I expected my tears to miraculously revive Fareeha. But this was reality. This was war.
This is an account of Mercy and Pharah's time together in the past as military initiates and present as mid-war allies. Watch as they evolve from a hostile begin...
"What are her chances of survival?" I asked quietly, pressing my thin, pale fingers against the glass window of the hospital hall.
"Nothing surpassing double digits, I'm afraid. Even if we had a better chance, she's nearly reached her ration of life support."
I cursed, then turned to the doctor with a sympathetic look, pleading for leniency. He sadly shook his head, tucking his clipboard under his arm and adjusting his spectacles over his nose.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Ziegler. I know you and Amari were very close, but we're in the middle of war; we can't expend our resources for just a simple foot soldier anymore."
"I know." I said idly, returning my gaze into the room. The doctor shifted uncomfortably before mumbling, "Other soldiers here heard you were dropping in and our commander has requested you give them a pep talk. You know, for a morale boost."
I took a long, raw breath before nodding in compliance. The doctor thanked me and scurried off, leaving me in the wing alone. 'Just a simple foot soldier.' I shook the insult from my thoughts and let myself into Fareeha's room, the sound of harsh breathing overlapping the soft, rhythmic chime of the hospital's equiptment. Her still form rested on the bed, her chest rising only slightly with each difficult breath. It was like a floodgate, one I had set within myself ever since hearing the news a day ago, suddenly burst open and all my emotion came crashing into this very moment. In the same report I recieved of Fareeha's fatal encounter, it listed her injuries, but seeing words on a paper didn't amount to seeing her in the flesh. A remorseful cry escaped my lips as a hand involuntarily covered my mouth, my disbelief entangling with my shock as I analyzed all that was left of her.
Fareeha was broken. Her arms were disproportionately missing; Her right shoulder had seemingly been blown off, indicated by her charred skin at her neck and collar while her left shoulder remained intact, but more than half of the arm absent. I reached out and touched the bandaged reminance of her left appendage, sending a wave of gut-wrentching grief that shattered me. Hot beads of tears were streaking past my cheeks, and I did everything in my power stay collected. A blanket covered her torso, but where her legs would have protruded up from the blanket was now level with the bed, hinting again at the loss of her limbs.
"Christus-" I choked on my words and my knees went weak. I collasped with my arms around my head, sobbing violently into them.
For a moment, I expected my tears to miraculously revive Fareeha, like they did in the true love stories I grew up reading. But this wasn't a children's book. This was reality.
This was war.
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