Angela waited patiently in the small car as Moira finished paying. In the meantime, though, she reflected on the events several years ago that she tried so hard to forget.
Angela let out a wavered sigh.
That's about the time she started drinking, too. It was a nasty habit, really. One she wasn't planning on keeping for so long. It was sort of ironic, too. An alcoholic doctor.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Moira shoved her bicycle into the trunk, and hopped into the driver's seat. Angela watched as she did so, taking note of her right arm. It had a slight gray tone to it, and purplish veins lightly lined the surface. It wasn't as vibrant from when it first happened.
Moira glanced over to see Angela's gaze fixated on her arm. This entranced stare caused the same memories to resurface for her as well, but she didn't want to dwell so much on the past.
The car ride was fairly silent, but it wasn't an awkward sort of silence. Dear Angela fell asleep before it could escalate to that level. Luckily, though, Moira still remembered where her address was; assuming that Angela hadn't moved since she last visited the house.
As Moira made her way down the quiet back roads, she would occasionally glance over to check on the sleeping woman. Her hair was down in a messy tangle and her softly blushed face was pressed up against the door. She wore a soft, yet serious expression that made Moira's heart flip. All she could do was ponder over what she could possibly be dreaming of.
Not too long after, she drove up to the small house that sat quietly at the end of the road. The few trees surrounding it waved to her silently as a breezed passed by.
"Angel," she prodded Angela's side gently, attempting to wake her.
She only shifted slightly.
After a few more failed attempts at waking the sleeping beauty, Moira decided to just carry Angela into the house herself.
Using all of her strength, Moira lifted the slumbering Angela and walked her up to the white wooden door. Even at the age of forty-eight she was still surprisingly able to lift a full grown woman without too much trouble. Though, she did struggle to grasp at the door knob. When she finally got a good grip, Moira was disappointed to find that it was locked.
The now impatient Moira looked around aimlessly as she stood in front of the house with a sleepy woman cradled in her arms. If there was anyone around at the moment, it definitely would've been an interesting series of events to watch unfold.
With great care, Moira groped through Angela's pockets in hopes of finding some sort of house key. As the search continued, her arms grew increasingly fatigued, and she almost set Angela back into the car. After one last aimless grasp, she felt a key-like object in one of Angela's pockets. She pulled it out only to be even further distressed. There was at least five or six keys on the single ring.
"Why do you need so many keys, Angel," Moira muttered to herself as she attempted and failed at putting the first one in the keyhole.
She continued through this process, her arms growing more weary as time passed. Finally, reaching the last key, she gave a short prayer before placing it into the lock. The satisfying click that ensued caused her momentary relief.
Quickly, Moira entered the quaint house, and went straight to the bedroom. She carefully set Angela down on the bed, and flexed her cramped arms. Relief flooded her senses as she continued to do so.
In her moment of rest, she decided to further study her surroundings. Angela's room was eerily similar to how it used to be; the only significant differences being the new set of yellow bedsheets, and the fact that the wall now held more accolades. A good handful of trophies lined the shelves and several newspaper clippings adorned the walls. A few clippings entailed Angela's successes, but most of them were about Overwatch and it's former agents. It seemed as if she was keeping track of where they were.
"But of what use could that possibly be to you, Miss Angela," Moira murmured to herself as she surveyed the wall.
She saw Miss Oxton with some sort of gold medal, Mr. Lindholm with what seemed to be another robot, and even supposed sightings of Commander Morrison. As her eyes trailed through the several articles, a few caught her attention. All the way at the end were clippings of Moira herself. They were from years ago, back when the Blackwatch unit had been exposed. On each one of her photos, however, the face was violently scribbled over.
"Oh, Angel..." She whispered, softly touching her hand against the articles.
Moira wasn't exactly sure how she came about the conclusion, but now she guessed why Angela held onto these wrinkled strips of paper.
The doctor was lonely.
She sat back down on the bed and gently caressed the slumbering woman's cheek. It must've so difficult having to leave all the others behind. Overwatch was her world; it emulated everything she stood for, and now, with it gone, she was gradually disappearing as well.
Moira's heart ached for the young woman. Her dreams had been taken from her just as fast as she had gotten them, while her own were just beginning to blossom. Sure she had countless setbacks, but now she was finally in an environment that supported even her wildest experiments.
Moira frowned as she reflected on her decisions. All of her achievements were gained through methods that some individuals would describe as 'unethical'. To get to the position she was in today, Moira had to layer on lie after lie, deceiving even the ones that she considered good friends. She herself helped aide in the downfall of Blackwatch.
If she, a compulsive liar and traitor, deserved a comfortable life and a fulfilling career, surely Angela deserved something ten times as great. Some emotional stability at the very least.
Her stubbornness to stick by her moral compass, although annoying at times, shaped her into the kind and loving woman that she knows. Of course, most of their more recent interactions led in Angela spewing curses at Moira, but that was to be expected. The geneticist had pushed this woman to the very limits of her being, took advantage of her kind heart, and did nothing but crush it further. Even the softest soul would be repulsed by her presence after that sort of treatment.
As she thought further on the matter, Moira gently sat herself on the bedside. She reached down to the sleeping Angel's face, and twirled her golden tendrils between her own bony fingers.
She had been so selfish before. She was clearly undeserving of this woman's affection and yet, she continued to pursue her. Perhaps it was time to put her own feelings aside, and let the doctor finally heal herself.
With a gentle touch, Moira parted the sleeping beauty's hair and placed a small kiss on her temple. She whispered a soft "good bye" before ultimately deciding to leave. As she attempted to do so, however, a soft tug at the waist instructed her otherwise.
"Please stay..." A faint murmur came from behind.
Moira turned toward Angela, who's face was now a less violent shade of pink. Her deep blue eyes swelled pitifully, but it was more than enough to alter Moira's decision.
Perhaps it was best to stay with her for a little while longer. She was clearly still being affected by the alcohol, and would need someone to stick by her until it fades away.
Even though she followed through with this decision, Moira couldn't help, but feel a twinge of guilt. She really shouldn't be staying with Angela so long, it would only make it harder for the both of them to say good bye in the end.
YOU ARE READING
My Angel
Fanfiction| #1 IN MOICY | For 8 long years after the disbanding of Overwatch, these former colleagues and lovers part ways and live their life completely independent of each other. Dr. Ziegler is now one of the lead researchers and surgeon of the Switzerland...
