Angel of Mercy | Gency

Angela had been seated in the lounge, glad for the respite from constantly working. Healing was no easy task and she could practically feel the tension building and an incoming headache. The previous mission had been successful and she was glad for the downtime. 

She felt a vibration in her pocket and already knew she was needed elsewhere. She had barely managed an upright position when the doors on the far right barged open. Morrison was panting, face flushed, he looked as if he had run a marathon and perhaps he had-it was a rather large facility after all.

"Doc, they need you in room B3," he barely spat out before collapsing on the nearby armchair.

She was already out the door before he could finish. It was not the first time and it would not be the last. She was one of the only medics they had and was far too used to bandaging up her associates.

She made her way into the examination room and couldn't help her jaw dropping. She was usually very formal when it came to her patients and knew that being anxious would only frighten them more. 

This man, however, looked dead. Like a corpse.

He had been hastily wrapped in bandages to  staunch the bleeding. Skin was gouged bloody red in some spots and bright pink and glossy in others. Remnants of arrow shards pricked his skin and what appeared to be burn marks littered his torso and arms. His eyes were sealed shut. 

She wondered if he was alive. She wondered what and who could have done this to him. Then she thought about how much time she had left and her legs moved on their own accord. Her hands working faster than her brain-she induced anesthesia, she sewed sutures, she doused wounds.

His vitals seemed to be stabilizing, but she already knew the damage had been done and he would have to pay dearly. She was already in the works of communicating with her fellow subordinates to let them know she needed to get her hands on prostheses and wiring-a whole new body.

There was a moment when she pitied him, how he would be more machine than man. Morrison had been clear that this was no basket case, they were only employing resources to turn him into a killing machine.

Hours passed and eventually days where she was comfortable enough to not stay by his side every waking minute. She left the examination room, heading to her office to update her notes on his progress. She stopped dead in her tracks.

She had not even asked for his name.

__________________________________

 Angela removed her coat, glad to be out of the cold. The weather had grown much too chilly for her liking, she hated how her face flushed and her nose ran. It was not the most dignified of looks for a doctor.  

She made her way up to room B3, grateful to see that at least her patient was doing well. Or rather Genji was doing well. Learning of his name had proved to be quite the endeavor.

"Why do you care?" Morrison was not too pleased to see that she had taken a rather odd interest in the subject. He sat gruffly in his office chair, looking annoyed.

"He's still a human!" She was surprised at her outburst. He was correct in the most outlandish of terms. He should be of no importance to her, he's just another patient.

She was forced back into reality when he stirred from his hospital bed. She froze, not daring to so much as breathe, when his eyes fluttered open. He squinted against the bright, fluorescent lights and she rushed to shut them off.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd wake up," she apologized profusely. She realized with a start that she had caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were brown. Gazing into them gave her a renewed sense of security and stability. 

"I'm Dr. Ziegler. You were rescued by Overwatch and put into the care of my hands. You're safe here," She tried to be reassuring for the most part, but he still seemed leery of her.

She couldn't blame him.

"Don't worry. I'll be watching over you."