With a groan, she fell into her couch. As her ass sank into the plush cushions of creamy pale orange, her head rolled against that strong, supportive back. Today was absolutely brutal.

Exhaustion covered every ounce of her being. It created near-wrinkles at the edges of her eyes, a semi-frown on her lips, and a pair of dark bags beneath her dulled blue eyes. But such was the life she signed up for. She was a doctor after all. She went where she was needed. And today, it brought her into the war-torn town of Clyde.

It wasn't an impressive town, but it did have its merits. The fact that is was openly accepting omnic refugees was what made it so unique. It also brought it under constant attack. So few approved of the peaceful talks between humanity and these so-called cold machines.

76 got caught in the crossfires a week ago. Seven days later, she was finally caught up. Ready to think about moving to another needed area. Someplace easier, maybe.

Hand reaching over to the day old paper, she fingered its edges before gingerly guiding it into her own lap. In the blackest, boldest letters across the top read "CIVIL WAR WAGES ON." With another groan, that same hand snatched the cool, perspiring glass of scotch.

Pressing the iced drink against her heated temple, she sank further into her couch. "Ahh," the nose just a hum off her lips.

How long had she been at it today, she wondered. Carelessly, her eyes scrolled to the muted TV before her. The small clock in the corner read 2AM. She'd been at this since 4AM. 4AM the morning before.

Eyes rolling, her head fell back against the couch's back. It was so nice to just soak up the cool, soft fabric that engulfed her. The warmth from the lit fireplace also helped ease out the aches and pains of a long day's work. It also made her quaint home feel a little less... well, empty.

Grimly, she took the glass to her lips. She never liked the taste of scotch but she had learned to at least tolerate it.

Wincing, she hissed lightly before setting the glass down. It was time to pilfer through the paper. See how she'd fair with yesterday's Sedoku.

"Yeah," she mused aloud after mindlessly scribbling 76 in a row that already had a 6 and a 7. "That's not happening." She folded the pages back together. She was too tired. Too tired to even Sedoku. Eyes closing, she fought back a yawn.

Brrnnnnng, brrnnnnng!

Her brows furrowed. Who the hell was calling her at this late hour.

Peeling her weathered form from the couch, she scooted across the living room and made it into the kitchen. Hand reaching forward, she caught the odd set of digits flicker before her eyes.

"76?" She quirked a brow. Since when was '76' a viable phone number?

She picked up regardless. "Hello," she initiated but was quickly cut off by a very gruff sounding voice.

"Five wounded in the back alley of West Park and Cross Street."

"Huh?" She rubbed her eyes while trying to figure out just who the hell was calling. "Sorry? What?" She asked.

Met with stark silence, her brows furrowed again. "Hello?"

The dull drone of the dial tone moaned in her ears.

"West Park and Cross Street." Her lips buzzed. "Ugh."

Yes, such was the life of Angela Ziegler, ex-Overwatch Medical Professional. Since the fall of Overwatch, the famed doctor was spending all her time helping those in need. Not even the threat of arrest could stop her from helping the innocent.

But boy was arrest tempting. Especially when lacking proper sleep.

As she ran down Cross Street, her eyes gravitated toward something that moved out of the corner of her eyes. Stopping, she doubled back to see just what it was. Only, when she arrived, there was nothing. Sans the large, glowing letters '76' of a gas station across the street.

"How... strange." She rubbed her chin before returning to the previous task-getting to that back alley. Was it possible that someone tipped her off from the 76?

Taking another sip of her coffee (she desperately needed it), she continued down the street.

She knew she was getting close when the flashing lights of white and blue were starting to cause a jarring headache. In no time, she was approaching the alley that was littered with half a dozen officers.

"You called?" She slipped past the man on patrol; he'd been working with her all day and knew exactly why she was here. When they didn't answer, she approached the officer in charge. "DBs?" She didn't want to deal with more bodies, but that came with the territory sometimes.

"No," the man by the name of Gustoff Vance retorted promptly. "They should be but they keep claiming that a man in a mask saved their lives." He pointed to the busted up dumpster as well as the hallow shells on the ground.

"Anyone ident-"

"No. We combed the area. They said he was shot but we can't find his blood anywhere." He shrugged. "Anyway, why don't you go check them out. They're stable but they could use some patching up. And who knows, maybe you'll get more out of them than us." He gestured to her suit, knowing exactly who she was.

With a firm nod, she brushed past the sea of blue and soon stood before five injured bodies. Two were teenage boys. One was a woman, likely a mother based on how she kept holding the boys back. The other two were men-one in his 30s and the other in his late 50s.

"What happened?" She asked before dipping to inspect the youngest first.

"The movie let out late," the only woman began. "We were all walking back home." She gestured to the other gentlemen. "We all live in the same apartment. We thought we'd walk the kids home and..." Her lip quivered.

"And than they came at us." The older man with the fedora spoke up.

"They who?" Angela asked.

"Excuse me," the thirteen year old tugged on her sleeve.

"Hmmm?" Her head swiveled to meet his frightened fawn-colored gaze.

"Are you... Mercy?" His fingers pointed up at her sprawled out wings. The wings of her Valkyrie suit.

Angela's gloved hand ruffled his loose brown locks before a smile crept up on her face. "Now why would you ever think that," she winked. Her attention went back to the silver-haired man in the fedora. "You were saying?"

"Rebels," he spat out.

"Rebels?" Her voice cracked, which caused her to clear her throat. "What rebels?"

"Damn anti-omnic thugs," the other male finally piped up. He had brilliant orange hair and the pretties green eyes she'd ever seen.

Angela cupped her chin for a moment before stifling back a yawn. "I thought they were taken care of..."

Vance was now standing behind her. "We did. You were there. You saw what happened. I have no idea who this is. We took care of the Blue Huesos." He was referring to the "Blue Bones," a group who fought for humanity. A group that hated robotics-be it bodily enhancements or omnics didn't matter. To them, anything that wasn't flesh and bones was bad news.

Angela's hand brushed her blonde fringe aside. "There will always be outliers," she stated calmly. "Just keep doing what you're doing. It'll be slow but it works. Trust me, that's how it was in Bavaria."

"Do you know him?" The other kid spoke up. He had a busted up lip and his leg was twisted. He was shaken, but seemed to be holding it together pretty well.

"Who?" Her head tilted toward Vance. "Officer Vance?"

"No," the boy winced, "the guy who saved us."

Angela's brows fell together. "I..." She saw his hand pointing behind her, toward the wall. Turning slowly on her heels, she glanced at a spray paint portrait of a man. He wore a red visor, a blue and white jack, and a mask. Angela's head swiveled back to the kids. "Him?" She questioned.

"Yeah," the kid nodded. "He saved us."

"Now I don't know about that," the fedora man started flapping his lips. "I couldn't see anything in this light."

The woman joined in. "He's right. It was completely dark out. We were using the light of my phone to walk home."

A hand pulled at hers. Features softening, Angela ran her hand through the kid's hair. "I believe you," she whispered before glancing over her shoulder one last time. "Who," she started to whisper, "who are you?"

"76," the ginger offered up.

"76?" Angela's gaze fell back on him. Her lips pursed as she tried to wrap her head around the 76 coincidence that was starting to feel more and more like something out of a comic book.

"Yeah," the ginger turned around to show off his back. "He had big ass red numbers on his back. 76."

Panning her gaze back over to the brothers, she pried the information from them with just one look.

"He's a wanted man. He," the one with the bleeding lip sighed. "He's been running around saving people. Stopping the thugs. The gangs. No one knows who he is but I do." His gaze hardened as he stared right into Mercy's soul.

When he didn't speak, Angela tilted her head to the side. "And what's that?" she played into his comment.

"He's a hero. He's... he's Soldier 76. He has to be with... with Overwatch."

Washing away the blood on her hands, Angela grabbed her throbbing head one more time. It was already 7AM. 7 goddamn AM. She had been working on the five survivors for 5 hours. The older of the two brothers was by far in the worst condition, but he muscled through it. The youngest was definitely traumatized and the good doctor referred him to a friend of hers. Someone that might help left those terrifying flashbacks.

"Hey," a hand on her back caused her to jump from her skin. "This came in for you."

Angela growled before ripping away the folded piece of paper.

"Stay off main roads. Sniper. Helix then Festner. Lower bridge to Jellett. Pine to Peterson."

Fluttering from her hands, Angela covered the gasp that escaped her lips. Someone... someone was stalking her. Knew exactly how to walk her home without taking the main roads. Even knew what road she was presently staying on.

Body shuttering, she looked over at her coworker, Donna, who caught the expression on her face.

"Ang," the woman stepped forward. "You okay?" Donna's auburn eyes fell down to the paper. "Sniper?!" She scooted back. "The hell you get yourself i-"

Angela's hands wrapped around her coworker's mouth. "Can it," she quipped. "Can't have the whole wing know." Stepping back, Angela plopped her hand around her chin. "Someone must know that I'm the Angela Ziegler."

"Wait," Donna blinked like she was a doe caught in the headlights. "The..."

Angela didn't have time to deal with this. "Yes," she reached forward to snatch a lighter out of the woman's front breast pocket. "Stop smoking," she instructed while taking the licking flames to the edge of the paper, "and go home. Kiss your three daughters goodnight." The lighter was back in her pocket. "Got it?"

"Wh-what about?"

"Go," Angela's voice was stern yet still sweet.

With the woman running off, Ang sighed before pinching the bridge of her nose. "Bleh," she groaned.

Why did she always have to deal with shit like this. When could she just relax?

Taking up her jacket, Angela pulled off the soiled work garments before wrapping that long, black jacket around her form. With any luck, this would help her blend into the dawn's light.

"Clocking out," she waved as she walked past the others.

"Don't come back," one joked. "You need your beauty sleep. Starting to look a little ugly." His smile caused her to smirk.

Dipping past the front receptionists, she pushed her way out the door and into the streets. "Helix." That was...? There!

Fist slamming into the button at the crosswalk, she impatiently waited for the symbol to walk. When it glowed before her, she briskly walked to the other side.

"Festner...?" Her eyes looked for the next turn. Nope, nowhere near here. Must be further down.

What should have taken her about 21 minutes became a very nerve-wracking 55 minute walk.

Wait.

She played out the math.

Seventy fucking six.

This was really starting to get to her. Why, why was this number resurfacing so many times. "Maybe it's time to get out of town," she whispered to herself while slipping her key into the lock.

But she couldn't leave. Not yet. She had patients to check up on one last time.

But the others are more than qualified.

She threw herself on the bed. She had every intention of resting there for a minute but that minute soon became 14 hours.

It was now just after 9 o'clock. Rubbing her eyes, Ang let out a yawn before rolling up off the bed. Looking at the jacket she still wore, she shook her head. Damn, I must have been tired.

Slipping off the jacket as well as her clothing, she skipped over to the bathroom. It was finally time to take the long overdue shower.

The hot, steamy water kissed every inch of her flesh. It sent it crawling, shivering. But all in the good way.

Blissfully, she purred up at the shower head as it released a plethora of warm, little rain drops on her face. It pushed away all her worries. All the blood. All that hard work.

Lathering up her lovely golden locks with her expensive German shampoo, she let loose another happy purr. This was paradise. This was what she lived for.

Amazing showers.

Chewing her lip, Angela's eyes flickered open.

It's been a while.

As if someone's watching, she pulls open the shower curtain to peek around the bathroom. Nope. No one there.

Zipping it closed, she glides her body down into the tub. Flicking the knob up with her toes, all that water starts to fill the tub.

Cheeks red, she sinks into the water. A large, bashful grin on her face.

Fingers running down her toned form, she slowly peels back her lips. Gingerly, she begins to rub in small, precise circles around her clit. Drinking in the warmth, her mind fills with thoughts of him. The last man that actually gave her that kind of pleasure.

Biting down on her lip more, Angela lets her fingers dip a little lower. She liked to believe it was a good way to keep things ready, just in case someone did catch her attention again.

Ha, as if.

Finger becoming familiar with the taut hole, she groaned lightly.

"God," she whispered. Recalling vivid memories of the numerous times Jack had entered her. Each time always better than the last. It would be impossible to top him. Top the way he whispered to her. Top the way he touched her. The way he kissed her.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Instantly, her body loosened. Dripping with her sweet lubrication.

"God," she moaned again. If only he was here. Here to pound her into the ground. His fingering was always as good as his fucking. Two things she'd really come to miss.

Maybe it was time to hit up the market? Fish for some pretty faces? It would be better than rubbing herself once a month.

But... could she? How embarrassing would that be if she groaned his name while some other man came inside her?

Just then, the lights went out.

Rolling her eyes back, Angela growled. Of course she would lose power in her apartment. Oh well, she could finish in the dark.

Her fingers sprawled around her swollen pleasure spot. If she just kept picturing him, she could get this over with in n-

Ka-shh!

Her body jerked from the water.

That was glass. Definitely the sound of breaking glass.

Quickly, she bolted from the water. Towel wrapping around her, she fumbled for the top of the toilet. A trick she learned from Jack.

Gingerly, she pulled off the false top to reveal a gun. It was nothing impressive; just a small pistol, but it could get a job done.

Cocking it, she took a full step forward. Back pinned against the wall, she listened for the sound of movement.

"FREEZE," she rounded that corner faster than lightning. The barrel of her gun now applying ample pressure to the nape of her intruder's neck.

"D-don't s-shoot." A quivering voice pleaded. It was oddly familiar.

"Donna?" She stepped back, lowering her guard. "I thought I told you to g-"

"I was worried," her hands fell endearingly around Angela.

Just then, the power came back on.

"So you broke into my house?" She glared down at the woman.

"What?" Her brows furrowed. Donna was confused.

"Wai-"

A sharp sting burned her side. It was an explosion of heat and pain, which sent her stumbling backwards. Was she... shot?

Hand falling to her side, she pat her tender ribs. Sure enough, blood pulled from her towel. She was hit.

"D-Donna!" She lunged forward, seeing the look of sheer terror in the woman's auburn eyes.

"B-b-b-b," her trembling hand pointed behind Angela.

Breath held, the blonde slowly turned her head around.

Staring down the barrel of a rifle, her face drained of color. That first shot was intentionally a misfire to get the other woman off her.

"Donna," her head snapped back. "Ru-" Her lip trembled as fear flooded her azure orbs.

"Sorry," Donna rose from the floor with a large, curved blade in her hand. "Did I forget to mention that I worked with the sniper?" She winked over at the sniper clad in black.

There were no words. None. She could think of nothing as she lay there helplessly on the floor between Donna and the sniper.

What, what could she do? One pistol couldn't do what she needed. She needed a hero. She needed...

"I've got you in my sights."

A voice from the living room broke the silence.

Then came the ceaseless spray of bullets, each one lighting up the room as if a million fire crackers were going off. Each one finding its home in the bodies of her attacks. Each one sending a limp body cascading to the ground.

Hands over her ears and head ducked, Angela counted the seconds. The seconds until the nightmare stopped.

When stark silence deafened her, she remained frozen on the floor.

"Hey," a muffled voice called out before a hand touched her shoulder.

Like a fearful bunny, her wide, fearful eyes beheld that red tactical visor of the man who literally murdered two people in her rented home.

Her lips fell apart as she looked up at him. He... he saved her.

"Th-"

The wailing sound of sirens drowned her sincere apology. It also sent the masked man running. Out the broken window. Out into the darkness.

"EVERYTHING OKAY," a voice boomed from the other side. At least a dozen footsteps followed, as did the harsh rapping on the door.

"In here," Angela managed to shout back.

Seconds later, Vance and his men were flooding her hallway.

"What the hell happened," one of them spoke out of line.

The walls were bare bones. The wallpaper was torn to hell. All the decorations were smashed and littered in piled heaps just below where they once sat. Blood. Blood was everywhere, coloring the apartment red with that sicky-sweet smell.

"H-he..." her lip quivered as she tried to wrap her head around it, "he saved me."

"Who?" Vance was offering her a hand. Ready to put her in his vehicle and take her to safety.

"The man with the mask."

"The one that...?"

"Yes."

For three days, she stayed in a safehouse. A place tucked out of the way while the police investigated the sniper and Donna. From what she was hearing, the sniper was asked to take her out because she could resurrect the dead. Because she was a threat to Talon and the darkness that sought to consume the world. She was a beacon of hope in a time of war, death, and misery.

"You should be free to go now," Vance handed her the little belongings she had.

"Thanks," she nodded her head.

"Any plans?"

"Yeah," she smirked. "Get the hell out of town."

"I hear Ireland is nice this time of year."

"Ireland," a smile grew on her face, "it sounds nice."

"Shall I get you a taxi?"

"Please."

"Your room is over here. Sorry it's not much but it's all we have left." The kid working at the cheap motel brought her to a rather dingy looking door. As he opened it, the horrific scent of stale air caused her nostrils to flair.

"It's perfect," she lied between her teeth. "Thank you." Tipping the boy, she entered the room.

The floor was scarred from cigarettes. The wallpaper was a gross yellow color. The scent of piss, likely from a rat, could be caught in the air every now and again. The TV only got three channels. And the bed? Why, she might as well sleep on a rock.

"But at least you're safe," she admitted.

It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't pretty. It didn't smell nice. But, hey, at least she was safe. No one out here knew who she was and she was aiming to keep it that way.

Shoving the white bag under he bed (in it her Valkyrie suit), she moved to a table. It had a list of things to do. Places to go. Food shops to visit.

Finger rolling down the paper, she landed on one less than a mile away. "Delivery?"

No. She was sick of sitting. Waiting.

Snatching up her purse, she left the room. She would walk to the place. It wouldn't be a big deal. Not too far away and her legs were dying to get a move on.

When she arrived, she ordered a simple sandwich. A sandwich that would prove to be anything but simple. And for that price? Damn was a it a bargain. A bargain she enjoyed every second of. It was juicy and delicious, just what she needed. And the people there were all super nice. They gave her pointers and tips on where to go. Places to avoid. The whole nine yards.

Angela decided she would definitely come back to this place later.

Per their suggestion, she took the scenic route home. It took maybe 15 minutes more but it brought her past a lovely river. When she paused to enjoy the tranquil sounds, she caught a reflection that immediately brought her eyes to the heavens above.

"A shooting star!" Her hands clasped together. This was such a treat! Oh, what should she wish for?

Jack. Though she knew that was a waste of a wish.

How about a nice guy? It wasn't like she was getting any younger. Might be nice to settle down and start a family some day. Just thinking that made Angela recall that she hadn't quite finished her business the other day. If she wanted to keep on schedule, she had to work herself up sooner rather than later. She always hated when that sexual urge built up to the point of no return. Or rather, the point of desperation. A thing she absolutely despised.

Stopping to wave at the kind worker who gave her their last room, she rounded the corner and followed the path down to her room. Hers was right on the end, completely away from everything. Even the door was on the backside.

Finding her keys, Angela pulled out some trash. Oops forgot about those peanuts. She made a bee-line for the nearby trashcan that sat right on the edge of the parking lot.

As she dropped the wrapper in, her eyes scanned her surroundings.

76?

Her brows furrowed.

Wait.

Her head snapped toward her room again. Her door.

There, with his hand in a fist, stood the man with the 76 on his back. The man with the red visor. The man with the mask. The man that saved her.

Shit!

Was this man after her. He could blow her whole cover! What if he was in cahoots with the sniper and Donna. Or worse, what if he was with Talon or some other mercenary group!

Fumbling for her phone, she ducked behind the trash receptacle. She needed to dial for help. But who? What? She was in bumfuck nowhere. Reception was shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

What was a girl to do.

Angela looked over at the white-haired, masked man again. Maybe she could get the jump on him. But...

He doesn't look so bad. She sized him up. He looked... nervous? Hesitant? He couldn't bring himself to knock. Was that sweat on his brow? Was she shy? Maybe he was just checking up on her.

Or maybe he has a crush on me...

She chewed her lip. Was this her wish? Her wish coming true? To find a nice man. A partner for the evening. Someone she could get lost in and forget about everything with?

Angela's sapphire eyes floated up to the starry heavens above.

Well, it was now or never. He wasn't going to stand their awkwardly thinking about knocking for hours.

Gulping, she took a sure step forward.

"Are you stalking me," she teased while bridging the gap between their bodies.

Completely caught off guard, he flinched before his red visor made contact with her sweet smile.

"You know," her fingers met the soft leather of his jacket. He didn't shy away; this was good. "They're all sold out."

She could sense he quirked a brow from the way he stood.

"The motel. All the rooms are sold out." Her face whipped up a flirty grin as she flitted her lashes. "So if you're looking for a place to crash." She slipped her key into the hole. Twisting the knob, she opened up the room. "Then I guess you'll have to stay with me."

"..."

Still, he said nothing.

"You don't have to be so chatty," she playfully punched him before wandering into her room. "Well," she waved her hands at him. "Come on in."

Hesitantly, his head looked from left to right, as if making sure the coast was clear.

"Trust me," she coaxed him on, "we're safe."

He came in.

Chewing her lip, Angela tried to recall what underwear she was wearing. Was it sexy? Yes, yes it was! Is was that soft, white lace bra with the matching lace panties. Oh this must be a sign! Not that she believed in those kind of things. She was really just looking for some company. Really, anyone would have done, sans the 16 year old working the motel.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's impolite to wear your coat inside?" Her head tipped to the side as she continued to give the man a once over. He complied and removed his coat.

He was unmistakably fit. She also loved how he stood taller than she. Based on the white hair, she pegged him to be a bit older. Maybe 10 years older. Age is just a number, you of all people know that.

Moving into world's smallest bathroom, she untangled her messy bun before tugging her shirt off. Bra in clear view, she unzipped her pants. "I'm a pillow hog," she stated plainly. "So if you find one you like, cling to it for dear life."

Using the mirror, she saw his visor looking her way. He was definitely interested. He had to be.

Smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, she leaned into the sink. "You know," her eyes moved to that visor's refection, "I do believe I owe you." Twirling around, she sat with her rump against the counter now. The front of her pants unzipped, allowing those white lace undies to play peek-a-boo with him.

He stiffened up. Looked away.

Her smirk grew. Dancing her way out of her pants, she dropped them in a sloppy pile off to the side. Her nude legs rubbed against each other before she kicked off the sink and tiptoed toward the bed.

Fingers tugging at the already taut material around her hips, she chewed her lip. "Well," she purred. "I can't repay you if you keep your mask on."

"..."

Rolling her eyes, she pushed up from the bed. Thrusting her chest out more than usual, she tried to tease him. Flirt with him. Seduce him.

Legs spreading, she crawled and pulled her way to the edge of the bed. Lip running smoothly over her teeth, she flashed him one of her sexy grins. "At least take your pants off."

He faltered. She saw his body spasm. It was faint, but it was definitely there.

"Stop pretending," she cooed before pushing off the bed.

The closer to stepped, the further back he tried to walk. Or at least he tried, until he hit the back wall.

Angela's dainty fingers danced up his chest. It was so firm. So chiseled. She loved every second of it. It reminded her of Jack's.

Leaning in, she nipped lightly at his neck before her fingers tried to pry him from his pants.

"Stop," his voice was a half-plea, half-demanding. He wanted this but he didn't at the same time.

"Why," her toes rubbed up against his leg.

"..." 76 said nothing.

"Fi-" A beeping from under the bed caused her brows to furrow. "Oh!" She skipped away to tug out her white suitcase. Pressing a hidden button on the top, a screen popped up. "I've been running tests. Results are finally in." She had to go through an encrypted channel to get the data she wanted. Overwatch was 'technically' illegal. She wasn't supposed to use their data or old channels. But she did. And to do it, she had to be careful. It took twice as long, but it was worth it.

Swiping through the information on the screen, the faces of her previous 5 patients popped up. After checking off each one, she came to the 6th set of data. This was the one she wanted most.

Her jaw fell onto the floor before her body started to tingle with little bumps of nerves. Shuddering, she pressed the re-scan button. There had to be an error.

"Blood scanned 7 times to verify integrity. Blood samples belong to Jack Morrison. Overwatch Strike-Commander. KIA."

"KIA," she shook the suitcase. "Does this damn AI not know what KIA means." She growled. She was ready to toss the suitcase into a wall, but a warmth paused that action. It wrapped endearingly around her waist. Then a cool, soft material fell neatly against the back of her neck.

Angela had momentarily forgotten about the masked stranger she let in. Tears filling her eyes, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she stammered out. "This was a mistake. Please," she forced her hands up between his. She broke his embrace. "Please leave. I... I..."

She held her breath, hoping that would keep her from crying. Why, why did this damn thing have to bring up Jack. Why did it say he was in that alleyway. He was dead. Had been dead for years.

"Scanning."

She jumped before her eyes moved to the hand that quickly pulled off the touch-sensitive case. It was the only way she could make certain an unauthorized user couldn't steal her suit. Her secrets. Only authorized users-ones she pre-programmed-could open that suitcase.

"Welcome, Mr. Morrison."

The latches unsnapped, engaging the highly robotized briefcase to open.

Eyes locked on the charming features of the holographic display of her ex, Jack Morrison, she gasped for air. This... this... this couldn't be happening.

"Who," her voice was just above a whisper. Fingers slipping under the bed, she jerked out her pistol. Aiming it square between his hidden eyes, she glared the masked man down. "Who the hell are you!" Her snarl was enough to send any man fumbling backward.

Rising, she kept the gun trained on his forehead. "I'll ask you one last time," venom dripped from her lips, "who are you. Why do you have Jack's signature."

Her finger found the trigger. "Three..."

76 didn't move. He didn't speak.

"Two..."

Still, he remained silent. What was his angle.

"One..." Her finger started to move toward that trigger. Any second now, a shot would land right between his eyes.

"Angel."

The gun clattered to the ground.

No one. No one called her that. She despised that name. But there was one, just one who was allowed to breath it. To speak it. To call her just that. To say it just like that.

"J-" her whole body quivered, "-ack?"

Dropping to his knees, 76 looked over at her. Slowly, his fingers curled around the mask that clung to his face. In a pneumatic-sounding click, the mask loosened around his features. Caught in his bare hands, he pulled it away, then cast it lightly to the side.

Eyes widening, she stared with disbelief at the face just before hers.

"Jack," her words light and airy. She... she had to be dreaming. There was no way.

Crawling forward, her soft hands fell against his warm face. There were unfamiliar scars on his face now. Scars she'd never felt or seen before. But those eyes, they were those same blue eyes that sucked her in. And that sad smile on his face, that was the same sad smile he'd give her whenever he'd fuck up.

"I, uh," his wording was as pathetic as ever too. "I didn't think to bring flowe-"

SMACK!

"-ers." The ending hissed from his lips.

SMACK!

Again, her hand collided with his face.

SMACK!

Eyes closed, she continued to whack at him.

Finally sick of her hitting, he snatched her hand from mid air before jerking her trembling form into his chest. "I get it, I get it," he muttered while holding her tight. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

Her tears instantly soaked his shirt. "Sorry," she forced her head away, "sorry isn't going to cut it, Jack." She fought to break away. She didn't want anything to do with him. With this. He... he was alive all this time and didn't think it okay to seek her out.

"I cried for days," she wept. "I buried you. Jack," she slammed her fist into him. "I fucking buried you."

"I know," his fingers ran lightly through her hair. "I know. And I'm sorry, Angel."

"No," she jerked away. Flying up onto the bed, she rolled to the other side. She wasn't going to let him get away with this. He betrayed her. Abandoned her. Left her. Lied to her.

"Angel," the bed moaned as he sprawled across it. Fingertips dancing across the top of her head, he picked up a few pieces of hair. Without much though, he started to braid them into little, cute braids.

If it didn't feel amazing, she would have bolted for the door. But his hands were always so soft. Always so caring. He always knew how to calm her down. Get her to stop and think.

Joining her on the floor, Jack wrapped his arms back around her. Nuzzling her neck, he planted a few tender kisses there. "I'm sorry," he cooed again.

"Why," the tears ran down her cheeks. They burned and left very visible streaks.

"You know why," his voice tickled. It sent a shiver down her spine and caused her to fall back into him.

"You could have told me."

"I can't lose you."

Silence fell between them for god knows how long.

"But I... I can lose you?" Slowly, her head turned to meet his.

He shook his head. "Aren't you the one that always says, 'Heroes never di-'" Her elbow rammed into his gut.

"Asshole."

He laughed. "Old habits die hard?" He tried to get her to laugh.

Again, her elbow burrowed into his chest.

"I get it," he stopped his joking. "And I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that." She kept her face forward.

"I know," his lips fell loosely against her neck. Kissing her, Jack drank in her scent. She was exactly as he remembered. "How can I make it up to you?"

"Can't." She clenched her jaw.

"Well that doesn't sound like the Angel I know." Nipping lightly at her earlobe, he heard her squeak. "She liked the makeup sex," he continued to chew on her ear. The more he did, the more she squirmed.

"What makes you th," she flinched at all these passionate little nibbles, "th-think I-I-I- nmmpf!" Her back arched, sending her head crashing into her chest. "Jaaaaack," she started to plead. "Staaaap." He was such a devil sometimes.

He stopped, which actually caused her to wear a frown. Standing, she walked away from him. From this. Whatever this was.

"Jack," her voice was back to being serious. "We... this..." She averted her gaze.

If she dared to look down at him, she would have noticed that he was on the verge of tears. He knew exactly what he had been doing. And, from the way his blue eyes shook, it seemed plainly obvious that it killed him just as much as it did her.

But she missed all that. Missed his sad frown. Missed the way his shoulders sagged.

"C-can..." He cleared his throat. He didn't want to sound this meek. This weak and pathetic, not around her. He didn't want to let her know that she might have been right. That they might not ever be a thing again. And all because he betrayed her trust. "W..." His grit his teeth. "Can you forgive me?"

Turning, Angela pinched the bridge of her nose. Head hanging, she sighed. She didn't want to forgive him. He didn't deserve it. He died. She 'moved on.'

But when her azure orbs absorbed those sad, puppy-dog eyes of his, she cracked. Melting, she toppled to the ground. Her arms flew around his neck as her nose pressed firmly against the soft spot between his jaw and ear.

Dry, ragged inhales blended with the flitting lashes as she fought back the wave of tears.

She refused to let go. She refused to move.

"Remind me," she pleaded while clutching the fabric that sat taut around his shoulder blades. "Remind me," she plead again. This time with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Jack's hands found that spot just above her hip bones. Pulling her up into the air, he aided her in sitting around his waist. One hand beneath her ass and the other sprawled across her back, he flashed her that sexy smirk.

Then they tumbled down. Crashed into that sea of white sheets.

Drowning herself in his scent, her stomach flipped. Butterflies swelled within her. Her temperature spiked. A fever clutched her cheeks, burning them a bright red color.

His crafty hand placement spun her around. Him around. No longer on top, she felt the rough, coarse comforter itch across her naked form.

Jack's hands jerked her chest up, allowing him to break away that bra. It didn't stand a chance for, a moment later, he was throwing it onto the floor.

"Cheater," she whispered as he wore that grin oh-so-proudly.

Lips crashing into one another like the ocean against massive rocks, she reeled. Happily. Her body aglow with delight. Bliss. Pure, sweet bliss.

SMACK!

Jack drew back his lips before growling lightly at her. "Don't make me throw you in-"

Her toes rubbed against his crotch. She chewed her lip before wiggling her suggestive brows. "You know I don't mind," she buzzed.

Head rolling right along with his baby blues, he yanked those pants off. Nothing could stop him. Not even that goddamn belt.

"Hey now," she teased when he mounted her. "You're forgetting something."

His eyes moved to her panties.

"Nope," she let her tongue roll around her lips.

His brows furrowed.

She giggled. Hands finding the edge of his shirt, she tugged playfully at it.

Jack peeled it off.

Angela squirmed, biting at her lip just a bit more. Leaning forward, she let her hands tickle every delicious muscle. He was still fit as fuck. Still sexy as sin. Still-

His finger flicked across her lower lips.

She purred. He smirked.

Their lips met again. Hot, wild, sloppy. They didn't care. They liked this. They liked each other. So what if they looked like a trashy porno. They didn't care.

The more he wet her lip, the wetter she got. It allowed his fingers to slip in and out with ease. She was easy to work up. Easy to get primed and ready.

Gingerly, he flicked his finger across his clit. She jerked before grinding her lips together. "Fuck," more or less popped from her lips.

"You'd like that," he purred with that gravelly voice she'd come to appreciate.

She eyed his prize. It pushed forward, creating a very protruding tent down below. "Right," she teased right back. "Because you're not excited."

"Not at all," he quipped right back before gliding two fingers up and in.

It was tighter than he expected. Had she not been seeing someone.

"Sorry," her brows fell together. "It's been a while."

"A while?" Jack drank in that thought. "Guess I'll have to go exploring."

Tickling her insides, she squirmed with delight. Her body enjoying every second of his exploring.

Meeting that soft, plush inner wall, he saw her eyes light up. In seconds of hitting her g-spot, her body released a wave of lubrication.

"Better get in," she panted. His fingering was really getting the better of her. She might have already orgasmed on his fingers once. She definitely didn't want to miss a chance of going on his cock.

Thankfully, she didn't have to tell him twice.

Briefs on the floor beside her bra, he climbed onto her. Dipping low, they locked lips again. This time, it was sweet. Tender. Careful. He nipped lightly at her pursed lips. He let his tongue roll around hers. Arousing her, making her groan and thrust her hips up. She wanted this. She wanted him.

Eyes flickering open, her nails dug into his back. He was pushing his way in. Carefully. But it still burned. Just a bit.

"Too rough?" Jack planted on a kiss just to the side of her lips.

"Too perfect," she retorted. Lifting her rump up, she wrapped her legs around his back and butt. He could not get away. He could not pull out. Not now. Not ever.

"Someone's horny," he was soon panting right along with her. The sweat sparkling across their heated bodies that pounded against each other.

With each passing second, they got into their rhythm. Their natural funk.

Each thrust of his forward meant another thrust of hers back. Their bodies danced with each other, becoming one with each wave and ripple. The groaning, moaning bed just playing into their own pool of emotions.

"I-I," she tried to speak but found the passion atop those sheets to be just too much. Eyes rolling back, she wore a pleasant grin on her lips.

"I-I," his tongue flicked across the tip of her nip.

"Iiiiiii," she moaned.

His free hand walked down to her crotch.

"Iiiiii," he lived for this.

"Jaaaack," she groaned before letting her legs fall apart. Hips spread wide, Jack's trained fingers tiptoed around her clit.

"Whaaaat," he kissed her breast before dragging his lower lip back up to kiss her soft pair.

"Ughhhhh," she was losing control. The way he swirled his fingertips around her lips. The way his erect cock rubbed her inner walls. The way his lips always knew when to kiss hers. The way he knew just when to finger her clit.

Her body jerked. It twitched. It trembled.

Her thights tightened around his toned legs. Her inner walls pulsed.

"Fuccck," the word a hiss from her lips.

An explosion of nerves vibrated around Jack's cock. Each spasm of her body causing his own rod to dance. To push and pull just a bit more.

Faster. Faster.

Their skin started to clap against one another. Like waves crashing against the shore.

The speed was impressive.

Her groaning. Her nails tearing into his flesh. Her orgasm.

"C-can't," Jack broke for some air. "H-old o-o-o-"

He tried to fight it but her grinding made it impossible. She was every much a devil, just like he.

Sweet release. Sweet, sweet release.

Needles poked her body as his warmth filled her up. His beating became jagged, less rhythmic. But oh god, was it ever perfect.

Panting, she tangled her hands up in his hair.

Panting, he kissed that tender spot beneath her chin.

As the rolling of his hips came to a stop, he lay limp against her. Her lower region still burning with his passion. Tingling, twitching, trembling. It was delighted. It finally got what it needed most. Him.

Her breath was heavy, as was his.

She smiled.

He smiled.

Blushing, she turned her head away.

"Still hate me?" he managed to stammer out.

Her hand lifted to smack him, but instead fell passionately across his jaw.

"I could never hate you," she cooed.

Bringing his nose up to hers, he let the tips touch.

"Jack," her voice a sweet angelic whisper in his burning red ears.

"Yes, Angel?" His lips pressed against her cheek as he rolled his body off to the side. Curling around her, he pulled that pretty blonde in close.

"I missed you."

"I could tell," he wore a coy grin on his face.

She punched him.

"I love you." His confession caused her to squirm and blush. Hand cupping her face, he butted his forehead against hers. "Always have. Always will."

Chewing her lip, her azure orbs fell to the side. Off him. "Same," she whispered. "I love you too."

With a happy inhale, Angela rolled her nude form closer to his. "Don't..." she bit her lip, "don't go."

Half-laughing, half-catching his breath, he kissed her forehead. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Smiles falling onto both of their faces, they allowed the darkness of the room to pull a blanket over their eyes. Peacefully, they found conform in one another. They found found protection. They found love.