#The hangars had destroyed the knit on the others but the one in my size was miraculously undamaged 🙌

[honeydrop-sweetheart]

Problematic queer shows off Bi pride sweater, uses breasts in desperate bid to distract from her messy bedroom

[tunafishtime]

Hanging by a Thread

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Alcoholism, lots-a cursing, homicidal inclinations, major character death(?), PTSD, really bad decisions

Ship: Mercykill

Summary: When Jack returns from his mission bearing news of Ana’s death, Gabriel pins the blame on him, fanning a spark of dissent into a roaring flame.

(This will eventually be put on AO3 as well... had no idea it took so damn long to get an account. Anywho, enjoy my trash ship.)

“Dr. Ziegler, please report with medical team to hangar seven to receive drop ship. Dr. Ziegler, please report with medical team to hangar seven to receive drop ship.”

The urgent tone of the intercom ripped Angela’s thoughts away from the medical file she had been reviewing. Three days ago a strike team had left on a mission to Egypt to investigate Talon activity in the area. Whenever a mission involved Talon, Angela’s stomach churned, knowing that going up against the ruthless terrorist group meant that some of those agents would never return home. The thought of being helpless to those that had fallen caused her heart to sink, but, regardless, she stood from her desk. Now was the time to help those who had returned home.

“Mongelli, Haft, Lopez, grab the emergency response kit and come with me, quickly now,” she ordered, her voice firm with urgency. Angela strode across the room as three medical personnel scurried to gather the necessary equipment needed to stabilize and treat whatever wound the returning agents had sustained, until they got them back to the clinic, anyway. After snatching a handheld device from the charger, she glanced back at her team to make sure they were ready. Like true practiced professionals, everything was in perfect order. Feeling more than a humble swell of pride at her team, Dr. Angela Ziegler set out across Overwatch’s Swiss Headquarters.

Looking to her device as she walked briskly through the compound, her fingers tapped on the translucent blue glass in quick sequence, instantly summoning the medical files of each agent assigned to the mission. Any and all information she needed to treat any of them was at her fingertips. She began to skim over each of them, taking in any possibly relevant information. Of course, Strike Commander Jack Morrison was first on the list. If physical paper were still used, his medical history would take up an entire filing cabinet on its own. So, she did not waste much time going over it. As an enhanced super soldier, she doubted any of his wounds would be severe enough to require her in-depth attention.  Next was Ana Amari, Jack’s second in command with a substantially shorter medical history. Despite being in her fifties, the older woman was remarkably good at staying out of harm’s way. With a swipe of her finger, Angela moved to the next agent. She was not too worried about the imperceptible sniper either.

“Angela,” A smooth and familiar voice greeted her as she reviewed the file of Jonathan Bayless. She could not help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips when his heavy steps fell alongside hers.

“Good afternoon, Gabriel,” she responded with warmth, turning to gaze up at the man beside her. He did not return the gaze. With his ever present beanie pulled low over his forehead, he kept his heavy brown eyes, nearly hidden by his thick furrowed brows, focused forward. His stride was stiff and forceful. He looked like a man who was marching fearlessly into the waiting jaws of an angry Hydra. Angela’s smile faded to a soft frown. “Not looking forward to Jack’s return, I take it?”

“When am I ever?” He growled in response. Angela sighed, knowing that once he and the commander had been the best of friends. Ana had shown her pictures; Jack and Gabriel arm-in-arm with faces flushed from alcohol, laughing at some long forgotten joke. “With him here I can barely do my damn job, the way he peers over my shoulder, questioning every decision I make,” Gabriel continued, “As if he could make better choices, heh!”

“I know… but the UN is breathing down his neck too. Especially since… everything was leaked,” Angela said gently, glancing at the insignia embroidered on the sleeve of his uniform. Blackwatch, the covert-ops division of Overwatch that Gabriel was commander of. She remembered when the classified group and their actions had been unveiled to the public little over a year ago. The resulting anger sparked hundreds of protests against Overwatch. Even Angela felt sick thinking of what was in those records. It had lead to many heated arguments between the two of them.

“The UN can go fuck themselves for all I care,” He spat, waving one of his hands to the side dismissively. “They created us to keep the peace. You can't do that without making difficult decisions, decisions I’ve made. Jack and the UN would have us sit around here doing nothing while innocent people die.”

“Gabe-” Angela gently placed a hand on his arm, pressing on him and acting as an anchor, as she so often did when his temper began to flare. She could feel the tension in his muscles, but after a moment, he relaxed, letting out a controlled sigh.

“I know, Angie. But I’m sick of watching Jack lick the UN’s boots. I know those idiots have been crying for my dismissal for months now. It’s only a matter of time before their lapdog gives in.” Gabriel grumbled, voice lowered, but no less hateful. Angela gave his bicep another gentle squeeze.

“No, Jack would never dismiss you. Despite… recent events, you are still his friend and one of the founding members of Overwatch! Besides… you know Ana would never let him fire you,” She reassured him, smiling as she reminded him of the motherly second-in-command.

Gabriel caught a touch of her smile, lips tugging upward just enough to soften his dour expression. “Heh. Good point.” For just a moment, his fingers brushed over hers where they rested on his arm. Her hand reflexively twitched toward the contact, dying to lace their fingers together, but a stifled snicker from one of her medical team behind her snapped her mind back to reality and her hand away from his.

With a grumble, Gabriel’s head twisted around to study the three. “Something funny, Haft?” He growled, brows knitted together in a look that just dared the boy to say something clever. The Blackwatch commander was at least twice the size of the physician and looked more then able to pick the boy up with one hand and throw him down the hall like a javelin. Haft paled and turtled his head between his shoulders under Gabriel's gaze. “No sir…”

“Gabriel, leave him be,” Angela quickly interjected before his deadly glare could completely destroy her medical team, leaving nothing but crisp remains in their place. “We have work to do.” They had arrived at the hanger just as the large air ship was docking.

Machines hissed and whirred to life, holding out metal arms to embrace the ship before locking it into place with a loud clang. Mechanics rushed forward to assess any damage, shouting to each other using jargon that might as well have been in another language. However, Angela did not need to be an engineer to notice the massive stains of black that shadowed the back and underside of the ship, textured by the hundreds of dents riddling the same area. A pit of dread began to grow in her stomach, suddenly afraid to see the ship’s door fold open.

Yet, open they did, with Commander Morrison as the first to step onto the hanger floor. His overwatch coat hung limply on his broad shoulders, pierced and torn with fresh bullet holes. A tear on the upper sleeve caught her attention immediately, as the bright ocean blue fabric around the rip was stained with burgundy. With her team behind her, she rushed forward and grabbed his arm, beginning to remove his coat so she could better assess the damage. However, his other arm reached around to wave her away insistently.

“I’m fine, Angela. There are others that need more immediate attention.” Jack said, his hard voice like gravel being ground through a machine that was one loose bolt away from collapse. He merely waved in the direction of the agents exiting behind him, his blue eyes fixated on the floor in front of him. Angela stared up at him, face set.

“And that is why I brought a capable medical team.” Stealing a glance, she watched her team spring into action, examining each injury and prioritizing the worst. One man left the ship on a stretcher, his suit pant leg soaked in red. A civilian? He was obscured from her view as one of her team rushed to his side. “If they need me-” she looked back at him “- they'll call me.”

“What the hell happened out there, Jack?” Gabriel’s voice snapped behind her as he approached the commander. Several other Overwatch officials flanked him, waiting to hear the report from their commander. Angela felt Jack’s arm tense as she pulled the limb out of his sleeve.

“Verdammt! You didn't even try and patch this up, did you?” She muttered under her breath, examining where the bullet had grazed his bicep and took a hearty chunk of his skin and muscle out with it. Shaking her head in disapproval, she began cleaning off the dried blood and dirt that had caked around his wound. Jack ignored her.

“It was worse than we thought. They were after scientists-” He nodded his head back to the rather shell shocked group of civilians. “- working on a confidential project. When we went in to pull them out- Ah shit!” Jack exclaimed, jerking his arm back from the stinging saline solution Angela poured over the wound. Her grip tightened around his wrist, keeping him steady.

“Eh… The place was crawling with Talon when we came back out. There was a sniper… no, two. I-” Jack sucked in a breath as Angela filled the wound with a clear gel-like substance. He ran his hand through his blond hair, starting at the far wall. “Let’s do this later… I'll give you a proper debriefing in a few hours.”

As Angela wrapped the dressing around his arm, she looked up at Jack with concern. He didn't meet her gaze, nor anyone else's. The confidence of a leader he always tried to wear around others was just gone, as if something had sapped away all of his energy. The others noticed too, exchanging confused glances. What could upset their intrepid commander so much?

Gabriel was the first to notice.

“Where's Ana?”

The hard lump of dread jumped forcefully to Angela’s throat at Gabriel's question. She hadn't seen her exit the ship, but that didn't mean anything. She could have just missed her. Angela desperately scanned the grouped agents and civilians, hoping, praying to see that mischievous but motherly smile. The search did nothing to quell her growing fear. Her eyes turned back to Jack, longing for some explanation, but his head was bowed and eyes avoiding everyone's piercing gaze.

“Where is Ana, Jack?” Gabriel asked again, the pitch of his voice dangerously low in attempt to hide the slight quiver in his words. Jack covered his eyes with his hand, like a child trying to hide from their wrongs.

“I… she,” Jack paused to take a deep breath as Angela’s shaking hands pulled away from his bandaged arm. “She fell behind.”

Jack’s words were arrows that pierced all of them, shattering each heart they landed in. Angela’s hands covered her mouth to hide her gape, tears filling her eyes. She heard some breath “No” as if their denial would make his words untrue. Others slowly turned their heads down in mourning, accepting the words and the sorrows.

Wiping a tear from her eye, she turned to look at Gabriel. His head was down turned, his arms tense, and mouth a gape. In an instant, his face hardened, a mask of accusation to hide behind. His narrowed eyes shot up to stare Jack down, even if the commander would not return his gaze.

“What happened?” His voice rumbled, a quake in the region of an unstable volcano. Jack still did not look up.

“Two of ours were shot down by snipers. Ana was searching for them, but they spotter her first. She relocated and spotted one of the snipers. She boomed the building and created enough of a distraction so that we had a clear path to the landing zone. I ordered her to pull out then… but she… she didn't listen. She never arrived at the rendezvous.” Jack’s voice had become a whisper by the end. Angela's eyes closed as she held back more tears.

“So… you're telling me that when she failed to report in, Jack,” Gabriel's words were laced with venom, spitting out the commander’s name as if it were a curse. “You just left her?” Jack looked up then, meeting Gabriel's accusing eyes with a hard glare.

“I had civilians in my charge and men in need of urgent medical care. The place was crawling with Talon! What would you expect me to do?” Jack shot back in defense, keeping his voice low. Gabriel did not bother.

“I expected you to get your golden ass off that transport and find her!” He roared. Every head in the hanger turned to stare, watching with the same morbid curiosity as bystanders at a crime scene. Jack’s face flushed red as he set his lips in a hard line.

“And endanger every other life under my supervision? Force another EVAC pilot to land in an area under heavy fire? Compromise this entire organization to search for someone who is most likely dead?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You do not leave team members behind! No one gets left behind!”

“She was my friend too, Gabriel. I didn't want to, but I had to think of everyone!”

“She has pulled your sorry ass out of death’s arms countless times and this is how you repay that? By leaving her out there to die?”

“This isn't like it was during the crisis. There aren't just six of us anymore, there are hundreds! I am not going to prioritize the life of one over the lives of twenty!”

“But you'll prioritize your own over hers? Commander Jack Morrison everybody!” Gabriel threw his hands in the air, addressing the alarmed crowd. “He'll ask you to die for him, but won't risk a hair on his golden head for you!”

“Reyes! You are out of line!” Jack snapped with authority. Gabriel growled and began to pace restlessly. Two steps, then turn, two steps, turn; a spring being wound tighter and tighter. “I will not have you-”

“This is exactly why you never should have been made commander! You're all about teamwork until your own ass is compromised! It's Liao all over again!”

Jack’s voice lowered, breathing heavily. “That was an entirely different situation and you know it. We agreed not to mention-” Gabriel cut him off again, stopping mid-step to stare Jack down once more.

“I'm starting to sense a pattern here, Jack! Liao, Reinheart forced into retirement by you, and now Ana: abandoned and left for dead! Two to go!”

“Just what the hell are you implying, Reyes?”

“You tell me, Morrison.” Gabriel growled.

A moment of silence fell over the two as they stared each other down. It was toxic and thick with tension. No one dared to even breath, lest the sound snap the tightly wound spring. As much as Angela’s feet wanted to carry her Gabriel and calm him, she did not dare. The crossfire between the two was indiscriminate and deadly. Jack’s voice finally tore through the silence.

“I can and will suspend you if you don't get back in line, Reyes. Do not make me.” Jack growled. Angela did not doubt the threat for a second.

Gabriel’s response was a wordless shout of frustration as he threw his arms into the air. “I'm fucking done!” The tension and electricity clung to him as he turned and stormed out of the hanger. Mechanics and agents leapt out of his path, watching him leave with a questioning fear.

Jack let out a long sigh, relaxing his frame as he rubbed his forehead. Murmurs began to spread through the hanger, the fear that kept them quiet fading with Gabriel's departure. “As I said…” Jack breathed, exhaustion clear in his voice. “I will give you a full debriefing in an hour.” He left the officials and Angela standing there, briskly stepping out of the hanger with his torn coat billowing behind him.

Angela chewed her lip with concern. How could this have happened? She looked back at the rest of the agents that had returned from the mission. Only one of her team still remained, the other two having rushed the most unstable patients to the medical wing. Mongelli went to each agent, treating cuts and determining if they needed to report to medical, all with a calm doctor’s smile despite the alarming outburst she had just witnessed. Angela used to be able to do that with ease, but with each passing day, she found it harder and harder to pretend everything was not falling apart.

With a hurried stride, Angela moved beside the doctor, laying a hand on her shoulder. “If you need me, page me.” She said, looking down at Mongelli. She flashed Angela a knowing gaze before nodding gently. Her hand slid off her shoulder as Angela turned back to the direction Jack and Gabriel had exited, all but jogging into the hall.

God he needed a drink. The desire consumed his mind, growing louder and louder with each heavy step. It screamed into his ear, pounded on the walls of his head and begged, no, demanded to be fulfilled. Jack’s words only amplified the intense need, bouncing back and forth, fueling his anger. “The place was crawling with Talon!” and “I didn't want to, but I had to think of everyone” and every other word Jack spat out of his damned mouth, cut in occasionally with images. Vivid, imaginative images that could only be conjured by one who had seen every conceivable horror of the battle field. Images of Ana alone, shot down by a sniper and bleeding out over the filthy floor. Too weak to crawl out of the place she had stationed herself, waiting for help that would never come as the light faded from her eyes.

BANG! Gabriel slammed the door to the blackwatch commons open as he stormed through. The couches and tables were deserted, save for one. The disgraced, and presumed dead, Shimada boy lazed back on the sofa, watching the television with about as much fervor as he put into anything. Genji barely turned his head to acknowledge the commander, seemingly immune to the threatening aura surrounding Gabriel.

“McCree!” Gabriel roared, half expecting the kid’s ridiculous cowboy hat to meekly rise up from one of the sofas, “MCCREE! Where are you, you soggy pile of horse shit?”

“He is in the shooting range,” Genji’s heavily accented voice answered in the absence of a response from McCree as he raised a mechanical hand to change the station. Gabriel growled and snapped his head to the side, starring in the direction of the boy’s living quarters.

“I’ll find it myself then,” he muttered and stormed across the commons into the offshooting hall. He found the door to McCree’s room mercifully unlocked and, with no qualms about privacy, Gabriel pushed his way in. Every inch of the room was covered in junk, not unlike when the tides recede and leave piles of reeking sea trash in its absence. He made a mental note to flay the kid after all this shit was past. He was not living on the damned streets anymore.

With little more thought to the mess, Gabriel dove in, digging through the garbage with a narrow determination. A drawer was opened, majority of its contents flung to the floor, the drawer shoved closed when he failed to find his target, and another yanked open. Rinse and repeat, his temper growing with each failed search. He knew McCree had some in here. The kid was always testing the boundaries, sneaking it in at every opportunity, in spite of Gabriel’s fury when he eventually found the hidden stash. Now, however, he was more than grateful for the kid’s obstinance.

As he rummaged beneath the dresser, his fingers brushed across something cold and smooth. Gabriel grinned and wrapped his hand around the glass, pulling it into the light. A nearly full bottle of whiskey gleamed up at him. Thank whatever sadistic god was out there for that headstrong, lame ass cowboy. He uncorked the top as he stood, bringing the cool bottle to his mouth.

The golden liquid barely touched his lips before he stopped. Was this really a hole he wanted to fall back into? He knew what would happen if he drank the sickeningly familiar smelling elixir. Since he had dug that dark hole in his youth, he had fallen back into it twice, and both times, Ana had helped him get out. This time though… this time she would not be there to pull him up. She was gone. Jack had left her in Egypt surrounded by Talon with no way out. His imagination flared to life, flooding his mind with her screams, visions of pain, her last shuddering breath. Gabriel tilted the bottle up, letting the whiskey pour past his lips.

The alcohol burned his throat, the familiar sting already working to chase away his haunting thoughts. He winced as he swallowed another mouthful, sending another wave of liquid fire through him. The aftertaste lingered on his tastebuds like a puff of cat exhaust. Squinting suspiciously, he examined the bottle to make sure it was, in fact, whiskey and not fermented goat piss. The label loudly insisted on the former, boldly stating the liquid within was aged in the highest quality casks. Gabriel snorted, but brought the bottle back to his lips anyway. Quality was not of the utmost importance.

Hosting little desire to have McCree find his commander standing red handed in his wreck of a room and not-so-slowly getting drunk off his contraband whiskey, Gabriel marched out of the room. He strode past Genji, ignoring the cyborg’s presence as the cyborg ignored his, and out of the commons. In the more work-oriented areas a few Blackwatch agents milled about, but none gave him more than a respectful nod and a murmured “Commander”. They all knew to keep their distance from Gabriel when he passed surrounded by dark, thundering clouds of fury that only appeared after a fight with Jack. However, none of them had heard the news yet. None of them knew how bad it was.

Gabriel wrenched open the door to his office and disappeared within, the door slamming shut behind him. The small, familiar room was bereft of any other life and the door was one no one, not even Jack, would dare open without his say. Gabriel allowed himself to relax, slouching back against the door and taking another swig of the disgusting whiskey. He stared into the bottle, watching the liquid slosh back and forth. It swirled around like the still vivid images in his mind’s eye. The alcohol was not working fast enough. He could feel the warmth growing in his belly and a flush rising to his cheeks, but wave after wave of grief and loathing continued to assault his mind.

Clenching his fist, he stood up from the door and began to pace, using every ounce of his willpower to beat down his thoughts, at least until the alcohol could dull them. Images of Ana, her eyes cold and lifeless, covered in blood, but with skin as pale as her hair. No. A twisted memory from the Omnic Crisis of a slaughter in Germany, the walls dripping with red and chunks of flesh flung about with the only identifiable piece being a scrap of blue cloth. Stop. Jack staring at him coldly as he defended his decision to leave Ana behind to die. Shut up. An overwhelming desire to drive his fist into Jack’s perfect farm-boy face, breaking his nose with the same hand he once used to caress his cheek. Don’t. Gabriel wanted to drag him off his high-horse and beat him into the ground. Stop it. He could smash Jack’s head against the wall, staining it with his blood, hissing into his ear if Jack thought anyone would go out of their way to save him. No… He would watch him sink weakly to his knees and Gabriel would press the end of his shotgun into that boy scout’s cheek, smiling as he pulled the trigger, just like he wanted to. Kill them.

“Damnit!” Gabriel’s fist hit the wall hard enough to crack the reinforced drywall. His knuckles throbbed from the impact, the pain in perfect synchronization with his pounding heart. Wispy black smoke rose off his skin, rippling in the air until he clenched his fist again. The myst reluctantly settled back onto his hand.  Grinding his teeth, he stared at the cracked wall for a long while before taking another deep swig of whiskey. He let out a healed breath as he felt his mind begin to slow, those loud sharp thoughts muddled and dulled by the fog finally beginning to build.

“Gabriel…” it took him a moment to realize the voice that called his name was real. Sluggishly, he turned his head to look as the muffled click of the door closing reached his ears. Angela stood there, looking up at him, eyes full of… sadness? Regret? Pity? Probably all of the above along with a healthy dose of disappointment. He tore his eyes away from her, feeling redness rise to his cheeks that could only partly be blamed on the alcohol.

“I’m fine Angie… just need… a moment” he breathed, acutely aware of how difficult it was to enunciate each word.

“No, you are not okay” she insisted, her tone and words gentle. The tap of her footsteps were just as soft as she moved closer. “It’s alright to be…” her words fell into nothing as she stopped. He tensed as he heard her sigh, waiting for the accusation he could just feel coming. It never did. Instead, her hand rested gently on his arm that hung at his side, weighed down by the nearly empty whiskey bottle. Her other arm wrapped around his middle in an embrace, leaning her head against his back.

“It’s alright to not be okay,” her words were soft, cracked with sadness, “She was your best friend… she was a mother to all of us. You don’t have to… pretend to be alright,” a choked laugh left her lips as she wrapped her arms tighter around him, “I know I’m not.”

Gabriel rose an arm to cover his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath to attempt to steady himself. “This shouldn’t’ve… it should never’ve happened,” he croaked, feeling the warmth in his stomach condense into a heavy pit. “Fucking… there was no reason…”

“I know, Gabe, I know…” Angela shushed his stammering with her gentle voice. “But there’s… there’s nothing we can do, nothing anyone can do… these things happen and there’s no reason for it.”

“Jack’s the damn reason.” He spat, turning in her embrace to gaze down at Angela. Her watery eyes met his as she shook her head.

“Jack did what he could in the situation he was in,” she insisted cautiously.

“He didn’t, Angie, and you know it. He could’ve gone back, could’ve at least tried to find her. The bastard probably didn’t even wait more than half a minute at the rendezvous.”

“There were injured civilians in his charge. One of whom had lost a leg… I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of all the horrible things that could, would, go wrong if an amputation isn’t properly cared for.” She paused to let out a sigh. “He had to make a choice… please don’t blame him for that.”

Gabriel stiffened in her embrace, her soft words suddenly feeling like an attack. “You’re taking his side.” He spat. He moved to put a foot of space between them, but her arms tightened around him.

“No, I am not,” she huffed insistently, “I’m not saying he made the right call, but he did what he thought was right at the time.”

“Then his priorities need to be sorted better. Your team always comes first. You’re not going to save shit if half the team is down! If I were there, if you were there, she would still…” His words trailed off into nothing. “You know it’s true, Angie.”

A sigh left her lips as she leaned her head against his chest. His own arms wrapped slowly around her narrow shoulders, his free hand twisting to brush through her soft golden hair while the other held his empty bottle of indulgence as far away as possible. The liquor sloshed back and forth as he swung the bottle in slow circles, his eyes staring passed it while his fingers threaded through her ponytail. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he imagined how pissed she would be if he yanked her hair down and shoved her against the wall. Perhaps her anger would subside if he stole her lips away in a deep kiss, his hands tracing along her waist as this clever fingers of hers clutched at his chest…

“I know…” He barely even registered Angela’s whispered voice outside of his daydream. “But… we weren’t there… there isn’t anything we can do.” Reality hit him again, blowing away his fogged, but far more pleasant, visions. His expression hardened as he stared at his fist tightened around the neck of the bottle. He suddenly felt her lift her head off his chest and found his eyes pulled to gaze into hers. Soft hands cupped his cheeks as she looked up at him sadly. Despite the anger that still swarmed his mind, he felt his face relax as he leaned into her hand.

“Angie…” he heard himself whisper. Any words that were meant to follow were lost in the disorganized slurry his thoughts were quickly decaying into. He felt one of her hands move away from his cheek, sliding down his arm and wrapping gently around his hand that still clutched the bottle of whiskey. Her fingers threaded through his in an attempt to loosen his vice-like grip. He did not. A sigh escaped her lips as her other hand ran caressed his cheek and neck.

“Don’t do this to yourself, meine Liebe,” his eyes drifted closed as she spoke softly, “I know it hurts, but this… this will only make it worse.” The tips of her fingers traced around his knuckles with an agonizing gentleness. Slowly, hesitantly, his hold on the bottle loosened and her fingers replaced his seamlessly. She took the bottle from his hand, placing it on the desk beside them before turning back to him with a gentle smile. He felt his head fall forward to lightly rest his forehead on hers as she took his now empty and in hers. Inhaling deeply, he let his mind drift through her scent. The sweet tones of violet and sweet pea mixed with the bitter hint of coffee did more to calm his mind then any drink ever could.

“No one would say anything if we were to take the rest of the day off…” she suggested, running a hand over his chest. “We could go home, watch terrible old movies and then we could cook a nice dinner-“ she stopped as Gabriel’s chest shook with soft chuckles “or, well, I’ll stay out of the way while you cook a nice dinner. Hmm? What do you say?”

Gabriel’s arms wrapped tighter around Angela as he buried his face in her hair. His lips broke into a grin when she began to giggle as the bottom of his goatee tickled her ear. She pinched his side playfully and squirmed as he dragged his scratchy beard across her soft cheek and down her chin. Her giggle faded to a hum of content when he leaned into her neck, peppering her with gentle kisses.

“I say…” he whispered between kisses, “I say we go home,” he placed a long kiss just below her jaw, “forget the terrible movies,” kisses traced back up to her ear, his voice low, “and we find-“

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The noise drew a groan from both of them, forcing Gabriel to pull away and watch with a blank stare as Angela dug the small pager out of her pocket and examined it. The disappointed expression on her face as her eyes darted across the screen was all he needed to pull his arms away from her.

“Oh… Gabe, I’m so sorry. One of the patients is having complications, I have to go…” her hand reached out to grasp his again, squeezing his fingers together. He turned his head away to stare at the wall, drawing concern and hurt to her eyes. Then, he glanced back at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess you’ll have to make up for it tonight.”

She grinned at his words, standing on tiptoe to plant a light peck to his cheek. “I guess I will,” she hummed before leaning away and taking a step back. She jumped as Gabriel lunged forward to grab her neck and pull her into a proper kiss. He smiled as she melted into him, their lips moving together slowly and passionately. After what seemed like forever, but somehow not long enough, Angela pulled away, placing her hand on his cheek with a tender gaze.

“It will be alright…” she whispered against his lips, “I promise.” Placing one last lingering peck on his lips, she stepped away from his embrace. His hand reflexively reached for hers again, but she slipped away from his reach, sliding out the door with only one last look thrown over her shoulder. The door closed and silence smothered his office.

For just a moment, he almost believed her words: it will be alright. That would be nice to believe, to have that optimism, but he had been playing this game too long. He had seen too many people he cared about cut down by stupidity, bureaucracy, assholes in suits who have never even seen a battlefield, yet somehow think they know the best course of action. Now Ana was gone too.

Gabriel reached over to trace the rim of the bottle Angela had placed on his desk, tilting it on it’s corner as he traced the circle. Who would be the next victim of Jack’s stupidity or the UN’s chopping block? Him? Torbjorn? Angela? The bottle slipped away from his finger that held it into place, hitting the desk with a loud clunk. He would never let that happen. He would rip out his heart before he would lose her. Not that his heart would help her much if she had been in Ana’s situation.

The bottle wobbled unsteadily across the desk, what little remained of the liquid inside sloshing back and forth. He had no power to protect her, just as he had been helpless to save Ana. They were far out of his reach, held in Jack’s clumsy fingers along with Overwatch and, quite possibly, the world. How much longer before they all slipped right through?

With one last slow, shaky roll, the liquor bottle tumbled over the desk and smashed onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces that skidded across the tiles. Gabriel stared down at the broken glass, his expression set in a hard line. He was done watching the UN pull Jack’s strings like he was a fucking marionette at a children’s theater. They and the public thought they knew exactly what should be done, but they did not have a damn clue. However, Ana did. He did. He knew what needed to be done, and he was tired of not being heard.

Boots crunching against the broken glass, Gabriel moved to sit behind his desk. With a strange determination in his expression, he flipped on the electrical interface that hovered over his desk. His fingers moved quickly to summon a paging window.

“Moria, this is Commander Reyes. Report to my office. I wish to discuss... expediting your research.” The window clicked closed the moment his voice had been transmitted and he leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Angela would hate him for this, he knew, but he would rather she hate him then have her dead due to his inaction. Like Ana.

Overwatch, and everyone in it, was hanging by a thread over a black pit and he would be damned if he just sat and waited for the thread to snap.