#he's dealing with a criminal syndicate and Overwatch doesn't do that stuff--just Blackwatch

[overdrivels]

Believe (Drabble)

HELLO FRIEND!! I LOVE ANGST™ VERY MUCH AND PLEASE DO YELL MORE BECAUSE I NEED TO BE AWOKEN INTO EXPRESSING MY LOVE FOR ANGST™ AND PERHAPS FLUFF. Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you enjoy!

You take a shuddering breath in the airship, hands flexing nervously around the modified caduceus staff that Torbjorn had made for you. Unlike the one that Dr. Zielger has which emits a passive tether and heals the entire body at once at a slow, but steady rate, yours was smaller and acted more like a laser that allowed you to interact with the injury directly and quickly. Someone had the mind to call it a 'healing swiss army knife', but no one dared to utter it again when the offender was not given any pain killers or support after breaking a leg in their latest mission at the orders of a certain doctor.

“There is no reason to be so nervous, you will do fine.” 

You offer the cyborg sitting next to you a shaky smile. Genji is sweet, has been since the day you joined the Recalled Overwatch. It’s hard not to like him or even develop some sort of affection for him. 

“I-I know, but it’s just...it’s my first mission.” You look to your feet. “What if I mess up?”

“You will.” Your head snaps up, ready to be offended at the insinuation that you will fail. “But you will overcome it. And in the worst case, I will protect you.” 

You laugh quietly, slightly warmed by his bold declaration and confidence in you--confidence that you have trouble finding in yourself. 

“Genji, thanks, but I’m a medic, not a mechanic." He laughs at that, and the cheery sound zips through you, sending your heart racing to a far off place. You groan, half at your ridiculous feelings and half at your nerves. “I’m serious, I won’t be able to help you if you get damaged.” 

A comforting hand rests on your shoulder and squeezes lightly. He levels you with a look behind the strip of green, and if you look hard enough and long enough, you swear you could see his eyes.

“I believe in you.”  

The sincerity in his words nearly takes your breath away, and you somehow gather up your courage to spit out, "You can count on me."

The irony of it all comes when Genji is forced to fend off and deflect a group of omnics that had decided that you were a better target than the others. They go down, but not without a fight, leaving Genji on his back and unable to move. You rush to him from the hiding spot he have shoved you into in his haste to protect you--it was all your fault, and you shouldn’t have gone on ahead without letting Genji scout first, and if anything permanently bad happened, Hanzo would never forgive you, Dr. Zielger would never forgive you, and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself either--

You stop.

A weak laugh escapes you–half nervous, half frightened. That crimson liquid underneath Genji’s body couldn’t be–

“Need...healing." Genji tries to sound nonchalant, but the pain and rasp in his voice is evident. 

The sound of a previous Omnic’s dying voice box saying, "We are the same, so why..." before getting destroyed by Genji echoes faintly in your memory. No. The sight before you strongly alludes to the contrary. The pool of blood that steadily spreads it reach nearly cements it--Genji is not an Omnic, Genji is not just a cyborg with just a brain and a brain stem, he’s...

He’s bleeding out.

The realization strikes you hard.

The staff feels like a deadweight in your hands, and drops to the ground like one. Holy mother of--. Your body goes immediately on autopilot, guiding you through the well practiced motions of securing the body, checking vitals, triage–triage–tri--

“Armor...” His voice is barely more than a feeble whisper, it’s clear it takes everything he has to speak. “Remove...able.” 

Clinging to those words like a lifeline, your fingers fumble around, feeling for latches and buttons that would allow you access to the damage. Piece by piece, the armor comes off in a clumsy heap. Some of it is sticky with blood--Genji's blood. You can deal with blood, it was expected in your line of work, but your hands freeze when the largest piece of connected armor reveals skin melding into metal and tubing whose purpose you could not even begin to understand. 

You stare at the expanse of flesh, blood, and machinery. 

It vaguely occurs to you that you’ve never seen him without his armor. Nothing beyond the swath of human skin is familiar to you. Suddenly, you were back in your first day of class, the instructor firmly reminds everyone everyday for as long as he teaches the class that there is no such thing as a textbook patient.  

And Genji is definitely no such thing. 

Questions come flying at you, bombarding your brain and commanding all of its resources. How much blood does Genji have? Less than the average human, probably. Major artery damage can kill in ten to fifteen minutes. Only three to five minutes for the body to go into shock. How much blood was he losing? At what rate? How long has it been? Is he going to need a blood transplant? What even is his blood type? Again, just how much blood did he have in the first place?!

The tingling numbness in your fingers spread up and up into your chest, into your lungs, and into your brain. It’s almost as though you’re the one in danger of dying. You distantly fear that the next moments may have have you on the ground next to Genji. 

You look to his face instinctively, hoping, searching for some sort of reassurance or guidance in the weakening green light. But a much paler, shaken reflection of yourself shines off his dull face plate and greets you instead. Even you could admit that you looked horrid, weak, and more of a victim than a hero. Hardly the image of a medic. 

What ever happened to being professional and holding yourself together? 

‘I believe in you.’ 

That’s right. Genji was counting on you, believed in you, and you couldn’t betray that trust. You take a shuddering breath, willing yourself to focus on the patient–panic can wait. Your feelings can wait. Duty first. You reach again for the modified caduceus staff, the weight now grounding rather than damning or useless. You set to work,  a newfound determination to keep your teammate--your friend--alive.

When help arrives and you all return to the base, Angela later applauds you for keeping your cool, mentioning that even without exposure to someone as complex as Genji, you didn’t freeze up. Because of your quick actions, Genji is expected to make a full recovery--no lasting damage. You could only stare dumbly at her. It seemed that those moments that stretched into eternity were only merely seconds, and no lasting damage was done as a result. 

When you visit him, he greets you with a “Yo!” and a two fingered salute. You can’t help but grin at his much more lively demeanor. Even after a near death experience (that was caused because of you, you remind yourself sharply), he still manages to treat you with some shred of amenity. It certainly does nothing to dampen your affections toward the ninja.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say when you find your voice, seating yourself carefully near the edge of his bed.  

"I had one of the best looking after me.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. Angela is indeed one of the best, no doubt about it. Having her look after you was almost like having the protection of a deity--an angel--who will defy death at all costs. It’s no surprise that Genji is okay. 

“I knew I was correct to believe in you. Thank you."

Before the implications even sink in, he places his hand–human hand, so full of scars and warmth–against your hand. It covers up yours entirely, and the sheer intimacy of the gesture sets your face aflame. You barely hear him chuckle through the sound of your own racing heart through your ears.

"You know,” he starts, dropping to a whisper. You have to lean close to hear, and a mischievous edge makes it way into his voice. “I would have liked if you stripped me in a more favorable manner.” 

It turns out Angela is very strong without her valkyrie suit, and is more than capable of hauling your catatonic self to the other side of the med bay.