"Put on the breathing mask, we're going in," Mercy commanded on the radio, and Pharah obeyed without hesitation. They walked into the abandoned building together, and the Egyptian found the isolation clothes she wore weren't too far from her Raptora suit when it came down to the bulk. She carried a bucket of liquid with one hand, the other holding a mop and a dustpan.

It was not unusual that Angela would disappear on the moments between missions, off in a humanitarian incursion here and there – but it was the first time she actually took someone with her. The blonde had sought Pharah out the night before and cordially asked whether the soldier was willing to accompany her for the day. The Egyptian was happy to oblige, of course, but she didn't really expect this was what they would be doing.

Even though she wasn't quite sure what exactly this was.

"Wait a second," Mercy called, and Pharah halted automatically. She didn't really need to understand or even know the objectives to be able to follow orders. The doctor knelt down next to a pile of debris and peeked in –

"Aaah!"

Pharah was next to her in an instant, dropping the materials on the ground and skidding close, instantly regretting not bringing a weapon – only to see a pair of rats scurry by her feet. Her adrenaline rush instantly changed to relief. Granted, they were almost as big as cats, so she could see why Angela would be alarmed, but still.

"You gave me a scare, doctor Ziegler."

The other turned her head up to face her, an apologetic expression on her face. "Es tut mir leid, Captain Amari. They caught me by surprise. Still, I'm glad I saw them – they have led me to what I needed."

"A rat den?" she queried, unable to hold her curiosity back any longer.

She heard Angela sigh. "Two children dead from acute respiratory syndrome, one with serious renal failure; what did the three had in common?"

"I… don't know?" she replied, wondering if the question had been rhetoric. "Um, pet rats?"

Mercy scoffed, a sad smile crossing her face. "Almost. They all came here to play… an ambient shared with rats. My suspicions were correct – it's Hantavirus."

"You mean like, the plague?" Pharah questioned, thinking of the first rat-related disease she could remember.

"Nein, that's Yersinia – a bacteria. The Hantavirus is, unfortunately, quicker to kill and harder to treat. So that's why we're here today, to get rid of the source."

"The rats?"

"Their feces," the doctor corrected, standing. They walked over to where the cleaning material had been dropped, and Angela bent over and grabbed a sponge from inside the bucket. "Sure, we'll have to deal with the rats, but you catch it by breathing them in, so disinfection of the source is vital. Here," Mercy grabbed the mop and handed it to her. "We need to dampen the ambient with the solution before cleaning, so we don't lift much infected dust."

Cleaning rat poop, the Egyptian mused. Definitely not what I was expecting for the morning.

"This is probably a bit off your usual line of work," the blonde spoke, as if reading her mind. "I apologize. I should have warned you beforehand – clean ups are not on your job description, after all."

"It's no trouble at all, doctor Ziegler," she reassured. "I doubt they go on your curriculum either, and yet here you are."

"Containing epidemics, all in a day's work," she countered. "Captain Amari –"

"Call me Fareeha," the soldier blurted out without thinking, and instantly regretted it when the comm went still for a second. She briefly considered taking it back, but then the creaking of static was silenced once more when Mercy spoke.

"…Fareeha."

For some unexplainable reason, something about the way the heavily accented word rolled off the doctor's tongue instantly made her flush. She was right next to the blonde then, and she thanked the gods for the way the isolation clothes surely did cover her face and hide her blush.

"Fareeha?" the other insisted, succeeding only mildly to snap her out of her reverie. "You read me?"

"Yes, doctor Ziegler."

She watched the woman shake the sponge back and forth, using it to sprinkle water over the ground. She observed it once, twice, then mimicked the movement with her mop, drenching the floor around her.

"Angela," the doctor corrected. "If we're going on a first name basis, then it has to be both ways."

"Angela," the Egyptian repeated, and the burn on her cheeks intensified.

"It's your day off. You didn't have to come," the other began.

"Nonsense, I –"

"Shh, let me finish," Mercy cut her off. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate it; you're doing a lot for these people, capt – Fareeha. "

I'm going to combust. Death by praise.

"As I said, I'm always happy to help," she answered, completely honest. She loved the satisfaction of being useful, and she could see the doctor's point: it did feel much better when it didn't involve hurting or killing anyone.

"Don't be so willing," Angela playfully chided. "I may feel tempted to abuse it and recruit you more often."

Please do.