#but trusting jack means giving jack way too much access to his cybernetics and even tho hes a massive fanboy hes also aware of jacks nature

[krotiation]

this soundtrack genuinely makes me so emotional like damn. the jack vs fiona scene at the end of ep 2 is already so perfect and then they had to go make this beautiful as hell ost with it too. those bastards

[overwatch-trash-sr]

Angela carefully observed the patient sitting before her – unlike any of the others. Partly man, partly machine; he crashed spontaneously into her life with the force of a vicious storm. When Angela gazed too long at the glowing lights fitted to his artificial torso, her mind was flooded with images of a nightmare she thought herself long recovered from.

It was the memory of Genji’s broken body, lying unmoving on a gurney as medics rushed him from the helipad. He had been so badly injured, even the most esteemed trauma center in the area was only able to stabilize him. Perched precariously on the edge of life and death, the young man was brought to Angela. Her experience as Overwatch’s resident physician was Genji’s final hope.

Overwatch was already keeping tabs on the Shimada clan. They tracked the prodigal Shimada son all the way to his untimely demise at the hands of his older brother. At least, they thought that had been his end, until the trauma center responded to Overwatch’s inquiries into the situation that he was alive – but barely clinging to life.

Genji’s crimson eyes turned down to the white tile floor. He had suffered much since she brought him back. To the untrained eye, Genji seemed healthy – or as healthy as a cyborg could be. Sitting with his back straight, he wore a silent confidence that was almost predatory. Angela was not overwhelmed by his intensity as easily as their comrades.

She was a professional and noticed the slight slouch in his shoulders that betrayed the weight he carried upon them. The covert missions he silently took part in were obviously taking their toll on him. The speculation surrounding Blackwatch’s dealings were all around them. The gossip sometimes made her blood boil. Being a part of the strike team, Angela knew the motives behind Blackwatch’s operations. It didn’t mean she agreed with operating covertly or even understood the necessity. To her, it seemed like betraying the public’s trust and their methods were becoming more questionable, but she was not in charge.

Absently, she blinked away from Genji and down to the glowing screen angled upwards on the desk before her. His name – Genji Shimada – was marked in bold at the top of the page. She scrolled downwards, thoroughly reviewing the vitals her staff had recorded earlier. Through trial and error, she learned what his optimal vitals were. His organic body had needed time to adjust to the changes, more than if it were just a small portion of him – like an appendage. Genji had suffered the loss of a massive percentage of his body. His survival was nothing short of a miracle, but his recovery was even more incredible.

Incredible, but exhaustive. Though the constant care was necessary, Angela worried deeply for his mental wellbeing. The organization pressured her to hasten his recovery, but compromised when she allowed them a more comprehensive role in optimizing his cybernetics. It was a gamble – she worried that his mind wouldn’t be able to cope with all the change, but it was better than rushing him through recovery and risking a preventable complication – like infection or rejection.

She continued to scroll through his chart, quickly looking over the details from his last visit before turning her attention back to him. He really was in great health, at least physically.

His suffering, though, was nearly palpable in the air.

She was afraid she might choke on it – the waves of anguish that seemed to roll off him as he sat quietly staring at the tiled floor. Or maybe it wasn’t his pain she sensed, but her own - over what she had done to an innocent man - projected onto him. Maybe it was his and hers; clashing and combining into a monster neither had control over – not that they ever had – but had to suffer for.

Angela coughed, pushing out the guilt balling in her throat. “So,” she started, breaking the silence that had built. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. There was a gentle quickness to the way he moved – not unlike the flittering of a small bird. “How do you feel?”

A part of Angela yearned to reach out and promise to heal him – to fight away whatever had come to ail him. Perhaps it had to do with the awful circumstances that brought him to her, but Genji stirred up emotions that were unfamiliar to Angela.

She ignored them. After all, it was her patient sitting before her and she was not known to be inappropriate.

Instead, she smiled and Genji’s shoulders lifted slightly along with the corners of her lips. The subtle movement made warmth burst in her chest. Cocking his head like a curious bird, his hard expression softened a bit. “Better,” he hummed, his voice smooth and low. “Now that I’m here.”

Angela quickly swiveled away, trying to hide the burn spread across her cheeks. “I hope you aren’t just saying that,” she quipped, trying to sound casual. Trying to keep it professional. Now her mind was assaulting her with memories of their last meeting – feverish hands, desperate mouths.

She forced the images out of her mind and turned pointedly back towards Genji. A subtle grin had spread across his lips, but it didn’t seem anything other than genuine.

“I hope you aren’t just saying that,” she repeated, firmly this time, as she rolled her stool closer to the bedside.

He kept his gaze fixed to her as she rolled closer. “I mean it,” he assured her. He parted his mouth, but hesitated, closing his lips staunchly instead.

“Good.” Angela stood and gestured to his arms rested neatly in his lap. “May I?”

 Genji complied without answering, lifting his living arm into her open hand. He watched her inspect his skin, feeling her gentle fingers as she pressed firmly against his tissue, giving careful observation to his forearm.

She pressed at the sturdy conduits that connected the biological to the artificial. During his recovery, Angela attempted to explain the exact science that held him together, but it had agitated him too much. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear the truth. He didn’t want to face what he was or what he had lost.

A surge of discomfort ran from his arm to his mind, like a zap of lightning. He hissed – partly in shock and pain – as he jerked his arm away from Angela’s probing fingers. It happened from time to time. A misfiring of electrical impulses he was told. The answer satisfied him enough. He didn’t truly care why, he just wanted it to stop. The sensation wasn’t excruciating, but uncomfortable and disorienting – not something he’d easily been able to get used to. It was one of many things that had changed about him.

Angela immediately reached out, holding her hand tentatively above his arm. “Are you alright, Genji?” She questioned, an unusual tinge of worry evident in her voice.

As the world rocked unsteadily around him, he thrusted his arm back into her grip, answering gruffly, “The zaps – like electricity. I can feel them when you press.” He carefully pointed to the spot on his arm that had triggered the reaction.

His spinning gaze fell back to the tiled floor as she did a quick inspection, but Angela gently squeezed his wrist, eliciting his gaze towards her. The expression she wore was so tender, it made Genji’s heart ache. Many of their comrades remarked her angelic features – even dubbing her Mercy for her role in combat. He had seen her in training, witnessed Mercy in action himself. The dramatic armor, the staff, the wings – it was almost comical to Genji, but he had concluded that Angela was one for both efficacy as equally theatrics.

Watching, but not listening, as Angela explained again what was happening inside Genji’s body, he couldn’t deny her cherubic features – round and soft. Her pleasant voice steady and determined; indiscernible words brushed like silk against his ears. Goosebumps rose on his arm.

It was almost hard for him to believe what she’d done to him.

 As Angela explained the dynamic behind the symptom he was experiencing, she noticed the shift in his demeanor. He was tense in her grip – muscles taught, hair raised. She quieted, watching as Genji’s eyes turned glossy – his attention lost to a place that was not the room they occupied.

Angela drew a quick breath, ready to draw her patient back to reality, but his eyes snapped towards her before she could. She was almost startled by his unpredictable movements.

Careful to maintain her composure, Angela placed Genji’s arm back in his lap. She silently gestured to the other.

Genji glared; red eyes lingering on hers as he placed his artificial limb in her open grasp. His intense gaze made her feel small and for the first time, she understood what her comrades referred to when they spoke distrustfully of the mysterious ninja. She surmised he was coping to the best of his ability, given everything that had happened to him. Overwatch hadn’t cared to ask about his personal details. Angela assumed the organization knew all they needed, but she didn’t.

Angela delved into Genji’s entire history. Not for any other reason beyond mapping a comprehensive clinical history that could aid in his survival and recovery. She wasn’t the only one with access to the information either – it was reviewed by others working on his case, including other soldiers on the strike team, Torbjörn Lindholm and their commander, Jack Morrison.

Holding his arm now, Angela could feel the slight tug against her efforts to inspect the points of connection – where organic tissue and medical-grade cybernetic technology collided to make him an entire man.

The thought caused her stomach to somersault.

“Are you alright, Dr. Zeigler?” Genji asked, pulling his shoulder out of her now-unmoving grasp.

Angela reeled, her instinct being to pull his shoulder back into his grasp. She stopped herself, instead letting her arms fall to her sides and stepping back towards her stool, trying again to gain control of the situation.

Her heart sank into the pits of her stomach as she answered weakly, “Certainly.” She tried to keep her vision straight. Genji wasn’t feeling well either – she used that to leverage herself. Misery likes company, hm?

As her stare shifted back to Genji, Angela let the realization fully wash over her; she compromised her authority the moment she stepped away from her clinical duties. She breached her contract – crossed boundaries that she never should have crossed. Her duty was to the wellbeing of her patient, but she had failed that mission the moment she decided to be someone other than his physician. Whether that was the moment she agreed to actually take on his case or the moment she touched him with intimate intentions, she was unsure.

Angela set Genji’s arm down and stepped away from the table, hands in the air as though surrendering from a battle long fought.

Confusion settled over Genji’s tensed face, his expression quickly turning distrustful. “Angela?”

Her small frame jolted at the sound of her name extending from his throat, swathing her like a loving serpent. “This is wrong,” she lamented, sitting down on her stool and pushing herself back towards her desk.

Angela stared at his chart. It had auto-scrolled to the top of the page; the line she had last visited was hyperlinked in a highlighted box at the top of the page. It was his name though, that hooked her attention. Genji Shimada. His name played like music in her mind.

“Genji,” Angela’s voice was strained, holding back all the words she truly wanted to say, “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face him again. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt him – she had done enough of that, but if he was going to take away her authority, she had to knock him down a bit too. The clinical detachment she usually practiced had failed, it was time to take him on by more personal means.

���We will have to find you a new provider.” 

Part Two