Chapter Text
Delicate fingers went to push away frazzled golden bangs from Angela’s eyes as she looked down at desk with a whirlwind of medical records of various Overwatch agents, memos from Jack, aid requests from those affected by the Omnic Crisis. It was probably one in the morning, maybe two, but the doctor’s worries and stress couldn’t bring her to care. As much as she pestered others to take care of themselves and get plenty of rest, Angela, like the hypocrite she is, was pretty sure she had conditioned herself to function at max capacity on as little rest as possible. The cost of being acclaimed a world renowned surgeon, she supposed.
But as the turmoil in the world heightened, and tensions between Overwatch and Talon rose, Angela couldn’t help but feel the need to go unconscious for some hours, days…weeks. The war has truly pushed Angela to her limits and caused her to question her own morality. She liked to think of herself as a good samaritan, a lover not a fighter. Angela joined Overwatch to help people, she herself has felt the effects of war when her own parents died as a result of the Omnic Crisis. Which consequently pushed her to learn and work as hard as she could to the point where she was a medical prodigy and became the head of surgery at one of the biggest hospitals in Switzerland. Her expertise allowed her to make a breakthrough where she could literally…bring people back to life.
This caused a huge debacle in the medical community. While resurrection was viewed as absolutely fascinating, it was also seen as cruel and immoral. Bringing the dead back to life messes with the natural order of the world, it diminishes the value of life, it’s an abuse of power, it is…. inherently unethical and a threat to the world as we know it. That’s what the medical board stated before they unequivocally decided to revoke Angela’s medical license.
However, when one door closes, another one opens.
That’s when Overwatch came in. Angela was approached by two young gentlemen while she was out for a pity drink one night at a bar, grieving her medical career that was gone all too soon. They introduced themselves as Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes, once participants in the Soldier Enhancement Program issued by the government, but now commanders in Overwatch; a strike program formed by the United Nations as a response to the ongoing Omnic Crisis. Morrison had seen her research on nanobiotics. As he was absolutely fascinated, he decided that Angela was someone Overwatch needed .
Gabriel handed Angela a holographic business card with a gentle smile. Her eyes narrowed at him in suspicion.
OVERWATCH: A future worth fighting for.
“Listen,” Jack said to her, voice deep, ragged, but alluring at the same time. “I have more than enough soldiers. What I need are thinkers. Dreamers. People who want to make the world a better place. You are on the cusp of a breakthrough that could change the lives of every living person on the planet. I want to make that a reality and take away all the roadblocks so you can focus on revolutionizing your field.* It would be a shame to have such talent go to waste… Dr. Ziegler. ”
The recognition of her talent and the support of a powerful organization to back it up, her efforts would be contributions to ending a war and restoring peace in the world. It was much too good of an offer for Angela to stand up. The decision was even easier for her since the recent downfall of her career and shunning by the medical community. Angela enlisted as an Overwatch agent without a second thought.
Her accomplishments during her time with Overwatch were nothing to be scoffed at. The doctor’s innovation of the Valkyrie suit, armor equipped with biometrics and wings that allowed her to fly. The Caduceus Staff that provided healing properties and damage enhancements to her allies. Her resurrection of a young man named Genji Shimada, who had been nearly killed by his own brother during a dispute with their clan. Angela was quite literally, as the world regarded her, an angel. Well…at least by most.
"Dr. Angela Ziegler’s reckless engagement in necromancy is absolutely abysmal and a gross violation of ethical medical practice. Her methods, which defy the fundamental principles of life and death, are not only an affront to the natural order but a dangerous precedent for scientific abuse. More disturbingly, her so-called ‘miracles’ serve not to preserve life, but to perpetuate warfare. Soldiers die during battle and are only brought back to continue fighting. It’s selfish. Horrendous. Cruel.
Why would Overwatch, whose mission is to bring peace among crises, employ such an obscene tactic? The notion that a humanitarian organization would sanction such an egregious breach of medical ethics is deeply troubling. To manipulate life and death in this manner is not an act of salvation, but of exploitation. Such actions cannot be justified under any ethical framework accepted by the global medical community. Perhaps these people at Overwatch who we deem as heroes, are just as power hungry and evil as our enemies who we view as Omnics.
Dr. Ziegler presents herself as a savior, an angel of mercy, yet her work aligns far closer with the unchecked ambitions of an occultist—one who sees herself above the very ethical standards that govern our profession. We, the medical board, unequivocally condemn her experimentation, as it represents not medical advancement, but a profound corruption of the principles we are sworn to uphold."
Angela’s eyes welled up watching the representative of the medical board speak at a press conference on her computer screen. She had been doing a routine checkup on Genji in her clinic at the Watchpoint Gibraltar base when the conference went live. As much animosity she felt towards the medical community for shunning her, she couldn’t help but keep up with it.
“Selfish…cruel…” She said in a quiet, hushed tone. Genji stepped towards her and placed a comforting, but now cold robotic hand on her shoulder as if to soothe her. The doctor's blue eyes went up to meet his red ones, her vision glazing over his part human, part metal body, the deep, red, scars on his exposed bicep from violent slashings that had intent to kill. His metal mask that covered all his face but his piercing eyes, hiding the pain he endured.
“But I saved you. I helped you… didn’t I?” Angela asked the ninja, tears beginning to paint her flushed cheeks.
Genji gave a single nod as he swiped his thumb over her skin where she had cried. “ Yes , you did. And for that, I will forever be in your debt.”
He barely even sounded human anymore.
Of course, that was before the initial disbandment of Overwatch. Now with the resurgence of the Omnic Crisis came the Overwatch recall, which Angela answered quickly. If people needed her aid, she wanted to be there. Although this time around, things were different. A robust woman named Sojourn was now the head commander, as her old friend Jack Morrison had gone rogue following the explosion of Overwatch's Swiss base during a quarrel with Reyes that had gone south. Speaking of Reyes, him and Angela were also not on the best of terms due to…reasons. Reasons that make Angela sick to her stomach to think about. Reasons that Angela questioned herself and her own morality. Reasons that she would run from for the rest of her life.
She only wanted to help. Angela let out a sigh that seemingly came from the depths of her soul. The doctor was so tired. Thinking about the past, all the moments she was overwhelmingly grateful for, but also those moments that would haunt her forever. This wasn’t the time for that. A hand went to scatter papers, folders, pens, until she found her cellphone. What she needed was a sweet escape.
Angela pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she unlocked her phone and immediately began navigating to a faceless contact, there wasn’t even a name. All she had put was an inconspicuous rose emoticon. With how frazzled Angela felt, she didn’t feel like texting. She hesitated before pressing the call button, her eyes scanning across the dimly lit clinic. It was late at night, surely nobody on the base thought of barging in and bothering her at this hour?
Please Lena, no surprises right now. Angela thought to herself as she hit the green call button. The phone rang. And rang again. Again.
The anticipation was killing Angela and she grew antsy, nervous, as she usually did when trying to get in touch with her secret contact. Then finally, a silky voice answered.
“What did I tell you about calling me? ”
Angela’s mouth suddenly went dry. Her fingers went to fiddle with the hems of her white coat as her gaze drifted down to her lap, suddenly feeling guilt for putting her needs first without considering the circumstances of someone else.
“I..” She began. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
A soft scoff came from the other end. “Of course you did.”
“I want to see you.”
“Of course you do.”
“Amelie…please.”
Angela pinched the bridge of her nose, eyebrows furrowing together out of frustration. Honestly, despite being seemingly “emotionless” she was still smug, sarcastic and aloof altogether. It drove the doctor absolutely insane. Dare she might say that she misses the old Amelie, charismatic, bright and absolutely endearing. Maybe even a bit of a ditz, as she obliviously stood by Gerald’s side, unaware of the danger that awaited her.
How Angela missed sitting with the crowd in a packed theater full of tourists and French natives, watching in awe as Amelie performed a dance recital on stage. Being as she was a renowned dancer in Paris, the demand and anticipation for her shows was high. The doctor couldn’t make it to every show of course, but when she did they would meet backstage after where they would greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, right before a flushed Angela started gushing about how beautiful and talented Amelie is. The ballet dancer would call her a cute fangirl , before dragging her out of the theater waving bye to colleagues, friends and fans as they left to a nearby high end cocktail bar.
It was there where the two women would catch up and vent about each other's lives. Angela would ramble about the disrespect of the medical board, the state of Overwatch (primarily…Morrison’s & Reyes constant fussing at each other), her latest shitty attempts at brewing coffee, Genji’s charming flirtatious endeavors, and a pilot floating through time…
Amelie would complain how Gerald was always off on some mission. At some Overwatch meeting. Always at a different base some hundreds or even thousands of kilometers away. How she wished he could just come to one recital, have one date night, spend one night in bed together and how she was always there whenever Gerald needed her at the drop of a dime. Then she would question if this marriage was something she could handle. If being married to an integral Overwatch agent was for her. If Gerald was someone she truly wanted. How lonely she was.
Angela would listen to her intently, their hands intertwined on the table and she would let out a strained sigh when tears began to glaze over Amelie’s amber eyes. One of the doctor’s hands would go to cup her beloved friend’s cheek in an attempt to comfort her. Amelie would relax into her friend’s palm with closed eyes, before fluttering them open to meet the other’s gaze. It was at that moment the dancer’s teeth nipped at her lower lip before asking Angela if she wanted to sleep at her place tonight instead of whatever hotel she had initially booked, just so they could spend more time together before the doctor inevitably had to leave the next morning for whatever Overwatch affairs they had her tending to.
The sleepovers started off innocently enough. Wine. More venting. Gossip. Horrible romcoms. There was even a moment where Amelie tried to teach Angela how to dance once late at night in her kitchen while they were putting together a charcuterie board. Amelie had noticed the untimely sway of Angela’s hips to the jazz music that echoed from the radio. She could help but giggle and tease Angela for how absolutely arrhythmic she was. Which consequently led to a bashful blonde who grew even more red when the dancer of the two placed their hands on her hips after guiding her hands to slip around their neck. It was from there they both slowly waltzed with each other, Amelie taking the lead, as the two giggled softly below their breath. Angela couldn’t bring herself to meet Amelie’s eyes, shyly keeping her own locked on their synchronized feet, until Amelie guided her gaze up with a hand under her chin to meet their own. It was an intimate gesture that brought a spark of revelation to the both of them. Maybe the validation of Amelie was what Angela was looking for all along. Maybe Gerald wasn’t what Amelie needed or desired after all. That’s when they shared their first kiss.
Shortly after, the affairs began as well.
“I suppose… since you asked so nicely."
Amelie’s statement that came out with a sigh snapped Angela out of her brief trance.
“Where are you right now? When can I see you?” Angela way too eagerly shot back.
“You know I’m not telling you that.” Amelie seethed. “Two nights. Cheval Blanc.”
Then the call came to an abrupt end.
Angela brought her phone down to hold tightly to her chest and she chewed at her bottom lip, swiveling gently from side to side in her office chair. She had two nights to meet her lover in Paris, the anticipation that grew within her was almost too overwhelming.