Pharah stood tall and stoic in the midst of the rubble, helmet under an arm. Her suit was dirty and scratched. A long cape would look appropriately dramatic swirling behind her, Mercy thought as she approached and came to stand beside the soldier. Pharah acknowledged her presence with a small tilt of her chin.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. With a silent, weary sigh, Mercy realized forlornly that a swirling cape wouldn't work as there was not even a breeze to carry it. The air hung heavy and stagnant, dust clinging to the remains of what was once a small omnic community.

When Pharah finally spoke, her voice was rough and scratchy. "We were too late."

Mercy lowered her eyes. 'We can't save everyone' felt like hollow words, ones Mercy had heard enough times herself. Even if Pharah was new to Overwatch, she was still a veteran. Both of them were old enough, had been fighting long enough, to know the truth.

The truth still hurt.

They'd deployed as soon as they received word of Talon agents in the area, but they hadn't been fast enough to disarm the bomb. To say she'd been shaken by the blast was a severe understatement. Mercy had watched in wide-eyed horror as hundreds of lives were lost in the blink of an eye.

Pharah had been the one to draw her out of her daze. All it took was that confident gaze and a quick hand signal to steady her.

With me.

Mercy noticed a line of blood staining Pharah's cheek. They'd spent hours after the explosion clearing the area of Talon agents, and then helping to rescue those trapped in the rubble.

Without worrying if it was her blood or someone else's, Mercy was already turning the Caduceus Staff toward her. As soon as the golden light enveloped the Raptora suit, she wondered belatedly if the assistance would be unwelcome. Some soldiers – a few names came readily to mind – had a thing about holding on to their pain.

But when Pharah's eyes closed, relief was clear on her face, and she visibly relaxed with a deep breath. After Mercy turned off the beam, Pharah's head tilted toward her. The blood was still there, but there was a smile next to it as well.

Pharah turned and placed an armored hand on her shoulder. Mercy's heart fluttered under the touch.

"Come," Pharah said, and the steel was back in her voice. Strength. Resolve. "There is still work to do."

Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, Mercy nodded and followed her back to the ship.

…

Fareeha bolted upright, breath leaving her in quick gasps. She brought shaking hands in front of her and stared at them blankly. After what felt like hours but could only be seconds, she dragged them over her sweaty face.

A dream. It was just a dream.

Trying to block the images of the nightmare, Fareeha tossed the blankets aside and quickly dressed in warm workout clothes. After grabbing her hand wraps, she hurried through the watchpoint halls to the gym.

It was still early in the morning, even too early for Zarya to be there, and she found the gym empty and cold. Anxious thoughts had her wanting to go straight to the punching bag, but, thinking of how Zarya would chide her, she picked up a jump rope first to warm up.

The steady tap of the rope against the floor wasn't enough to distract her, and bits of the dream came back. There'd been an explosion, bright and fiery. She'd been running right through it, through different buildings and staircases, flames all around, fuzzy and warped in the way dreams sometimes appear. She'd been yelling for someone, a grip of fear tightening as the dream drew out.

Fareeha increased her pace, focusing on the burn in her legs until sweat collected on her skin and her body felt warm. She chucked the handles of the rope aside and went to wrap her hands.

She paused partway through the process, staring at her palm while holding the end of the wrap out with the other hand.

Blood. There had been blood on her hands. Dripping down her fingers, coating her forearms.

Clenching her jaw, Fareeha shook her head sharply and finished wrapping her hands. She approached the punching bag and positioned her feet. She started with a simple jab and cross.

Angela's blood.

Soon Fareeha was laying into the punching bag with lightning strikes, delivering complex combinations that demanded her focus. Sweat rolled down her body, adrenaline pumping fire through her veins.

Faster. She had to be faster.

Anger came to her unexpectedly. She heard herself growl as she pummeled the bag relentlessly, starting to throw punches that glanced off instead of landing squarely.

What if she was too late again?

"Fareeha."

Zarya was standing next to her with a towel and a bottle of water. Her eyes showed concern, but all she said was, "Your shoulders are sagging. Time for a break, I think."

Her focus broken, weariness settled over Fareeha like a wet blanket. Chest heaving, she lowered her arms, glanced to the towel, and nodded. "Yeah."

After handing over the items, Zarya said, "If you need a spotter for your next workout, let me know. But maybe shower for now. Okay?"

Fareeha dabbed at her face with the towel before fully meeting her eyes. "Thanks, Aleks."

Zarya nodded to her and went about warming up for her own workout.

Fareeha returned to her room to shower. The workout helped to get some of the anxiety out of her system, but her mind still returned to the images from the dream. She thought to go to the kitchen in search of food, but her feet carried her elsewhere.

The infirmary's doors slid open automatically. The lights were on inside, and it was easy to spot the doctor on the far side of the room, standing on her tip-toes while reaching into a cupboard on the wall.

Not wanting to startle her, Fareeha scuffed her feet on the floor and cleared her throat.

Angela glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, Fareeha! It's early, is everything alright?"

Fareeha opened her mouth to speak, but she paused when Angela turned to face her. The doctor was wearing a lab coat over a blue cotton shirt and pajama pants with snowflake patterns on them.

As if suddenly aware of how she was dressed, Angela stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and pulled the ends around in front of her. "Ignore the pajamas."

Fareeha smiled slowly and retraced her gaze to Angela's face. "They're cute."

Angela was blushing plain as day. She pulled her lips into her mouth to cover what almost looked to be a smile and pointedly raised her eyebrows. "Did you need something?"

Self consciousness taking hold, Fareeha looked down at her hands, loosely clasped together and fidgeting. She said the first thing she could come up with. "Uh, I was on the punching bag this morning and I may have strained my shoulders and wrists a bit." Doctor Ziegler's technology allowed them to heal minor wounds in the blink of an eye at minimal cost. It wasn't entirely strange to request a simple check up to keep agents in top form in case they needed to deploy at a moment's notice.

"Please tell me you wrapped your hands properly."

Fareeha chuckled lightly. "Yes. I just pushed myself too hard, I think."

Angela nodded as if that all made sense to her and gestured to a corner of the room. "Sit on the table and we'll take a look."

Fareeha did as instructed while Angela went to the nearby computer. After inputting some commands, a robotic arm extended from the ceiling and began shifting around Fareeha in precise movements.

"Scanning."

"Pretty early to be in the gym, even for you." Angela came back around the exam table and leaned against it, arms crossed. "Something on your mind?"

Holding perfectly still for the computer to complete its task, a dozen different responses came to Fareeha's mind, most of them far from the truth. She looked down at her hands, resting on her thighs. "Trouble sleeping."

"Scan complete."

They waited in silence as the arm extended a device that matched the end of the Caduceus Staff, albeit much smaller. It retraced the path of the scanner, firing a thin beam of golden light at whatever microscopic problem it had found. It worried Fareeha slightly that it seemed to be finding so many things to fix, but she chose not to comment on it. Data was appearing on one of the screens, but Angela didn't seem to be paying it much attention.

"I also had trouble sleeping," Angela said and gestured at her pajamas with a half smirk. "Couldn't go back to sleep so I've just been doing inventory for the past hour or so."

Fareeha was still staring at her hands while listening. By the time she realized the computer had finished, Angela was standing in front of her, taking Fareeha's hands into her own.

"You have beautiful hands," Angela said in a quiet tone. "You should take care of them."

Fareeha was on her feet so quickly it startled a gasp from Angela. Before the doctor could stumble more than a single step back, Fareeha's arms wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"I dream…" Fareeha began, turning her face into Angela's shoulder and hoping she wouldn't be pushed away. "We couldn't get to that bomb in time, and I dream about not being fast enough. That you-" Fareeha swallowed thickly and forced herself to continue. "That I can't get to you."

To her utter relief, Angela's arms came around her, returning the embrace as she murmured softly in her ear, "I'm right here, Fareeha. I'm right here."

Fareeha's next exhale came out as a shudder. Angela repeated her words several times while rubbing her back, until at last Fareeha began to relax against her.

"Have you eaten anything yet this morning?"

"No."

Angela took a step back and put her hands on Fareeha's upper arms, squeezing lightly. "Then why don't we go find ourselves something, hm?"

Suddenly having trouble meeting the doctor's eyes, Fareeha nodded and rubbed at the back of her neck. "Sorry about, ah-"

"Fareeha." Angela brushed her fingers against Fareeha's hand, making her heart skip. "You don't have to make up injuries to come and see me. In fact, I prefer to see you in here when you're not injured."

Flushing under the knowing look she was receiving, Fareeha smiled sheepishly. "Noted, Doctor."

Feeling steadier on her feet, she left the infirmary with Angela at her side.