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Chapter Text

Genji Shimada had been called many things in his life, handsome, charming, but there was one characteristic that seemed to stick throughout the years. Spoiled. Spoiled with everything his heart could ever desire. And perhaps that was why his rebellious streak began.

Genji winced as the large oak door of Shimada castle creaked under his attempt to sneak back in silently. He felt a pair of eyes on him.

“Sneaking out again,” questioned his brother Hanzo.

“Relax, it is not like anyone else here will know, everyone is asleep. What are you going to do punish me?” Genji walked past his glowering brother, casually leaning his head back on interlaced palms. He shook out his hair, drenched from the rain.

“Genji please,” Hanzo turned towards his younger brother, who was now lounging on one of the large chairs in the room. It had been one thing when his brother decided that perhaps he would dye his hair green, just to stand out a little, Hanzo could tolerate that though he would never admit to Genji that he thought he looked like steamed broccoli. He could even put up with his constant sneaking out; to do only God knows what each night. But the attitude his brother developed over the years seemed to only be getting worse. The more freedom his was given the more selfish he seemed, as the structured life Genji once led crumbled so did his kindness. A crack of thunder sounded from outside. “I do worry about you Genji, I ask for my sake and perhaps your own, to rein yourself in.”

“Well I did not ask you to worry about me did I,” Genji snapped back. He watched the shocked expression pass on his older brother’s face. Hanzo finally unfolded his arms, looking less like a stern parent and more like his brother. Genji regretted what he said, knowing his brother was some of the only family he had left, but he made no attempt to apologize. He continued to glare at Hanzo, who only looked disappointed.

“Very well then,” Hanzo stated walking past his brother, whose eyes followed him with every step “I suppose I might see you in the morning then, if you do not go running off again.” Hanzo exited the room with one last glance to his brother who seemed to be pouting at the grand doors of the castle. “Goodnight Genji.”

Genji stewed in his feelings, torn between feeling good about telling his brother off, and feeling sorry about doing so. He finally stood from the chair and paced in an effort to calm his mind. Genji let out a frustrated grunt and tugged at the green locks on his head. “What do you know Hanzo,” Genji mumbled to himself, he picked up the vase of the nearest table and threw it towards the wall. It shattered. Genji felt nothing for it.

A knock sounded at the door as Genji clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to will away some of his anger. He glanced at the time, it was far into the night, and much too late for visitors. The twenty-five year old glanced at his pathway out of the main foyer; he could simply go to his room and leave the person knocking. But perhaps it was the malice Hanzo had left him with for the night, or maybe he just really felt like yelling at someone else for once. Genji strode towards the large oak doors, grasping the dragon shaped handle and tugging on it harshly.

“What do you want,” Genji said, suddenly startled when he had to look a whole a head down to see the person. And even then all he could see was the top of the black cloak they wore. Genji was no giant by any means, but this person, they were tiny. Genji thought about how funny it would be to mock them about it, but they spoke suddenly.

“Please sir,” came the broken voice of an old crone “I ask only for a night of shelter from this bitter cold.”

“Shelter,” he questioned, “I do not think so.” Genji moved to close the door in the woman’s face, when she suddenly grasped his wrist. He looked down to see the wrinkled hand, seeming to be an odd shade of purple. He decided the color was a trick of the mind.

“Please,” she said again, now holding a red rose in her other hand “I will give you this, if you only help me.”

“Ha,” Genji scoffed in her face, or towards where he thought her face would be if he could see it. “A rose, what advantage would a flower give me, I have already said no, leave immediately.” He turned again to close the door, the purple hand still firmly on his wrist.

“I would warn you not to be fooled by appearances,” the woman said, her voice taking on a hint of an accent. Genji stared at her, then shook free of her hold.

“Leave,” his voice had finality to it this time, “or I will make you.” His hand held firm on the edge of the door, but as he made his move to finally swing it closed, the crone’s hand planted securely against it. He stared at it in the good light this time, the purplish hue was unmistakably not a trick of his mind. Genji’s eyes widened as the wrinkled on her skin began to melt away. He looked back towards the woman and saw she was now at his height. The tattered black cloak fell away, and Genji saw her face. She was undeniably beautiful, sharp angles to her features and yellow eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul. Genji stumbled back at the sudden change.

“A chance wasted,” her voice was now coated in a French accent, not something he heard commonly but unmistakable nonetheless. “Such a naïve, and selfish boy,” she spat at him “I considered sparing you from punishment, but I can see there is truly no love in your heart.” She shook her head, her free hand now sparking with purple magic. Genji fell to his knees in front of her.

“Please, I did not know, I did not mean,” he was cut off.

“Silence,” she said “a lesson for you then.” She touched her glowing hand to the back of the man pleading before her. “Cursed you will be, and so will your castle, I give you my rose as an aid for you.” She looked down on him, the focal point as her magic spread through the rest of the castle. “Should you learn to love another, and earn their love in return, your spell will be broken.” She lifted her hand from him. “Learn from this Genji Shimada,” she said, and without another word, disappeared.

Genji felt cold. He looked up attempting to locate the woman, but found nothing but the rose, and a mirror lying in her wake. Genji moved to snatch the rose to inspect it closer, but looked in horror, as the hand that reached out was metallic, robotic even. He felt a panic rise to him as he scrambled back further into the castle. He stared at both of his hands turning them over and over again. His breaths came in short bursts, trying to fill lungs that felt like they weren’t lungs anymore. He touched a hand to his head, only to be met with the barrier of a metallic helm.

“H-Hanzo,” Genji said still attempting to touch his face. He gasped at the sound of his own voice. Robotic. Genji clambered to the staircase moving towards his room located in the west wing. He tried not to pay attention to the twisted dragons, and dark paintings that now coated the interior of the castle.

Genji burst into the room, moving quickly towards the mirror. And he stared at himself.

He stared for what felt like forever.

Gone was his skin, and green hair. Metallic plating, and a helm with a intimidating green glow replaced them. His arm no longer pulsed with blood, but whirred with the sounds of machinery. Genji was not human anymore.

He reached a hand out to the mirror, attempting to touch his reflection to see if it was truly him. Instead he brought a fist crashing through it. He felt his breathing increase, and whipped his head to the two swords displayed in his room. Grabbing one he unsheathed it, wreaking havoc on the curtain, the bed, the furniture, anything that stood in his path. The visor glowed green enough to bring light to the dark room; he turned and was suddenly face to face with himself. The painting that was done of him in his younger days stared back at him, taunting him with a boyish smirk and exuding overconfidence. Genji brought down his sword one last time slashing the painting into tatters.

He could feel his still human heart working at its max capacity, battling with the machinery that now ran throughout his body. The sword clattered to the floor.

Genji stared at the torn painting, and felt the need to cry.

But was most disappointed, when he found he could not.

Chapter Text

“Papa,” Angela called as she moved to close the door “Papa, I’m going into town for a little while.” She winced at the sound of a clattering coming from the basement where her father completed his projects.

“Ah yes yes, have a nice time,” he called.

She pulled the door closed and made her way down the stone steps of their cottage. Angela and her father lived just on the outskirts of town. It was perfect for her father’s inventing needs and beneficial for the village’s inhabitants as they were less likely to hear the noises the machines made at all hours of the day. Angela moved the wicker basket to the crook of her elbow as she made her way across the bridge that separated the town from the fields. She was sad to say that in all her years of living here nothing much had changed. Some technological advancement had made the town more progressive, but the same inhabitants were here, doing the same jobs, and living the same lives.

“Good morning Angela,” she turned to see who called her name. “And how are you on this fine day,” Lena asked, chipper as always. She moved the tray of bread she was holding onto a windowsill.

“Quite fine Lena, and you? How is Emily?”

“Doing great as always, where are you off to?”

Angela brightened at her question. “The book shop, I just finished a wonderful book.” Angela grabbed the book from the basket on her arm. “It’s about medical feats being made around the world, oh there was even a man in Numbani who was able to,” she stopped when she looked at Lena’s face, twisted with false interest.

“Ah um well, that’s quite nice Angela,” Lena gave her a small pat on her upper arm. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh shoot, I forgot about the pies, please do excuse me.” Lena suddenly zipped away, calling out for Emily to pull the pastries out of the oven quickly. Angela shrugged, and placed the book back into her basket.

She had always felt out of place here, a definitive reason never really presented itself. Perhaps it had something to do with the monotony of the life here. She looked over her shoulder to see two people whispering to each other, who stopped as soon as she glanced their way. Or maybe it was she never felt welcome in the first place. Angela had always been considered odd, even as a child she was more interested with how a horse’s heart beats than riding one. This didn’t lead to many friendships. She tucked a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear as people whisked by her attempting to make their daily rounds in the market place. It was a nice town of course, just little and, maybe boring was the right word for it.

She stopped at the door on her right, the sign above it reading clearly ‘Books’. Pushing it open, she was greeted by one of the few people in the town who didn’t treat her differently. Well, person wasn’t exactly correct.

The gorilla had just finished placing the last of his books onto the shelf when the bell chimed. “Ah Angela,” Winston said smiling, and adjusting his glasses.

“Good morning Winston,” Angela said brightly “I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.” She fished it out of the basket, handing into the scientist’s large hands. Angela often thought how strange it was that no one really questioned where Winston came from, or that he was a gorilla who could talk. But the town was filled with many different people; she often wondered why she was treated like she was.

“Finished already,” Winston questioned glancing at the title.

“Oh I couldn’t put it down,” Angela said moving towards the ladder leaning against the bookshelf. She climbed the first few rungs and scanned the spines of books, trying to find something else she could get her hands on. She turned back to Winston, “Got anything new?”

The gorilla chuckled slightly, placing the book she gave him onto a shelf to his left. “Not since yesterday.” Angela was here everyday, or at least everyday she could be. He’d never seen someone want to learn as much as him.

“Oh that’s all right,” Angela went back to looking at the books on the shelves. “I’ll borrow this one,” she said pulling it from the shelf. She read the title on the cover ‘Omnic Operations and Functions’. Being the daughter of an inventor, Angela had been surrounded by machines her whole life. Omnics were a whole different story, they had souls, they felt things, and they always fascinated her. She even tried to talk to the one who currently lived in town, Tekhartha Zenyatta. Angela wanted to discuss how his people’s healing differed from humans, but he didn’t get out much and she was not brave enough to visit his home. The books Winston had were the closest she could get to understanding without bothering Zenyatta.

“That one,” questioned Winston “you’ve read it before haven’t you?” Angela gave him a meek look. She had read nearly every scientific, and medical book he had in his shop. At this point any book she borrowed she would have read before.

“Well yes, I guess I have,” Angela looked down at the title again, feeling the gold letters beneath her fingers.

Winston shot her a questioning look. He knew she was often treated differently, and he knew it had to due with her studies. Though their town was usually quite accepting there were often people who did not like omnics, and her already established link with her father’s inventions didn’t help her case. Winston sighed, but smiled at Angela. “Don’t let me stop you then, but I do ask for me maybe you take one more book.” Winston moved to a shelf on the far wall, grabbing a book that was more based in fairytale than the scientific subjects she usually perused. He handed it to her, and watched a bewildered look cross her face. Angela looked at him with an arched eyebrow. “You keep that one,” he said “add some lighthearted reading to your regimen Angela.”

She smiled, “sure Winston.” Angela safely tucked her book on omnics into her basket, keeping the fairytale one in her hands. “I’ll read this one first for you my friend,” Angela climbed down from the ladder, and placed one of Winston’s large hands between her own. Winston smiled as he opened the door to allow her out.

“Eh I’m not really sure why she does all that stuff quite strange don’t you thi-,” Jamison was cut off as one of Mako’s giant hands shoved his shoulder. “Ah Roadie, why would you,” he looked up to see Angela passing by, her nose stuck in another book. Jamison glanced up at Mako, whose pig mask stared back at him. “You uh, you don’t think she ‘eard me do you?'

Mako looked between Jamison’s face and Angela who was continuing to walk further away. He gave Jamison a thumbs up. Jamison let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah cheers, don’t think she would hurt a fly, but ya know her father’s got all that good scrap. Don’t wanna be on his bad side.” Jamison shuddered, and watched as Angela made her way towards the center of town.

The book was entertaining maybe not informative, but definitely a break from what she usually read. She weaved easily between the crowds of people passing around her, and tried her best to ignore the whispers that seemed to be about her. Caught up in her own thoughts, and the pages of her book she didn’t see the person in front of her until she directly collided with their chest. She bounced back a couple of steps, her book being shoved back into her body, the pages crinkling slightly.

“I’m, I’m very sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Angela stammered out as she looked up. Oh, it was him.

“Not to worry,” Gabriel responded smoothly. Gabriel Reyes always appeared to be a serious man, but he had a humorous side to him. Not all bad was how Angela liked to best describe him. He was nice enough, perhaps a little forward for her liking, and maybe a bit archaic in some of his thinking. He snatched the book from her hand. “What are you reading today Angie,” he said as he flipped through the pages “as if you need to read anything else.” He snapped the book closed and handed it back to her. “Still sympathizing with those omnics, I was thinking about roughing up that one that lives close to town. Really want him to know how I feel about him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Angela replied “and I’ve told you I don’t like it when you call me that.” ‘Angie’ was a pet name Reyes had developed for her much to her chagrin. Yet he insisted that he call her that, and she insisted to correct him every time.

“Oh why not, think that pile of scrap can take me on,” Gabriel chuckled out, looking over his shoulder where his associate, Sombra, stood. She was leaning casually against a building, idly checking her nails for imperfections.

“Hm, oh yeah boss you could totally take him down,” Sombra said in monotone, obviously uninterested in the conversation. She never even looked up from her nails, instead picking something out from under one.

“See Angie, there’s really no need for you to care about them, they're a dime a dozen.”

“I would beg to differ,” Angela said pulling out her book on omnics “there is clearly stated evidence that omnics have feelings and souls.” She shoved the book towards his face, trying her best not to yell. “You leave Zenyatta alone, he’s done nothing to harm anyone.” Gabriel laughed at her outburst.

“Ah Angie, you would be better off if you were like your father. He’s crazy but at least he understands that omnics are less than us.” Angela could feel her cheeks getting hot from the anger that bubbled up from inside her. “Right Sombra?”

“Got that right boss,” Sombra said standing in line with Gabriel now. “Crazy old man,” she mumbled while biting off a hangnail.

Angela had had it. “My father’s not crazy,” she shouted, “he may not think the same way as I do about omnics, but he’s a genius.” As if on cue to embarrass her, an explosion sounded from the direction of her cottage. She turned to see a black plume of smoke erupting. Gabriel and Sombra laughed as Angela retreated back towards her house, cheeks still burning.

Chapter Text

“Papa,” Angela called, coughing in the crook of her arm as the smoke flooded out of the basement’s hatch, “Papa are you alright?”

“Yes quite fine dear,” he coughed once, waving black smoke away from his face. Angela stifled a laugh as she looked down to her father whose once white beard was now stained black. “I just don’t think I’ll ever get this damn thing to work,” he grunted out, as he kicked the machine.

“Don’t talk like that,” Angela said, placing her basket full of books on his workbench “you’ll get it to work, and win first prize at the fair tomorrow.”

“You really believe that?”

Angela smiled, leaning down to wipe some of the soot from her father’s face with the corner of her apron “I always have.”

“Well then what are we waiting for, Angela hand me that, uh that doohickey you know the one,” Torbjörn said, as he moved back towards the turret. Angela chuckled, shaking her head, grabbing the wrench and handing it to her father.

Placing goggles over his eyes, Torbjörn slid under the machine, his intent to get to the inner wires. “How was your time in town today?”

Angela saddened at the question. “Well I got a new book,” she said, leaning against the workbench. She grabbed her book on omnics from inside the basket; she slid her fingers over the title once more. “Papa, do you think I’m odd?” Angela stared hard at the book in her hands. Today was one of those days where Angela was reminded just how little this village had to offer her, other than stares and whispers. And the occasional annoyance that was Gabriel Reyes. She didn’t feel odd, but if everyone else thought she was. Torbjörn slid out from under his turret in that moment of self-doubt, the goggles on his face blowing up the image of his eyes to an obscenely humorous look.

“My daughter odd? Now, where would you get an idea like that?” Torbjörn motioned for another tool that was sitting on the bench, Angela handed it to him. He huffed at the turret, the way one would at a child, before sliding back under.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Angela lied. “I’m just not sure that I fit in here,” she said sadly “there’s no one I can really talk to.” She held the book close to her chest. She had Winston, and she supposed Lena was nice enough to her, but everyone else. Everyone else just stared or gossiped. As long as she stayed here, she would always have a label, and could never learn past the books Winston had in his shop.

“What about that Gabriel guy,” her father’s muffled voice asked “he seems nice.”

“Oh yeah, he’s nice,” Angela huffed “And rude, and ignorant.” She thought back to how Gabriel spoke to her today, with full intention in his tone to attack Zenyatta. Her blood boiled at the thought, the omnic was trying to live a simple life in their town, only preaching to bring peace among his people and hers. How anyone could think he was a threat or deserved to be hurt, she didn’t understand.

“Well don’t you worry Angela,” Torbjörn slid out from under the machine, rubbing his hands clean on a nearby rag. “This machine will be the start of a new life for us.” He looked up at his daughter hopefully. He did feel sorry for her, he knew she always struggled here; this could be their ticket for a better life for her. “Now, stand back let’s see if it works.” He stared at the target he rigged up across the workshop, a chip he had invented planted into it so the turret could seek it out. He hesitated before flipping the switch, looking back at Angela, who was smiling encouragingly. Torbjörn let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and turned the machine on. It whirred to life, the two prongs that were the guns spinning around the room, attempting to seek the chip. They swung towards him and Angela, which caused his heart to jump into his throat; he stepped between the machine and his daughter. It quickly swung away however, not finding what it was seeking. The head of the turret turned and locked onto the target across the room. It fired shots into the target, each one hitting the exact center. Torbjörn’s eyes widened, and he looked up at Angela, who had a wide smile plastered on her face. “It works,” he whispered.

“It works,” Angela exclaimed, “you did it, you really did it!” Angela bent down to hug him.

“Hitch up Sigrún, dear. I’m off to the fair!”

Angela patted the ginger horse’s nose, sneaking her an apple. “You take good care of Papa, Sigrún, he’s going to need it.” She glanced at the trailer tethered behind the horse, the turret covered in a sheet and tied with rope to keep it steady. The horse exhaled sharply, pressing her nose into Angela’s hand. Angela smiled, and pressed her forehead against the horse’s.

“Is she all set there,” Torbjörn asked. He adjusted the old cap that adorned his head.

“Yes Papa,” Angela said, moving towards him to fasten his cloak just under his chin. She was proud of him, he had worked so hard and now people would see his genius. Maybe the people in town would stop calling him crazy as well. “Be easy with Sigrún, and you be careful.” Torbjörn mounted the horse.

“I will, come on giddy up girl.” The horse started a slow trot as he turned back to wave to Angela.

“Goodbye Papa, good luck,” she shouted, waving in the front of the cottage steps. He disappeared on the dirt road that led into the hills shortly after.

Angela looked around the empty land. It felt strange to be on her own, now that the sounds of her father’s constant efforts on the machine had disappeared it was deafeningly quiet. Angela huffed, and walked down the steps to her father’s workshop looking to retrieve her books from earlier in the day. Surely her book on omnics would have something she missed.

The basement also felt strange without her father’s and the machine’s presence. Angela picked up a stray spring from the ground and placed it onto the workbench. She grabbed her book, but paused looking at the fairytale that Winston had given her as well. It was a sweet story, and she was only a chapter in. Angela stacked the book on top of her other one, walked up the basement stairs, and closed the hatch behind her leaving the room in darkness and quiet for the first time in months.

Torbjörn felt as though he had been traveling for days at this point and the woods were starting to look all the same. He bit into an apple for the last time before handing off the rest to Sigrún. “We should have been there by now,” he mumbled to himself before pulling a map, and a lantern from the satchel on the horse’s side. He twisted it every which way trying to find a point that looked familiar, but was unsuccessful. Sigrún stopped abruptly and he glanced ahead, a fork in the road. He looked to the left; the path was parted with light, brown trees stood tall and mighty. The right path, however, had a dark energy about it; blackened trees were splintered and twisted.

He felt the horse tug her head left. “No, no Sigrún, it’s got to be this way.” Torbjörn steered the horse to the path on the right meeting a lot of resistance. If he remembered the letters he exchanged with the head of the fair correctly, he said the path on the right would be the correct one. Or maybe it was the left? He huffed in frustration, turned the horse fully right, and tapped her with his heels twice indicating it was time to move. Sigrún gave him an unhappy snort and walked tentatively along the dark path.

Torbjörn felt uneasiness settle in his stomach, he reached for the letter he had received as the path grew darker. Illuminating the words with the lantern, a clear sentence stood out.

“Once you reach the fork, be sure to turn left,” Torbjörn read aloud. He grunted in frustration. “Well surely this is a shortcut.” The horse snorted in response, and he moved to press her forward. Sigrún walked tenderly on the dark path, a pace that would have frustrated Torbjörn were he not too proud to admit he did not think this was a shortcut. A low fog hung on the ground making it impossible for Torbjörn to see the ground below him, the lantern in his hand the only bright spot in the entire woods.

A mechanical clicking suddenly became evident to the horse, as she swung her head from left to right in a terrified manner, her ears twitching quickly. The sounds of machinery in the woods were undeniable now. Torbjörn hesitated, but gripped the reins tighter to try and keep the horse steady.

“We-we better turn around Sigrún this can’t be right.” The horse still panicked; Torbjörn could feel the tenseness of her muscles underneath his feet. He began to coax her to move backwards, forgetting to account for the trailer behind her. It smashed into a nearby tree, and a swarm of dark bats emerged attacking himself and the horse. Sigrún rushed forward to escape, delving further down the path.

“Steady there Sigrún, steady,” Torbjörn yelled as the horse galloped down the path. He glanced ahead of her, a cliff being their endpoint. He yanked back on the reins as the horse’s hooves connected with the crumbling edge. “Back up, back up!” Rocks moved from beneath Sigrún’s hooves, as she did her best to escape falling from the height. The moved back on solid ground, and Torbjörn managed to swiftly turn her around. The horse was still spooked, however, hearing the groans of machines coming closer. She swung her head wildly.

“No, whoa girl,” Torbjörn exclaimed. The horse reared up, tossing him from her back, the lantern fell to the ground and shattered on impact. The horse’s trampling feet quickly snuffed out the brief fire it made in the brush as she ran off in the direction they came from.

Torbjörn lay on his stomach, the cloak he had on now draped over his head, his hat discarded on his left, and a torn map clutched in his right hand. He flipped the cloak back over to his back and stood with shaky legs. He reached for his hat, and placed it on top of his head, eyes shifting warily. “Sigrún,” he called out weakly, knowing that the horse was already long gone by now. He glanced at his surroundings, the cliff still ominous behind him. Torbjörn walked to one of the blackened trees, and felt the bark. Bullet holes.

He heard a sudden, but deafening crack to his right. An entire tree fell to the forest floor in the distance, dark birds scattered into the sky with loud caws. Torbjörn felt eyes on him. He glanced in the direction of where the tree fell, and saw three glowing red rectangles in the distance.

Bastion units.

Torbjörn scrambled to get out of the clearing; open space was where they would have the advantage. Most had been decommissioned after the war, but there were always some units that people could never find. He supposed he was the lucky one to discover where most had gone. He stumbled through the brush hearing the whir of machinery getting louder and louder behind him. The intimidating red glow continued to get brighter. He heard a few shots get sunk into nearby trees, and did his best to keep his head down.

A stray root suddenly took him down, he looked back to see the three bastion units closing in, each red shining eye more terrifying than the last. The guns attached to their arms were becoming visible in the light they gave off. Torbjörn unjammed his foot from the root, he looked ahead and saw a faint white light. He ducked under a low branch, as more shots whizzed past him.

Another clearing revealed massive wooden gates, decorated with the pattern of swirling dragons. The lanterns that hung on either side of it gave off a soft glow, the most comforting thing he had seen in some time. Torbjörn banged on the gate.

“Help please,” he begged “please let me in!” He could hear the sounds of the robots behind him now and the reloading of their guns. The gate cracked slightly and Torbjörn hurried his way through it. A couple of bullets tore through the wood, splinters exploded from the fresh holes. Torbjörn fell to the stone path. He could still hear the bastion units behind the door, their machinery whirring unsettlingly.

Torbjörn stayed low to the ground, until he could hear the unmistakable sound of their metallic feet stomping back into the woods. He panted, trying to get oxygen to his starved lungs. He wiped away a cool sheen of sweat as he stared up. Torbjörn’s mouth dropped open to see where he had happened upon. He almost considered going back into the woods.

Trees that were malformed, blackened, and felt as though they were staring at him. Broken down buildings littered the grounds, in one laid a golden bell. The dragon symbol was the same that decorated the door, but a crack that ran through it had split the beasts from each other.

Torbjörn took a tentative step forward, looking to the largest and most intact building in the area. Again the dragon symbol adorned the front door, he tried to remember if he had ever seen it before. Torbjörn wrapped his cloak around him tighter as a cold breeze blew past him. He reached a fist up and knocked uncertainly on the door. It swung open with no response, similar to the gate.

“Hello,” he called, gripping with white knuckles onto the edge of the door. The castle felt dark, and cold. The foyer itself was massive, and Torbjörn did his best to avoid the stares of the dragon statues whose eyes always seemed to follow him. “Hello?”

“Poor fella, must’ve gotten lost in the woods,” a muffled voice said.

“Keep quiet,” a sterner voice replied.

“Is someone there,” Torbjörn questioned. “I-I don’t mean to intrude, but I lost my horse, and was hoping for a place to stay the night.”

“Oh Hanzo, have a heart.” Torbjörn was sure he had heard something that time. Swinging to pick up an old wooden looking lantern on the entrance table.

“Who-who said that?” He swung around to the left finding no one.

“Over here,” replied a Southern drawl unlike anything he had heard before.

“Where?” He felt a tap on his head, and glanced up to the lantern that was staring back at him.

“Howdy,” it replied, Torbjörn gasped dropping it to the ground. It bounced slightly before a low moan of pain sounded from it. Torbjörn stared over it.

“Incredible,” Torbjörn said bewildered. He had seen omnics who could talk before, but they were never designed in such a way. The lantern looked too old to be made out of today’s technology, but it was still talking to him. Torbjörn was confused to say the least. The old clock that had been placed next to the lantern let out a grunt of frustration.

“Now you’ve done it Jesse,” it bounced down to the floor. Torbjörn stared at it, blinking twice trying to believe a clock could be talking. It looked nothing like the lantern, more Asian inspired with carved dragons traveling up the sides. Torbjörn bent down and picked the clock up from the ground. “What are you doing, unhand me at once,” it shouted at him in another foreign accent.

“How is this accomplished, I’ve never seen omnics that look like this.” Torbjörn twisted the clock around in his hand, it wiggling to attempt to get itself free.

“We ain’t omnics there mister,” the lantern, Jesse the clock had called it, replied trying to stifle laughs as the clock in Torbjörn’s hand struggled.

“Put me down,” the clock shouted at him finally.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just that I’ve never seen a talking clock be-,” his sentence was interrupted as a sneeze barreled out of him.

“Oh hey there, you must be freezing,” Jesse said “you should come by the fire, that’ll warm ya right up.” The lantern began to bounce itself to another room. Torbjörn still puzzled that normally inanimate objects could even talk so much as move themselves from room to room.

“No, no, no,” the clock protested behind him. “You know what will happen if he finds him here Jesse, you should have never let him in here in the first place.” Torbjörn turned to look back at the clock, a scowl written on it’s face. “I demand you stop at once.” Jesse the lamp was obviously not listening to the clock, instead leading Torbjörn to a large armchair in front of a bustling fire.

“Come now, you just relax yourself right down there,” Jesse said “you’ll be warm in no time at all.” A moving coat stand appeared from the corner, laying a blanket across Torbjörn. He tried not to look stunned by this. He had heard of some omnics programmed to do household chores. But Jesse himself had even said they were not omnics, but then how was this all possible.

“Jesse, I am not dealing with whatever this brings along with it,” the clock grumbled.

“Hanzo, you worry too much,” Jesse sighed “surely he could understand, the man was lost, it’ll only be for one night.” Torbjörn looked between the lantern and the clock, between Jesse and Hanzo, feeling a mix of very welcome and extremely unwelcome.

Suddenly a teacart zipped up to his right side, an ornamentally decorated pot and cup sitting upon it. There were swirling colors, and eyes on the pot. An eye with black markings under it decorated the cup; it was trimmed with gold and blue. It was unlike an art he had ever seen before.

“Would you like some tea there, sir,” an elderly woman’s voice came from the pot. “It’ll warm you right up in no time.” Torbjörn tried not to look surprised, after all he had just encountered a moving coat stand.

“Uh yes that would be quite lovely, thank you.” The pot poured itself, tea emptying into the cup next to it. He could hear the gruff voice of Hanzo yelling something about not giving him any tea. The pot just stared up at him expectantly, glancing at the now filled cup. Torbjörn hesitated before picking it up. He sipped the tea, it was nothing like what Angela made at home but still tasted lovely. He heard at sharp giggle from underneath him.

“His mustache tickles Mother!” Torbjörn glanced down at the cup, now seeing the eyes fully, one with the dark marking underneath it and one without.

“Oh uh hello there,” Torbjörn smiled at the cup.

The door behind the sitting room suddenly burst open, the strong wind extinguishing the fire. The room plunged into darkness, nothing but the old embers keeping it from being pitch black. Torbjörn could see a faint green glow out of the corner of his eye.

“There is a stranger here,” a voice said covered with both an accent and a robotic tinge. Torbjörn could hear footsteps, but they were the lightest he had ever heard in his life.

“Genji, now listen, this man was lost in the woods he only needed a place to stay for the,” Jesse said, trying not to sound intimidated. Jesse felt the green unblinking gaze turn onto him, he retreated from his explanation. Nothing would change Genji’s mind anyway.

“Brother, I was against this, no one was supposed to come into the castle again after the incident,” Hanzo tried to explain “Jesse would not listen to me and I-“ He was cut off as well, as the green visor now turned to him, Genji was pulling the wakizashi from it’s sheath on his lower back. Hanzo shut his mouth, but glared deeply at his brother.

Torbjörn huddled himself into the blanket trying to ignore the green glow that seemed to be coming closer. He swung his head to the left to see nothing, to the right and came face to face with an omnic staring him down. Torbjörn had no eyes to look into only the unblinking slit of green light that served to look like something to stare at. A sword was suddenly at his chest.

“Who are you,” came the robotic accented voice from the omnic in front of him “what are you doing here?” The point of the sword started to dig against the material of his shirt. Torbjörn tried not to look frightened by his appearance. He had never seen an omnic like this; the body was lithe and looked to be built for stealth and assassination. The omnics of today would never been built like this, this was a new beast entirely. Torbjörn began to move from the chair to back away from the sword. It stayed pressed against him, as the robot followed him from the chair.

“I was lost in the woods, I- I just,” Torbjörn held up his hands in surrender, and was interrupted.

“You are not welcome here.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Torbjörn tried to hide the shaking in his voice, but could not avert his eyes from the metallic being before him. The sword pressed towards his chest harder, and Torbjörn could feel it draw blood through his clothing.

“What are you staring at,” the robotic voice shouted.

“Nothing,” Torbjörn pleaded.

“Come to stare at the beast have you,” the omnic said coolly, the tone of it’s voice only terrified Torbjörn more. The unblinking green light stared him down. The omnic suddenly turned back to the chair Torbjörn had been sitting in. Drawing a sword from his back the omnic brought it down on the chair. It was halved in seconds.

“No, please I meant no harm. I just needed a place to stay.”

“Oh I will give you a place to stay,” the omnic said, picking Torbjörn up by his cloak as though he weighed no more than a loaf of bread to him.

“No, no please. No!”

Jesse, Hanzo, Ana, and Fareeha could only stare as Genji dragged the man away. The door was closed with a hefty slam, leaving the room in total darkness.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea,” Sombra asked again while they were steps away from the cottage where Angela lived. “Last time I checked, women do not really like to be surprised with engagements from someone they aren’t already with.” Sombra stared at Gabriel, who only smiled back at her. It was unsettling.

“You worry too much Sombra,” Gabriel replied smoothly “She has to say yes, what other options does she have at this point anyway, one of the junkers?” Sombra raised a split eyebrow at him. “I don’t need you questioning me, just stick to the plan.” Sombra pressed her immaculate fingernails to her head and shook it slightly.

“She doesn’t like you that much Gabe,” Sombra tried to reason, “especially after you insulted her father.”

“You were the one who insulted her father,” Gabriel said, shrugging and climbing the last step to the front door. “You hang back now like a told you to.” Gabriel glared at her.

“Whatever,” Sombra said, and leaned against the side of the house trying to keep from rolling her eyes.

Gabriel cleared his throat and knocked on the door three times.

Angela looked up from the chapter of her book, she had just gotten to the part where the girl was realizing it was the prince all along. She was much more engrossed in the story than she expected to be. Angela stared at the door quizzically; father would not be back for at least a day and she sure wasn’t expecting anyone. She closed the book and placed it gingerly on the table in front of the armchair.

She glanced through the mechanism her father rigged up to the front door, it allowing her to see through the wood. Gabriel’s haughty smile was distorted in the fish eye view, as his eyes stared expectantly on the other side of the door. Angela flipped the instrument up, letting out an obvious groan. She turned the handle of the door and before she could open it herself, Gabriel pushed through.

“Gabriel, what a pleasant surprise,” Angela said, trying to cover up the annoyance in her voice. Her eyes followed Gabriel around the room as he glanced and prodded at everything. He snatched up a photo of her and her father, let out a low scoff and placed it back down. Angela tried to pretend she didn’t hear it.

“It is quite a surprise isn’t it,” Gabriel said, crossing his arms and leaning against the table on the far wall. The cottage, in his opinion, was dingy. Papers lay scattered across the table, obviously many of Torbjörn’s scrapped inventions. The fireplace had a few bricks knocked out of it for only God knows what reason. “Angie, this is the day your dreams come true,” he said eyes still wandering the cottage, yeah he could save her from all this.

Angela’s face puckered. “What could you possibly know about my dreams,” she asked crossing her arms. She barely had an idea of what she wanted, there was no way a man who still called her by a nickname she hated could understand anything about other people’s dreams. “It’s Angela, Gabriel you know that.”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “I know plenty about your dreams.” He walked over to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. He crossed her to the other side of the room, and plopped himself down in the chair.

Angela grimaced as Gabriel slammed his muddy boots on top of her book. He spread out his hands before her.

“Picture this,” Gabriel started, “a hunting lodge close to town, dinner roasting on the fire, and my wife massaging my feet." He looked over at Angela, who was trying very hard to hide her screaming brain behind wide eyes and a tense smile. Gabriel didn’t even notice, and placed his hands behind his head.

Angela slid the book out from under his boots, rubbing the mud off with the corner of her apron and marking her page before hugging it close to her chest. “Imagine that,” she said, rolling her eyes. She placed the book on the shelf for later. It was slowly becoming obvious that she would not worm her way out of whatever conversation was happening right now. Angela was smart enough to realize what he was getting at, but she was just praying it wasn’t what she thought.

Gabriel folded his hands behind his back. “And who do you think that wife will be?”

Angela swallowed. “Let me think,” she rasped out. She was startled as Gabriel placed both of his hands on either side of her head. She turned around in her Gabriel shaped cage, looking him in the eye and smiling uneasily.

“You, Angie,” he replied smoothly.

“Gabriel,” Angela said, sliding her way out from under his arms. She glanced at him, and could see he was serious. She placed a mocking hand to her chest. “I’m speechless,” Angela pushed a chair between herself and Gabriel as she moved away from him. “I just really don’t know what to say,” her back bumped into the door. Angela flinched as Gabriel knocked the chair to the ground, it hit with a loud bang.

“Say you’ll marry me,” Gabriel stated, placing his hands next to her head once more.

“I’m very sorry,” Angela started, panic starting to rise into her chest. Gabriel was leaning closer to her, every small action on his face made her feel like prey about to be eaten. She grasped blindly for the door handle. “I just,” her hand finally landed on the handle as Gabriel’s face was inches from her; she twisted the door open, “don’t deserve you.” Angela ducked under, as the weight Gabriel had been putting on his hands finally betrayed him and he went flying out the front door. Angela slammed the door behind him, leaning against it and placing a hand against her racing heart.

Gabriel sat up and rubbed his head, feeling the bump from his impact on the ground.

“Hm so how’d it go boss,” Sombra asked standing above Gabriel, her hands firmly on her hips. He let out a grunt of frustration, and extended a hand to her. Sombra grabbed it and helped to hoist the man from the ground.

“There’s something wrong in that girl’s head,” Gabriel said. He cracked knuckles then his neck each bone popping loudly. “She’ll realize I’m the best thing here,” he turned to Sombra abruptly, “make no mistake about that.” Sombra only shrugged indifferently as the two made the trek back towards town.

The door to the cottage creaked open after some time had passed. Angela’s head popped around the corner. “Is he gone,” she asked to no one in particular. It looked to her that Gabriel had left or at least she hoped he wasn’t hiding out somewhere. Angela let out a noise of frustration and kicked the front door open. She bent down grabbing her father’s toolbox that was sitting on the porch. “Can you imagine,” she placed fingertips to her head, “he asked me to marry him.” Angela made her way around the side of the cottage. Placing the tools next to her feet, she stripped the sheet off of the form on the side of the house.

Bastion squeaked excitedly at seeing the daylight. It's one eye focused on Angela’s face, as she spoke to the omnic.

“Me,” she exclaimed, “the wife of that boorish-ugh.” She balled up and threw down the sheet as Bastion beeped out some sentences to her. The omnic obviously frightened at her actions. No one in town knew it was here. If Zenyatta was giving so many people trouble just by existing there was no one they’d be accepting of the changed bastion unit her father had, adopted she supposed was the best word.

It was a surprise when he returned with it from the woods, especially since he had such a problem with omnics in the past. “It’s different from the others,” Torbjörn had told her, the uneasy look still solid on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said running a hand through her blonde bangs. She looked into Bastion’s one blue eye as it surveyed her. The robot extended a robotic hand out to her, and she grasped it in her own. It beeped and booped some type of phrase at her, she smiled and let out a slight chuckle. “Thank you my friend.” She squatted on the ground next to Bastion, flipping open the toolbox. “Anything bothering you today,” she asked grabbing a pair of goggles and a mini torch. Bastion pointed the elbow joint of it’s left arm. “Right, let me see then.” She wasn’t nearly as experience as her father with working on machines, but being his daughter she had learned a couple of things. While he was gone someone had to take care of Bastion.

Bastion perked it’s head at the sound coming from the woods in the distance as Angela set to work on it’s arm. The distinct tweeting made it squeak excitedly once more. Bastion held out the gun that served as it's right hand as a perch, and a yellow bird landed on it soon after. Angela glanced up.

“Ah I see your friend is back,” Angela smiled at Bastion, who was inspected the bird intensely. The bird tweeted at the omnic a couple of times before settling itself into the nest on Bastion’s shoulder. Angela focused back down on the omnic’s elbow joint, welding together the broken piece that seemed to be causing the sticking. “Try that then,” Angela said moving the goggles to the top of her head.

Bastion moved the arm up and down, and beeped out a ‘thank you’ when the joint was freely moving. Angela smiled, and sat back in the dirt with a groan. She looked in the direction of the town, and wiped some grease off of her palms on her apron. Gabriel had all these plans for them, all of which kept her here. She couldn’t be here forever. Hugging her knees with one arm she cast her eyes downward and drew some circles in the dirt with her finger. She just wished there was someone who understood.

The omnic pricked up it’s head once more, letting out a confused beep. Angela stared at Bastion quizzically.

“What, what is it,” she asked glancing behind herself at the woods. Her eyes widened at the sight of Sigrún galloping towards the cottage. Angela shot up from her spot on the ground when she could not see a rider on Sigrún’s back. The horse almost ran her down with how quickly she approached, her eyes glanced at Bastion and she reared up at the sight of him. “Whoa girl steady, what are doing here?” Angela tried to calm the horse as Bastion beeped out in terror. She glanced behind Sigrún still seeing the turret attached to the trailer on the back. Her eyes widened at the sight, they never even made it to the fair. She grasped the horse’s nose making it look her in the eye. “Where’s Papa, Sigrún?” The horse only snorted at her and continually glanced fearful eyes at Bastion. “You have to help me find him,” Angela said, she moved towards the trailer attached to the horse still. She unhitched the turret from Sigrún. “Bastion the cloak please,” Angela asked holding out her hand.

Bastion glanced between the horse that still seemed to be eyeing it down and the black cloak hanging on a nail outside. The omnic stared at Sigrún as it slowly moved it’s hand towards the cloak. Snatching it quickly, Bastion held it out to Angela who grabbed it with matched speed.

Angela swung onto the back of the horse, and fastened the cloak around her neck. “Stay out of sight Bastion, I’ll be back soon,” Angela said and threw up her hood. The Bastion waved a metallic hand. She gathered up the reins in her fists, turned the horse and galloped back into the woods.

Angela had never been this far in before, as a child she would often play on the outskirts. The stream just before it turned into actual woods was one of her favorite spots for catching frogs, but deep in here there was no comforting sound of a frog’s croak or babbling water. The air was thick with fog and dark trees curled up to reach the sky. Angela could feel a pit of dread settle firmly into her stomach.

Sigrún finally broke through the dense brush into a clearing. Angela stared up at the giant wooden gate that stood before her; the decoration of two dragons swirling around each other glared back at her. She cocked her head at the wood, noticing several holes in it that could only have come from bullets. “What is this place,” she questioned. The gate creak slightly, and that was enough to spook Sigrún. The horse began to buck and snort. Angela dismounted and placed a hand on Sigrún’s side. “Steady girl,” Angela took up the reins in her hands once more and lead the horse through the entrance.

The courtyard looked like it was once beautiful, but now laid in disarray. Angela felt the wood of the gate; it was smooth to the touch like it had been treated a hundred times over. The trees that were dead and barren loomed over the central path; she thought they must have once been beautiful too. Angela gasped and ran to the discarded cap that lay in the trail. It was her father’s. So he was here, at least she knew that. Sigrún let out another anxious whinny. Angela patted her nose and tied her up to one of the tree’s branches.

“I’ll be back with Papa soon girl, you wait out here for us,” Angela told the horse knowing full well it could not understand her. She turned back to the front door and steeled herself for what was inside. The same swirling dragons decorated the wood; she touched them briefly feeling the grooves they made in the door before pushing it open.

“You just had to go and open your mouth,” Hanzo scolded. “We could have simply turned him away and that would have been the end of it, but no offered the fire, the chair, the tea.” Jesse had to keep from rolling his eyes.

“You ever ‘ear of somethin’ called Southern hospitality,” he asked as Hanzo continued pacing in front of him.

“You ever hear of something called not getting an innocent man killed!”

“You worry too much, Genji would never have killed 'im,” Jesse said this with confidence but he really was not sure if Genji would have killed the man. “Listen Hanzo I just think,” he was interrupted.

“Hello,” Angela called into the empty foyer. It was dark, much too dark to look like anyone actually lived here. She wrapped the cloak tighter around herself as a draft drifted through the room. “Is anyone here,” she asked. Angela grabbed the railing of the massive staircase that stood in the center of the room. She made the trek up a couple of the steps, entirely confused. This place could be abandoned she supposed, but why wouldn’t at least her father have answered her is he was still here? “Papa are you here,” she tried once more with no answer.

Jesse and Hanzo peeked out from the hiding place they had picked once the girl had opened her mouth. The two exchanged a shocked look.

“Did you see that,” Jesse asked as the girl disappeared around the corner, “it’s a girl!”

“I know it’s a girl,” Hanzo snapped back. “How did she get here?”

“Who cares,” Jesse said excitedly, “she’s got to be the one, the girl we’ve been waiting for!” Jesse bounced down the hallway after her.

“Wait a minute, now just hold on,” Hanzo said chasing after Jesse.

Angela turned left and was met with an endless hallway. An array of doors stood before her and at this point she had no idea where to even start. “Hello,” she tried once more, getting frustrated at this point. She was so out of it she could have sworn she had heard some other voices. A door on her right suddenly creaked open. She furrowed her brow at this and attributed it to the draft that seemed to be present in every room. Nevertheless she grabbed a lantern that adorned the wall and ascended up the narrow staircase.

“What are you doing,” Hanzo hissed under his breath as they followed the girl up the stairs.

“I’m taking her to her father, what’s it look like I’m doing,” Jesse replied just as quietly.

Angela tugged on the large iron handle of the door on the top of the steps. The room was even worse than the others she had encountered. It was obviously a jail of some kind and even with her lantern she could barely see. “I-Is anyone here,” she called out tentatively.

“Angela,” Torbjörn questioned.

“Papa,” Angela exclaimed, rushing up to find him trapped behind iron bars. She glanced him over and offered a hand. He grasped it and she held it up to her cheek, it was cold as ice.

“How did you find me,” Torbjörn asked, panic evident in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Angela said. She stood up and tugged on the bars of his cell. “We have to get you out of here.” She felt his cold hand pull on her own, she squatted back down so she was eye level once again. Angela tried to hold the lantern close to him, hoping what little warmth it had could do something. She noticed a blood stain on his shirt, and felt fury rise up within her.

“Angela please I want you to leave this place.” Torbjörn’s eyes continually darted around the room, awaiting one of the transformed people to show up and take her away. Or worse, for him to lock her in here too.

“Who’s done this to you?”

“There’s no time to explain, you must go now!”

“I won’t leave you,” Angela said with finality. She suddenly felt a solid weight hit her shoulder. A hand whipped her around so hard the lantern went flying into a nearby puddle, it shattered and the water quickly snuffed out the fire. A single beam of light shone through the cracked roof, but the rest was pure darkness.

“Run Angela,” Torbjörn cried out.

“What are you doing here,” an accented voice said.

“Who’s there, who are you,” Angela asked backing herself up to her father’s cell. She grasped onto the bars to stay steady. Whomever this was was strong she was certain a bruise was forming on her shoulder from where they grabbed her. She reached blindly for her father’s hand once more, feeling him grasp on and squeeze her with all the strength he had.

“I am the master of this castle,” the voice responded from somewhere in the dark. “I will not say it again, what are you doing here.”

Angela swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ve come for my father,” Angela said, bravery in her voice. “Please let him out,” she squeezed his hand once more, “can’t you see he’s sick?”

“Then he should not have trespassed here,” the voice shouted back at her.

“But-but he could die,” Angela dropped to her knees in front of the cell, grabbing both of her father’s hands. She tried to keep the tears from forming in her eyes. “Please,” she choked out, “I’ll do anything.”

“There is nothing you can do. He is my prisoner.”

“There must be something I can,” Angela paused. If there was one person in her entire life that understood her it was her father. She couldn’t let him be taken away from her this easily. “Wait,” Angela said standing once more, letting her father’s hands slip out of hers. “Take me instead.”

“You,” Genji scoffed. Word spread around the castle fast, so when the occupants murmured about some girl wandering the halls the castle he knew it had to be taken care of. Genji’s brows furrowed underneath the visor that kept his face hidden. Why would she offer to take his place, even if he was her father he was old, destined to die any day. Why waste her life as a prisoner? “You would take his place,” he asked, even he was surprised by the softness in his robotic voice.

“Angela no, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Torbjörn cried out.

“If I did,” Angela asked, ignoring her father’s words, “would you let him go?”

Genji pondered the offer in silence. Hanzo and Jesse had met him at the foot of the stairs. Jesse raving that the girl could be the one, that they would all finally be free from this. Genji had pushed past without giving that a second thought. But now that the opportunity was presenting itself. “Yes,” Genji said suddenly, “but you must promise to stay here forever.”

Angela swallowed hard at the last word. Forever. She would never see her father again if this person were true to their word. She would never see Lena, or get another book from Winston. She would never get to hear Bastion exchange excited squeaks with it’s bird friend, or understand more about new medical technologies or see anything outside of her village or this castle. All in exchange for her father’s life and to a person she had still yet to see. “Come into the light,” she asked feeling bold.

Genji was surprised at her response. Nevertheless he stepped into the lone beam of light in the room. He could see the light being reflected off of his metallic body in dots.

Angela’s eyes widened at the sight. It was an omnic like she had never seen before. She stared at the swords attached to his back and thought back to the blood she saw on her father's shirt; he could kill her at any moment if he wanted. Angela backed away and fell to the floor once more in front of her father’s cell.

“No Angela, I can’t let you do this,” Torbjörn said, grabbing onto the cell’s bars.

Angela took a deep breath and stared up at the omnic once more. An unmoving strip of green light was the only thing that she could look into. Letting out a shaky breath Angela rose to her feet once more. She stepped into the beam of light herself and looked at the omnic the best should could. “You have my word,” she said trying to keep her voice steady.

“Done then,” Genji said quickly not giving her a chance to change her mind.

Angela collapsed to her knees holding her head in her hands. She then heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking; at least he was honoring his word as well.

Torbjörn rushed to his daughter’s side as soon as the door was opened. “Angela please, I’m old, I’ve lived my life.” He tried to keep hold of his daughter, but the omnic’s hands were on him again, dragging him towards the door of the tower. She was right he was sick, and too weak to fight back.

“Wait,” Angela cried extending a hand out to her father. No, he couldn’t do this to her, he couldn’t just take him.

“Angela!”

“Wait,” she tried again, but the omnic had slammed the door behind the two of them.

Genji felt the old man attempting to struggle against his grip as he led him outside of the castle.

“No please,” Torbjörn cried, “please you must spare her.” He looked in fear as the omnic held him up to the green strip of light that he guessed served as his eyes.

“She is no longer your concern,” Genji said. The old man was starting to annoy him and was quite happy to be trading him for his daughter. Genji stuffed the man into a broken down palanquin that lay in the front courtyard. “Take him to the village,” he murmured out before trekking back to the front door. He could hear the old man continued protests, but paid them no mind. A deal was a deal.

“Genji,” Jesse started as Genji walked back into the main entrance.

“What,” Genji snapped back.

“Whoa there,” Jesse said holding up the wooden pieces that served as his hands in mock surrender “I was just thinkin’ since the girl is going to be staying with us for quite awhile you might want to offer her a nicer room.” Jesse stared up at Genji’s unblinking visor, the green light pierced through him. Jesse tried to keep from rolling his eyes. “Fine then, you do what you feel is right, but I’m not having that girl’s misery on my conscience.” Genji turned away from him without another word.

The thought of leaving the girl alone in a prison tower made whatever was left of his stomach feel unsettled. He knew Jesse was right, but would just never admit it. Still, he thought back to the terrified look on her face as she finally got a view of him. What would keeping her here really accomplish for him? It was a chance, but if he could barely stand the sight of himself, how could anyone else? Genji pondered these thoughts as he ascended the staircase to the prison once more.

“You didn’t even let me say good-bye,” Angela said, wiping tears away from her eyes. She was still crumpled on the floor, trying to hold onto her resolve the best she could. “I’ll never see him again,” she said, and held her face into her hands, “I didn’t get to say good-bye.”

Genji really felt sick now. This is what monsters did right? Took the princess hostage and made her miserable. Genji turned his back to the crying girl, he couldn’t look at what he caused. “I’ll show you to your room,” he said reaching for the door handle once more.

“My room,” Angela said stunned, she wiped away a couple more tears. She looked back at the cell her father had once been in. “B-But I thought.”

Genji whipped back around to face her, the green lights on his own body illuminating her face slightly. He could see the tears stained on her cheeks. “You want to stay in the tower then,” he said trying to hold back a temper.

“No,” Angela replied quickly.

“Then follow me,” Genji said and yanked open the tower’s door.

Angela rose from her spot on the ground and dusted off whatever grime was on her clothes. The omnic stared at her while holding the door open. She tried to keep her eyes off of the sword attached to his back and instead focused on the green of the visor. She swallowed once more and exited through the door.

Genji followed after her, slamming the door behind them.

Chapter Text

“Are you gonna talk to her or what,” Jesse whispered. Jesse glanced at the girl behind him, she wasn’t crying anymore but she had this weird look on her face. And she was staring at Genji.

Angela had never seen any omnic like him, she tried to keep her eyes to herself but he piqued every interest. She wondered what he was like from a mechanical standpoint, why he was built the way he was mostly, lithe, assassin like. Angela stared at the metal spine at the top of his neck and wondered if it actually let him feel anything. She’d never heard of an omnic who could feel what they touched. The glow that emanated from his body bathed everything they passed in green. She almost found it comforting. Almost, maybe if she weren’t his prisoner.

Her mind drifted back to her father, she hadn’t seen him that close to tears in a very long time. Angela’s eyes dropped from his spine to the swords on his back. It was obvious why her father was fearful of the omnic, he had very little trust in every single one, except for their Bastion. This one had swords though, omnics with guns were entirely common, but to be expert enough to have a sword and be programmed to use one was completely different. “Are you going to kill me?” Angela asked suddenly.

Genji was surprised to say the least. She hadn’t let out a peep since she sulked her way down the prison steps, and that’s the first thing she says? He glanced over at Jesse who seemed to be screaming with his eyes for Genji to say something. “No,” he replied, feeling a sharp pang of hate as he heard the obvious robotic sounds in his voice.

“I don’t believe you,” she said back, casting her eyes to the ground. It felt harsh, she couldn’t deny that, but she was being honest. Angela found herself wondering if he was the only other person in this castle, if she’d really be stuck with just him for the rest of her life. And he would surely outlive her. She glanced around what would be her prison. Wood was cracked and splintered at every turn, and red paint had obviously been chipped off the walls leaving them with a stained look. She turned her head and locked eyes with a dragon statue; it had its mouth open and seemed to be reaching out with its claws attempting to attack whatever was in front of it. Angela continued to stare at it, not noticing she was falling behind.

“No,” Jesse chastised in a whisper, “that’s all ya had to say, no?” Oh this was getting more hopeless by the minute. “If someone asked you if you were going to kill ‘em ya might answer in more than one syllable,” Jesse huffed out. He glanced behind Genji once more. She was far behind them now, staring at one of those creepy dragons. “Hey,” Jesse said, getting Genji’s attention and indicating the best his could at the girl behind them.

Genji turned around and watched Angela, he saw her reach out for the dragon and wished she could have seen it before it looked the way it did. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Genji said. Angela’s hand stopped abruptly realizing she had been caught. “I promise.”

She stared at him over her shoulder, hand still outstretched with intention to touch the dragon. Angela dropped her hand and it hit her thigh like dead weight. She studied him again, trying to decipher who or what he was exactly. The green slit of his visor stared back at her, and she was annoyed she didn’t have a pair of eyes to look into to see if he was actually genuine. Angela hummed slightly indicating she heard him, but offering no more confidence in his words. He turned away from her once more.

“I can not make you follow me, but I do suggest sticking close,” Genji said, “even if I do frighten you.”

“You don’t frighten me,” Angela lied.

Genji scoffed. “Your questions suggest differently,” he jerked his head in the way they were meant to be headed, hoping she would follow. She was a bad liar, and he really was as terrifying as he thought. Genji’s hand tightened on Jesse’s handle subconsciously.

“Hey whoa there,” Jesse whispered, “I may be a lamp but you don’t got no right to manhandle me.” If he were still human, Jesse was sure he could shoot a bullet through the silence that followed the conversation Genji and the girl had. God, he really missed shooting his gun, but the wood that now served as his arms and hands didn’t lend itself to weaponry. Genji may be the most outward with his feelings about this curse, but everyone was hurting and this girl may be their last chance. “Can you please say something to ‘er,” Jesse tried to hide his annoyed tone under a whisper.

“I have said something to her,” Genji shot back.

“Yeah, that you’re not gonna kill ‘er. Something else Genji, come on, ya used to be good at this.”

Genji bit back the anger that rose up in the back of his throat. “I hope that you,” Genji paused. “Like it here,” he finished lamely. He looked to Jesse, who motioned for him to continue. This felt pointless. “This is your home now,” Genji said looking back to her, she was squinting up at the pillars obviously trying to get a look at one of the other dragons that were strewn about. It didn’t feel right to him, calling it her home made it sound nice, but home had the indication that she wanted to be here. It was her prison as much as it was his. “You may go anywhere you wish,” Genji stopped himself, “except the West Wing.”

Angela’s head snapped back down at the sound of his fumble. “What’s in the West Wing?” she asked, intrigue burrowing into her mind. He halted abruptly in front of her and she had to stop herself before bumping into his back. He didn’t exactly tower over Angela, but the way he looked down at her once he turned around made her feel very, very small.

“It is forbidden,” Genji said slowly, he stared into her eyes the best he could with the blockage that was his helm. They were blue.

Angela shifted her head back slightly to gain back the breathing room he had taken from her. She nodded her head slightly to indicate she heard him, but the nagging thought of what exactly was in the West Wing planted firmly into her brain.

Genji backed off upon seeing her confirmation. He turned his back to her once more, they were almost at her new room. He glanced to Jesse, seeing yet another disapproving look on his face.

“Can you see through that,” Angela asked.

“Yes,” Genji answered, his tone clipped.

“I can’t see your eyes.”

“That’s the point.”

“You’re not like any other omnic I’ve met,” Angela said, her eyebrows furrowed.

Oh. Oh no. Jesse felt a wad of panic settle as his eyes glanced between Genji and the girl. Genji’s hand tightened on his handle, and tightened and tightened.

“I am not an,” Genji yelled as he turned sharply to face her once again. His sentence was cut short as Angela flinched before him. He noticed her eyes darting between his helm and his left hand. Genji looked back to see the handle of his wakizashi firmly gripped. He dropped his hand from the handle, cursed his instincts, and bit his tongue to keep from yelling once more. “Just,” Genji was frustrated, “just follow me.” He stomped his way to the end of a hallway and threw open a green door on his right. “This is your room,” he huffed out.

Angela tried to ignore the pounding of her heart, what had she done that made him react so quickly, so dangerously? She stepped cautiously into the room, very aware that he stood behind her. It was nice, nicer than where she thought she would be staying.

“If you need anything,” Genji tried to hide the anger in his voice, “just ask, someone will come along.”

Someone will come along? So there were other people within this place, Angela felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had not seen anyone else thus far though, she thought she had heard some other voices, even him talking to someone at some point, but no one showed themselves.

“Dinner,” Jesse said, bumping the wood of his arms into Genji’s forearm, “invite her to dinner.”

Genji was beyond irritated between Jesse’s constant berating, and Angela thinking he was some kind of omnic. He had had it. “You will join me for dinner,” Genji gritted through his teeth, “it is not a request!” He slammed the door with her inside.

“Can you believe it,” Gabriel had said for about the hundredth time that day.

“Oh, I can believe it,” Sombra said, she held up two fingers to the bartender and he quickly brought over two more mugs of beer, collecting the now empty ones.

“I mean, she threw me out on my ass,” Gabriel said, gripping the beer tightly and chugging down a good bit. “I don’t understand that girl,” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and placed his elbows on the bar once more.

“That’s probably why outright proposing to her wasn’t the best move there boss,” Sombra said, sipping her beer and trying not to roll her eyes.

Gabriel scowled into his glass. He always thought she was a strange one, defending omnics, working on her father’s machines with him, trying to fix up wounds, but she was still a woman. And didn’t every woman just want to be married in the end? “You think that monkey that runs that book shop knows anything? He’s the only one she really talks to.”

“I don’t know Gabe, can we talk about something else?” Sombra was tired of talking about Angela and tired of that fact that Gabe refused to take a hint. The girl was weird, she wasn’t interested that should have been the end of it. The two sat in silence for a moment. “I’m really having trouble understanding why she is the one you keep going after, any girl in this town would be happy with you, why her?” She didn’t want to talk about it, but that one fact kept bothering her. Gabe wasn’t a bad looking guy, he was fine with maybe a bit of a temper sometimes. Hell, girls and guys fawned over him all the time. What made Angela so special?

“She’s just different, weird, but what can I say I prefer a chase to easy prey,” Gabriel chuckled and downed the last of his beer. He really did like Angela, she was a pretty face but also interesting to talk to. He never really met anyone like her before. Plus she was the best option in this town, a fine wife to be.

“If you say so,” Sombra took another sip, trying not to cringe at Gabe’s words. “Too bad if you got married you’d have to deal with that crazy father of hers, ‘ey?” The two shared at laugh at Torbjörn’s expense. And as if on cue the old man came bursting through the bar doors, making everyone pause what they were doing. “Speak of the devil,” Sombra sighed, finishing the last sip of her beer.

“Please,” Torbjörn panted, “somebody help me.”

“Torbjörn,” another man at the bar questioned.

“He’s got her,” Torbjörn was frantic, shaking the man who said his name by the shoulders. “Sh-she’s locked in the tower.” He paused in front of Gabriel and Sombra.

“Who’s locked in a tower now,” Sombra asked, spinning in her stool to face his.

“Angela,” he answered, “we’ve got to go, quickly!”

“Whoa,” Gabriel said, turning and leaning his arms back on the bar “Slow down there Torb. Who's got Angie locked in a tower?” How had Angela gone and gotten herself locked in a tower? Just what exactly was that girl doing in her spare time?

“An omnic, no a beast is more like it,” Torbjörn said quickly, trying to urge along any questions. The bar around him exploded into laughter. The confusion must have appeared plainly on his face.

“What’s it look like there Torbjörn,” heckled a man in the corner table.

“Like an omnic assassin, two swords on it at all time, green lights,” he said quickly, his mind flashing back to the image of the omnic slicing a chair clean in half. The men in the bar laughed once more.

“Oh yeah, what else,” another one called.

Torbjörn let out some flustered sounds instead of answering. They were wasting time; Angela could be hurt by now. Or worse. She didn’t know how to protect herself from that thing.

Sombra tried to hide a snort behind her hand. “What do you say Gabe, should we help him out?”

“Oh yeah Sombra, I think we should help him out right now,” he replied a sly smile on his face. Of all the crazy stories Torbjörn has shared with them about Bastions in the woods and one time seeing an omnic fish, this was by far the craziest. An assassin looking, green glowing omnic with two swords who somehow captured Angela? Right. Sure. “Why don’t you guys help him out,” Gabriel said, indicating to some of the men in the corner.

“Oh thank you so much,” Torbjörn said, suddenly two of the men grabbed him by the upper arms, practically lifting him off the ground. Then before he knew it, he was out the door and face down in the snow.

“Someone should really do something about that guy,” Sombra said, asking the bartender for two more beers. “He’s crazy enough to get someone killed someday.” Sombra sipped her beer as soon as it was put in front of her.

A thought sprung into Gabriel’s head. “You know Sombra you are right,” he said. “Why if we had him taken care of, the whole town would be safer,” mock innocence present in his voice. “And with her father gone Angela would have no choice but to take up a husband, a girl like that can’t support herself.” Gabriel sipped the beer in front of him, hiding his malicious smirk in the glass.

Angela jumped as soon as the door behind her slammed. She took a tentative step into the room. A bed was pushed up against a large window, and she could see the snow falling from where she stood. Angela swallowed hard and felt tears begin to run down her cheeks once more. At this point she wasn’t sure if they were from anger or sadness, her psyche had been sent on a journey within the last few hours. Angela clutched onto one of the corner poles of the bed to steady herself. Her mind drifted back to the omnic, and what exactly had she said that had set him off. He had been so quick to grab the sword at his back, he said he wouldn’t hurt her but her confidence in that answer was waning after that outburst.

Angela sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He had said if she needed anything, someone would come along. Right now she didn’t need much other than someone to talk to.

A light tapping on the door knocked her out of her reverie. She took a deep breath in through her nose and prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t the omnic. Angela approached the door as silently as she could. “Who is it,” she asked tentatively.

“Ana, I thought you might like some tea?”

“Yes,” Angela almost exclaimed, excited to hear the voice of another person. “Please, please come in.” She hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks and swung open the door, expecting to see another woman standing there. Instead she looked down, to see a tea cart with a teapot and a lone cup sitting on it.

“Thank you for opening the door dear, much too hard without hands,” the teapot said, slipping her way into the room.

“Ah, but I, but you,” Angela fumbled her words. Some sort of omnic teapot? But the voice didn’t sound robotic at all, and who ever heard of an omnic teapot? She stumbled back knocking into a dresser that stood against the door.

“Hey watch it,” the wardrobe replied, thick with a Russian accent.

“I’m sorry,” Angela said in a questioning tone, she tried to keep her eyes from going wide. She’d heard of omnics that helped around homes of the wealthy, but they were always modeled after people not furniture or teapots for that matter. “I-I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Angela said, grasping her head and taking a seat on the edge of the bed once more. “Are you,” she started, eyes darting between the teapot and the wardrobe, “omnics?” She asked the question carefully, afraid they may blow up at her like her captor did.

“No,” the teacup on the cart snorted out.

“Hush Fareeha,” Ana scolded, as she began pouring tea into the cup. “No dear, we are not omnics.”

“As if I would ever allow myself to be one,” the wardrobe said, a definite offended tone in her voice.

“Zarya please,” Ana tried again, she turned once more to the girl and pushed Fareeha the best she could towards her. “We are not omnics, we used to be people but then something happened.”

“What happened?” Angela asked, curiosity getting the best of her. She reached out and grasped the talking teacup from the cart. She moved to take a sip, but looked down to see a pair of eyes watching her. Angela smiled uneasily at the cup. “Is this okay,” she asked it.

“I’m a cup,” Fareeha responded, “there’s not much else for me to do.”

“Fareeha, be nice,” Ana said. “It is um," Ana sighed, "hard to explain. Go on, drink before it gets cold.” Ana quickly changed the conversation. She wished she could tell the girl more, but the spell forbid them from talking about it. After all if Angela knew exactly what was to be done, it would all be moot.

Angela took a small sip. The tea was delicious, there were spices in it she could not quite identify but it made her feel warm and a little happy. “Sorry,” she apologized to Fareeha. Angela took the time to appreciate how much Ana and Fareeha matched, each with one ornately decorated eye and similar blue palettes. The gold on Fareeha made her stand apart from her mother, but still tied the two together. Angela wondered what they looked like as people, the designs they had were completely different from how the castle looked. She glanced back at the wardrobe as well, Zarya, Ana had called her. She hardly fit in either. It made no sense to her as to why they were all here.

Ana smiled warmly watching her daughter and the new girl. “We all thought it was very brave what you did for your father, not many would do the same.”

“I don’t know if I would call myself brave,” Angela said, placing Fareeha in her lap. “Stupid, or stubborn seem like better words.” Angela fought more tears from brimming.

“Standing up to Genji, ha,” Zarya laughed, “very brave, that boy can act like such a brat.”

“Is that his name?” Angela asked looking between Ana and Zarya. Ana nodded the best she supposed a teapot could. Genji. She’d never heard a name like that before. “He is,” Angela paused, “quite something. Was he always like this?” She grasped the tea cup again, taking another sip.

Ana chuckled. “No dear, I bet if you had met him before, he would have swept you right off your feet.”

Angela sputtered into the tea, and tried to keep her coughing to a minimum.

“Hey,” Fareeha whined.

“Ah well look at the time,” Ana said. “Fareeha and I must help with finishing supper, come along.” She bounded out of Angela’s hand onto the tea cart once more. “Careful don’t spill,” Ana said.

“Yes mama.”

“See you at dinner then,” Ana slipped her way back out the door, tea cart creaking the whole way.

Angela still sat in stunned silence. Swept her off her feet, with that attitude? She highly doubted that.

“So then what will you be wearing to dinner,” Zarya asked. “My eye may not be the best, previously fashion was on my mind very little.” She did her best to grab a pink dress from out of her cabinet. “I do think you would look nice in this though.”

“You are very kind to offer, but I won’t be going to dinner,” Angela said. She crossed the room and looked at one of the books that sat on the side table. Flipping open to one of the pages, she saw it was entirely in a language she did not know. Immediately she gave up the idea of sitting quietly on her bed that evening with a nice book.

“What do you mean you won’t be going, you were asked to,” Zarya said in disbelief. She may believe Genji to be acting foolish as of late, but it was always better to stay on his good side.

“Well he can’t make me do anything, he said so himself,” Angela crossed her arms defiantly and turned away from the wardrobe.

Zarya scowled. “You’re nearly as stubborn as,” she started, but was interrupted by the door creaking open once more.

Hanzo cleared his throat, the girl had her back to him and made no indication that she was turning around. “Dinner is served,” he said.

Chapter Text

“Where is she,” Genji asked once again. “What is taking so long? I told her to come down to dinner!” His voice rose with each word, anger beginning to climb. Genji paced in front of the fire by the dining table, the heat warming the armor that covered his body to an almost uncomfortable temperature.

“Please be patient Genji,” Ana said. “She has lost so much in one day and you have not been the most inviting host.” Ana showed no reaction when Genji glared in her direction.

“Uh I don’t mean to be interupttin’ or nothing,” Jesse started, “but have you considered she might be the one to break the spell?”

“Of course I have Jesse, I am not a fool,” Genji said, stopping in front of the fire. He watched the flames consume the wood, turning the edges dark. The curse, it had been so long. Genji flexed his right hand in front of him, machinery clicked together allowing him to do so. He wondered what it would even feel like to be fully human again.

“Good then s’real easy, you fall in love with her an’ she falls in love with you, bang spell broken.”

“Jesse, you know as well as I do it’s not that simple,” Ana said.

“Used to be real simple for Genji,” Jesse replied, sending a wink Ana’s way.

“It can’t be like that either,” Ana sighed.

Genji continued to stare at his hand, despair creeping into his mind. “What is the use,” he asked. “She is terrified of me, look at me, she has every right to be,” he turned to face the two. Genji despised the way he looked, it was no surprise she did too. He was a monster, a freak.

“Genji,” Ana reprimanded, “if you don’t believe in yourself how are any of us supposed to. Help her to see past all that. You are not the same man you once were and in some ways that is better and in some ways it is worse.” It never felt strange for Ana to be treating Genji like her own child. After all it had been ten years since this curse took place. Someone needed to keep all these boys in order. “But you have to try,” she added.

“Ana, I,” Genji paused and looked up to where the two stood on the mantle of the fireplace. His two hands were laid in front of them. The muscles of his left shoulder went slack as he slouched. He wished the pain on his face was evident, but the helm left his feelings shrouded. Angela had even pointed it out right before she called him- she had called him. His thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as the door creaked open. Genji tried to push down the anger and pain that was swirling in his chest. Instead standing up tall and waiting for Angela’s entrance.

Hanzo stepped into the room the best the clock feet he had would allow. “Evening brother,” he said, three pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. Jesse’s eyes locked onto his, already seeming to read his mind.

“Where is she,” Genji asked, angry at seeing only Hanzo and no Angela behind him.

“She’s not coming,” Hanzo stated matter-of-factly.

“What did you say,” Genji said through gritted teeth.

“She’s not coming, Genji,” Hanzo said once more. He couldn’t blame the girl for having no interest in spending an evening with the man who essentially kidnapped her. He just knew that they were going to get the brunt of his anger. “I am sorry.”

The rage that was building inside of him squashed any other feelings. Blind fury sent Genji bursting through the door of the dining room, Jesse and Ana hot on his heels. He climbed up to the second floor, and vaulted over the bannister that separated the two stories. Genji brought three forceful knocks down on Angela’s door. “I told you to come down to dinner,” he yelled, putting strain on his robotic vocal cords.

“I’m not hungry,” Angela replied defiantly. She had her back pressed to the wall beside the door, in case he decided to break it down. She would have a quick escape out then. Angela exchanged looks with Zarya, who only rolled her eyes in response.

“If you don’t come out, I’ll-I’ll,” Genji was too angry to put together a coherent thought.

“You’ll do what Genji,” Jesse asked, folding the wood that served as his arms. Genji shot a look his way. “Threatenin’ the girl is no way to make her like ya, thought you knew that.”

“Why is she being so difficult,” he said loud enough for it to reach Angela.

“Easy Genji, easy,” Ana said, trying to diffuse the situation. She shared a look with Hanzo. “Would you like to help us with this?”

“I could barely handle him when I was human, now as clock you want me to do something?” Hanzo scoffed.

“C’mon darlin’,” Jesse tried to reason with Hanzo. Even if it didn’t seem like it, Genji respected his older brother more than any of them. Hanzo often spoke about how Genji didn’t care what he said, but Jesse knew better. Jesse knew that Hanzo cared deeply for his brother and he knew Genji cared what his brother thought of him.

Hanzo sighed, and bounced his way to Genji’s feet. “Genji,” he said in a tone that almost made him sound like their father. Almost. “Kind. Sincere, like before.”

Genji took a deep breath in after hearing his brother’s words. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would join me for dinner.” He looked towards Hanzo who face told him he forgot something. Genji tried to not roll his eyes. “Please.”

“No thank you,” Angela responded.

“You can not stay in there forever,” Genji’s anger flared once more.

“Oh yes I can,” she scoffed out. Angela tried to ignore the rumbling of her stomach. She was hungry, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Fine,” Genji pounded a fist on the door, the wood splintering slightly under his robotic knuckles. “Starve in there then,” he shouted. He turned to the three who followed him. The green glow of his visor shone bright in a hot rage. “If she does not eat with me, then she does not eat at all. Is that clear?” Jesse, Hanzo and Ana all stared at him as though he were insane. “Is that clear,” he shouted once more.

“Yes Genji,” Hanzo said, turning his eyes away from his brother. Genji could hardly control what any of them did, but as walking-talking objects he held a power over them. He had real arms for one thing, well almost real arms.

“Good,” Genji said. He stomped down the hallway, making his way towards the West Wing.

“Oh what are we going to do with that boy,” Ana said, exasperated.

“What do you mean that boy,” Hanzo defended, “she was not being cooperative either.”

“All right, all right,” Jesse said, trying to calm both of them down before another fight broke out. “They’re both actin’ poorly, no need to place blame.”

“Fine then Jesse,” Hanzo said, “you keep an eye out for her then.” With that Hanzo turned his back to the two, and made his way down the stairs.

Ana sighed. “I am going to be honest Jesse, I don’t know what you see in him. You’re such a nice boy and,” Ana stopped herself before she hurt Jesse’s feelings. “I guess I will help with cleaning up,” Ana said and turned to go downstairs.

The green glow of the lights on Genji’s body cut through the darkness of the room. The old wooden door slammed against the wall as he entered. “I ask nicely, yet she refuses,” Genji grumbled to himself, he tore apart an old curtain that hung in his way. “What does she wish for me to do, beg?” He glanced around what used to be his space. Everything that had once been pristine was in disarray. In the ten years of this curse this room had taken the brunt of Genji’s anger spells. Drawers had been thrown out of his dresser and splintered until they broke in half. Old clothing torn to shreds after realizing he would no longer be needing it. The only thing in the room that remained fully intact was an old wooden table. The rose and the mirror the enchantress left him placed delicately on it. Both glowed with the promise of a strong magic. Genji stared at the rose and ghosted a hand over the glass case that covered it. He looked at the base to see two petals on the table’s surface, and tried to not let panic seize him. Genji snatched the mirror off of the table. “Show me the girl,” he commanded it, the tinge of a robotic tone in his voice made him glance back at the petals next to the rose. Green sparks of magic brought the mirror to life, the swirling image of Angela sitting on her bed talking to Zarya came into view.

“He’s not so bad,” Zarya said, Angela still defiantly turned away from her. “Sure he can be a little selfish and that temper is something, but maybe give him a chance?”

Genji wasn’t sure whether or not he should be furious at Zarya, or thankful to her.

“I don’t want to give him a chance, I don’t want anything to do with him,” Angela yelled, she turned her back fully on Zarya, crossing her arms. The magic of the mirror faded away, until Genji was only staring at himself once more. He placed it face down on the table, not wanting to look at what he was for one more moment.

“I’m just fooling myself,” Genji said, holding his head. He stared at his other arm, quietly whirring with the sounds of machinery. “She will never see me as anything more than this, it’s hopeless.” Genji supported himself on the table’s edge, and stared out the large doors that led to a balcony. Snow had frosted over the glass but the moon had just begun to rise enough for him to see it’s light. Unbeknownst to him, another petal from the rose fell.

Angela emerged from her room a couple of hours later. The rumbling in her stomach too much to ignore, along with the nagging curiosity to explore the rest of the castle unattended. She closed the door quietly behind her, hearing the metal click.

“Where you goin’ missy,” Jesse asked.

Angela jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning around slowly she looked down, finally seeing the old western style lantern at the foot of her door. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of him, another out of place design in this castle.

“What’re you starin’ at?”

Angela blushed at his words. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just,” Angela was frazzled trying to think of an excuse for why she would be out of the room. The lantern peered at her curiously, then let out a hearty laugh.

“You hungry?” Jesse asked the girl.

“Yes,” Angela said stunned at how quickly his mood shifted. “But please don’t tell him,” Angela said, biting down on her bottom lip. “I-I don’t want to see him.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Jesse said, “follow me, kitchen’s downstairs.” Jesse waddled his way down the steps to the main foyer. He could tell the girl was moving slowly behind him, trying not to step on him. Which he appreciated. “What’s your name again,” he asked not looking back.

“Angela,” she answered, “and yours?”

“Jesse, but you can call me McCree if ya want,” Jesse said, “been trying to get it to stick for awhile now.” He shot her a smirk over what would be his shoulder.

“Okay then McCree,” Angela chuckled at the nickname, “nice to meet you.” She was amazed at how kind everyone was. Well almost everyone. Glancing around the hallway they traveled down Angela saw more dragon statues. Some of them stared at her with such ferocity she was sure they were going to tell Genji she was out of her room. A thought popped into her head. “I thought he said you couldn’t let me eat?” Or at least that’s what she was pretty sure he had yelled at them.

“You think we listen to what he says, we ain’t his servants,” Jesse laughed slightly. He pushed open the door to the kitchen finding Ana pushing teacups into the cupboard, and ordering plates to the top shelf.

“Come along Fareeha, it’s time to go to sleep,” Ana said, pushing her daughter onto the bottom shelf.

“I’m not tired mama,” Fareeha protested, trying to stifle the yawn she felt coming on.

“Oh really,” Ana questioned, “then I guess you can help with cleaning up?” At her words Fareeha’s eyes widened, the cup shook herself vigorously before hopping into the cupboard with the rest of the teacups. Fareeha’s eyes snapped shut as soon as Ana closed the door.

“Ah such a waste,” Reinhardt griped, “I spend all this time on this food and for nothing.” He slammed the lid he was holding back onto its respective pot.

“I know dear,” Ana said, trying to console the large iron stove, “it’s been a long night for all of us.”

Jesse cleared his throat once Angela stepped into the room along side him. “I know someone who might wanna eat that food.”

“Hey what’s she doing here,” Fareeha questioned, peering through the glass panes of the cupboard. Ana shot her a look, and Fareeha promptly snapped her eyes shut once more.

“Ah splendid,” Reinhardt practically shouted. “What would you prefer? We have kartoffelsuppe, or maybe you’d like some sauerbraten?”

“Um kartoffelsuppe is just fine,” Angela responded, trying not to sound skeptical. Why was there exclusively German food here? Why did they all speak in different accents? Why did everyone not match the decor of the castle? This place was entirely confusing. Angela had to keep from spilling the soup down the front of her dress as it was shoved into her unexpecting hands by the giant stove.

“Sorry Angela dear, Reinhardt doesn’t know his own strength,” Ana said, shooting a look to Reinhardt who only smiled back.

“Ana, can you help with the wine glasses? They are not being cooperative,” Hanzo said, as he pushed back into the kitchen from the dining room. He stopped, stunned at the sight of Angela standing in the middle of the kitchen, a steaming bowl clutched in her hands. “What are you doing here,” he asked her angrily, before turning to Jesse. “What is she doing here, Jesse,” he asked him, growing more upset. “Why does she have food?”

“What are we gonna do starve the girl,” Jesse responded with a roll of his eyes. Hanzo matched his eyes with intensity that would have intimidated any other man. Jesse was just used to it at this point. “C’mon Hanzo, have a heart.”

“Fine,” Hanzo grumbled out, “have your soup, then back to your room.”

“Such a sweetheart,” Jesse said, knowing it would push his buttons. He was rewarded with a light blush dusting Hanzo’s clock face. “She ain’t our prisoner, she’s our guest.” He turned to Angela who gave him an uneasy smile.

Angela appreciated Jesse’s words but she sure still felt like a prisoner. A movement caught the corner of her eye as Reinhardt was waving a spoon wildly. “Thank you,” she said, taking the spoon from the stove’s iron hands, it was slightly warm. She tasted the kartoffelsuppe, feeling all of the eyes in the room on her, even Hanzo’s which were peeking out from mostly closed lids. It was delicious, it almost reminded her of her mother’s cooking. “Reinhardt this is wonderful,” she said beaming at the stove, “you must give me the recipe sometime, I’m sure my father would-” Her sentence cut short, and she swallowed loud enough for her to hear it.

“Uh I’m glad you like it,” Reinhardt boomed, trying to lighten Angela’s mood. “You come down anytime and we’ll make it together, okay?” Reinhardt beamed at her, while exchanging a nervous glance with Ana.

“Yes,” Ana said trying to build off of Reinhardt’s beginning, “and we will have tea together as well, Fareeha and I can tell you some stories. I’m sure Jesse has some from his cowboy days as well.”

Angela snorted out a laugh, picturing the lantern in full cowboy getup. She raised an eyebrow at him. “A cowboy huh, where’s your hat then?”

“Aw now that’s not very nice there Angela,” Jesse said taking the teasing in stride. That being said, Jesse did miss his hat, more than any normal person should probably miss a hat.

Angela laughed and put another spoonful of the soup into her mouth, the flavors were just as delicious the second time. She finished the rest of the bowl at her own pace all the while still feeling the tenseness in the air from the others. Placing the bowl on the counter next to her, Angela did her best to face the group. “So what do you all do around here,” she asked. All the objects in the room exchanged glances, which told her they didn’t do much. “I see, well I would like to look around if that’s okay?”

“Oh you want a tour,” Jesse said, he placed one of his wooden arms around Hanzo’s clock body, “Hanzo knows the place the best, I’m sure he’d love to take ya around, with my assistance ‘course.” Hanzo scowled as Jesse shot him a cheeky smile.

“As you can see these rooms were mainly used for meditation purposes,” Hanzo said, sliding one of the paper-lined doors closed. “Now down the hall you will see the sparring rooms.”

“I would keep away from those,” Jesse whispered back to Angela, “too many swords.”

“The main foyer,” Hanzo stated, “and the den in across the way.”

Angela nodded, the palace was huge and she felt like it could swallow her whole at anytime. She glanced around the foyer once more, the detailing becoming more clear. “There’s a,” Angela started, staring up at a scroll that depicted two dragons fighting one another, “there’s a lot of dragons.”

“Yeah ya get used to it, they look real creepy now though,” Jesse said, elbowing Hanzo.

“Right,” Hanzo said curtly, “well if that is all you wanted to see then perhaps it is time for you to head to sleep.”

“What’s up there,” Angela asked, pointing the the side of the main staircase that was opposite to her room. Hanzo seemed to bristle at her question.

“Nothing,” Hanzo replied quickly, “there is nothing up there but dust. The West Wing is of no importance.” Angela quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Ah so that’s where the West Wing is,” she said. Genji’s word of warning rang in her head, but her curiosity was much louder. What exactly did someone like him have to hide? She moved to climb the staircase, but Jesse quickly blocked her path.

“Hey now, there must be some room we missed on the tour, right Hanzo?”

“Only the library, but I can’t imagine you have an interest in,” Hanzo stopped as Jesse’s eyes screamed at him to shut his mouth. “Would you like to see the library,” he grumbled out instead.

“Yes actually,” Angela said some excitement took hold in her. A real library with books she hadn’t read before. She wondered if they would have anything on omnics here or if that was forbidden. Maybe there would be something on the new medical technology that was being invented. Or maybe even a book on nanobots, she had been dying to read one of those.

“Great,” Jesse said, tugging on the bottom of her dress, “right this way, right Hanzo? There’s a mountain a’books in there, I’m sure we’ll find somethin’ you’d like.”

“More books than anyone could read in a lifetime,” Hanzo added sullenly, before he turned down the hallway they entered from. “This way,” he said without turning around. Jesse indicated for Angela to follow the best he could. Angela began to walk behind the two, but the curiosity still nagged in her mind.

“Forbidden, hm,” she wondered to herself, slowing her steps. Hanzo and Jesse rounded the corner in front of her, and Angela made no motion to follow. She looked over her shoulder at the stairs that led to the West Wing. Biting her lip, Angela made her way back to foyer and began to ascend the main staircase.

The hallway leading to the West Wing was dark, only a couple of lamps along the wall were still intact. Angela hugged herself, for some reason this place felt colder. Broken furniture lined the hall, white sheets haphazardly covered the pieces as though someone was ashamed of them. Angela looked to her right, gasped slightly, then placed a hand over her racing heart to try and slow it down. She stared at the image of herself, shattered into different triangles in the mirror. She touched the point of impact, and noticed it looked like a fist.

After climbing over what she thought was a halved chair, Angela came to a door. It was green like the one to her room, but the handles were different, twisted metal each made into the shape of a dragon. She reached for one, but hesitated for a moment and quickly looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was around. The hallway was still dark, one lantern was flickering in the distance. Angela swallowed and pushed the door open.

The room was almost as dark as the hallway, the moonlight shining through the glass doors that led to the balcony illuminated the space enough. Angela ducked under a dark curtain that was ripped in half. She grew more concerned by the moment as the furniture in the room was in the same state as those in the hall. A dresser to her right was missing a few drawers, which she saw smashed against the opposite wall. Her only guess was that someone threw them. Angela’s hip bumped against a small side table as she continued to glance around the room amazed. She caught it in her hands before it could cause a noise, but it hardly crossed her mind once she set it back down. The bed caught her eye next, the wooden posts seemed to be hacked to pieces, splintered until they could no longer properly hold up the canopy that sat above it. Angela got the uneasy feeling that someone’s eyes were on her. She peeked over her shoulder, afraid that Genji may be there. Instead she came eye to eye with a painting.

It was in tatters, as though it had been cut up, but was still whole enough to see an image. Angela walked up to it with quiet steps. Cocking her head to one side and quirking an eyebrow, she stared at the painting. It was of a young man from what she could gather. Lifting up a piece of the canvas, she tried to get a better idea of how it looked before it was destroyed. A smirk smiled back at her coyly, not quite matching the brown eyes that seemed to exude kindness. Angela stared at it for a while trying to think if she’d seen anyone like him before. A faint pink glow in the back center of the room caught the corner of her eye, and she was pulled out of staring into the man’s eyes.

Angela stepped gingerly over a smashed wooden chair and found the source of the light to be a red rose, seemingly suspended mid-air beneath a glass bell case. She stared at it almost not believing what she saw. Angela glanced around the room once more, making sure no one was around before removing the case from on top of the rose. She peered curiously at the space between the rose and the table, almost wanting to wave her hand between the two to see if there were strings. It’s glow was intoxicating, so warm and bright. Angela couldn’t help herself, and reached out a hand to touch it.

The door of the balcony flung open, making Angela jump back from touching the rose. Genji jumped into the room with impressive speed and slammed the bell jar back on top of the rose, hugging it protectively for a moment. He turned his head to face Angela, whose face only read fear. “What are you doing here,” he said slowly, trying to not let his anger show and knowing he was failing.

“I’m sorry,” Angela said, retreating from her spot near the rose.

“I told you never to come here,” Genji snapped back, finally pulling away from the rose. He advanced towards her and she took more steps back.

“I meant you no harm,” Angela felt her voice waver as Genji continued to stare down at her, the green of his helm growing brighter by the moment.

“Do you not realize what you could have done,” Genji yelled, reaching to his back for his ōdachi. He sliced clean through the armchair that had tatters in the fabric from one of his previous episodes.

“Stop,” Angela pleaded as Genji continued to slash at what was left of the furniture in the room. He turned to her once more, sword drawn at the ready. She stumbled back a few paces, tripping over a shattered piece of wood. Angela covered her face with her arms, afraid to be hit next. “You-you said you wouldn’t hurt me, you promised!”

Genji’s eyes widened at her outburst, and he took the moment to survey his stance. Sword pointed at a girl who was cowering and fearing for her life just after a crazed freak smashed a room to pieces. “Get out,” he yelled. Angela didn’t move, eyes still snapped shut and arms hiding her face from being harmed. “Get out,” he yelled once more, and Angela turned and fled out the doors. Genji took a short breath in before dropping the sword from his hands. He fell to his knees and held his head in his hands burdened with the knowledge that his last chance, just ran out the door without even bothering to look back.

Chapter Text

“How could you lose her?”

“What? Me? M’not the only one giving the tour here.”

“I thought you were keeping an eye on her,” Hanzo snapped back.

“I thought you were keepin’ an eye on her,” Jesse said, trying not to laugh while doing so. The two of them had lost an entire adult woman, which just seemed too ridiculous, even for them. Hanzo was much more concerned than Jesse, but that was only because they both knew where she probably went. As if on cue Angela came racing down the staircase, shooting a quick look over her shoulder. “Whoa, where you goin’?”

“Promise or no promise, I won’t stay here another minute,” Angela said, as she snatched her cloak from the banister. She fastened it around her neck and shot to the front door. She looked back at the clock and the lantern, the two were staring at her. Opening the main door she slipped halfway through before uttering, “I’m sorry.”

“Jesse, we have to stop her,” Hanzo said starting to march to the front door. Jesse placed a wooden arm across Hanzo’s body before he took another step.

“What are we gonna do Hanzo,” Jesse said, his chipper and charming tone dipping down to a more sorrowful one. “She don’t wanna be here, and from what it seems,” Jesse glanced back to the West Wing, “Genji didn’t do a good job’a keepin’ her here.” Hanzo spun away from Jesse’s arm.

“I am not worried about us Jesse,” Hanzo said frustrated. Jesse gave him a look, one that told him he couldn’t understand what Hanzo meant. “The gir-Angela,” Hanzo said looking towards the door, snow skirted along the rug at the entrance. Hanzo stared into Jesse’s eyes once more. “There are Bastions out there.”

Angela didn’t even bother to dust the snow off of Sigrún’s saddle before she swung on top of the horse. Sigrún whinnied at her actions, startled by how quick Angela was. “I’m sorry girl, but we have to get out of here. We have to go home.” Angela jabbed her heels into the horse’s side, making Sigrún jolt forward, towards and out the front gate.

Sigrún sped through the forest, her hooves galloping easily through the freshly fallen snow. Angela kept a tight grip on the reins and leaned closer to the horse’s neck to keep the wind from biting at her face. She swallowed hard thinking about the way Genji had looked at her, like she was the next target for his blade. It felt wrong. He had promised he wouldn’t hurt her. Angela’s eyebrows furrowed as she was in deep thought about Genji’s intentions. Her father, according to him, had trespassed and so she took his place as Genji’s prisoner. But why was she worth it? She was another mouth to feed and another liability for him. What did Angela add to his life, other than another witness to his actions? The more she thought about the situation the more she didn’t understand.

She was only taken out of her reverie when Sigrún came to a screeching halt. Angela felt the wind get knocked out of her as her chest slammed against the horse’s shoulders. She let out a quick exhale of pain, before placing a hand against her throbbing sternum. “Sigrún, ah, what is it,” Angela was able to get out in short breaths. She watched as the horse’s head darted around in an erratic pattern, ears twitching as though she was listening for something. Angela was tempted to look behind her, wanting to see if a green glow had followed them this far. She stopped once her eyes locked onto to something within the trees. A red rectangle glowed back at them. Then four more lights flickered into existence. And Angela no longer wanted to look behind her. Sigrún snorted loudly, and Angela yanked the reins to the left and forced the horse forward once more.

There was no mistaking the sounds of Bastions as Angela tore through the landscape. Their mechanical feet moved slow due to the weight of their bodies, but more kept emerging from the trees. It felt like every time Angela looked over her shoulder another red light was staring back at her, advancing on her. She yelped and ducked her head down as bullets tore their way into a tree behind them. A distinct cracking sound was heard, then the tree began to fall. Angela steered Sigrún out of the way, taking a left instead of continuing straight. The tree fell with a large boom, Angela looked over her shoulder to see some of the Bastions not far behind. One of them crunched down on the now leveled tree, the mechanical foot going through it as though it were nothing but a stick. Distracted by the group behind her Angela didn’t notice they had rode onto a frozen pond, until Sigrún’s hoof went through the ice.

The horse whinnied loudly as the water splashed up onto her skin. Angela tried to ignore the icy water that soaked into her shoes and concentrate on getting Sigrún back to more solid ground. “Come on, it’s okay I won’t let anything happen,” Angela said trying to calm the horse, while maneuver her towards the edge of the pond with more snow and solid ice. Sigrún’s front hooves gripped onto the edge and Angela shifted her body weight forward so the horse could get on land.

The Bastions behind her seemed hardly deterred by the water, as they stomped their way onto the lake’s surface as well. The few that tried to cross immediately sunk through the ice, and Angela felt some relief wash over her as she watched their numbers dwindle.

Sigrún had barely made it to the next clearing before six more Bastions came stomping out towards them. “Easy girl, easy,” Angela said trying to calm the horse as the Bastions marched closer. Instead, Sigrún bucked Angela off her back and into the snow. The cold ground bit into her cheek and Angela could feel some warm blood trickle down from the scrape. She looked up to see Sigrún’s reins wrapped around a nearby tree branch as the Bastions began to surround the horse. Grabbing a broken branch from the ground next to her, Angela raced up, foot slipping on the snow and placed herself between the horse and the Bastions. Her blonde hair whipped around her face, hair tie forgotten in the snow, as she swung the branch at the omnics, all of which seemed hardly deterred. One of the Bastions reached out a hand and grabbed the stick as Angela swung at it. The wood was shattered in its fist in seconds. Angela backed up her body against Sigrún’s as the circle of Bastions closed in around them.

The omnic directly in front of them stopped suddenly and began to tuck it’s arms into it’s body. The large turret gun that normally sat on a Bastion’s back moved to the front as it’s head slid back into the correct place with a deafening click. She huddled further into the horse’s body, and Angela’s eyes snapped shut as she waited for the sound of bullets. She heard a voice instead.

“Jōtō da,” Genji called, jumping between Angela and the turreted Bastion. A rain of ammo shot out from the Bastion’s barrel. Genji drew his wakizashi from his lower back, and deflected the bullets back at the Bastion. It fell into a pile of scrap in the snow, the red eye flickering and finally going black. The other five began closing in, and Genji had to consciously not look back at Angela, instead keeping his eyes on the advancing omnics. With his wakizashi still drawn, he dashed through the one to their right. The Bastion was severed at the mid section, top half sliding off the bottom and exposed wires sparking dangerously. He looked back to see the Bastions moving towards him and leaving Angela cowering against her horse. Genji smirked to himself, and slipped his wakizashi back into its sheath. He moved his robotic hand to the ōdachi on his back. “Ryūjin no ken o kurae,” he yelled, feeling the dragon spirit inside him roar to life.

Angela watched, both impressed and terrified as Genji’s helm and blade burned green. He sliced easily through two more of the omnics. They broke into pieces like the others, nothing more than scrap and wires on the ground. Angela’s breath hitched as one of Bastions sieged up once more. “Genji watch out,” she yelled.

His heart nearly stopped at the sound of her calling his name. Where had she learned it, he had never told her. Too lost in thought, Genji only noticed the danger she was referring to when several bullets went tearing into his left shoulder. His armor held up well against the first few, but the next several that were shot at him made direct hits into his skin. Genji grunted in pain, and felt warm blood begin to stream down his chest. Some of the drops escaped his armor, hitting the white snow and tainting it with red. A bullet ricocheted off of the helm that covered his face, making the metal splinter. He felt some cold air begin to leak through the crack. Genji did his best to hold his sword in front of him with his one still useful hand. The bullets bounced off the steel and back at the Bastion. It absorbed it’s own shots, and turned to pieces. Genji gripped his left shoulder momentarily, trying to stop the pain he felt through his own will.

Before he could think the last Bastion of the group grabbed his robotic arm with it’s hand, and crunched down into the mechanics. It did not hurt nearly as much as his shoulder, but Genji still felt the pain as his arm began sparking wildly. He felt useless at this point, both arms basically out of commision. The Bastion held fast onto his forearm, stared at him with its unblinking red eye and tossed him into the snow behind it.

Angela gasped as she watched Genji be thrown. Desperately, she tried to untie Sigrún’s reins from the tree to no avail. Her hands were shaking too much, riddled with panic. The Bastion turned to her once again. Bullets dropped from the omnic’s right arm as it reloaded. Angela was struck with fear as it came marching toward her. She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do. It was mere feet from her when the Bastion stopped suddenly in its tracks. Angela held a hand up over her mouth, eyes wide. Genji’s sword was rammed through the Bastion’s chest. The omnic’s head twitched erratically, as sparks erupted from the sword’s point of contact. Angela watched as the Bastion’s eye went dim and it fell face first in front of her feet, leaving a sizeable imprint in the snow. She held both hands up to her mouth, and tried to slow her breathing. She looked up from where the Bastion fell, seeing Genji standing in the distance, wind whipping the ribbon that extended from the back of his head.

Genji felt the steam sockets on his shoulder pop free, releasing a mist of hot air. He was breathing hard and could feel his heart pounding against his chest. The armor of his left shoulder was shattered, the steam vents trying to rise but with no success. His right forearm was sparking and contorting as the circuitry malfunctioned. Cold air was flooding his helm, fogging his visor as he took his breaths. He could still feel fresh blood drip down his body. But Angela was alive. His breathing slowed and he fell.

Angela saw him collapse from her spot against the tree. She turned back to Sigrún and untied the horse’s reins from the branches, hands still shaking slightly. Bastion parts were littered around her, barely recognizable from Genji’s attack. She had never seen anything move the way he did, he was truly dangerous. She blinked out of her thoughts, realizing she was distracted. Sigrún waited expectantly for her to get on the saddle once more. Angela moved to climb on top of the horse but stopped. She glanced over the top of Sigrún’s back, at the path that led back into the woods, the one that would take her back to town. But then she looked back over her shoulder, at Genji lying in the snow. “I,” Angela started, looking towards the woods, drastically different thoughts fighting in her mind. If she left him here, she would be free, she could go back home, see her father again, visit Lena and Emily, and Winston. But. She looked at him once again. But he had saved her, she wouldn’t even be alive if Genji hadn’t come along. Angela stared at the sword in the Bastion’s back. “I can’t leave him,” Angela said turning away from the horse’s side and gathering up the reins in her hand. She grabbed the handle of the sword, needing to use all of her strength to pull it from the mess of metal and wires that was the Bastion. The steel was heavy in her hand as she made her way over to Genji.

When she came to his side, the light of his visor was dimmed to nearly black. Angela kneeled down in the snow next to him, feeling cold creep through the fabric of her dress. “Genji,” Angela called, no response. “Genji, can you hear me?” Angela leaned closer, and her hand slipped into the snow near his body. She was surprised to find the ground was not cold, but slightly warm and wet. Angela lifted up her hand and inspected it, shocked to see it was red with blood. She glanced at him dumbfounded. “Genji, you’re bleeding,” Angela said still staring at her palm. But omnics didn’t bleed.

She leaned down and pressed an ear against the metal on his chest, it nearly froze her ear off but beneath the armor she could hear the faintest beating of his heart. A flood of questions came into Angela’s head, but none of them would be answered if she didn’t get him back alive. She shoved them to the back of her mind and instead focused on getting him on the horse.

“Do ya think he found her,” Jesse asked, as he, Hanzo and Ana stared at the front door.

“He must have or he would have been back by now,” Ana said. She swallowed, and prayed to herself silently. “Do you think the Bastions found them?”

“Yes,” Hanzo replied.

“I don’t like how confident ya sound,” Jesse said, some panic creeping in as the door remained unmoved. They had been waiting for what felt like hours with no indication either Genji or Angela was returning. At this point, the three never felt more useless. “Hold up,” Jesse said suddenly, he listened closely, Hanzo and Ana going quiet. He heard footsteps crunching in the snow outside. The three stood in silence staring at the door until it slowly creaked open.

Angela emerged through the gap, Genji’s arm slung over her shoulder as it sputtered sparks and twitched wildly. Blood from his other arm dripped down onto the carpet of the foyer. Hanzo rushed over before she could get a word out.

“Genji,” Hanzo said concerned as he looked over his brother. “What happened,” Hanzo asked, eyebrows furrowed. In reality Hanzo knew what happened, but Genji was an expert swordsman and an excellent ninja. He had never gotten this hurt before. Hanzo didn’t necessarily blame Angela for his brother’s state, but there was still that tinge of anger towards her.

“Bastions,” Angela huffed out. Genji’s entire body weight was leaning on her, and it was hard enough getting him on Sigrún all on her own, she hardly had any strength left to explain. “He’s unconscious,” she said looking down at Hanzo, who stared up at her with an expression that somehow perfectly mixed concern and annoyance. “Where can I put him down? He needs my help.”

“This way dear, this way,” Ana said, walking towards the den.

Angela silently thanked her with a nod, and did her best to drag Genji’s body along with her. She flinched as a stray spark from his arm landed on her cheek. The left side of her dress was stained with his blood, and at this point she was just trying to figure out the best place to start.

“Boy he looks worse than I did when I lost my arm,” Jesse laughed out, having to jump forward to keep up with Angela’s footsteps even though she was severely weighed down. He was sick of being a lamp. Angela looked down at him with a quirked eyebrow. Jesse cleared his throat loudly. Obviously making light of the situation was not exactly what they all wanted right now. “We’re uh, happy you two are alright.”

“Me too,” Angela said as she entered the den.

“Do you have bandages, or any kind of cloth I can use to stop the bleeding,” Angela asked as soon as she took her spot on the ottoman next to Genji’s chair. He was still unconscious, his dim visor making that more apparent. She rolled up the sleeves of her dress to the elbow. “Ana, I need hot water,” Angela said, not even waiting for an answer to her first question.

“Of course,” Ana said, surprised at Angela’s forceful yet urgent tone. Ana poured some hot water into a bowl that was on her tea cart.

“Thank you,” Angela said, she brushed her loose hair behind both ears. Without thinking twice about it, she tore a scrap of fabric off of her apron and dunked it into the hot water. “Does it come off,” she asked, turning quickly to Hanzo, who seemed shocked by her addressing him so suddenly.

“Does what come off,” he asked eyeing her down.

“The armor, does it come off,” she asked again, watching as drops of Genji’s blood began staining the arm of the chair.

“I ,” Hanzo started, he sighed, “I do not know.”

“Well it’s coming off,” Angela stated, before moving to pull the shattered piece of shoulder armor from Genji’s body. She felt for a release switch and found one in the connection from his shoulder to his upper arm and one more by his back. She tore it away revealing a red covered mess beneath it. But more importantly, a human shoulder. Angela stared at the man, the mystery about him only curling into something more complex. Angela pulled off the piece of chest armor as well, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw he had not been hit near the heart. Her books had taught her a lot about healing, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. She went back down to his arm, piece by piece removing his armor and revealing more blood stained skin. Angela finally got the last piece off of his fingers, and felt his very human hand beneath hers.

“Shoot, wonder if even Genji knew he could do that,” Jesse said as he too stared at Genji’s still human arm. Lucky bastard.

“So you’re not an omnic,” Angela whispered, only loud enough so she could hear it. She felt his fingerprints beneath her own, crusted over with some dried blood, but still unmistakably there. Angela blushed when she realized she was essentially holding his hand in front of three witnesses and dropped it back onto the chair’s arm. She cleared her throat loudly before looking up at his helm. She noticed a severe crack running along the metal, a piece of it chipped off. Angela moved to put both hands on his faceplate before she hesitated. She had never seen his face, and part of her wondered if there was a reason for that. Her hands hung idly in the air, her intentions still uncertain. But if there was something, if a bullet had grazed him, she needed to help with that too. Angela moved forward and felt along the jawline of his helm for latches that may attach it to the rest of his armor. She finally found them planted firmly behind his jaw. Angela took a deep breath in before clicking the helm off of Genji’s face.

Only the bottom piece released, and it was enough for her to see everything but his forehead. She took a short sharp breath into her nose before blinking twice at the image before her. He had a man’s face, skin but decorated with large brown scars. His lower jaw and lip were gone, replaced by a synthetic black skin and robotics. Angela barely had time to take it in before his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist.

The two stared at each other in silence, Genji obviously trying to hold back the pain of having to move his injured arm. Angela stared at his brown eyes, and a pit sunk into her stomach as she thought she had seen them somewhere before. Genji caved first in their made up staring match as his face contorted in pain and he moved to hold his shoulder in his right hand. Only to find it was sparking wildly and not doing what he commanded it to do.

“No no no,” Angela said hurriedly, discarding his faceplate on the floor and floating her hands above his injured shoulder in an effort to protect it from his touch. “You’re hurt you shouldn’t move so much.” Genji only glared at her. Angela reached for rag that had been soaking in the hot water. “Just hold still.” She took in a short breath before pushing the hot rag onto the wounds on Genji’s shoulder. He immediately recoiled from her touch.

“That hurts,” he roared out, trying to put distance between himself and the rag. He was still dizzy from being unconscious, the sudden movements made his head spin even more. He glanced down to see his arm covered in blood. How badly had he been hit? How long had he been out? How was he even back home? Angela’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“Of course it hurts, you’re wounded,” she yelled back at him, annoyed with his attitude.

“Well I would not have been wounded if someone had not ran away,” Genji countered, sounding equally as sassy.

“If you hadn’t frightened me I wouldn’t have run away,” Angela challenged.

Genji opened and closed his mouth quickly. She had a point. “Well,” he started, “well you should not have been in the West Wing.”

“And you should learn to control your temper,” Angela said, crossing her arms. She felt some of the hot water from the rag drip onto her dress and sink into the fabric. When she looked back at him, Genji only stared at her. “Now, hold still,” Angela commanded, dipping the rag into the hot water once more.

Genji closed his eyes and pulled back slightly once Angela applied the rag to his skin, but did his best to stay still. He felt her wipe the blood from his shoulder, but dared not to open his eyes to see the damage.

She dabbed at the blood that continued to well up from his wounds, and then held the scrap of fabric against them firmly to try and stop the bleeding. She would need to remove the bullets, and bandage the wounds to be sure they wouldn’t continue to bleed. Angela would also have to try and take care of his other arm, that continued to twitch randomly. She did feel a little guilty, he didn’t have to come help her, but he still did. “By the way,” Angela said softly, “thank you for saving my life.”

Genji opened his eyes at her comment. Surprised by the tenderness in her voice after the shouting match they had just had. “You’re welcome,” he said trying to match her tone. He looked at her for a long time after that as she concentrated on his wounds. He took in the details of her face, how her blonde hair fell against her cheeks and she subconsciously pushed it behind her ear to make it stay in place. It never did.

Genji realized it felt different now. He was happy to have her here, happy to have someone with him, even if she didn’t break the curse. He swallowed loudly as she continued to press the rag against the bullet holes. He peered at her face once more now noticing something he didn’t before. Genji moved his human arm to brush some of her hair away from her cheek, which made Angela pause. His injuries burned, but didn’t stop him from running a hand over the scrape that was on her face. “You are hurt too,” he said gently, feeling the scratches beneath his fingertips.

Angela blushed at his touch, before pulling her head away slightly. She stared into his brown eyes, wondering why he continued to be such an enigma. “It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head and turning back to his wounds, “it barely even hurts.” Angela let out an uneasy laugh before wiping away more blood.

Genji’s hand still hung in the air from where he touched Angela’s cheek. He stared at the top of her head with furrowed eyebrows, just wondering. Wondering if she felt different too.

Chapter Text

“Akande you know me, I wouldn’t call you out here unless it was important,” Gabriel said, laying on his charms. He moved his feet on top of wooden table that sat in the dimly lit basement. Sombra sat next to him, head hunched over the tablet that lay on the surface.

“You have called on me for many things Gabriel, many of which were not important,” Akande replied gruffly. He stared Gabriel down as the man lounged in front of him.

“Right,” Gabriel said, removing his feet from the top of the table. Akande was big, intimidating, and preferred a no nonsense style that Gabriel usually lacked. He practically ran the world from the underground and their little town was no exception. If anyone could put his plan into action it was Akande. “It’s like this, I want to marry Angela, but she could use some,” Gabriel paused, “convincing.” Akande listened with a face that could only be described as complete neutral boredom. “Everyone knows that Torbjorn insane,” Gabriel leaned in closer, “just today he barged in raving about some omnic beast.” Gabriel had to stop himself from laughing, out of all of Torbjörn’s stories that one was the wildest.

“Torbjörn is harmless,” Akande said, rolling his eyes and looking away from Gabriel. Akande crossed his arms over his chest, the metal of his cybernetic arm biting against the fabric of his finely tailored suit. He truly preferred to be kept out of whatever schemes Gabriel liked to cook up. The man often thought with his emotions as opposed to his head. It made it hard for Akande to care about what Gabriel wanted.

“Yes, but Angela would do anything to keep him from getting locked up.”

Sombra snorted out a laugh. “Even marry him,” she said. Sombra felt Gabe’s eyes glaring into her, but continued to swipe down on the screen in front of her.

Akande sighed and squeezed his temples with his thumb and index finger. “So you would like me to place a man into an insane asylum in order for you to marry his daughter?”

“I thought it sounded that simple,” Gabriel said as he shrugged. “Did it sound that simple Sombra?” Sombra grunted out something that sounded like an affirmation. “ So what do you say big guy, you help me out, and I’ll help you out down the road.” Gabriel nudged the lantern that hung above them and it swayed back and forth, distorting the light of the room. Akande’s face remained unchanged as it waned in and out of the beam. He suddenly brought a large hand up to the edge of the lantern, stopping it in it’s path. The light illuminated only him in that moment, the features of his face becoming sharper.

“Very well Gabriel,” he sighed. Akande stood from his chair, head nearly touching the ceiling of the enclosed room. He placed a hand on the table leaning toward Gabriel’s nonchalant face, the man never seemed to take anything seriously. “You owe me big for this one,” Akande pointed a finger into Gabriel’s face, “my men will be in contact.” Akande moved past Gabriel and Sombra to the small door of the basement, he opened it and the room was flooded with light and the sound of revelry from the bar upstairs. “Do more to consider your actions Gabriel,” Akande said with his hand still on the door, he ducked as he passed through and shut it behind him without turning to see the other man’s face.

Torbjörn sniffled once more, the fire in the hearth blazed, but he was still frigid. He felt defeated, the bar patrons had laughed in his face and thrown him out into the snow. Torbjörn hugged the starchy blanket he had tighter around him. He watched the flames of the fire lick against the logs that had been left in the hearth. Angela had to be the one to put them there, he always forgot to cut the wood before the first frost. And the first frost this year decided to be a full on blizzard. Torbjörn held the cup of steaming tea up to his lips once more tasting the liquid and knowing it was not going to be good. He was cold, the beds of his fingernails still slightly purple from being outside and there was a deep pain in his chest. He would never forgive himself if Angela got hurt. Everything in the house reminded him of his daughter and it was driving him mad. His body was numb, but his mind racing with fear.

Without a second thought Torbjörn dropped the mug of tea from his hand. The ceramic smashed onto the wooden floor, pieces scattering under the furniture and tea soaking into the boards. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” he announced to no one. Blood raced back into his extremities as the surge of adrenaline took hold. He was an old man, but he was not helpless. He bounced around the house, feeling renewed at the idea of saving his daughter from that beast. Torbjörn swung a pack onto the table, empty, aside from some old scraps of paper. He began stuffing various things into the sack: maps of the region, a compass, bread and cheese, socks, nearly everything that was within his reach. Torbjörn heaved the pack onto his back, feeling weighed down by the sheer mass of it all. He moved to the back door, ready to burst out into the blizzard and begin the trek back to the castle. He had his hand on the knob before he stopped. Torbjörn glanced over to his work bench. Since he had finished the turret he had figured now would be the time to start a new project.

Torbjörn picked up the makeshift gun and twisted it in his hands. It was hardly top of the line, made from some old junk he found off in the woods or in the scrap heaps. It didn’t fire bullets, instead old rivets that he had collected over time. It wasn’t good for hunting, probably couldn’t even kill a man without needing to use a few shots. But he would need some sort of defense against that thing. Torbjörn scooped the gun up from the bench.

He threw a bucket of water over the fire, it extinguished in a plume of steam and smoke, sizzling for a moment before going quiet. Torbjörn blew out the lanterns around the house until it was dark, only light from the moon illuminated the the house. He reached for the knob of the back door once more, now without hesitation. He swung it open and began his trek back into the woods, back to the castle, and back to his daughter.

“That seemed like it went well,” Sombra said. Gabriel hummed back, moving his hands behind his head so he could lounge on them while the two walked.

“Could’ve gone worse,” Gabriel said shrugging, “I’ve had it go worse.” Akande and Gabriel were more business partners than friends, while Gabriel tried to push it to a more friendly place Akande had his foot planted firmly down. The man was a powerful ally, there was no denying that, but Akande had to know that Gabriel was powerful too. “So when we get there, make sure you stick to the plan. No going off script,” he said, Sombra rolled her eyes.

“No need to tell me to stick to the plan,” she snickered. She was known at this point for being the one to go off book, much to the chagrin of Gabriel.

“I’m serious Sombra,” he replied back, tone dipping into something more threatening than the normal casual and charming way he usually spoke.

“I’m serious Sombra,” she mocked back at him trying to match the man’s gruff voice and knowingly pushing his buttons. Gabriel was one of her very closest friends, more like family to her at this point. The two complimented each other in a way that was hard to see from the outside. Even now as she could feel the weight of his glare on the side of her face, a small smirk played on her lips. “So we take the old man to the loony bin and then Angela marries you. Seems easy enough.” Sombra was smarter than that, and Angela was smarter than that. She wouldn’t marry Gabriel just to save her father. Or would she?

“Yes, which is why you can’t mess anything up,” Gabriel said, pointing an accusatory finger at her already. Sombra only shrugged in response and silence grew between the two. The trek towards Torbjörn and Angela’s cottage wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. Gabriel could feel his temper cooling in the quiet.

“Gabe, can I ask you something?” Gabriel hummed an affirmation. “Why,” Sombra started, the question felt heavy in her throat. She swallowed thickly before starting again. “Why are we doing all of this?” Gabriel paused at her inquiry and slowed his steps. She matched his new pace. “You could have anyone in the village Gabe, hell anywhere you go you could have anyone, why her?” Sombra took a note of how long it took Gabriel to do anything, even breathe. It was long enough that they were nearing at the door of Angela’s cottage before he made a sound. It was small, she had to really listen for it, but it was only a sigh.

“Hello anyone home? Angie?” Gabriel asked rapping on the door to avoid Sombra’s questions. He could feel her eyes on him, weighty and sad.

“Gabe,” Sombra said. He didn’t turn to look at her, instead wiping some frost away from the windows and trying to look in. “Gabe,” she said again. He made no indication she was even there. “Gabriel,” Sombra nearly shouted, “is all this about Jack?” Silence grew between them again, but it was not comfortable this time. Sombra could practically feel the anger buzzing off of Gabriel. A swarm ready to strike, and he did. Gabriel snatched Sombra’s shoulder and sent her whirling around so fast she almost toppled down the cottage steps and into the snow. He grabbed her other shoulder steadying her to face him, her head still spinning from the whiplash.

“I told you never to say that name,” Gabe shouted, shaking her back and forth. “He is nothing, he is a traitor, he is the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Gabriel could almost feel smoke rising from his body from the fury that had overtaken him. He was taking in deep breaths through gritted teeth, his chest tensed while it rose and fell with each one. He looked into Sombra’s eyes as she stared back at him, she did not look afraid.

“Gabe,” Sombra said, trying to keep from wincing as his fingers continued to bite into her shoulders. “It’s okay to still miss him you know,” Sombra looked away from his eyes, the pain behind them becoming too much, “even if he hurt you.”

Gabriel swallowed hard in that moment. Anger still deeply seeded in his chest. He loosened his grip on her shoulders. He was upset and furious, but it wasn’t Sombra’s fault. “No one is home,” Gabe told her, avoiding an apology. “You stay here and let me know when they come back.” He turned from her then, already descending down the stairs before she could get in a word of protest. Shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid the cold, he had only one thing on his mind. He needed a drink.

The soft glow of the fireplace and the lanterns in the room gave Angela light as she dug the last of the shrapnel out of Genji’s shoulder. The other two holes were patched already, bandages given to her by Ana that looked as though they were years old. She felt him tense up with every poke and prod of the tool, but appreciated that he did not complain. The last piece plinked into a dish on Ana’s tea cart. The ceramic was covered with pieces of bullets, lying in a pool of blood. Angela shot Ana an apologetic look, the teapot only responded with a smirk and a slight eyeroll. She figured that meant it was fine, though the dish may not be too happy. “That should be the last of them,” she said, wiping the blood from the tool on her discarded apron and placing it down on the carpet. She covered the last hole with another one of the bandages before winding gauze around his shoulder and down the length of his upper arm. Angela wrapped the gauze across the robotic half of his chest, giving something for the rest of the bandaging to hold onto. She watched as Genji flexed and bent his arm, getting used to the resistance.

“You are,” Genji started staring at his still human arm. The pain in his shoulder had subsided to a dull ache, but he could already see some specks of blood dotting into the white gauze. “Very good,” he finally finished.

“Well, thank you,” Angela said matter-of-factly, trying not to sound too proud. “I don’t think I can fix the armor,” she said picking up the shoulder piece and turning it in her hands. The metal was cracked in multiple places, she felt as though one good twist of her hands could make it crumble. “But I can work on the other arm too,” she said already reaching for it before pulling back, “that is if you would like me to?” She wasn’t as good with circuits and wires as she was with flesh and bone. Angela knew more than the average person from watching her father and a little from helping their Bastion with a squeaky joint or two, but Genji seemed much more, complex. In more ways than one.

“Please do,” Genji said, holding his right arm forward. His robotic hand twitched sending a few sparks up into the air.

Angela nodded before turning back to the toolbox that Jesse and Hanzo had somehow nudged all the way to the den while she had been working on his other arm. It wasn’t much, especially compared to what her father had to fix his technological creations, but she supposed it would do for the time. She popped open a panel on his arm and stared into it, trying to decipher what exactly she was supposed to do. Grabbing a soldering iron, she worked on reconnecting the broken connections back to the microprocessor of his arm. It wasn’t going to be perfect, but at least it would be functional.

Silence washed over the room, aside from the sounds of sparks as Angela continued her work.

Hanzo elbowed Jesse the best he could with his wooden arms. The former cowboy looked at him, one of his wooden eyebrows quirked. Hanzo darted his eyes back and forth between Jesse’s eyes and the room’s exit. Jesse had a bewildered look on his face.

“Well I do believe we should head to bed,” Hanzo announced, still staring into Jesse’s eyes. A knowing look finally crossed Jesse’s face as he tapped a wooden hand against what was supposed to be his head.

“Right,” Jesse stated loudly, southern drawl apparent as he dragged out the vowel, “Ana we should all probably mosey on to bed.” Jesse made eyes at the older woman. She looked from Jesse to Hanzo to the pair sitting in front of them who seemed to be in their own little world.

“Yes of course,” Ana said, as knowing smile played on her lips. “Come along boys, it’s been quite a day. I’m sure Fareeha will want to hear all about it in the morning.” Without another word the lantern and clock moved onto Ana’s tea cart and it escaped the room. The wheels creaking slightly from the extra weight.

A few moments passed and Genji suddenly became very aware of the lack of the other’s presence in the room. His breathing was just slightly too loud and Angela’s hands were just slightly too close. He didn’t know why he was panicking, he’d been alone with many people over the course of his normal life. He tried to chalk it up to the fact that he had just fought off a horde of Bastions and lost a lot of blood. But anytime he looked at Angela’s face as she was concentrating so hard to fix someone who had been cruel to her, he felt his muscles tense, his heart beat against the still intact skin on his chest, and there was just a slight ringing in his ear.

“So,” Angela said, not looking up from her work. “How did you get the last Bastion?” She stopped prodding at the circuitry of his arm and instead looked into his eyes. Angela tried to keep from staring at the scars and the metallics, keeping her blues locked onto his browns.

Genji had to actively stop himself from slamming hand over his face. He knew he was ugly at best and monstrous at worst. He noticed how steadily she held his gaze, how her eyes never wandered. Genji appreciated that and stared back, not nearly having as much courtesy as her. He took in the shape of her eyes, the flutter of her lashes as she blinked and the angry scratch mark on her cheek that continued to send a sharp pang against his chest. That was his fault, if he had been there sooner, hell if he hadn’t had yelled at her at all she would have never been hurt. Genji swallowed loudly before uttering a lame, “what?”

“The last bastion,” she said, finally tearing her eyes away. Angela didn’t know what it was, but there was something painful behind his eyes. Almost like she couldn’t look to long without them burning into her. She looked back down into the panel and soldered another connection. “From where I was standing you were very far away to have been able to stab it through with your sword,” she paused for a moment remembering how she felt, how the Bastion was merely a few feet away before the sword exploded through it’s chest. Angela would have died had he had not saved her, there was no doubt in her mind about that. “So,” she asked once more breaking out of her reverie, “how did you do it?”

Genji stared down at her with a half-intact eyebrow arched. She was a strange woman and he kind of liked that. “I threw it,” he stated as though it were obvious. Her next move with the soldering iron sent a stray current running up his arm. He yelped and snatched it back from her.

“Sorry,” she said immediately, “sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Angela beckoned for him to give the arm back to her, as he cradled it with his other. He timidly set it back into her hands, as though she were going to shock him again. “What do you mean you threw it?” She gazed back up at him, keeping the soldering iron far away from the open panel on his arm.

“You know,” Genji said, a smile playing on his lips. He mimed a throwing motion the best he could with his wrapped up arm. He watched as a flurry of emotions crossed Angela’s face before she finally swatted him on his still human hand. Genji chuckled as he shook his hand to get rid of the sting of her light-hearted attack.

“Are you insane,” Angela said half laughing, her emotions teetering between amusement and anger. She was actually quite impressed, for someone to be able to chuck a sword when he was meters away and injured was, well impressive. “Which arm did you throw it with?” She watched as Genji tried to fish out the memory, his eyes going up to the ceiling as he thought. He finally looked back down into her eyes and sheepishly lifted his bandaged arm, which earned him another slap on the hand. “No wonder it was worse than I thought!” Angela was still laughing slightly and Genji’s own chuckles had joined hers. The sheer luck and amazingness of the fact that they were alive had finally hit the both of them and it was enough to dissipate any tension they felt before.

“I do not regret it,” Genji said, some humor still evident in his voice. Angela only shook her head and snapped the panel closed on Genji’s arm.

“How does that feel,” Angela asked, concern etched into her tone.

Genji flexed his robotic fingers, the joints were still stiff, but were no longer sparking and contorting wildly. The metal was still caved in slightly from where the Bastion had gripped him to throw, but how much could he ask of her? “Better, thank you,” Genji paused for a moment, contemplating the manners he had once learned. He decided he had gone long enough without them, what was the point in changing now? Genji looked her in the eyes and said without anymore hesitation, “Angela.” Her name felt right on his tongue, as though it were always supposed to be there.

“Yes, well,” Angela said, tucking her long bangs behind her ear shyly. She was really going to have to find another way to tie her hair up, but for now the blonde locks did a good job for now of hiding the red stains on her cheeks. “Don’t push yourself too hard, and I would recommend keeping the armor off of that one. Not that you have much of a choice,” Angela said as she crossed the room, and hauled the old toolbox back up and onto an empty bookshelf. She picked up his faceplate from the floor as she made her way back to him, it felt heavy in her hands as she stared down at the chipped metal. Angela held it out to Genji wordlessly.

Genji took the faceplate from her hands and looked down at it. He wasn’t sure how to feel at the gesture. The dark side of him thought she was telling him to cover up his hideous face so she wouldn’t have to see it anymore. But the sensible side of him knew she was only being polite. Genji fastened the faceplate back on without saying anything. The green light in the slit of his helm hummed back to life once the connections were made. He wasn’t ready to walk around without the faceplate as a crutch, at least not yet. Genji looked back to Angela as she stood in the middle of the den, the room seeming to swallow her in that moment. Her eyes were downcast as she fiddled with a stray piece of hair between her two fingers. Genji’s eyes continued to dart between the contemplative look on her face and the red scratch mark on her cheek. He leaned over the arm of the chair, picking up a stray bandage from where Angela had been sitting. He stood and crossed the room to her while unwrapping it from it’s packaging.

Angela jumped slightly as Genji appeared in front of her. She paused as he reached out and brushed the hair away from her injured cheek for the second time that night. She looked into the light of his visor as Genji placed the bandage onto the scratch mark on her cheek. Angela could no longer see his eyes and she found herself sad at that fact.

His body ached, he had a lost a lot of blood and his human arm felt naked without its armor, but everything still felt like it was going to be okay. As long as she was here. “You should get some sleep,” Genji said, it took all his strength to not cup his hand against her cheek and feel her skin against his own. “It has been a long day.”

“Right,” Angela breathed out. Without another word she began grabbing up her belongings. Which included nothing more than her ripped up apron and the bandages Ana had given her. Her white apron was now stained with red, the edges of the blotches of blood turning brown as the time had passed. Angela turned back to him, mouth open with the idea to say something, but the words died on her tongue. She wanted to thank him again, tell him how much it meant to her that he still came to save her, even though he seemed to hate her just moments before the Bastions attacked. She said none of that. “Good night, Genji,” was what Angela said, already feeling as though it was not enough.

Genji smiled beneath his faceplate at the sound of her saying his name. “Good night, Angela.” Without another word he watched as she exited the room. A pleasant heat radiated throughout his body, and while he didn’t really need to sleep, he sat back down in the armchair nonetheless. Closing his eyes beneath his helm, sleep overtook him and he found himself dreaming of something good for the first time in a long time, kind blue eyes and the woman attached to them.

Chapter Text

Angela touched her fingertips along the scab on her cheek for what felt like the millionth time that day. It was rough, out of place compared to the rest of her skin. She looked out the window of her room and noticed more snow had fallen at some point during the night. Some frost had gathered on the outside of the window pane. Angela pressed her hand to the glass feeling the cold radiating through it. The morning sun reflected off the whiteness of the snow, bouncing back and making the ground almost seem like it was shining.

“Hm, reminds me of home,” Zarya said. She watched as Angela jumped a bit, obviously not expecting anyone to break the silence.

The sudden motion of the scare made Angela’s shoulders ache. Though a couple days had passed since the Bastion incident, she was still sore. “Does it?” she questioned, trying to play off the fright as nothing. Zarya only hummed an affirmation and waddled her wardrobe body away from the window once more.

“You should go outside,” Zarya said, already moving to retrieve Angela a warm cloak from inside her cabinet. “It is not good to spend so much time without stretching the muscles.” Using the door of her wardrobe Zarya held the thick cloak out to Angela, who took it timidly.

“Yes, I suppose I should.” She did need to go outside, mostly to check on how Sigrún was doing. Angela had been cooped up for the past couple days, giving both her body and mind some much needed time to heal. Fastening the cloak and pulling on a pair of boots, also provided to her by Zarya, Angela headed for the exit of her room. She put a palm on the handle, but did not open the door. She had not seen Genji since the incident. Angela tried to rationalize it with the ideas of him also needing rest and the fact that he was in much worse shape than she. But, she thought he would have at least tried to see her. She shook those thoughts from her mind and with no more hesitation, bid Zarya a good day and exited the room.

Cold seemed to seep through the walls of the castle as Angela pulled her cloak tighter around her. It was quiet, though she was quite certain she could hear Reinhardt singing some German folk tune in the kitchen. Angela smiled at the thought of the giant iron stove serenading the delicate teapot. If Ana and Reinhardt tried to make their relationship not obvious they were doing almost as poor a job as Jesse and Hanzo. Her eyes were unconsciously drawn to the West Wing of the castle. She found herself wondering if he was okay, but mostly if he could actually change his bandages by himself, of course. She would have to fix that whenever she saw him.

The cold air hit her face rather harshly, but the sun warmed the top of her head as she led Sigrún to the back grounds. The horse still seemed tired, it took Angela nearly no effort to tug Sigrún through the snowy landscape. She let loose the reins once they were both securely enclosed.

Angela took a deep breath in, feeling the cold air sting through her nose and into her lungs. It was nice to be out of the room, even if she didn’t feel her absolute best. She wandered through the grounds, stopping to run a hand along the bark of one of the deadened trees. She wondered what they would all look like in the Spring, or if they would even bloom at all. Angela didn’t know what she was feeling as she paced through the snow. Maybe a bit of loneliness, which she had not experienced since she had been in the village. While all of the company wasn’t completely welcoming in the beginning, she found herself missing the other occupants of the castle. Angela’s eyes drew upwards once again, this time to the balcony of Genji’s room. She thought she saw the curtains move slightly, but attributed it to a trick of the mind.

Genji had his back slammed against the glass doors of his balcony. Had she seen him? She had definitely seen him. He peeked out around the curtain once more and saw her settling down on the stone bench by the koi pond. The top of the water was frozen over, but even from where he stood he could see the colors of the fish swimming beneath the surface.
“What are you doing?” Genji practically jumped out of what was left of his skin at the sound of his brother’s accusatory voice.

“Nothing,” Genji said, whipping the curtains behind him closed. Hanzo raised an eyebrow at him, or that’s what it seemed like, his clock face was nearly as hard to read as his human face was. Genji was never good at hiding things from his brother, Hanzo always seemed to find out one way or another. Genji sighed. “She is outside.” He drew back the curtains once more and opened the glass door on the balcony.

He stepped outside and the cold immediately hit his still human arm, bare due to the damage to his armor and the fact that the wounds still needed to heal. The robotic parts of his body remained warm and seemed to compensate for the chill in the air. Genji hated that, he wanted to feel the cold against his skin, against all of his skin. He grasped his hands around the railing of the balcony, watching as Angela’s horse came back around the bend of the koi pond and rested the side of its head against the her’s. He watched through his helm as Angela affectionately stroked the horse’s snout. Genji never thought he’d be jealous of a horse, but here he was, jealous of a horse.

“Aw hey, she’s up an’ about,” Jesse’s voice suddenly burst through his reverie as the lantern hopped onto the railing beside Genji’s hands. Hanzo soon joined the two of them, hopping up on Genji’s other side.

“Yes she seems to be doing well,” Hanzo commented discretely trying to pry something out of his brother.

Genji’s features softened under his faceplate as the horse became more persistent for pats, Angela laughed at the behavior. ”I have,” Genji paused processing the warm feeling that seemed to radiate throughout his body. “I have never felt this way, about anyone before.” He often lied to the people he used to pursue, convincing them he felt more than just lust for them to get them back home. But he wasn’t lying this time. Everything was different, she was different.

“Is that so,” Hanzo said, shooting looks towards Jesse.

“Yes,” he insisted, looking between the clock and lantern. Genji felt a pull in his chest as looked back to Angela who had knelt by the koi pond, fingers dancing along the sheet of ice. “I want to do something for her,” he told Hanzo and Jesse while keeping his gaze on Angela. Genji twisted his palms around the railing of the balcony, feeling the friction of the wood against his skin. “But what?”

“Well there is the usual,” Hanzo suggested, “flowers, chocolates, promises you do not intend to keep. You used to be quite good at the last one.” Hanzo laughed slightly as Genji’s helm covered face snapped to look at him. He would always be his younger brother, nothing would change that, even if Hanzo was stuck as a clock forever.

“No, no, no,” Jesse interrupted, “it’s gotta be somethin’ real special.” Jesse had always been a romantic, anyone who knew him well knew that much. He knew just giving Angela something trite would never win her affections, they had to be smart about this. And luckily Jesse was a rather smart man, or a rather smart lantern in this case. A spark of a memory ignited in Jesse’s brain and he was immediately smiling. “I got it!”

Hanzo and Jesse had approached Angela while she sat in the courtyard, saying they had something to show her. She gave them both a skeptical look, but followed them towards the main door nonetheless. The lantern and the clock stopped suddenly before opening the doors.

“You have to cover your eyes,” Jesse said coyly. Angela scrunched her face at the suggestion.

“Why,” she asked.

“Just trust us,” Jesse responded, waiting until one of Angela’s hands was firmly placed over her eyes, albeit with some hesitation.

She heard the doors creak open and she stepped across the threshold. Holding a hand out, Angela felt for the inner wall trying to make sure she wouldn’t knock into any furniture. Instead, she felt another hand clasp around her own.

“Where are we going,” Angela asked, one hand still covering her eyes and the other securely held in Genji’s grasp. Now with her hand totally in his she could feel the calluses on his palms and fingertips, the skin rough against her own. She felt them turn down another hall before her question was answered.

“It is a surprise,” Genji said, looking back at her. Angela’s ponytail bobbed up and down with each unsure step she took to keep pace with him. He noted how the cold had turned the tip of her nose and tops of her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. Genji stopped in front of the double doors and waved a hand in front of her eyes to make sure she couldn’t see anything. “Keep them closed,” he requested as he opened both of the doors. He clasped each of her hands in his own and backed his way into the room making sure to watch that her eyes remained shut. Genji moved her in the middle of the room, being sure that she was clear from all obstacles before turning to the windows and throwing open the curtains.

Angela flinched as sunlight hit her closed eyes, she welcomed the warmth on her face, but was utterly confused and a little excited, if she were to be honest. “Now can I open them?” she asked, feeling Genji’s two different textured hands slip from her grasp.

Genji scrambled around the room, trying to make sure everything looked perfect, he only had one chance at this. As soon as he was satisfied, he turned Angela slightly so she would have a better view. “All right, now.”

Angela’s eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the sunlight that flooded the room and her vision. A small gasp escaped her mouth. Book, upon books, upon books were swallowed into her gaze. The stacks and shelves practically reached the ceiling. Her eyes scanned every spine she could, some titles in languages she couldn’t read. “I can’t believe this,” Angela said, her smile evident in her tone, “I’ve never seen so many books in all my life.” Winston’s shop back home was hardly a fraction of what lay before her. She read one particular spine, something pertaining to nanobots and she knew that one was first on the list, followed by many many others.

“You like it?” Genji asked not moving from his spot, but turning slightly as he watched her sweep around the room.

“It’s amazing. Genji, I love it. I-,” Angela stopped suddenly, looking at the cyborg before her. “What have you done?” she asked, hiding the question in her laughs. The dressings on his wounds appeared to be freshly put on, but just horribly placed. Loose cloth had gathered around his elbow and while it looked at though he attempted the sling pattern she had initially gave him, it was all hopelessly twisted and tangled. She watched as Genji turned his head to look where she was looking.

“Yes well,” he placed a robotic hand behind his head trying to not appear embarrassed and failing. Angela stepped closer to him and began unwinding the bandages from his arm. He could feel the warmth radiating off her skin onto his own and was thankful his faceplate was hiding his blush.

“You could’ve come to me you know,” Angela made the remark while thinking about how lonely she was the past couple of days.

He noted the change in her tone, how it sounded a bit sad. “I-I was, I thought,” Genji tripped over his words. Had his smooth talking talent really degraded this badly over time? “I wanted to let you rest, you are only human,” he tried the joke, and his nerves relaxed once he saw a slight smile grace Angela’s lips. With a roll of her eyes she finished wrapping the bandages around his arm. “You’ve rescued me again,” Genji said, testing the flexibility of his new and more professionally wrapped bandages.

“Rescued seems like a strong word,” she turned her back to him once more, and scanned a nearby shelf that was at her eye level.

Genji had meant it though, she had rescued him that day in more ways than one. He walked up behind her and placed a soft touch to her shoulder. “This place,” he said looking around the room, trying to ignore the weight of her eyes on the side of his face. “It is yours.”

“Really?” she breathed out, as a book slipped into her grasp. She stared at the title and smiled, the fairytale book that Winston had insisted on had somehow found its way into her hands once more. Out of all the books in this place, it had to be this one. “Thank you,” Angela said, mood brightening as the smile stretched across her features. “Would you like to sit with me?” she asked, gesturing to the cushions in front of the fireplace.

Genji smiled beneath the helm. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Looks like it’s goin’ well,” Jesse said, peeking around the corner of the open door. He watched as the pair sat in front of the fireplace, Angela immediately cracking open her book and reading the pages aloud with Genji silently sitting next to her, listening to the story. Separate, but together in a way.

“Well well well seems like the boy is finally growing up,” Ana commented, crowded around the entrance with the others.

“What’s going on?” Fareeha huffed, frustrated, “I can’t see!”

“Yes it is about time,” Hanzo said, a playful roll of the eyes accompanied the comment. “It is all rather encouraging.” Hanzo turned away from the scene, all of his comrades grouped around an open door spying on his brother and the girl they were all so dependent on. Hanzo loved his brother, he always had. He only wanted what was best for him and maybe best finally wandered its way into his life. Hanzo smiled, but only to himself. Everything was in Genji’s hands now, and he believed in his brother more than anything else.

“Why did you invite me to dinner that first night if you can’t even eat?” Angela closed her mouth around another spoonful of the breakfast porridge Reinhardt had provided for them. It was all perfect, albeit the table was stretched a little too long for her liking. She felt like she had to yell for Genji to even hear her. They had spent the previous day together so close in that library, in her library as he liked to say. Angela wasn’t as fond of this distance.

“It is not that I can not eat, rather I do not need to. Besides, you need to eat do you not? I thought I was being a courteous host.” A steaming bowl sat in front of Genji as well, it remained untouched. But having it there made him feel somewhat normal. Given his current state the robotic parts of his body required no sustenance. He honestly wasn’t even sure that he had an entire stomach anymore. Angela gave a half-hearted pout at his quip, but went back to eating soon after. Silence grew between them as she finished her breakfast, calling out a ‘compliments to the chef’ soon after. He heard Reinhardt give a booming laugh from the kitchen.

Angela pushed the bowl towards the center of the table to keep from knocking it over. She glanced out the window. The sun was shining again, it had begun to melt some of the snow that had covered the landscape, but a solid sheet still remained. “It’s very nice out today,” Angela said peeling her eyes away from the window and finding Genji staring at her once more. Was he staring? Maybe not.

Genji was staring again, but was lucky she couldn’t really tell. He scooted his chair out and came around to her side of the table. He offered her the crook of his elbow, “would you care to go for a walk Angela?” She eyed him down, a smirk growing on her lips. Nevertheless she slipped her arm through his robotic one and hoisted herself up from the chair.

“I would like that very much Genji,” she said and moved closer to his side.

“How do you feel about birds,” Genji asked, walking her to the courtyard entrance. Angela stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“I guess I like them? Why?”

“Just asking.”

She did like birds, but this was a lot of birds. The sparrows had swarmed almost instantly at the sound of Genji shaking the birdseed bag. Her feet were covered in tiny peeping brown birds, who made no indication they would be leaving anytime soon. Angela shuffled closer to Genji, trying to keep from stepping on one.

“They used to like me,” Genji said, noting how the birds seemed to shy away from him. He reminisced about the times in his youth when he would sit on the roof of the castle. The sparrows would cling to his clothing as though he was one of them as well. A toothy grin would spread across his face as his father reprimanded him from the balcony. Genji would still be throwing seeds to the ground below, even as he made his way back inside. It was how he got his first nickname. Now the birds took one fleeting look at his cyborg form and decided the woman next to him seemed more kind. He couldn’t blame the birds, they were probably right. It still stung though.

Angela noted the shift in his behavior as more and more birds gathered around at her feet. She knelt down into the snow, feeling some of it melting into the fabric of her clothes. She folded the seed into her clothes, creating a pouch for it so she could reach up and yank Genji’s robotic hand down so he would sit next to her. “Hands out,” Angela instructed him. He obliged cupping his hands together, metallic touching flesh and bone. She dumped some of the seed from her makeshift pouch into his hands. She watched as the birds worked their way into a tizzy, trying to decide if the food from the cyborg was worth it. Angela created a trail in the snow with the some of the seed leading straight into Genji’s hands. Most of the birds still crowded around her, waiting for her to spread the rest of the seed on the ground. A few pecked at the trail, but only a couple were brave enough to hop into Genji’s hands. His helm turned to meet her, the green slit seeming to grow brighter. “I’m not above bribing birds,” Angela joked. She laughed first and he joined in. She liked hearing his laugh, low and slightly robotic, but still human somehow.

More and more of the little sparrows gathered into Genji’s hands upon seeing their brethren went unharmed. A few had perched up onto his head and forearms, no longer seeking the seed but instead enjoying the company. Genji smiled, he felt like he was young again. More importantly he felt almost human again, despite the glaring signs that he was not. He turned to her once again, the intent to tell her to just look at how many birds were on him now. Genji was stopped in his tracks at the look she was giving him. Something in those blue eyes were different, and she had never looked at him like that before. Angela blinked suddenly, the look gone just as soon as he saw it. She cleared her throat, and pushed a long piece a blonde hair behind her ear. A nervous tick, he realized.

“What kind of trees are these,” Angela asked, trying to ignore the fact that he had caught her red-handed. She stood up from the ground and touched a hand to one of the tree trunks like she had yesterday. The wood was dark, and she couldn't help but note that they looked more petrified than hibernating for the winter.

Genji dusted the rest of the seed from his palms and the birds around him scattered for the last of the food. “Cherry blossoms,” he stated matter-of-factly. “They are Hanzo’s favorite, though we have not seen them bloom in a long time.”

Her mind wandered to the objects in the castle. Angela was still curious why they all were the way they were. She had tried to ask many times, but there always seemed to be an excuse rather than an explanation. “Genji, may I ask you something?” She took note of the architecture of the castle and the surrounding smaller buildings of the courtyard. They were all still damaged, but it was obvious how they may have once looked. Angela thought back to the dragon decor and what Zarya had said yesterday morning, that the snow reminded the wardrobe of home.

“Yes,” Genji said, looking towards her now. Her eyes were elsewhere at the moment, scanning the grounds.

“The others,” Angela turned to face him. “McCree, Ana, Reinhardt, all of them. Why are they here?”

“I am afraid I do not understand.” He watched as Angela pushed a hand through her bangs.

“You being here makes sense with the whole green dragon, sword all that. I’ve seen Hanzo’s design he has the dragons too. You both,” she slotted her fingers together, “fit here.” She looked away from him now towards the castle where all the others were. “The others, they don’t fit.”

“I see,” Genji said slowly, bringing a hand up to the chin of his helm to ponder the question. “Come, sit with me.” He took her hand and led her to one of the stone benches in the courtyard. He let her sit first before joining her, years be damned Genji was still a bit of gentleman. He took a deep breath in before turning his head to look at her once more. Her eyes were practically shining in the sun, expectant for answers. “This place,” he paused to look around the gardens, “it was not always like this.” He felt the presence of the magic on the castle grow with each word he said. A warning. The curse prohibited any of them for speaking about how or why everything was the way it was. And he was pushing it. “They are all,” he could feel like magic trying to choke out his words, he pushed through, “a product of circumstance.”

Angela only shot him a quizzical look. “I’m afraid now I’m the one who doesn’t understand,” she let out in a soft laugh.

Genji pondered his words for a moment. “Jesse was the first,” he started, “a man with a cowboy clothes wandering around in the woods was not something you see everyday. I invited him back for dinner and a place to stay for the night. Hanzo was not happy.” Genji and Angela shared at laugh at their expense. “He kept coming back and I assume we both know why.” Genji tried to shuffle through the stories in his brain. It had been years since he had thought of them. “The Amari’s were next I believe, accompanied by Reinhardt of course,” Genji playfully rolled his eyes under the helm. “Something about being lost, if I remember correctly. They had only meant to pass through, but ended up staying a while as well.” Ana, Reinhardt and little Fareeha were on their way to some place that he did not know how to pronounce and nor was he going to try. He had offered them a place to stay, Hanzo the whole time being uppity about ‘this is not a hotel Genji, what would father think’, and all that nonsense. “Zarya was the last,” Genji cupped his chin in his hand and rested his elbow on his knee. “It was something about getting back home, only needing to stay for a bit to rest her legs and then she would be gone.”

“I see,” Angela’s eyes went to the ground. “You were running a wayward house then?”

Genji didn’t process her question. His head had dropped from balancing on his hand and he looked towards the ground. He had never had a problem opening his home to the people who needed it, maybe his intentions were not always pure and sure some were for some selfish reasons. But he had failed the test. The one night he needed to open up his home and drop his arrogance, Genji failed. He had not only doomed himself, but all the people that had trusted him in the process. His hands clenched and unclenched as his head sank deeper towards the ground until he was almost folded over himself.

“Are you all right,” she asked watching as Genji tried to disappear into himself.

“No,” he stated, he could feel that old rage burning inside him once more. This was all his fault, they would never live normal lives again and it was all his fault. Genji would be stuck as this freak forever and it was all his own damn fault. His hands had balled into fists at some point, the still functioning steam sockets on his one shoulder had started leaking mist into the cool air.

“Okay,” was all Angela said. She placed a hand on his human one and squeezed, trying to make sure her presence was still known. Genji’s helm whipped up to look at her suddenly, the motion seeming to be more in line with the dangerous man she had first encountered. Angela swallowed, but interlocked her fingers with his, feeling the calluses of his skin once more. “I’m with you.”

The pain sat like a rock on his chest, but she looked at him, really looked at him and he could not see any fear in her eyes. Genji glanced down at their hands stuck together and tried to focus on not falling back into the despair he had worked so hard to get out of. Even breathing and a strong lifeline in the woman sitting next to him had calmed the storm brewing in his mind. “Angela,” he asked. She hummed a questioning sound back at him. “Do you like to dance?”

Chapter Text

It all felt very odd to him. Fabric rubbed up against the bandages on his arm and seemed to crumple against some of the creases in his robotic build. He couldn’t remember the last time he had worn proper clothing, let alone worn a suit. Genji voiced his thoughts to the clock and the lantern that surrounded him. “I feel quite,” Genji paused to look at himself in the cracked mirror once more, “silly.” As he scanned the image before him, he felt panic seize his chest, his heart seeming to stop for a brief moment. “I do not think I can do this.” For once in his life, Genji was nervous for what he supposed was a, date? He didn’t want to think about it too much, as what remained of his stomach churned at the thought.

“Now is not the time to be timid Genji,” Hanzo said gruffly, crossing the wood that served as his arms. His eyes stared at his brother with a sharpness that could rival Genji’s blades.

“Eh, what I think Hanzo is tryin’ to say is,” Jesse interrupted, trying to offer a kinder voice of reason. “You two have been gettin’ along so well, it’ll all be jus’ fine.” Jesse snapped a look to Hanzo, to which Hanzo only rolled his eyes. Jesse only indicated with his eyes to the door.

“I will go see how Angela is doing,” Hanzo said carefully, before hopping down from his spot on the vanity and out the door.

Behind the helm Genji’s eyes went the floor once the door shut behind his brother. The uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach once more after he glanced back into the mirror. He looked like he was trying much too hard to appear normal, when he was anything but. Genji sighed and regretted it the minute he heard the robotic sound escape his lips.

“You are actin’ mighty strange,” Jesse quipped, watching as Genji’s covered face stared into the mirror once more.

“Jesse, may I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

Genji shifted in his chair to look at the former cowboy. “The circumstances, do you, I mean that is,” his words seemed to tumble out of his mouth, his brain moving much too fast for his lips to keep up. “If none of this had happened, would she, I mean would I have ever.” Genji looked away, the lantern’s eyes seeming to stare straight through him, before narrowing into a knowing look.

“Listen Genji,” Jesse started, “circumstances or no circumstance, she’s here, you’re here, why question it?” Jesse stared at Genji, who kept his face towards the ground. “You scared?” he asked as though it were a throw away question, not surprised to find the cyborg give a quick nod. “Well don’t be, there’s no point in doin’ that to yourself. I seen the way she looks at ya, there’s no way there’s nothin’ there.”

“Jesse,” Genji said, looking back up at the lantern, “I am not scared of her feelings.” He took a beat before saying, “I fear my own.” Jesse only shot him a quizzical look.

“What do ya,” Jesse started, interrupted with the sound of the door opening once more.

Hanzo cleared his throat, taking note of the strange air that seemed to surround his brother and Jesse. The two turned to look at him, and Hanzo suddenly felt like he had barged in on something very important. The room stood in frozen silence and he could count the seconds as they passed. He cleared his throat once more. “Your lady awaits you.”

“Very well,” Genji said, forcing himself away from the mirror and walking towards the door his brother held open for him. “Thank you, Hanzo.”

“You are,” Hanzo said, calculation surrounding his words “welcome, Genji.” Hanzo watched as his brother’s form disappeared down the hall in the direction of the entryway. He stood frozen by the door before the lantern broke him out of his state.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Jesse asked.

“No, no nothing is wrong,” Hanzo said, looking into the Jesse’s eyes, before looking back to the hallway Genji had disappeared down. “I have just not heard my brother thank me in a very long time.”

He stood at the top of the steps that led to the West wing, hands behind his back, metal meeting flesh as they twisted around each other to try and relieve some of the anxiety. The suit still felt wrong, a relic from his younger days. The button up beneath the jacket stretched as far as it could go, and the arms of the jacket were perhaps a bit too short for someone who had metal plates covering nearly his entire body. Part of him wanted to retreat, spend the rest of his miserable days locked away in his room, but every other part of him knew that was wrong.

Genji rocked back on his heels, watching the top of the staircase opposite him. Hanzo had said she was waiting for him, why would Hanzo lie? It looked like now he was the one waiting for her, maybe she had changed her mind, maybe she had finally realized that he was too disgusting to ever be something for her to have any interest in him. Genji’s eyes went to the floor once more as self-doubt flooded his mind. All this time together had not meant anything, she was just amusing a sad cyborg-man-thing because she had to. That was it, right? His thoughts came to a screeching halt, as the curtain leading to the East wing shifted. Genji’s head snapped in the direction of the movement and suddenly any bit of nervousness he felt melted away.

Angela beamed at the cyborg standing at the top of the opposite stairs, them nearly mirroring each other. She gently walked down the steps, leading the skirt of her dress with one hand, trying to recall just how the women in fairy tales did it. She just had to pretend like she was floating and not be distracted by the fact that Genji was in fact wearing clothing. Clothing that looked very fine on him. Angela stepped down onto the landing of the first staircase and looked up at her partner for the evening, awaiting him to do the same.

To say Genji was awestruck would be an understatement. Angela was always beautiful he had known that since the first day she came to him. But now, now she was radiant, and glowing, and smiling, smiling at him. He was going to be kicking himself for the rest of his lifetime for ever doubting her. Genji watched as her smile broke into a soft laugh, which she very politely hid behind her hand. It was then he realized he was still stuck at the top of the steps, just staring at her.

He attempted to regain an ounce of his old suaveness and moved down the stairs as he had been instructed in his youth. Each step closer to her felt like moving towards the sun. Genji’s feet finally hit the same landing she was on, and he watched as Angela lifted her the end of skirt in what seemed like a curtsy. He grinned beneath his helm and returned a bow of his own. Genji offered her his arm and she looped her own through his, her hand resting softly on his forearm.

“I still think dinner seems rather silly when one of us doesn’t eat,” Angela said, as they descended the main staircase together. She allowed him to guide her towards the dining room.

“Even if I do not need to eat, I can still enjoy your company,” Genji responded as they entered the room. His tone and words were overcompensating for the anxiety that continued to sit like a rock in his stomach. He was attempting to channel some of the confidence he had in his youth, without the added arrogance this time. Genji’s attempt seemed to succeed as light dust of blush came to Angela’s cheeks. He followed her towards her end of the table pulling the chair out for her with a flourish that would have embarrassed some, but not him.

Angela laughed at his over the top actions and wasn’t afraid to admit to herself that she found them charming. “Thank you Mister,” she stopped her words abruptly, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck before scrunching her eyebrows together. “Have we really not exchanged last names?”

“I suppose we have not,” Genji said, releasing his grip from the chair. He bowed like he did on the staircase, subtle but still elegant. “Genji Shimada,” he said and took her hand as though he were going to kiss her knuckles, but dropped it just as quickly. Perhaps he was dipping into too much of his old ways, which is exactly what got him into this predicament in the first place. Besides his face-plate would have barred him from touching his lips to any part of her skin. Genji shook his head slightly, trying to rid his mind of those types of thoughts.

“Angela Ziegler,” she responded, mimicking her curtsy from the stairs as well. Her eyes darted back to the chair he had pulled out for her. She attempted to sit, which she realized was rather hard to do in a gown when one has never done it before. She silently prayed she wasn’t making a fool of herself. Once she actually felt settled, Genji’s hands gripped the chair once more, pushing her in towards the table. Angela was snug against the wood, but not uncomfortable. “Thank you Mister Shimada,” she said now with confidence and shot a teasing smile his way.

“You are welcome Miss Ziegler,” Genji returned, matching her playful tone. He strode to the opposite head of the table and took his own seat. Their dinner was laid out before him, a medley of smells wafted in the air. It all smelled wonderful, but he knew it would taste like almost nothing to him. Genji instead turned his attention to the woman who sat across the long wooden table. He watched her pick at the plates, seeming to want to try everything. A small satisfied moan escaped her lips as she spooned what looked like some kind of meat stew into her mouth, Genji tried to forget the noise as soon as he could. The clinking of her silverware against the ceramic was the only sound the reverberated in the room. Angela seemed to be fine, but Genji could feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck as his hands remained firmly clenched beneath the table.

“They’re not sayin’ anything,” Jesse remarked to his companions as they sat together on Ana’s tea cart. They were crowded around the door of the kitchen, the smallest opening so they could see what was happening.

“Tell me what is happening my friends, I cannot see,” Reinhardt boomed from the background.

“My dear, you are much too loud,” Ana soothed, casting a glance at the large iron stove. They had all known that Reinhardt was a man who had no control over the volume of his voice, excitement about the evening aside. “It will all be fine, let them take their time.”

“Mama, you should sing to them,” Fareeha suggested, eyes sparkling up at her teapot mother.

“Hm, that is a nice idea habibi. Jesse, would you?” Ana asked, looking towards the lantern. He shot her a crooked smile.

“Happy to oblige.” Jesse began to let out a slow, low whistle. The chipper tune emanated from him, climbing and falling as though it had its own southern drawl. It was a song he had learned from his childhood on the ranch. It was meant to call and calm the horses, but it still made for a nice tune in a pinch. The last notes of the whistle tumbled down before he started it once more. He glanced at Ana once, a gesture for her to begin.

Ana sang one of Fareeha’s favorite lullabies. It was a fairy tale in its own right. It was a cautioning story about what makes and monster and what makes a man, and while only about half the room could understand Arabic, the tone still implied what they all wanted it to.

“Do you hear that,” Angela asked, mid dipping her spoon back into her bowl. Soft notes of a voice accompanied by a calm whistle drifted into the room.

“I do,” Genji stated, hands still firmly clenched underneath the table. He glanced back into the kitchen doors where a gallery of his friends sat crowded around the door. He locked eyes with Hanzo who stood next to a whistling Jesse. Hanzo shot him a look and motioned with his arms to essentially move it along. Genji swallowed thickly, but nodded back to his brother. He scooted his chair away from table, painfully aware of the scratching sound it made against the wood. It felt like it took years for Genji to arrive at Angela’s side, and at that point she had her eyes closed and was swaying to the music Ana and Jesse were providing. He cleared his throat and extended a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Angela snapped back into reality at the sound of Genji’s questions. She smiled warmly up at him before placing her hand in his own human one, feeling once again his rough skin against her fingertips. “I would love to, Genji.” With a slight tug on his end she was out of her chair and led to a room she had never seen before.

A large mural decorated the wall, a picture of a green dragon and a blue dragon seeming to fight for power. Huge lanterns lit the way around a square space that lay open before them. She felt a cold rush of air from her left as an open balcony was nestled outside the room. Genji suddenly stopped and stood squarely in front of her and clutched both of her hands in his own.

“It has been a while, you cannot make fun of me,” he joked, feeling the softness of her hand beneath his own.

“Don’t worry,” Angela laughed, dropping her hands from his. She considered how embarrassed she could feel after showing this to him, but decided that she did not care. Angela broke into a dance her father always loved to do whenever there was a town festival. She moved forward and back, her arms moving in a chugging train motion. Angela spun to one side and clapped and then the other and did the same. “Impressed?” she asked, still repeating the motions.

Genji could not hide his chuckles, he threw his head back and laughed fully. He placed one of his hands on his gut, the muscles that were still left aching painfully from the force of his laugh. “Yes,” Genji managed to say through his laughs, “quite impressive.” He watched her through his helm as she continued to dance. “I feel I should return the favor,” he began a dance of his own, something from his youth. The motions were jerky, full of ninety-degree angle limbs and a spin move. He continued as Angela burst out laughing herself, trying in vain to hide the giggles behind her hand.

“Very nice,” Angela laughed out, a snort escaping her nose every couple of laughs. “How could I ever make fun of you for that?”

Genji smiled at her tone. “I’m sure you would find a way,” he said, clasping her hands in his once more. He glanced behind her, where the peanut gallery had gathered once again. Hanzo did not look amused. With a slight incline of his head, Genji motioned for Ana and Jesse to continue their song.

Angela tried to hide her smile as Genji’s robotic hand traveled to her waist. She placed one of her own on his shoulder and clasped their two human hands together. Skin meeting skin once more. Genji pulled her in close to him and Angela felt her ears get hot. “You lead,” she said quietly, so only they could hear, “I don’t know what I am doing.”

“As you wish Miss Zeigler,” Genji said. He, in turn, wished he could stop time, live in this moment forever. Angela was gazing at him expectantly, staring directly into the slit of his helm, as he continued to appreciate the woman in his arms. Genji began to move, swaying the two of them slightly in time with Ana’s song.

Even though Angela could not see his eyes she could sense his stare as they kept moving to the song. He guided her expertly around the room and she began to wonder why he even questioned his skills in the first place. She had never danced with anyone like this before, never been held by anyone like this before. She realized as Genji spun her out of his arms and back into them, Angela felt safe. The contrast to their first encounter was not lost on her, as she recalled their first meeting and how much Genji had changed in their time together. Angela smiled at him, losing her resolve in the memories of their time together. She pushed herself closer to him, resting her head against his chest. She heard the beating of his heart through the fabric of his suit and felt a calm wash over her once more.

Genji swallowed thickly as the blonde hair on Angela’s head dusted against his shoulder. He had been this close to women before, and much closer, but what he felt at that moment he had never felt before. He resisted the urge to gather her up further into his arms and never let her go. She stayed there against his chest as they swayed to the last notes of the song, the lanterns around them dimming slightly. Genji did his best to calm the racing of his heart, fearing it would give his feelings away. Angela leaned away from him once they stopped moving, smiling at him radiantly. Genji pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear and appreciated the sight before him. “Would you like to sit down somewhere together?” he asked, mentally kicking himself for how lame it sounded.

“I would like that very much, Genji,” Angela replied, grabbing his hand in her own once more. She followed as he led them to the balcony outside.

“Did y’all see that?” Jesse said excitedly. “Y’all saw that right, aw man, the way she looked him. This is it,” Jesse laughed triumphantly.

“Contain yourself Jesse,” Hanzo said, hiding a smile behind a stern gaze.

“Don’t be so stuffy darlin’, this is excitin’!”

“Yes well,” Ana cut in, ”it’s up to him now.” The teapot looked at the entrance to the balcony, giving herself time for a silent prayer. “Come along Fareeha, it is far past your bedtime.”

“Yes Mama,” Fareeha stifled a yawn behind a pout. The cursed objects left together, Ana’s tea cart carrying them out of the room.

Genji led Angela to one of the wood benches on the outside balcony letting her sit before him. He shrugged off the jacket of his suit and laid it across her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Angela mumbled, pulling the jacket closer to her skin. She noted how much it smelled like him and once again found herself staring at the vision that was Genji in a suit. She felt her stomach flip as he sat next to her, closer than what was deemed proper. “It is beautiful out here,” Angela said, trying to distract herself from the cyborg next to her. The balcony overlooked some of grounds, large rocks and dead trees stood like soldiers in a field of white. Snow still dusted the ground and made everything shine in the moonlight. She questioned to herself at what point in the night her confidence had decided to wane. She feared with Genji treating her like this, she would never get it back.

“Yes, I would agree,” Genji said, his eyes never leaving her face. He watched her eyes flit from one object of her attention to another, never seeming to look at him. “Angela,” he said quietly, he noticed her jump a bit at the mention of her name. He held out his still human hand waiting for hers to slip into place.

Angela stared down at his hand, deciding to become distracted by his robotic one instead. She grabbed it with her own hand, feeling the intricate metal work of his fingers. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now, can you feel this?” she asked, running one of her fingers against the metal on his palm.

“A little,” Genji replied truthfully. Everything that made his body metallic was dulled. The caress Angela was gracing him with felt like a little less than a whisper of the wind. He had not been lying to her when he said he could eat, but the act was ruined by the fact that he could not taste. He had almost always been reaching out for her with his human hand because he wanted to feel the softness and heat of her skin. Her touch on him now only left him yearning for more. She stopped suddenly and moved her hand tentatively around the back of Genji’s head. He felt her run her fingers down what was exposed of his metallic spine.

“And does this help with that?” she asked, utterly intrigued by him.

“I guess,” Genji said, a little ashamed. While he had had this body for nearly ten years he had never really gotten to know the intricacies of it. Mostly because he loathed what he had been turned into. Genji found himself no longer ignoring their closeness, instead leaning in towards her. He grasped the hand on the back of his neck and her free hand with his own hands, finally getting the contact he craved. “May I ask you a question now?” he asked, absentmindedly rubbing a thumb against the back of her hand.

Angela swallowed and hoped he couldn’t hear it. “Yes,” she finally replied.

“Are you happy here,” Genji paused, pondering if he should add the next phrase that was caught in his throat, “with me?”.

“Of course,” she replied, a bit to hastily for her liking. Conflict rose into Angela’s chest, feeling an ache in her heart. “It’s just,” she said, looking towards the ground.

“What is it?” Genji asked, concern etched into his tone.

Angela pulled her head up once more looking into the slit of Genji’s helm, knowing she was looking into his eyes. “I just wish I could see my father once more, even if only for a moment.” She felt a bubble of sadness and guilt rise into her throat. Angela was ashamed at her lack of thoughts about her father while she was here. She hid a sob with a sigh, “I miss him so much.”

Genji hadn’t seen this much sadness swimming in her blue eyes since the day they first met. Back then he could have cared less about her father or her feelings about seeing him again for that matter. He took a moment to remind himself that he was the one keeping her here, he was the one making her upset. “There is a way,” he said without thinking. Genji stood from the bench already missing the warmth that came with Angela’s closeness. “Follow me,” he said, turning away from her before she could look at him with those sad eyes once more.

They walked wordlessly through the hall of the West wing. Genji glanced at the bits of broken furniture that was pushed up against the walls and covered haphazardly with sheets. He felt some hot shame rise to his cheeks and quickened his pace a bit. Genji grasped the handle of the door that led into his room, opening it and allowing Angela to go through before him.

Angela thought about the last time she was in Genji’s quarters and how different their encounter had been at that time. She took his jacket that was still draped over her shoulders and laid it across one of the still intact chairs. Her eyes subconsciously moved to the tattered painting on the far-left wall. The swords Genji normally had on his person were abandoned on a rack beneath it.

“Come on,” Genji said as he walked past her, inclining with his head for her to follow. He strode up to the table where the bell jar that concealed the rose sat. He pushed away the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach upon seeing the accumulation petals that lay at the base of the flower. Genji ghosted a hand near the glass before gingerly picking up the mirror that laid next to it. “This will let you see anything you wish, all you must do is ask.” He handed the mirror into Angela’s waiting hand.

She stared at him confused, but Genji refused to look at her anymore, his gaze instead occupied by the drooping rose beneath the glass. Angela looked into the mirror and stared at her own reflection for a few seconds. “I-I would like to see my father, please,” she asked, not knowing the politeness needed when it came to asking a favor of enchanted objects.

The glass suddenly began to shine and swirl with a bright green light. Angela squinted as the image became clearer. She gasped in horror, laying her unoccupied hand over her heart. She watched as her father attempted to trudge through an onslaught of snow. He coughed loudly into his fist before falling to his knees, wind whipped the measly cloak he brought with him. “Oh no,” Angela said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “He’s sick and alone, he could be dying.” She stared at the image of her father in the mirror as he struggled to get up from the snow bank. Angela felt some tears prick their way into the corner of her eyes. She felt helpless.

Genji looked down at the flower beneath it’s glass, finally placing a hand against the clear covering. He stared at the petals practically wilting before his eyes. Genji squeezed his eyes tight. “You should go to him,” he uttered, refusing to look at the woman behind him, knowing his resolve would crumble the moment he saw those blue eyes.

“Wh-what?” Angela questioned, stunned.

“I am freeing you, you are no longer my prisoner,” Genji squeezed his robotic hand into a tight fist.

Angela had not thought of herself as his prisoner for a long time, and it saddened her that he still did. She felt a tug in her chest telling her to go to him, but stopped herself, not entirely sure as to why she did so. “Thank you, I-,” she stopped herself, not knowing what to say. There was something on the tip of her tongue, something that her brain could not work out. So she settled. “Thank you Genji,” she said again.

“Please,” Genji nearly begged, the pain in his chest becoming too much to bear. “You must go.” He was a coward and he knew it, not even having enough strength to look at her. He suddenly felt her hand on his arm and turned to face her. Gratefulness and sadness somehow both swam in her eyes. Angela motioned to give the mirror back to him, he pushed it back into her hand. “Take it,” he pleaded, he moved to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear once more, the motion once filled with adoration was now motivated by sadness, “so you’ll always have a way to look back, and remember me.”

Angela nodded wordlessly, staring at the cyborg that stood before her. She clutched the mirror close to her chest and reached for his human hand. She grasped it in her own, and gave it a squeeze before backing away from him. Angela felt his hand slip from hers as she finally turned and left the room.

Genji remained quiet as the door creaked shut behind Angela. His heart felt like it had shattered and dropped into what was left of his stomach. The image of her leaving replayed in his mind. He turned his back to the door and walked towards the rack his swords were stowed on. Genji unsheathed his ōdachi, the silver steel glinting in the moonlight. He stared down at the blade, the weight of it heavy in his hand. Genji opened the glass doors to his balcony, he watched the grounds below and after many moments, finally saw Angela emerge from the front doors. He watched as she hurriedly pulled her horse from the place she was stored. He noticed her hair was back into her signature ponytail, every remnant of the evening they just shared gone from her appearance.

Genji squeezed the handle of his sword once as Angela swung up onto her horse. With as much strength as he could muster he brought the sword up above his right shoulder, falling back into his natural sword stance. “Ryūjin no ken o kurae,” he yelled, pain etching his words. His green dragon roared to life, curling out of his sword until the beast took to the air. Genji watched as the dragon flew in the direction of the woman and her horse, it was his only way to protect her now. He relaxed his stance once more and the sword finally fell from Genji’s hand, clattering to the stone beneath his feet. He placed his hands on the railing of the balcony, watching until Angela was out of sight. The wind whipped his ribbon in the air and in that moment, Genji never felt more alone.

“Well well well,” Jesse drawled out as he and Hanzo entered Genji’s room. “I think that went rather well don’t you darlin’.”

“Yes, I would say it was quite a successful evening,” the clock replied. Hanzo scanned the room for his brother and finding him hunched over on the balcony railing. “Genji, we must speak next steps. Jesse and I were talking and we thought,” Hanzo was cut off.

“I let her go,” Genji said, his deep sadness evident in his voice. He continued to stare into the distance

“Y-You what?” Hanzo said, flabbergasted. He exchanged a look with Jesse who looked just as shocked if not more. “But-But why?”

Genji closed his eyes beneath his helm and swallowed. “Because, I love her.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand,” Reinhardt boomed from their little congregation, “he did what?” The massive stove’s tone was the perfect mix between shock and confusion.

“He,” Hanzo paused, he gazed at the floor, merely trying to understand. “He let her go, he said he had to.” Hanzo glanced over at Jesse with a knowing look.

“After all this time, he has finally learned to love,” Ana whispered. She felt proud, but dread had also settled in the group. She was their last chance and now, Angela was gone. They all knew the rose had only a day or two left and without Angela here, there was no way to break the curse.

“That should be it then right?,” Reinhardt asked, excitement starting to fill his voice. “That should break the spell!”

Ana exhaled sharply, furrowing her painted eyebrows. “It’s not enough,” she said, “she has to love him in return.”

“And now she is gone,” Hanzo said to no one in particular. His eyes glazed over, seemingly staring at nothing. Hanzo didn’t know how to feel. Seeing the pain Genji felt as he stood on the balcony, Hanzo knew then what his brother felt was real. Long ago Hanzo resigned himself to being a clock forever, but now that the chance of humanity was taken from him without any hope in sight, he felt lost once more.

Almost seeming to sense his inner turmoil, Jesse scooted closer to Hanzo. He wanted to say something, tell him to buck up and that everything would be all right. But that was a feat too impossible for a mere lantern.

The silence between them broke as the door pushed open. Every set of eyes in the room whipped over to the movement. Genji stepped in, gaze lowered to the ground. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating in his chest.

“Genji, what are you-,” Ana started, she was quickly silenced with the raise of his hand.

He took in a shaky breath and finally leveled his eyes with the group in the room. They all stared at him, waiting. His eyes flicked to Hanzo briefly. His brother hid it well, but Genji could see the crushing disappointment, the impossible to hide sadness. He swallowed loudly before finally opening his mouth. “I have failed you all,” he stated and left no room for interruption. “I just couldn’t-,” he paused in an effort to correct himself, trying to keep his voice from breaking, unsure if his robotic vocal cords would even do that. “I could not keep her here when...when she belonged somewhere else.” The room remained silent, the audience giving permission for him to continue.

“I love her, I love her more than anything, and I had to let her go.”

Genji was sure, if it was at all possible for him, hot tears would have been rolling down his cheeks. He clenched his fists and pressed on. “I am so, so sorry for what I have done,” he felt his face contort under the face mask as though he were about to cry. Genji bowed deep and low to all of his friends, as though he had the right to call them that. “Please, I do not deserve your kindness. Any of it. I never have.”

And with that Genji slowly straightened to his full height. Through his visor he stared at all the alive inanimate objects in the room. Many of them were gaping at him. Hanzo looked as though he were searching for something, anything to say. But he turned his back to them, desperate to retreat before they could offer any form of comfort. This was his burden to bear and the guilt would lay heavy on his still human heart for the rest of the days that he spent completely and utterly alone.

“I would appreciate it if you would not disturb me.” He slipped back out the door before anyone could so much as think to say anything to him. Genji fought back the sadness that settled in his soul as he resigned himself to solitude once more.

Angela was pushed to her breaking point, physically and emotionally as she rode through the snow-covered woods trying to remember the scene in the mirror. But all that swam across her mind were images of Genji. Thinking of his last words to her made her heart ache. Tears pricked their way to the corners of her eyes. Angela tried to convince herself it was the bite of the wind, but she knew the real reason.

Her thoughts were paused by the sound of a fierce roar behind her. She glanced back as Sigrún’s hooves continued to beat through the snow.

A green, ethereal dragon was approaching her, and quickly. Angela felt her heart leap into her throat at the sight of it and couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. It was nearly at her side when she called out, “Genji, I-.” Her words died on her tongue as the dragon raced past her, letting out a roar once again.

With no cyborg in sight.

Angela swallowed hard, feeling her heart settle back down to its proper place in her chest. The dragon carved a path through the woods and Angela steered Sigrún along it, trying to fight down disappointment.

She followed the dragon for what felt like miles, hoofbeats filling the silence.

Angela pulled back on the reins as the dragon suddenly turned skyward. She watched as it soared above the treetops. It released one last fierce roar before dissipating into the air. Angela felt numb watching it disappear. She ignored the tightening in her chest, focusing instead on finding her father. It was no time for tears.

“Papa,” Angela called, cupping her hands around her mouth. She tamped down all of the other thoughts swirling in her mind as she steered Sigrún through a mass of trees, being careful to watch where the horse tread. “Papa,” she tried again, nearly straining her vocal cords. Angela had lost too much today to lose him too.

She spotted him then, a couple yards away from her, face down in a snowbank. Angela practically threw herself off Sigrún’s saddle and ran to him. “Papa, papa,” she yelled, flipping him onto his back. She snatched his wrist, laying her two fingers on where his pulse would be.

It was slow.

Faint.

There.

Angela sighed in relief, placing a hand over her heart trying to calm its pace, wishing she could donate some of its beats to his. She looped her arms under him and heaved.
Maneuvering her unconscious father onto the horse’s saddle was not nearly as complicated as when she had to do it for Genji, but that did not mean it was easy.

“Mmm,” Torbjorn moaned, clutching a hand to the side of his head.

Angela’s eyes widened as she looked behind her. It was almost comical, maybe she would have laughed if she were not so worried. Her tiny father was wrapped up in large fur, sniffling and shivering like a child. “Papa,” she sighed in relief.

“Angela?” Torbjorn said not believing his eyes. “What are you doing her-,” he was cut off as a deep, guttural cough racked his body.

“Save your strength Papa, we’re almost home,” Angela pleaded. She heard herself say the word home, and it felt like a betrayal. She could see the roof of their cottage as they crossed the bridge over the half frozen river.

Angela slowed Sigrún’s steps as they approached. She jumped off the horse, cloak whipping around her person as she did so. She watched as her father glanced around blearily before beckoning him down with an outstretched palm. His palm felt frozen in Angela’s own as she led him into the house.

“Here I am,” Sombra said mockingly as the door of the cottage shut behind Angela. The stealth component of her outfit fell apart in pixelated pieces as she stood in the snow. Sombra could feel that the tip of her nose was red and she had to actively keep her teeth from chattering. She sighed. “Suppose I should tell the boss man they’re back,” she rolled her eyes at the thought, “he didn’t say I couldn’t take my sweet time though.” Sombra lounged her head back on crossed fingers as she made her way back into town to tell Gabe the news.

Torbjorn blinked through the film that seemed to cover his eyes, trying to will feeling back into his face. He wiggled a finger and toe experimentally, finding both still able to do so. He felt someone lift his head up and place a pillow behind. Torbjorn forced his eyes to focus. “Angela?” he murmured out, voice hoarse.

“It’s all right now Papa,” Angela said softly, shuffling the blanket further up his body. She kept her fingers pressed to his pulse as she watched the wall clock, counting the beats she felt. He was starting to stabilize and relief washed over her. She looked back at him, “I’m home now.” Again, her mouth was left bitter with the taste of betrayal.

It took most, if not all of Torbjorn’s strength to clasp her hand that lay on his wrist between both of his. “I thought,” he paused, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes, “I thought I would never see you again.”

“I missed you so much,” Angela said, emotion welling into her tone as she grasped the outside of her father’s hand with her own, her mission of timing his pulse forgotten.

Torbjorn’s eyes widened and he sat up suddenly. The motion sent a pounding into his head. “But that beast. How did you escape?” He squeezed her hand tighter now. Preparing himself for a story about violence and terror. He only watched as Angela shook her head slightly.

“I didn’t escape Papa, he let me go.”

“That horrible beast!”

“He’s different now,” Angela said feeling a smile settle on her lips, “he’s changed somehow.” Her mind was cruel, conjuring up the memory of her and Genji dancing together once more. She could almost feel the weight of his hand against her waist, almost hear the beat of his still human heart in her ears. She looked back to her father, his eyebrow was quirked as he studied her. Angela blanked her features, although she could feel her ears burning.

A rustling from Angela’s bag that was forgotten on the table stole both of their attention. And Fareeha bounded out of the pack, with a confidence that would make one believe she was a giant and not a fragile teacup.

She scanned the room briefly, finding two sets of wide eyes on her. “Angela, hi!”

Angela sat stunned, exchanging a quick glance with her father. “Fareeha? What are you doing here? How did you even-” Angela furrowed her eyebrows. How did she miss a teacup in her bag? Much less a sentient tea cup.

“Angela, why did you go away? Do you not like us anymore?”

“Oh Fareeha no, it’s not that at all. It’s just that-,” Angela paused, interrupted by a knock. She shot a confused look at the door. Almost no one came out here and even when they did it was normally to play a prank to make her father look foolish. Angela rose from her place on the couch next to her father. She pulled down the contraption hooked up to the door attempting to see who it was or rather who it wasn’t. She stared through, but could only see darkness, almost as though someone was covering it with their hand. Angela flipped the device back into place, feeling a concerned look settle on her features. She opened the door just enough for her to be seen and no one else.

She immediately came face to chest with one of the largest men she had ever seen. Craning her neck upwards, Angela found the stern eyes of the man who rapt on the door. “May I help you?” she asked carefully.

“I have come to collect your father,” Akande monotoned, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest. How he had been dim enough to get himself wrapped up in one of Gabriel’s schemes, he did not know.

“Collect my father?” Angela questioned, feeling confusion cross her features. She watched as the large man stepped aside, revealing a wagon and a crowd behind him.

A spindly, pale woman with a shock of red hair stood near the wagon. She was tapping her fingers together as a wicked grin spread across her features. The crowd behind her was armed to the teeth. The lankier of the two junkers seemed to be vibrating with excitement. Angela squinted to read the side of the wagon the woman was posturing "O’Dorien’s Asylum D’Loons" printed clear as day on the side. Her gaze snapped back up to the towering man in front of her. "What exactly is the meaning of all this?" Angela did her best in keeping her tone even and felt herself fail.

“Have no fear Miss Ziegler,” the red haired woman’s voice was gravelly with a pointed accent. Her severe features twisted into a false look of kindness. “I will take very good care of him.”

“Take care of him,” Angela bit back the stutter in her voice. “My father is not crazy!” An angry heat crept up her neck as she felt her face color. The town that had gathered buzzed like a swarm ready to strike.

“Oh please,” Sombra piped up from the spot where she leaned against Moira’s wagon. “Just the other day he was ranting and raving like lunatic about some beast.” She scoffed and pushed her hair away from her face. Sombra pivoted on her heel to address the crowd. “Well, we all heard him didn’t we?” A wicked grin set across her features as the people cheered and brandished the weapons they held.

Angela watched as everyone in the crowd seemed to take a step forward. The man who first greeted her stepped aside with an air of indifference. She in turn barricaded her body across the entirety of the door. “I will not let you take him,” she bit out locking eyes with the man, who merely scoffed and rolled his eyes. The ferocity in her face lessened as the door behind her creaked further open.

“Angela?” Torbjorn shuffled his way into the door frame, still wrapped up in the blankets. “Angela what’s going on?” he asked as he scanned the crowd in front of his home.

Sombra smirked, feeling excitement build up in her chest. “Well look who it is the man of the hour,” with her words the people behind her cackled. “‘Ey Torby, why don’t you tell us a little more about that beast eh?” she mocked and was rewarded by more intense snickering.

Shock flickered across Torbjorn’s face before he stepped forward effectively exiting his house. “It’s-it’s an omnic beast,” he struggled against his shiver to find his voice. “A dangerous assassin looking thing.” His eyes flitted across the faces who looked as though they were about burst. “It had two no no three swords,” Torbjorn emphasized his point by holding up three fingers. And the crowd exploded into laughter.

Akande only rolled his eyes once more and inhaled deeply through his nose. He muscled his way past the girl and gripped the old man by his upper arm. “Time to go,” he said, practically dragging Torbjorn down the steps towards the wagon and stalking down after him.

“Wait! You can’t just-,” Angela started after them, but Gabriel suddenly appeared in front of her effectively stopping her pursuit. Her gaze went stony once more.

Gabe’s glance slid away from Angela’s face to his associates wrestling Torbjorn into the wagon. He tsked and turned back to her. “Such a shame about your father,” Gabe said, his tone cool and neutral as though he were simply speaking about the weather.

“You know he’s not crazy right Gabriel?” Angela was desperate, at this point she would take any help she could get. She swallowed loudly. Even his.

“Well I know that and you know that,” Gabe tried to sound sympathetic, “but they,” he motioned to the crowd behind him, “they’re a hard one to convince.” He circled her like a predator, hands clasped behind his back. “But I may be able to clear up such a small misunderstanding on one condition.” A sly smile spread across his face, waiting for her to take the bait.

“Which would be?” Angela tested. She tensed as he suddenly snatched her hands within his own. It was so different from the last time a man held her hand, this felt like he had thrown shackles onto her wrists.

“Marry me.”

Angela’s eyes widened as she ripped her hands out of his. Her eyebrows furrowed as she leaned towards him. She almost had to swallow back bile from rising in her throat. “Never,” she stated, leaving no room for negotiation. Angela watched as Gabriel’s face hardened, something dark crossing his features. She took a step back and cursed inwardly for doing so. For showing she was scared.

“Have it your way then,” he threatened. With an inclination of his head Torbjorn was thrown into the back of the wagon. The door slammed soon after and Moira twisted the key in the lock.

Angela fled as soon as Gabriel gave her the opening. She flew back up the stairs and into the quaint sitting room practically barreling over the furniture in the process of getting to her bag.

“What’s going on out there? Something bad? Need me to help?” Fareeha tried to hide the excitement in her voice. And failed.

“Not now, please, please just stay inside and stay safe,” Angela begged. Her mind flickered to how worried Ana must be not knowing where her daughter was. She imagined it must be a lot like what she was feeling right now. Angela shoved her hand into the leather bag feeling for her target. And the mirror’s cool silver handle slipped into her grasp. She tugged it out like the lifeline it was.

She turned quickly on her heel, leaving a protesting Fareeha on the table. “Please work, please work,” she begged the mirror before bursting back through the front door. “My father is not crazy,” she yelled above the ruckus, all eyes suddenly snapped to her. Including a very dark gaze from Gabriel. Angela pulled the mirror to her, she looked at her own reflection briefly thinking about how quickly this evening had turned. “Show me Genji,” she demanded.

The mirror shone to life, glowing a brilliant green. Angela squeezed her eyes shut against the light and shoved the image out towards the crowd. She heard the familiar call of when Genji summoned his spirit dragon, she could imagine his helm burning with determination, the ferociousness with which he protected her.

Angela missed him. And her heart sank once more.

The shocked gasps and screams snapped her out of her woe. Angela looked out into the crowd, seeing her neighbors terrified faces.

“Is it dangerous?” one woman screamed.

“No, no,” Angela reassured, “I know he looks intimidating, but he would never hurt anything. He’s-,” She paused and swallowed. Angela didn’t know what to say, deep in her mind she knew what she wanted to say, what she should say.

What Genji really was to her.

“He’s my friend,” she finished lamely, averting her eyes and feeling her cheeks burn. Angela felt her wrist suddenly get torqued painfully to the side. She came face to face with Gabriel once more, his eyes looking a scary shade of red. Angela wanted to cry out in pain, but she would not give him the satisfaction.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you have feelings for that thing,” Gabe hissed out.

Angela wretched her hand out from Gabriel’s grasp. Her cheeks burned for an entirely different reason as she challenged Gabriel. All he had done was bother her and treat her like nothing but a means to an end the entire time they had known each other. And the way he spoke of Genji, one of the most important things to ever happen to her. How dare he. How dare he even speak of the person she-. Her mouth didn’t let her finish the thought. “Genji is more of a man than you’ll ever be,” she spit.

Gabe narrowed his gaze at the woman in front of him. “I’ll make you regret that,” he whispered before turning back to the crowd. “You hear that? She’s just as crazy as the old man! I say we lock them both up,” he yelled. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder seeing the horrified look Angela had on her face. In her stunned state, Gabriel snatched the mirror from her hand. Images of the omnic beast still flashed across its surface. “This thing is just as dangerous as any other omnic if not more!”

“Damn right,” Jamison yelled.

“Who knows what it could be capable of, and it’s so close by,” Gabriel sneered. “I say we kill this beast.” With his words the crowd surged once again. Hoots and hollers hit his ears and Gabe felt nothing from the praise. His mind was focused on one thing and one alone. Until a hand tugged his shoulder back.

“I won’t let you do this,” Angela screamed. She felt the threat of tears brimming to the surface, but kept her face determined.

“Oh Angie,” Gabriel chided, “you hardly have a say in the matter.” He bared his teeth towards her. “And quite frankly, if you’re not with us,” he felt his eyes flash once more “you’re against us.” He motioned behind him with his hand for Moira to unlock the cell of the wagon. Gabriel watched as Torbjorn came stumbling out. “Akande,” he called, eyes still firmly locked onto the blonde’s. “Why don’t you help make these two comfortable in the cellar? Can’t have them running off to warn the thing.”

The statuesque man grunted and with ease lifted both the old man and the girl over each shoulder. The man hardly fought back, briefly mumbling out something that sounded like he was telling Akande to unhand him. But the girl beat against his back as he carried her. Was she even aware that he could snap her in half if he so chose? Regardless, Akande yanked open the cellar door and let the two tumble down and out of sight, dragging down the wooden latch for good measure.

“Let us out,” Angela cried. Panic settled in her stomach. They were going to the castle to...to. She didn’t even want to finish the thought. She had to get out, had to get back to Genji. Angela pounded against the door to the cellar with her shoulder, feeling a bruise already forming. “Please, you can’t,” Angela felt some hot tears roll their way down her cheeks. Her shoulder ached and she was only stopped when her father tugged her away. He looked at her then, trying to decipher her face. And Angela could only stare back and feel her mouth go dry.

Gabriel looked around at his associates, ignoring Angela’s plea. “Well then what do you say?” he asked. The town roused and Sombra fell in line beside him. “Who’s ready to take some action?”

Sombra glanced warily between Gabriel, the townspeople and the now locked cellar. There was no turning back now and what a mess she seemed to have gotten herself into. Nevertheless the dim glowing red of Gabe’s eyes told her someone was going to die tonight. And she could only hope it wasn’t her.

“Follow me,” Gabe called, feeling dark smoke curl off of his body. And the crowd finally exploded. A wicked look settled on his features as he led the charge through the woods, the mirror lighting and guiding their way.

One less omnic abomination would do some good for this world.

And no one would miss it anyway.