Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1. Introduction

8/02/XX

In the last two decades, I have written and published countless books on medicine. Almost 300, in fact. However, I have never detailed a subject so personal to me in writing. The health and wellness of my teammates is and always will be my number one priority, either out on the field, or here, at our base of operations. It has been many years since I have worked with any of them, and though I am ashamed to admit it, my knowledge of their physical health has long since dwindled, and the new colleagues recently welcomed into Overwatch’s ranks after our organizations revitalization require my attention, for if I cannot care for them here, where we are most secure, then how can I hope to assist them in the field of duty? As such, this journal shall detail all my knowledge of my associates physical health and well being, from preexisting conditions to current health states to speculation on possible looming conditions and or affects to their health. 

It would be dishonest of me not to mention that it was my dear friend and colleague, Ana Amari, who suggested I detail this knowledge in a medical journal. Though I prefer to inscribe my journals via typing, dear Ana insisted that I use pen and paper, as it has a way of soothing the mind, she says. I do hope my handwriting isn’t too dreadful, not that this will see publication. This journal contains my friends and colleagues most personal, private medical information and I will guard it with my life. I am simply inscribing it to refer back to at a later date if and when needs be.

I had best get to work. Truthfully, I have been putting off starting this journal. There I go, inserting my opinion where it isn’t needed. I must keep that to a minimum, my thoughts and feelings have no place in a piece such as this.

Anyway, this is my introduction, which I hope nobody will ever read. Why on Earth did I write this if nobody’s ever going to read it?

Chapter Text

8/04/XX

Ana Amari. Former sniper, Egyptian Army. Founding member of Overwatch. My friend. The very reason I’m writing this journal.

For many years, Overwatch thought Ana was dead. We watched her get struck down in the heat of battle, and assumed her body had been taken by the talon agents responsible. How foolish of us to think she would give up that easily. This is no historical document, so I’ll be light on details, but I encountered both Ana and Jack Morrison earlier this year in Cairo Egypt. As I had thought they were both deceased, it was quite a shock, but it woke me from my ignorant slumber and convinced me to rejoin Overwatch, a decision which I am still torn up over. (Note: Personal input)

As the heading states, Ana’s secondary gender is Alpha, like many in Overwatch’s ranks. For a militant organization, I must say we have a near perfectly equal ratio of Alpha’s, Beta’s and Omega’s in our ranks, more so than any military can boast, and I believe Ana had a large role to play in that factor. From the beginning, she was adamant and vocal about inclusion within Overwatch’s ranks, a quality that many Alpha's were , and still are in no rush to exemplify.

I am pleased to report that at sixty years of age, Ana’s health is holding up well. It has been slow to deteriorate, and she is still fully able to partake in field missions and operations. Though her right eye has been damaged beyond repair, she refuses any mechanical augmentations that could restore and improve her sight, which I truly do not understand, but will not protest. I know from experience that there is no point in contesting her decisions. I can’t begin to recall the amount of times I have tried to assist her in the field only to be waved away. She may be many things, but Ana is not quick to rely on her comrades, something that she would do well to practice in, but alas, this is no psychological report (though I have been petitioning Winston to organize some psychological examinations of Junkrat some of our newer members).

Note: Must take into account that Ana has transitioned her primary gender from male to female. Has caused no medical complications this far in her career, but we cannot rule out the possibility of such.

I am quite happy to report that Ana Amari is at peak health, and more than ready and able for active duty. (Report to who? BE. PROFESSIONAL.)

Sighing, Mercy let the pen fall from her hand and her head fall onto the table, doing nothing to stop the sore impact. She gave a slight groan before propping herself up once again, and closing the notebook over, and jumping slightly when a voice behind her spooked her.

“Aye, my girl, what troubles you?”

Looking over, she was relieved to see it was only Ana, leaning against the open doorway of the medical lab and smiling at her, a knowing smile that drove Mercy mad sometimes.

“Oh, I’m alright, Ana,” the Doctor answered, smiling, and put her notebook under her arm as she stood up. “Just completing my entry about yourself before dinner. Gosh, my hand’s killing me.”

“Haha, that’s what you get for your over reliance on computers,” the Alpha woman reminded her, and Mercy rolled her eyes playfully. Then, she noticed Ana’s single eye flick down to the book in her arm. ”So it’s finished, ah? Let me see.”

“First of many,” Mercy said, and gripped her journal nervously with both hands. While it was nothing Ana didn’t know about, Mercy was truthfully rather insecure about her handwriting, and she may have let her opinions slip into her writing one too many times. “And you shouldn’t. It’s rather private.”

“Ey, I did not let you poke and prod at me on that table for nothing. Let me see,” Ana replied, just as she moved to put the journal in her desk drawer. A short struggle ensued, which Ana obviously one, and Mercy simply stood back as the older Alpha quickly scanned through the pages, brow creased and

“I am pleased to report that at sixty years of age Ana’s health is holding up well?” she quoted, and Mercy let her hand cover her eyes in embarrassment. Ana laughed, before hitting her in the arm with the book, and handing it back to her. “You speak of me as if I am some old dog, Angela, and you are just waiting for me to drop!”

“You know that’s not true, Ana,” Mercy sighed, and took her notebook under her arm once again. Ana just giggled.

“You are wasting your time worrying for me when we’ve got an unreasonable amount of one armed men on sight.”

“Ah yes, and the one eyed sniper is much less of a hazard in the field.”

She received an icey one eyed glare for that line, and for a moment Mercy thought she was about to receive a lecture, before the elderly Alpha chuckled and shook her head. “You do yourself a service, as well as everyone else by writing your knowledge down, my dear.”

Stunned, Mercy stayed silent for a moment, confused by herself just as much as she was by Ana. She’d looked up to Ana in her youth, of course, but she didn’t expect such basic praise from the woman to hit her so hard, especially when she didn’t hold what she was currently doing in such high regard. Smiling, she placed her journal down on her desk, and took a step forward to be closer to her friend.

“Thank you, Ana.”

“Come, dinner is almost ready and you need to get out of this stuffy lab,” she stated, slapping Mercy on the shoulder, and turning around to walk out of the lab. She stopped in the doorway once again to wait for her, and Mercy was going to follow, but her eyes drifted back to the journal on the desk.

It hadn’t taken her that long to write a single entry. And, if it was as important as Ana believed it to be, then surely it was important to finish these medical profiles as soon as possible...

“I… still have a few more things to do. I’ll be there soon,” she stated, waving Ana away as she sat back down at her cluttered desk, and opened up the medical journal once again.

She heard the elderly Alpha laugh once more, before she began to walk away, her voice echoing as she disappeared down the outside hallway. “Youth truly is wasted on the young…”

Chapter Text

08/07/XX

Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe (“Calamity” to her comrades) is not an active agent or ally to Overwatch, but it has been recommended to me that I write a medical profile for her regardless, as she is a potential ally (According to McCree).

At the recommendation (though it was more of a request) of Jesse McGree, fellow Overwatch agent and friend, I have begun an analysis of Elizabeth’s state of health, but there are very few observations I can make on a woman I’ve never met in person.

In a stray effort, I checked thousands of public records, and surprisingly ’ve been able to track down several medical profiles from a number of family doctors recorded before her eighteenth birthday, offering a substantial amount of information to base my own analysis upon.

To my knowledge, Elizabeth is a thirty nine year old Beta woman with no underlying medical conditions. A gunshot to the side punctured both her lungs at the age of sixteen, but I have no knowledge if that has had a continued affect on her health throughout her life, and lack the information to make a proper prediction. 

As is the case with all people, we cannot safely estimate Elizabeth’s actions based on stereotypes surrounding her secondary gender. Though usually I would not include such a hypothesis in a profile that is strictly medical, I believe it necessary due to the great risk of communicating with an outside force known for illegal and violent behaviour like Elizabeth.

Below, a passage about Ashe from the very man begging me to formally write this: Jesse.

What can I say about Ashe? That she’s got the bite of a crippled rattlesnake? That her kiss is like a poorly concealed gun to the back of your head? Some other witty, western insult? Well, I’ll tell you, for every snide remark I make I’ve got a hundred more praising the girl. Ashe may act like a hardass, and she may have a personality that flips between a sweet rose and a poison thorn, once you get close to her, she’s nothing but a big softie, and no matter how much she says she’ll do it, she won’t kill you at that point. Not that she could. Heck, I bet even the doc could shoot better than her.

Point is, no matter what you hear, she’s good to those she trusts, and she trusts me. She can whine and cry about me “running off to Overwatch”, but in the end, she’s not going to shoot me in the back. If I were some nobody she’d made a backalley deal with? Sure

Not sure what exactly what you want me to write, Doc, but I sure hope it helps.

And with my assumption about McCree’s testament providing me little to no additional information, my analysis of Elizabeth’s health comes to an end. I simply cannot confidently write a medical profile of a woman without actively speaking with and examining her in person. If this changes in the future, then I shall edit my writings here, but for the time being, I dub this profile as incomplete and unreliable.

“Something about this ‘invitation’ stinks,” Genji whispered, and McCree tensed up, expecting a surprise attack. WHen he realized it was only their teammate, he freaked, nearly hitting the other man with the but of his revolver.

“Would you shut the fuck up?!” he snapped.

“Jesse, please,” Mercy panicked, but she kept her voice low, conscious of their mission.

This was such a bad idea. Some old data cartridges containing useful data had been lost during Overwatch’s fall, and had been found by a mysterious third party who now held them hostage for cash. In their ransom, they specified that it should be McCree and Mercy be the recipients, Genji was accompanying them for insurance, while several snipers awaited at posts to oversee the exchange.

Dear God, they were screwed.

Psychiatric profiles indicate that Genji, the Alpha, would be the one to pose a possible threat to their covert operation, but, unsurprisingly, it was McCree that Mercy was struggling to rein in.  

Once she’d calmed her fellow Beta down, the three of them continued down the cobblestone pavement, twisting and turning between the tall buildings. To say they were exposed was an understatement. Disguised as civilians with only concealable weapons, relying on snipers (and Genji. Nobody wants that) to save their necks if things got ugly, which they almost undoubtedly would. If it were up to her, she’d have said sayonara to the data and rebuilt it from scratch, but no, Winston and Athena thought it was so important that they were sending three veteren agents into an obvious trap.

As they reached a dead end, Mercy was quick to grab onto Genji’s shoulder, urging him to turn around when the click of heels against the stone ground made them all fall silent.

“Not another step please, gentlemen,” a woman ordered, voice laced with a heavy Southern American accent, and the click of a gun told Mercy it was in their interest to follow.

Her grip on Genji tightened as she felt the Alpha’s arm reaching for the sword hidden in his coat. Turning around, Mercy’s gaze fell upon the woman holding them hostage, a tall, finely dressed platinum blonde, staring them down with a gold-plated rifle.

Surprisingly, Mercy recognized her, though she’d only seen her in pictures. She was unmistakable, though. The founder and leader of the infamous Deadlock Gang: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe.

“Well, well, well…” the cowgirl drawled, pulling the cigarette from her scarlett lips and dropping it to the floor, crushing it beneath her boot as she walked forward. “Look what the dogs dragged in.”

WIthin an instant, the dread that emanated for McCree for the last hour vanished, replaced by an aura of joy as he threw caution to the wind and rushed forward. “Ashe!” he exclaimed, grinning, and Mercy was shocked when the other woman didn’t open fire. Instead, Ashe grinned and lowered her rifle, waving her other hand in the air to call off her own hidden backup.

“Long time no see, Jesse,” she greeted, and shook McCree’s hand when offered, only to pull him close and growl, “Where’s my bike?”

“I dunno, parked it somewhere. Damned if I remember where I left the keys,” McCree laughed, much too calm while conversing with a woman holding them at gunpoint just seconds ago. “But that’s in the past. So, you’re our mystery contact?”

“Course I am. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Honest to God, babe, I had no clue.”

Ashe shook her head, smirking as she paced across the cobblestones, one hand on her hip as she gestured with the other as she looked over her shoulder. “Got your goods right… Garrett? GARRET, GET OUT HERE!”

Mercy flinched, using her free hand to cover an ear as Genji raised his hand from his sword’s handle, placing it on her forearm to reassure her, which she appreciated.

She’d known of the Deadlock Gang leader, obviously, and perhaps if she’d known she was the one holding their information, she could have taken some time to prepare herself, but going in blind left her terrified. Mercy knew from past research that the woman before her was a Beta, but had she not, she would wholeheartedly believe the woman was an Alpha. The only tip-off that she wasn’t was her lack of a scent, but that could easily be put down to a scent blocker. Mercy had heard of her behaviour from McCree, but seeing her easily switch back and forth from threatening to playful made her feel like there was a rock in her stomach.

A young man stumbled into the clearing, both his cowboy attire and gaudy sniper rifle tinted blue, nearly dropping the small briefcase he carried as he slipped multiple times on the wet cobblestone.

“Garrett, where the fuck have you been!?” his leader snapped, turning her back on the Overwatch agents to glare at him.

Garrett leaned against a nearby wall with his free hand, practically gasping for breath beneath the bandana that hid his face. “Callibratin’, boss-”

“Fuck your callibrations! I’ll shove that rifle up your ass next time you slow us down!” Ashe roared, snatching the case and sending him running.

“Your new boyfriend?” McCree replied, unphased, and the Beta woman simply rolled her eyes.

“New pain in my neck more like. Boy thinks he’s the fuckin Archangel and acts like we should kiss the ground he pisses on.” Looking past her fellow (Ex) gang member, Ashe’s pointed gaze landed on Mercy, and the doctor felt her knees go weak. “So, this is the good doctor?”

“Yep, a friend from Overwatch,” McCree answered, and held his hand out, encouraging Mercy to step closer. “Angie, Ashe. Ashe, Angie.”

When she didn’t budge from her spot, Ashe took it as an invitation to move even closer, practically standing toe to toe with her, and though Mercy was a few inches taller, she felt as if the cowgirl was towering over her, and staring into her very soul.

“Nice wings,” the Beta spoke, nodding like she was giving her personal approval, and Mercy squeaked.

“Made them myself,” Mercy answered, and swallowed the lump building in her throat, panicking. She felt her face heat up against her will at a compliment from such a dangerous woman, and she might think she was flustered if there wasn’t a very high chance that this woman could kill her.  “I… uh… like your hat..?”

“Awe, cute lil thing’s shy,” she cooed, and Mercy half expected her to reach up and grab her face, before the Beta looked over at the stoic man at Mercy’s side. “And who the fuck is this?”

McCree laughed as he circled back around, and clapped Genji on the shoulder, which Mercy could tell annoyed him, but the silent man took it in his stride. “My tin can body guard, Genji.”

“It is an honor, my lady.” The Alpha bowed his head slightly, a show of respect he’d show everyone regardless of his view on them, and Ashe’s lips quirked into a smirk as she hummed.

“Charming,” she stated, leering at him suggestively for a time, before she swung the briefcase into McCree’s chest with a great force. “There’s the shit. Check it before you check out. Don’t want ya’ll houndin’ me for pulling the wool over your eyes.”

Recovering from being absolutely winded, the cowboy quietly handed the briefcase off to Mercy, mumbling, “Doc, would you kindly?”

With a roll of her eyes, Mercy took it without a world and flipped open the case in one hand, as she held up the scanner attached to her wrist and looked over the data drives contained within.

“Crucible, Project Cerberus, plans of the Lunar colony’s virtual intelligence, all here,” she confirmed, and began the process of transferring the drives to the much more secure storage they had brought with them.

“As promised,” Ashe replied smugly.

“But what do you want for it?” Genji questioned. Both Mercy and McCree shot him a look of warning.

“Oh, darlin’, just a favor every now and then. In return, I’ll help ya’ll out in return. Lookin’ for a mutual partnership,” Ashe replied with a pleased hum, before looking back over at McCree, quickly losing her flirty attitude.. “And fifty thousand dollars.”

“Knew it,” Genji mumbled..

McCree didn’t seem so shocked, as he pulled out the envelope with the ransom from his jacket, and handed it over to his former leader without a hitch. “Here it is. Paid in full.”

Mercy could feel Genji bristle beside her, and sighed when the Alpha began to speak out. “McCree, you cannot be serious-”

“Can it, Genj,” McCree hissed through gritted teeth.

“Full, huh?” Ashe peeked inside of the envelope and flipped through the cash, eyeing it like a predator eyeing it’s prey, before she cast her dark look back at the male Beta. “What about all that collateral damage you’ve cost me, McCree? Plus my bike.”

“Listen, Ashe...” McCree held up one hand, and put the other over his heart, before he gestured to his companions. “These two, they ain’t got nothin’ to do with this. If you must, then kill me, but leave them out of it.”

Ashe actually seemed to be considering his offer for a second, and Mercy swore she saw her free hand sneaking towards her holstered gun before she slipped the ransom into her back pocket.

“You’re lucky I don’t want it to come to that.” With a smile, the Deadlock Gang’s leader turned her back on them, and began to walk back down the alleyway, calling goodbye before she disappeared around a corner, “Be in touch...”

“Be seein’ you,” McCree muttered, probably thinking nobody had heard him as he turned back around, adjusting his belt in a very McCree way, and smiling. “Well, I think that went well.”

Mercy exhaled, unaware until now that she had been holding her breath so much, and leaned her weight onto Genji as she pulled herself back together. Had they not risked so much to get them, she would have thrown the briefcase with the data at the wall in frustration. 

“I think we are done here,” Genji stated.