This Is Something Like What I Imagine Angelas Outfit To Look Like In My Most Recent Story, Memories On

This is something like what I imagine Angela’s outfit to look like in my most recent story, “Memories” on AO3 and FF.net.

adulthood is just a constant struggle of, “man, i want cookies for breakfast, but I also recognize this is a bad nutritional decision.  On the other hand, the only one who can stop me is me.  i know that fucker’s weaknesses.  i could totally take me in a fight.”

Broken Chains

My heart’s an endless winter filled with rage I’m looking forward to forgetting yesterday - Cold [Five Finger Death Punch] Febuwhump Day 26: Recovery | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel

AO3 | FF.net | Works

Angela was nearly certain it had been a week since that horrible day that they had ‘tried something different.’ She had stopped tracking the days, stopped counting the times they hurt her, tried to forget how they were hurting her. If only she could forget how they were hurting her. That second day - the second time they had used the table, had used her - she had fought, struggled, anything to escape. It had been laughably - they had actually laughed - easy for them to chain her down. Angela would have bruises, and some of her half-healed lashes had burst open, but it hadn’t stopped them for even a moment. Instead, it had just made everything far more painful. The speaker had expressed his disappointment - as if she had spilled juice on his favorite shirt rather than fight to escape their torture - that they hadn’t captured any of it on video. The next time, they had whipped her bloody and raw - and she had hoped, prayed, that they would stop there, that it had been enough. Of course, they hadn’t; instead, they had pressed her bloody and torn back to the table before hurting her further. It was then that Angela had stopped counting the days, had started actively seeking her death. She tried to force them to hurt her more, to push too far and break something fragile within her that couldn’t be put back together. When the others - the ones who didn’t expressly hurt her, but were the ones that cleaned her wounds and fed her - came to her, she had tried to avoid eating. Starvation was a slow killer, she knew, but at least it would kill her - free her - eventually. Not that they had allowed her even that choice. Overwatch - Jack, Gabriel - hadn’t capitulated, hadn’t even given her captors an inch. Not one person released, not one agent removed from the required bases, nothing. The speaker had taken great pleasure in informing her of that as they prepared for the next round of pain and horror. Angela had known they wouldn’t, had known they couldn’t, and yet now, almost a month later - or was it longer? - she wished they would compromise just once. Surely she had done enough - given enough - for that? Instead, her captors increased the pressure on her friends - the friends that had left her here, had watched what had been done to her and had abandoned her anyway - by slowly destroying her entire being.

---

Angela barely slept anymore; her nightmares, always present even before her chains, had somehow begun eclipsing her real-life torture. Instead, too tired to remain alert and too terrified to sleep, she slumped against her chains in a half-conscious state. The doorknob rattled, drawing her from her haze and into wide-eyed terror. They had already come for her today, had already hurt her - hadn’t they? It had to be the other ones, the ones that kept her alive only to be broken further. It had to be. The door opened and she inhaled sharply, unsure if she should be relieved or terrified. Genji, the man she had saved from certain death not even a year ago - or had it been? - stood framed within the doorway. She blinked, unsure if she was hallucinating, but he was still there. It didn’t make sense. If she were hallucinating, surely she would have imagined someone more appropriate - Gabriel or Jack, or even Cassidy - but Genji? But for him to be real made just as little sense. He hated her, hated what she had done to save him, and had made that no secret. That he would appear before her now, when she was at her most vulnerable, was no comfort at all. He said something, but she couldn’t hear it over her rapid breathing and pounding heartbeat. After a long moment - was she supposed to respond? - Genji shut the door, locked it, and quickly closed the distance between them to crouch before her. Trembling, Angela shrank back as far as her chains allowed, which wasn’t far at all, as he reached out. “Don’t—” Her eyes squeezed shut as she cringed away, expecting the worst because that’s what this room was. Because Genji would never save her, not after what she had done to him. Surely he was only here to add to her misery. “I am not here to harm you, Dr. Ziegler.” His voice was harsh, making it hard to believe the words. Not when he had locked the door; not when she was at his mercy, naked and chained and bleeding. After a long silence, he sighed, and then she flinched as his cold, metal hand touched her left wrist. He drew back for just a moment, and then he was fiddling with the manacle again. It took far longer than she had become accustomed to, but he eventually opened it. Before her arm could fall lifelessly to her side, his hand - this one warm and made of flesh - was there again to lower it carefully to her lap. Then she was hanging by her right arm in a way that should hurt - did hurt, but she had been through worse, so what did it matter? Instead, she peered up at him cautiously, confusion and despair warring with the beginnings of hope. As he was working on her right wrist, a piercing wail broke the silence between them. Angela jumped, eyes wide as she searched for the source. Genji cursed, her movements having knocked his hands away and forced him to start again. Before he could get very far, the doorknob began twisting and rattling. Instantly, Genji was on his feet. As she hung there, he drew the short sword at his waist and put himself between her and the door. The speaker burst through, a gun in hand, but drew up short when his eyes landed on Genji. “Who the hell are you?” Angela shook, ducking her head as she looked away from the men before her. She’d only heard that tone a handful of times - it never meant anything good for her. Genji remained silent, with nothing but the alarms to provide an answer. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it?” The speaker said acerbically, and then there was a gunshot - loud and echoing - that had her head whipping up so fast that she swung slightly. Genji was still between the two of them, but he was now closer to the speaker than before. With quick, precise movements that Angela could barely follow, Genji disarmed the speaker and had him unconscious on the ground. All she could do was stare at the growing red stain on the speaker’s shoulder. Angela hadn’t realized Genji had returned to her side until his hand touched her wrist again - and she flinched so hard that she would have completely fallen over if not for the manacle. Her eyes tore away from the speaker to find Genji, who had pulled back and had his hands held before him carefully. “I did not mean to scare you, doctor.” Genji’s hands turned, the gesture suddenly changing from one of surrender to one of supplication. “Will you let me remove the chains?” Angela’s eyes darted back towards the speaker - how was he the one with a bullet wound? - before returning to Genji. Hesitantly, she nodded. Quickly, Genji began working at the cuff; she couldn’t help but allow herself to stare at the speaker again. After everything he had done to her, she had thought she would feel some sort of relief to see him hurt - or killed, though Angela could tell he was still alive at the moment. She just felt empty. “Hold on,” Genji murmured, drawing her attention only briefly. Then, he was catching her weight as she collapsed on herself. Angela couldn’t help the broken whimper or her flinching at his touch. As soon as she was steady, he released his hold on her. Angela watched him, trembling, as he moved towards the door once more. When had the door closed? It didn’t matter because he was yanking the door open, and for a moment, Angela was terrified that he was going to just leave her here. For all that she knew he hated her, he had at least removed some of her chains - had, somehow, shot the speaker without a gun. Before she could squeak out something desperate, a second man shoved past Genji and into the room. As he drew closer, Angela couldn’t settle on one emotion. Hope: that she was finally going to escape this room - and not through death? Anger: that they had taken so long, that so much had been taken from her? Shame: that, surely, Gabriel knew - had seen - what had happened to her. “God, Angela,” Gabriel exhaled, dropping to one knee before her. “G-Gabe—?” Angela choked out, one hand rising of its own volition. Before she could pull back, Gabriel caught it with his own - warm and real. She gasped, shuddering with tension and emotion, and clung to his hand like a lifeline. “It’s me, cariño,” he murmured, voice far kinder than this room deserved. “We’re getting you out.” With his free hand, Gabriel pulled out some cloth - seemingly from thin air, but he had to have a pack that she hadn’t noticed - to drape carefully over her shoulders, the movement made awkward as he could only use one hand. “I know, I’m sorry,” Gabriel murmured as she flinched. After a moment, her free hand rose to clutch the cloth closed around her chest, despite how it dragged at the wounds on her back. Cold fingers brushed her ankle, causing her to jump with a terrified noise. “It’s just Genji, Angela,” Gabriel soothed, his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand. “You’re safe now.” Her wide-eyes found Genji, who had come to crouch behind her to unlock the chains there. The ninja had stopped again, hands hovering as he waited her out. “Sorry,” she whispered, ducking her head as her fingers tugged the cloth even tighter around herself. Angela should have known it was him - his hand, if nothing else, should have given him away - but she couldn’t help herself. “Sor— Angela, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Gabriel insisted, incredulous. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” Angela twitched at the reminder that she had been abandoned here for so long. “I am sorry, Angela - God, there aren’t words for how sorry I am.” He sighed, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was running one hand over his head. “Not that it means a damn bit of good.” Silence descended, broken only by her shallow breaths and the soft clank of the metal chains. Gabriel clearly didn’t know what to say - or do, based on how he was hovering around her. Angela was so raw - in more ways than one - that she didn’t trust herself to say anything, so she just kept her eyes focused on her lap as she clutched at his hand and the cloth around her. “Done.” The chains were gone from her ankles. Despite their absence, Angela made no move to change her position, to get any kind of respite from the kneeling position she had spent so much time in, or to draw closer to Gabriel. “Secure the door,” Gabriel ordered the ninja. Angela watched Genji move away from the corner of her eyes; shuriken were in one hand as he slipped into the hallway. “Angela,” Gabriel hesitated before sighing. “I have to pick you up now, cariño.” Before she could protest, Gabriel scooped her off the ground and rose. Angela whimpered and shuddered as his arms brushed against her broken and battered skin, her whole body shaking in his hold. He remained still, murmuring soft words that she didn’t really hear - but there was no time for him to delay for longer than a moment or two. Gabriel was still murmuring as they followed after Genji. When they drew closer to the speaker - Angela had forgotten he was in the room with them - Gabriel slowed. Angela pressed against his chest, trying to put distance between herself and her tormentor, as she stared at the bloody man. “Cassidy,” Gabriel growled as they stepped into the hall; Angela was unsurprised to see the cowboy guarding the door, considering the other two that were here. They were a team, after all. “Get in there and grab that bastard, will you?” Angela tensed - she knew, from horrible experience, precisely what they were going to do to that man - but remained silent. It wasn’t like she couldn’t say he deserved it; not even she was that kindhearted. Instead, she pressed her cheek against Gabriel’s body armor and let him carry her out of hell.

---

“—ob, Jack - one job,” an angry voice growled, somewhere near her. “You’re acting like I meant for this to happen,” another voice snapped back. Before she could realize it was just Jack and Gabriel, arguing like they so often did since Ana’s death, she was pressed against the back of the bed. Her feet dug into the mattress, and her legs shook as she tried to make herself as small as possible. Wide-eyed, she stared at Jack and Gabriel - who were staring right back, their argument completely derailed now that she was awake. “I—” Angela licked her lips nervously, her eyes darting between the two men. She had half-convinced herself that her rescue had been a dream and that, when she finally awoke, she’d still be in chains. Angela still didn’t entirely believe that she wouldn’t. “You’re home, Angela,” Jack told her gently, when it was obvious that she didn’t actually have anything to say. Angela let her legs relax some - just enough to stop the shaking - and moved to wrap her arms around herself. The movement was stymied by the IV in her arm; Angela frowned and forced herself not to rip it out. She was cognizant enough to realize that she was in no position to be making medical decisions for herself. Now that she wasn’t blindly trying to escape, she realized that her back - her whole body - wasn’t in agony. Nothing hurt - at least, nothing physical. Her heartbeat was announced by an EKG machine, revealing her stress to the two men. “You’re safe,” he continued, clearly trying to fill the silence. Angela tensed, her eyes dropping to stare at her knees. She wasn't sure whether to scream or cry, to be angry or relieved, so she remained silent. “Ang—” Jack started, filling the silence again. “Jack.” Gabriel’s voice cut off whatever the blonde man was going to say to Angela’s relief. “Could you give us some space?” There was no trace of the antagonism that was usually present when he spoke to Jack; instead, Gabriel just sounded tired. “Please?” Angela hunched her shoulders, curling into herself some as she felt Jack’s eyes on her. After another tense silence - shorter this time - Jack sighed. “Alright. If you need anything, call me.” Angela was sure he was speaking to her, and she bit back her response. She had needed him weeks ago; now, he was far too late. After a pause - Jack clearly had expected some sort of answer - he quietly left the hospital room, the door closing softly behind him. Angela looked up at the sound, staring hard at the door. It was just a door, one she had probably seen a thousand times - and yet, she found herself struggling for breath. Her heart began to pound, her fingers curling in the sheets that covered her. “Angela?” Gabriel’s voice pulled her attention to the right, away from the dreadful door. “How can I help?” He was leaning forward, hands on his knees as he watched her. Her body hummed with tension as her eyes darted back to the door, unable to keep her eyes away for long. “The door?” His voice offered no judgment. She found herself nodding, a quick, jerky motion. “Alright.” Gabriel rose and crossed the small room to open the door. As soon as she could see the hallway, her shoulders relaxed. Once it was fully opened and he was moving back inside, she felt like she could breathe again. “Thank you,” Angela whispered as he sat in the chair closest to her bed. “You don’t have to thank me, Angela,” he replied, voice low. “I haven’t done anything to deserve it.” The derision in his voice was almost enough to pull her from her own malaise, to distract her from her own roiling emotions - but not quite. Because Angela couldn’t find it in herself to disagree with him, she remained silent as she turned her gaze back to the open door. Silence descended once more. “Do you want me to leave?” Gabriel asked some time later, when her heartbeat slowed and her muscles had loosened. Eyes wide, her eyes flew towards him; he was carefully not looking at her, but she could see the tension in his jaw and fisted hands. “No,” the word spilled out quickly, desperately. Even though she had been silent, incapable of finding words, Angela didn’t want to be by herself. She had spent far too many hours - long, painful hours - alone. “Please,” Angela continued, as if he had already begun walking out of the door, “don’t leave me.” “Alright,” the tension was gone as he turned his gaze on her once more. “I won’t go anywhere, Angela,” Gabriel assured her. Angela knew that wasn’t, strictly, true - he was the Commander of Blackwatch, after all. He would have to leave her eventually; his duty would force him to, just as it had forced them to leave her in that room. But for the moment, it was enough.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Some of y’all have probably seen me accidentally posting prompts over here [I see you guys liking them]. I’m actually posting them on a sub-account [alternate account? I’m still new to this tumblr thing] @promptsforbrighteye. I’m always flipping through for inspiration; if you see one that catches your eye, feel free to send it my way and I’ll see what I can do.

So, tumblr is a place to share (reblog not like) content, unlike other websites. I, personally, prefer to keep things ‘clean’ - I didn’t want to mix my writing with other posts / ideas / etc. But, that’s not quite in the spirit of tumblr.

Instead, I’ve compromised with myself. I’ve created a separate blog (subblog? sideblog? idk guys I’m just here) @brighteyewrites. I’ll be posting all of my writing there from now on, and then reblogging them as I so choose onto my main. 

And, good news, I’ve figured the writing thing out again. I’ve been jotting ideas down for scenes but, until last night, haven’t actually written. I turned a scene idea [~93 words] into an actual scene [~1500 words] and I couldn’t be happier. Keep on the lookout, because I should be posting something soon. Not sure what, yet, because my brain is like a golden retriever in a daycare center, but we’ll get there when we get there.

Collapse

I’m afraid I’m gonna die down here I can’t save, I can’t save myself Get me out, get me out of Hell I’m suffocating waiting for you - Out of Hell [Skillet] Summer of Whump 10: Trapped | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel TW: Injury, Child Death

AO3 | FF.net | Works

Angela woke to pain and screaming. Blearily, she tried to figure out what was happening. Something was screaming, a discordant, high pitched noise that made her head pound and stab with pain. Then there was a man yelling, possibly words, but she couldn’t quite focus on the sound to determine what he was saying over the wailing. There was a weight, just shy of painful in places, all over and around her body. Her whole body hurt, and for some reason that struck her as wrong. She shouldn’t hurt. Angela tried to move her arms, to push herself up so she could properly look at the children – why were there children? She didn’t have children – and found she was unable to. Angela was trapped under rubble, braced on arms and knees. She was surrounded, physically incapable of moving. There was pain – why was there pain? And then – why would pain be surprising? While her body was frozen, tightly cocooned by the debris surrounding her, she found her head could move, but only a little. The debris around her made it difficult to do anything, and when she did move her head, it sent spikes of pain and waves of dizziness through her. The feeling was temporary but disconcerting all the same. Steeling herself, Angela shifted her head so she could look around at the claustrophobic space. A faint glow from above her provided enough illumination to see the blood splattered and oozing around her. It made sense that there would be blood, considering how horrible she was feeling. With some straining, she could just peer down at the children that were underneath her. There was a red faced, wailing toddler and a silent baby in a bag. That the baby was silent wasn’t right, but she wasn’t sure why at this moment. Maybe if everything would just be quiet, she could get her thoughts in order. The most pressing of the noise was the child, whose shrieks were only worsening the pain in her head. Angela tried to smile down at the toddler, but her mouth didn’t feel right. She probed at the inside of her mouth and found it swollen; that would make her task all that more difficult. “It – It’s alright.” Angela murmured brokenly down to the girl. She wasn’t sure if it was intelligible through the swelling, but the tone was right at least. “Doc!” The man was back, his voice a shout in her ear. She winced at the sudden noise. “Ya with me, doc?” Angela wasn’t sure how to answer that question, so she settled for an affirmative noise. She smiled down at the child, trying to get her to stop crying - to get the noise to stop. “We’re lookin’ for ya right now, don’t you worry. We’ll have you out fast as lightnin’, you’ll see.” She hoped that meant quickly, because she had a sinking feeling that time was not on her side in this hole. “Wha–” Angela coughed, wincing at the flare of pain the action sent through her. “What happened?” There was a moment of silence on the other side, and Angela wasn’t sure if it was out of surprise or if it was because the man was trying to figure out how to explain her situation. She took that time to coo down at the child, ignoring the rasp of her throat as she tried to soothe the girl. Something must have worked, because the toddlers’ cries slowed before stopping altogether. “You were up in a buildin’, lookin’ for people. It came down, and you were inside o’ it.” Right. Italy. It was coming back, slowly. Leaving Zürich the day before, climbing through buildings, operating through the night. “Must’ve hit your head pretty bad there, doc.” It would explain the headache she was nursing and how off she was feeling. “It’s bad.” Angela agreed. It took her a few tries to get the words out coherently; something must have hit her face when she fell – no, landed. Nothing had hit her when she was falling. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what had happened. The man tried to speak, but she silenced him with a noise; she needed to gather herself before she could give him anything. She just had to think for a minute.

---

Angela blinked. There were people above her. She could hear voices, swearing and yelling at each other in various languages. What– Right. Italy. Collapsed building. They were working on getting her out; if she could just hold on, it would be alright. “Cas – Cassidy?” She coughed out, forgetting that her mouth was swollen and words were hard to form. It didn’t matter if the name was understandable or not, though; her voice had gained her instant attention from the cowboy. “Welcome back, doc.” There was relief in his voice. “Ya with me this time?” What an odd turn of phrase. “Yes?” Angela managed to make the word a question; talking was hard enough as it was. If she could avoid the extra effort of elaborating, she was going to. “Y’been in and out for a while.” That wasn’t a terribly good sign, even if it was an expected one. She had fallen eight stories. Cassidy continued when it was obvious that she wasn’t going to say anything. “Lieutenants’ here, helpin’ us dig. Captain sent us a guy t’fix ya, a Rem-somethin’?” Remington. Good. There was no one else she could think of that had more experience at triage care than he was. If anyone could get her extracted, it would be him. “How’s it lookin’ down there?” Now that he had mentioned it, there was quite a bit of blood shining in the glow of her wings. Angela had noticed it before, but now it had more meaning. Some was dripping from her chin, while more had oozed from the rubble pinning her left arm. Angela craned her neck down, as much as she was able anyway, to see if there was any problems she might be able to spot. She couldn’t see much of her body, but there was blood there, between the children’s feet and where she knew her knees were. The suit was doing an excellent job of keeping her coherent, even if she was still dazed, but it did nothing to help her determine where or to what extent she was hurt. The pain was deep, throbbing and stabbing. It was like – Angela’s eyes widened briefly before she blew out a shuddering breath. It was like Venezuela, right before Gabriel had stripped her suit from her. Not quite the same, but bad enough to terrify her. At least in Venezuela she was easily accessible – once the shooters were down, of course. Here, it could be hours before she was fully freed. “That bad, huh?” It was either the prolonged silence or he had heard her ragged breathing as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. Passing out would do her absolutely no good and would not change the situation. “Y – Yes.” Angela tried not to sound panicked, but she was buried in rubble and, quite probably, actively dying. There was nothing any of them could do until they could get her body freed and allow Remington to do what he did best. “It’ll be okay. We can see bits of ya, so it won’ be much longer, alright?” Angela’s lips twitched slightly in humor; how kind of him to try to console her. Then again, he was rather trapped in listening to her – maybe he just didn’t want to listen to her break down. Not that she particularly wanted to break down; there were far too many people above. Even now, with her body shattered and blood splattered, she stubbornly was trying to keep face.

---

Remington hadn’t been able to do much triage on her, trapped as she was, but he had brought a surprise: Ana had told him to locate and bring her healing stream along. Once he was able, he had used the tool on her head. While the tool wouldn’t be helpful for many of her wounds – it wasn’t powerful enough, for one thing – it at least gave her a clear head and made her capable of communicating clearly. They were still excavating her legs under Remington’s watchful eyes. Angela wasn’t sure how long they had been digging, but it felt like an eternity. The toddler below her had fallen asleep at some point, and not even the noise above had woken her. Worried, Angela had reached out to check that she was breathing. As far as she could tell – which wasn’t very – the toddler was fine, just asleep. Now that her head was healed, Angela was deciding whether to call home or not. It felt selfish – was selfish – to pull them away from their considerable duties to be given information they could, mostly, see with their own eyes. But trapped here, watching her blood slowly ooze closer to the child beneath her, she wasn’t certain she would survive. Angela knew that a persons’ will could play a part in their survival, and no one was more stubborn than she was – but no amount of will could counter blood loss. Finally, she allowed herself to fish the communicator out of the pouch – hoping it wasn’t broken. It was selfish, this was selfish, but she settled the communicator on the ground before her anyway. Angela hesitated over Gabriel’s name, but eventually passed him. As much as she wanted, needed, to talk to him, she could not afford it. He could shatter what little control she had left, and right now she could not give in. Instead, she selected Ana’s name. “Captain Amari.” Angela’s lips quirked up briefly with faint humor. One of these days they – to include her if, no when, she got out of this – would check the communicator before answering, instead of just providing their name and rank. “Ana.” Nothing in the world could have kept the exhaustion from her voice; Angela hoped that it masked the undercurrent of fear. Normally, with Jack and Ana, she would try to avoid allowing her emotions to seep into her voice – no need to let them think she was completely unprofessional, considering her relationship with Gabriel. But this time, she would allow it – mostly because she didn’t have a choice. “Angela!” There was a mixture of worry, joy, and relief in the snipers’ voice. Then, a brief commotion in the background – she could hear Jack and Gabriel, though she couldn’t make out what was being said. “How b–” The voices were growing louder, but she still couldn’t determine what was being said. “You may speak with her when I am finished.” Ana’s voice was muffled, as if she had covered the communicator, but nothing could hide the sharpness of her words; the men quieted down as Ana turned her attention back to the doctor. “I’m sorry about that, Angela. How bad is it?” Unsurprising that Ana would skip asking if she had been found; with the number of cameras at her disposal she wouldn’t be surprised if Ana could tell her exactly how much debris had been removed and how much remained. Instead, she had cut to the heart of the matter: survival. “Terrible.” What a small, insignificant word to describe it. “Lost a lot… of blood.” Angela wasn’t sure if it was a significant amount, considering she had no idea if her legs had been damaged, or a whole host of other information. There was a strangled sound from the background – she was pretty sure that was Gabriel. Apparently, Ana had put her on speaker. Angela wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but it was too late now. “It is not – not critical. Yet.” As ever, she was trying to soothe others, even when she could be dying. “It hurts.” She added, almost as an afterthought. “I know, dear.” Ana soothed gently, and Angela realized her voice was much weaker than she had intended it to be. “Do you have your staff?” Angela glanced down to where she had tried to shelter the tool. The parts that she had managed to cover were fine, but she wasn’t sure how bad the damage was. “Yes, but… it is probably broken.” Angela forced down the spike of anxiety. While the loss of the staff was a tragedy, both for herself and any others she could have applied it to, it could be fixed. Ana clicked her tongue sympathetically, and Angela could imagine the sniper shaking her head. “Remington will take good care of you. He has your healing stream, and from what I recall he is one of your favorite medics.” Angela was grateful that she had decided to send one of her most experienced combat medics on this relief. She didn’t know what to say in the silence – she had made her report, which had been the only unselfish task she had been able to think of to justify a call. “You will come home.” Ana ordered firmly into the void, realizing the doctor wasn’t going to speak. Home. If only she hadn’t left, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She should have just gone back to bed and let someone else do the work for once. But the exact reason she had gone was what had made her who she was. It was her duty to care for others, whatever the cost. Staying home when she could make a difference was not who she was – even if the good she had done here could not outweigh the good she had yet to do. It was catch twenty-two between her conscience and what she saw as her duty, in which either choice would cause her to win – and lose. “I – I don’t–” know if I will make it. The words died in her throat, choked by a sob that she had tried to swallow. “I just–” want to go home. Angela drew in a deep, ragged breath – she could not give in to the emotion. It could hover around her, but she could not let it loose. That had to wait until she was safe, until she was home – oh, she wanted to go home. Until then, she had to be Dr. Ziegler – because in her world there was no place for emotions. “Breathe, Angela.” Her eyes darted up towards the communicator, as if she could see him. “You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe for me.” Angela was surprised at how calm he sounded, when she knew he was just as terrified as she was. He had never taken her injuries well, and she had expected this to be no different. Perhaps because he couldn’t actually see her – there was no way the cameras could see her in this hole – made the difference. Angela didn’t know what to say, so she closed her eyes and tried to breathe, to collect herself, like he had asked. She didn’t know if she could say anything, not here and now. Gabriel was the only one she allowed to see her at her worst – and if he was here, now, she might break in front of everyone. He was a huge comfort to her, but he was also a liability to the control she was barely clinging to. “Are you still with me?” He asked, and she had a sudden memory of the two of them on her couch as she relived Venezuela. How appropriate, considering her body felt just as battered as it had back then. It was an image she doubted Gabriel would appreciate, so she’d keep that to herself. “For now.” Angela replied hoarsely, as truthful as she could be in this situation. Who knew how long that would last? Gabriel made a strangled sound before going silent. She could imagine him running his hands over his face, the top of his head, trying to compose himself in the face of her injuries – and him, stuck miles away with no way to help. Maybe he wasn’t holding it together as well as she had thought. She didn’t know how to make this better – couldn’t make this better. She was trapped, miles and miles away from home, and she hurt. Even if she wanted to be some form of comfort, Angela couldn’t find the words. “Gabriel, I – I have to go.” Calling had been a mistake, a selfish action that had resulted in nothing but more pain. She had enough pain for three people – or, rather, she would, if she weren’t wearing the Valkyrie suit. “Angela, don–” He tried to stop her, but her trembling fingers had already made their way to the communicator to end the conversation. Before she could stop herself, to give into temptation, she turned it off. Angela was in no position to be answering questions from anyone and she knew Gabriel would call her back immediately on his own communicator. Then she scrubbed angrily at her face, wiping away the proof of her terror and smudging blood across her cheek and chin.

---

She could have cried with relief when they removed the last bits from her back and head. Considering how much time she had lost, going in and out of consciousness, she had no idea how long it had taken. Her legs, wings, and left arm were still trapped but the pressure had been reduced. She was able to relax her muscles from the position she’d locked herself in – but only a little, considering the children beneath her. Angela realized that, with the release in pressure, she could move her right arm; when she had pulled the toddler closer it had managed to be sheltered by the wings. Unfortunate that her left arm, flung out haphazardly to keep her upright, did not share the same fate. She shifted her weight to the left and onto the wings so that she could lift her right arm. Angela frowned at the blood that began dripping down her arm, but there was nothing she could do about the gash in her bicep or scratches along the arm right now. She wouldn’t have made the effort if it weren’t for the children below her. Angela had noticed something odd when she had first awoken. Dimly, she knew what she had seen – but she had to be certain. Carefully she shifted and gently stroked the infants’ cheek – noting absently that one of her fingers was broken. Though she had known what to expect, it did nothing to change the horror she felt when her fingers met cool flesh. Angela knew the child had been alive on the eighth floor, so it had been under her care that it had died. That it would not have survived the fall without her was of no comfort at all; she should have done better. Angela had landed so hard she would have bruises, at the very least, on her knees and had been thrown forward violently enough to break fingers. The child hanging at her stomach would have hit the ground with considerable force, with nothing but a flimsy bag to protect it – which was no protection at all. “What’s wrong?” Cassidy asked urgently. She must have made some distressed noise without realizing. “I–” What could she say? Words could not convey the despair she felt in this moment – and even if they could, she would not say them here. She had killed an infant. Could it get worse than that? Angela cleared her throat uncomfortably, but it still took two tries before she could say anything. “Nothing.” The word was notably unsteady. “Doc.” It was surprising how much reproach he could stuff into the three letters. Still, Angela was nothing if not stubborn. If she could avoid it, she would hide her despair from everyone. This was a sin blacker – redder – than the ones she had carried previously. This infant would join all the ones she had failed previously. “Don’t.” The word was so soft she wasn’t sure the microphone picked it up. Don’t push. Don’t ask. Don’t try to make her talk about it. Don’t break her more than she already was. She was far too vulnerable to be pressed on such a subject, with her blood spilled across the rocks and her heart slashed to ribbons for the child she had failed. Even now Angela was scrambling to push the ragged pieces of herself down and away to that place she could deal with later. It was hard to keep it locked away – emotions and thoughts that could not be afforded kept slipping out of that deep place in her soul – but it was necessary. “I am fine.” She had to work to enunciate the words clearly enough for him to understand. Although there was nothing reassuring about her tone, he stopped pressing anyway. With one hand – that had a broken middle finger – it was rather difficult, but she managed to fasten the bag around the infant shut – if only so she would stop staring at the poor child. Its eyes had been closed, but she could feel the accusatory glare even through the cloth. The toddler was easier, in that she was still alive, and harder because she was awake and uncooperative with her probing. Angela knew the child would need to be thoroughly examined – the landing had to have damaged her in some way. Aside from a few scratches and some bruising where smaller chunks of debris had slipped past her wings to strike the girl, there was nothing serious that she could see. Children were, usually, resilient and could bounce back from a lot, but she was doubtful the girl would come away completely unscathed. It was a tragedy that the same could not be said for the girls’ sibling.

So this set is literally why it took me so long to get Chapter 17 done; my brain just would not release the idea of “she should fall and get extra hurt”. Unfortunately, her recovery time (for bones and such) just didn’t work well with my plans - and that doesn’t even begin to cover the damage to her hands and how bad that would actually be. Still, I think it’s pretty great so I didn’t want to scrap it - now here we are. Of course, I’m a few days late (story of my life) - but better late than never

Protector

I was broken you made me whole again The only one I trusted more than myself -What I Believe [Skillet] Febuwhump Day 14: "I didn't mean it." | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela & Gabriel

AO3 | FF.net | Works

"Did you know that my parents died in the war?" She asked, the sudden change of topic making him blink with surprise. "Angela, what--" He started, but she spoke over him. "They died, leaving me an orphan with my grandparents. Already an outsider – the girl without parents – I buried myself in my academics because I had a burning need to prove myself worthy. So, I flew through school – all the way through university and medical school." Angela didn't know where the words were coming from, only that she needed to say them and he needed to hear them. "Then, my grandparents died - and I was truly an orphan then, with no one at all to turn to." She sighed as her eyes dropped to her lap. "I didn't have any friends, because who wanted to be friends with a child that was smarter than them? It was incredibly lonely, with teachers that had no time and peers that avoided me, so I drowned myself in my studies and ignored the looks and the whispers." Angela shrugged as if to say it happens sometimes, that it didn't matter - though clearly it did, considering she was recounting it to him now. "It was no different at the hospital; I excelled, moved up the ranks, and my peers hated me even as they respected me. I had no friends – not someone I'd gossip with or laugh with, though I admit I throw myself into my work so deeply that I have little time for such things, as you know." She smiled derisively, as if it didn't bother her – though if it hadn't, she wouldn't be talking about it, forcing the words out for him to hear. "Then you and Jack showed up, and I decided to join Overwatch – even with my misgivings. I expected it to be much the same, especially with my less-than-stellar opinions." She took a breath, having almost forgotten how to breathe in her need to speak. "But it wasn't. I have friends here – honest friends, not the ones that wait for you to stumble so they can pull the rug out from under you." Angela glanced up and saw that Gabriel was listening intently, still curious as to what – exactly – her point was. "You, Gabriel, you were my first friend – and I doubt you even knew it, because you're good with people in a way that I'm not. You and Jack and Ana, you were my first friends, ever since I was a small girl that still had parents." She took a shuddering breath and gripped her legs with fingers that trembled. "So believe me, Gabriel, when I say that I can't lose you – any of you. I have lost too much." Angela let out a breath that sounded like a sob. "But you go, all three of you - and you take risks, and you save people, and you get shot - and I am left behind to wait, hands wringing, praying that this time won't be the last time, that you will return home whole or on a gurney for me to put back together and not in a body bag for me to bury." Her words were heated with anger and terror and anxiety: because they made her stay behind, because they didn't trust her to survive on a battlefield, to watch their backs like they watched each other. She let the anger fuel her because anything else would lead to tears, and she just couldn't. Jack had led the team that flushed out the enemy, making sure the way was clear so she could move unhindered. Ana had watched out for her, making sure that they knew there was an enemy behind them so that she wouldn't be hurt. Gabriel had stayed at her side the entire time, and, when it came down to it, he jumped in front of a shooter for her. "So instead of letting me learn how to be useful, you three protect me like a delicate china doll. You shoved me aside to take a bullet. You gave me a concussion, but I still dutifully stopped your bleeding and even pulled a bullet out of you, because you're important and I didn't have time to take care of myself without endangering you." She practically growled the words. "Wait- you had a concussion and you performed surgery on me?" Gabriel's voice was indignant, and she rolled her eyes; he had, of course, missed the point entirely. "You're fine. All your pieces are in the right spots." She snapped back. "A concussion?" He repeated. "Yes. Blow to the head, causes dizziness, nausea? Stop me if any of this sounds familiar." Angela retorted dryly. "I know what a concussion is, Angela. Why were you doing anything with a concussion?" He demanded. "There you go again, coddling me! You had four bullets in you, and you still did your job – you," she hesitated only briefly, "killed the man that would have killed me. I get slammed into a wall – your fault, by the way – and you act like it's the end of the world!" She yelled, fury rising. "My fault? Excuse me for saving your life!" He yelled back, his own temper fraying. "But that doesn't give you any right—" Angela started yelling right back. "I'm the doctor; I have every right." Her words battled with his to be loudest. "—to perform surgery on anyone with a concussion." His eyes were blazing just as much as hers were. "You're the doctor; you should know better." "Are you dead? Dying? Missing pieces?" Angela demanded. "No, because I did my job. You. Are. Fine." The door opened, and both turned to glare at the intruders. Jack stood in the doorway, Ana a step behind him, both looking rather surprised to find the two of them at each other's throats. "My, someone's in a mood today," Ana remarked blithely, recovering first. "You must be feeling better, Gabe." She pushed Jack inside and closed the door behind her. "Now, what's got you both so riled up?" Angela crossed her arms and glared at Gabriel. "He doesn't think I'm capable of being a professional." She accused. "She had a concussion and was operating on me; I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to be pissed about that!" He met her glare with one of his own. Ana clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Simmer down, children." They both turned their glare on the older woman, who just laughed. "You're both right, though you're too angry to see it. Angela, darling, you shouldn't have been doing anything in your state – but in her defense, she was very protective of you, Gabriel." She winked jovially, and Angela found herself blushing despite herself. "Despite her injury, she still performed admirably, and had she been anyone else, you'd probably be praising them." Ana glanced at Jack, and he nodded in agreement. "Now, apologize so we can talk," Ana said, hands on her hips as she waited for them to get on with it already. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Gabriel." Angela murmured, eyes downcast and genuinely contrite; now that the wind was out of her sails, she felt extremely remorseful. "Yeah, I know, doc. I shouldn't have yelled either." Gabriel sighed. "I didn't mean it." "Good. Now that that's done, Angela should have a report for us." The blonde doctor made a face as the other two found seats, but she sat up straighter and pushed her hair behind her ears dutifully.

So, like, 99.99% of this has been written for over a year (or three). This was originally going to be a scene in my long fic "Forging" (it would have been part of / the end of the second scene of the 8th chapter "Determination"). But, it got scrapped and put into my giant pile of 'stuff I eventually want to post somewhere' and now, well, here we are!