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The fight was over. The remainder of the Los Muertos gang were huddled in a small group in the corner, the guns of the former Overwatch agents trained on them. A few days ago the just-recalled team had received an anonymous tip explaining that the Los Muertos gang had secured a weapon. What the weapon was, the tip did not elaborate. Instead the team had rushed to Dorado only to find an ominous looking device - a container reinforced with thick metal coils filled with a glowing blue substance and bolted to the back of a red hover-truck - was about to leave the area. The team had set about returning the payload to Dorado’s LumériCo power plant situated just beyond the town. The task had been a lot easier said than done. The members of the Los Muertos gang fought their advance every step of the way, going so far as to employ explosives within the town.
Genji wobbled on his feet, the fight in the town and within the power plant had taken much from him. His cybernetic implants were strained beyond their limits and his vision swam, but he couldn’t lie down, not yet. In the corner Reinhardt and Winston watched over the captured gang members, giving them hard shoves whenever they tried to misbehave. Tracer - her usual orange suit streaked with burns - talked quickly to LumériCo’s staff, explaining the situation and begging for their cooperation. Genji took this all in with a glance, the one he searched for was nowhere in sight. Hauling himself up he hobbled around the payload, using it to support his weight. He had to find her, he could not say why right now - just that he had to.
Coming around the front of the payload he saw her. About three meters from the nose of the truck, Mercy’s crumpled body lay on the steps.
“No...no, no, no, no, no…”
He pushed himself hard from the payload. He managed one, two steps before his wobbly legs gave out beneath him. On hands and knees he crawled to the unmoving body that was their fifth and final member of the team. The doctor’s body was curled on the steps, golden blonde hair that had escaped her tight ponytail covered her face. Her wings, usually folded neatly behind her were splayed at odd angles. She looked as if she were sleeping. Reaching her prone form, Genji gently lifted the doctor’s hair away from her face. Her eyes were closed, mouth hanging slightly open, a scar on her cheek trickled blood.
“Dr. Ziegler?” He shook her shoulders gently. No response. He shook again, more insistent. Still nothing. Surely she was asleep, soon she would wake up and smile that bright smile he knew so well. His hands were trembling now, sending vibrations throughout his body that left him cold, so cold. He reached once more for her shoulder and shook it. She didn’t respond, a small part of his mind didn’t think she would.
No. No, he couldn’t accept this.
With shaking hands Genji flipped the doctor into his arms. Her head lolled back on her neck, unresponsive. His eyes skimmed her body trying to look for something, anything that would indicate she was...Wetness at the small of her back drew his attention. Slowly, hardly breathing, he lifted his hand from where he had placed it on her back. It came away red. So drenched in blood, so dark, it turned his hand black in the light.
“No…”
Gripping her in a tight embrace, Genji rocked too and fro. He remembered now, remembered all the details of it. He had gone down, darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision. And she had come, a bright light that seared through the darkness to reach him. Heroes never die. That’s what she said. And then she had crumpled over. In her place had stood Los Muertos, the big thug with pink tattoos glowing. In one hand he held a bat riddled with bent nails, in the other hand he held a shotgun, still smoking from the blast.
The doctor had saved him again. And he could do nothing but kill the one that hurt her.
He didn’t know how long he stayed this way, with all other eyes on him. Dimly he heard their voices and then the footsteps. The footsteps drew closer, their loud thuds echoing in his ears. Until they stopped, a feet away from him. Genji looked up, brows furrowing in anger, he wanted to be left alone, left to grief alone. Instead he looked up into the visor of one who could not be local staff or thug, nor for that matter - one of Overwatch’s agents. Decked out in a bright blue jacket that had seen too many battles, the man’s red visor met Genji’s green one and held his gaze. Nodding once, the stranger knelt. This close, Genji noticed the scar that crossed his forehead and disappeared beneath his mask. The snow-white hair that sat upon his head was coated with dirt, across the man’s back was slung a Heavy Pulse Rifle. The strange man reached into his jacket, fumbling. After a few seconds, he produced a tin cannister and mounted it on the floor.
Golden light burst from the little cannister, covering Genji, Mercy and the stranger in its warm light. Genji had felt this light before, it was a familiar feeling - one that mended broken bones and skin, and chased away pain. He would recognise Dr. Ziegler’s work anywhere.
“Biotic fields down.”
Genji stared at the stranger, dumbfounded. With another nod, the old stranger rose, knees creaking and turned away. All Genji would remember of the strange man before he melded into shadows were the bright number ‘76’ written across his back.
A moan drew his attention back to the body in his arms.
“Dr. Ziegler?” Genji asked, voice shaking. He held his breath, hope thick in his chest. The doctor groaned again. Eyelids fluttering, blue eyes peeked out from under thick lashes.
“G-Genji?” Mercy murmured. She raised a hand, fingertips brushing Genji’s visor before dropping back onto the floor. She smiled, a tired smile. He must have choked back a sob, or he thought he did. The next thing he knew, his head was buried deep in the crook of her neck as he hugged her tightly to his chest.