grins, blinking to stand at their side. Fareeha hastily lets go of Angela’s waist, dusting off her armour as she feels her cheeks warm under her visor. “It was like, fuckin’ incredible! You gotta do that every time we’re pinned down, mate!”
“I was just doing my duty.” Fareeha replies, embarrassed. “Actually, it was quite dangerous. They could have picked me out of the sky if they’d had a sniper.”
“What made you do it then?” Soldier 76 asks quietly.
Fareeha looks into Angela’s eyes, “A healthy dose of heroism.”