My Angel

7 - Mess With the Best and You'll Die Like the Rest

Upon arriving back to work, the Doctor began to feel the affects of her restless night. She yawned widely then licked the bitter taste of coffee off her lips as she threw away the empty cup. The caffeine buzzed around her head as she continued towards the dull building that temporarily housed the agents of Talon.

Reaching the doors, she opened them with ease and made her way down the dimly lit hallway. It was deathly silent with the only noise coming from her footsteps. A slight rustling noise  emerged from behind the lanky woman, disrupting the deafening silence. With a small tilt of the head, Dr. O'Deorain examined her surroundings from behind. She watched as a short and rather sturdy silhouette manifested from the darkness of the building's shadows.

"Hola, Tía. How was your lunch," Sombra sung as she crept forward ever so slightly.

"What do you want now," she sighed, annoyed her work would be delayed once again by this calculator.

"I don't like being snitched on, Tía," she made a pouty face as she walked around the concrete  columns that ornamented the building.

"None of these ignorant oafs were going to figure it out for themselves," Dr. O'Deorain scoffed.

"Let me make myself clearer," she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a crumpled note. It had the same delicate handwriting she recognized from before. "This says it's signed by Angela Ziegler."

"Yes, what of it."

"You wouldn't have any current contact with her, would you?"

"I would think it'd be none of your business," her clenched palms began to sweat and she felt a building pressure grow in her chest as the interrogation continued.

"Actually, it might be." Sombra stood up in front of her with a sly grin."Let's say somebody - I don't know who - were to snitch that YOU had contact with a former overwatch agent. I'm not sure they would take that so well."

"That letter is old, why would you make such bold claims without any solid evidence," she crossed her arms firmly and looked down upon the woman.

Sombra responded with a smirk that made Dr. O'Deorain's heart race in fear. What could this thing possibly know.

"I know what your thinking, Tía," she chuckled lightly. "How could I possibly know about your futile attempts to win Señora Angel back over? Well let's just say I have my ways. ¿Entiendes?"

Dr. O'Deorain remained silent, careful to betray no emotion. Her eyes, however, betrayed it all.

"I see I got my point across," she gave a slight nod before walking back towards the shadows. "Your lucky I was able to convince araña you were just mad at me that I messed up your lab. Next time won't be so easy."

Dr. O'Deorain watched as the darkness of Talon Headquarters engulfed Sombra, leaving behind only the crumpled letter in her wake. She picked the letter up and stuffed it back into her pocket.
She walked back to the lab with brows furled in deep anguish as she continued to ponder how Sombra could've possibly gathered any information on her personal life. All the thinking, however, only led to her muttering harsh curses under her breath.

She came upon the two metal doors leading to her lab, and opened them forcefully. As the doors swung shut, she pulled her stained lab coat down from the rusted coat hanger. With a few swift movements she pulled it on over her thin build, and readied herself for the day's work.

****

Dr. Ziegler yawned widely as she finished typing the last few letters to the lab report on her computer. Another productive day at work made her feel accomplished, but a lunch break was long overdue.

Almost as if on cue, her phone began to ring. With a grin, she quickly picked up the phone and listened for that oh-so familiar voice once more.

"Fareeha! I'm so happy to hear from you!" Her heart fluttered as she awaited a response.

"Who?"

The voice echoed throughout Dr. Ziegler's head, instantly shattering all her hopes.

"Dr. Ziegler?" The Irish accented voice continued.

With shaky hands, the doctor ended the call. Her heart continued to pound, but this time it was from panic.

She stayed in that position a few moments longer, trying to regroup herself. Barely even a few moments later, it rang once more. This time, she made sure to check the name, and lucky for her, it was actually Fareeha.

"...... Hello?" She murmured nervously.

"Hey, Angie! How are you?"

Dr. Ziegler sighed in relief. " I'm doing alright, Fareeha. How might you be?"

"I'm doing alright, too. I can't wait to meet you for lunch, though."

She nodded "Ja, ja. Me, too."

"I am running a little late. I hope you don't mind."

"No, no that's quite alright."

"Great, well, I have to catch my bus. I'll see you in a little bit!"

"Good bye, Fareeha."

"Good bye, Angie."

Even though the call ended quickly, Dr. Ziegler continued to stare at her phone, and played the conversation back on repeat in her mind. A warm sensation spread throughout her body as she continued to smile.

****

Dr. O'Deorain muttered under her breath as she put away the phone. Having Dr. Ziegler answer caused her hopes to soar, but they were immediately thrown to the ground once she realized the doctor mistook her for.... for whoever that was. Freena was it? She couldn't remember.

"I'm so happy to hear from you!"

She replayed Dr. Ziegler's words in her head. She sounded so.... happy.

The cold, dead air of the lab ruffled through her hair, and it fell over her cold stare. She was sitting still on a metal bench with her chin resting on her bony hands. Painted on her face was an expression of deep contemplation.

"I'm so happy to hear from you!"

She couldn't get the sickly sweet tone of the medic out of her head. Oddly enough, it felt ... almost... it felt almost nostalgic. Her elated tone triggered pleasant memories of the past.

The smile that followed that train of thought quickly vanished. That tone wasn't for her, it would never be. It was for..... for whoever she mistook the geneticist for. As she continued to ponder through these thoughts, a heavy weight slowly wrapped itself around her. A weight that was invisible to all around, but was nonetheless present to the paralyzed woman.