Save Him One More Time: Phase 3

Chapter 7- McCree

Mercy. In New Sacramento. He frowned to himself, running his metal fingers through his beard. She'd been killed in that explosion that got Reyes. So he'd heard, anyway. He shrugged, taking a puff from his cigar. Maybe the news was wrong.
"... boss?" Mike was still standing there, arms crossed.
"Get yourself some coffee, Mike." He stood up, grabbing a red poncho off the desk. "I need to think."
He left his office and started walking down the road. He remembered his first encounter with her, after they'd been caught in an explosion and buried under a pile of rubble.
His eyelids seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, but he managed to pry them open after a few tries. All he could see was a blinding white light.
"What happened?" he croaked. His throat burned, it was so dry.
"There was an explosion. Your team was buried under a slab of fallen concrete." An angel walked into view. Panic gripped his chest. Was he dead? What about Genji and Reyes? "Am I dead? Are you an angel?" She touched her halo as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Oh!" She seemed surprised. "No, you're very much alive. My name is Doctor Ziegler. Try to lie still, you're badly hurt."
He ducked out of the way of a passing hovercar, the driver shaking their fist at him.
"Watch where you're going, $#&%!"
He shrugged and raised a finger at the driver. Some people thought they owned the world.
He ended up walking all the way to the edge of the city, lost in his thoughts. He stood there on the side of the road, arms crossed, cigar burning out. Someone stopped. He looked up, hopeful for a ride, but the driver just threw the trash from their last meal at him and continued. He frowned. Do I really look homeless? he thought, picking it up and trying to find a trash bin.
Afterwards, he sighed and flagged down a hovercar, and after a few unsuccessful tries, he managed to hitch a ride to New Sacramento.
"Thank ye kindly," he said, tipping his hat as he got out on the edge of the city. The driver waved as he merged back into the flow of traffic.
Now to find the angel. He guessed he wouldn't have to look far, just find the nearest injured person and ask around till he found her clinic. Which happened much sooner than he expected. He found a kid, couldn't have been older than seven, limping around barefoot.
"What's your name?" he asked, when he finally got the boy's attention.
The boy shrugged.
"Who's your parents? You know where they are?"
Another shrug.
"What happened to your foot? Looks terrible."
The boy sat down and stuck his leg out, pointing to where the original injury must have been.
"I got kinda smushed when the house fell. Mostly just my ankle. Turned purple and then blue and then black."
"Son, that's gangrene. If I was a doctor I'd have to give you a metal foot. You see my arm?" He held out his left arm. "I had to get a metal arm. It's not much fun until after. Still not as fun as a real arm." The boy's lip was quivering and he pulled off his serape.
"Aw, don't cry, son. Here." He laid it out and set the kid on it. "You know what I'm gonna do?" he asked.
"You're gonna chop my foot off," the kid said, a tear dropping down his face.
"No I'm not. See, I know an angel." He paused, and the boy frowned up at him.
"A angel?"
"Yep. An angel. I'm gonna take you to her, and she's gonna fix your foot. She knows how to fix people like you up so they don't need metal feet." He wrapped the red fabric around the kid. "Might be a little while till we get there, though. She moves around a lot, tryin' to find people who need fixing up." He picked up the boy, trying not to mess with the injured foot.
"What's your name, son?"
"Sam."
"I'm Jesse. It'll be a while before we find the angel, though. Try and get comfy."
Sam was asleep less than ten minutes later.

Angela was awoken in the wee hours of the morning by a quiet knock on her door. She answered it, still yawning.
"Hey, Mercy. It's been awhile."
She stopped mid-yawn.
"Jesse McCree!" She reached out to hug him, but he backed up.
"I got someone for you." He stepped inside and set his serape on the table, unwrapping it to reveal a small child who looked as though he was already dead. She put a hand to her mouth.
"Where did you find him?" she said, rummaging around in a drawer.
"Near the edge of the city. His name's Sam. I don't know anything about his folks." He looked around. "I told him you were an angel. Kinda expected to see the halo somewhere around here."
"It's a visor, Jesse. It's too conspicuous. I haven't worn the suit since before I left Egypt."
"Well, that's a pity. How do people know you're Mercy then?"
She shoved several rolls of gauze into his arms.
"All Overwatch activity is illegal. To half the world we are the bad guys." She filled a syringe with a clear liquid from a dark bottle. "I don't want anyone to know who I am. The more people who know, the more people will die because of me." Jesse set the gauze down on the table.
"Now hold up a minute. Are you killing people now? I thought you were a doctor."
She whirled around, hands full of equipment, her face twisted into a grimace. She looked as if she was going to cry.
"He's after me!" She set the syringes and knife down, wiping her eyes on her arm.
"Who's after you?"
Her voice was a hushed whisper.
"Reaper."
Sam chose that moment to wake up.
"Hello, Sam," Angela said, smiling at the boy.
"Are you a angel?" he asked quietly.
"Jesse says I am," she said, looking at McCree, "but I'm just a doctor. I'm going to fix your foot so you can walk again."
"But I already can walk," Sam argued. A thought flickered across his face and he started crying.
"You're gonna chop my foot off."
"No, I'm not. I've seen worse that healed up easily. Your foot will be fine when you wake up in the morning." She slipped a needle into his wrist, emptying the syringe. "Now just think of how much fun it will be to run and walk without your foot hurting." His eyes closed, and she picked his limp body up.
"Get your shawl off the table."
"It's a poncho," Jesse said, tossing it into the corner.
Angela spent hours working over Sam's foot, administering a second dose of anaesthesia halfway through. The sun was shining through the window when she finished, giving Sam a final blast from her staff and watching his eyes flutter open.
"How do you feel?"
He tried to sit up.
"Are you a angel?"
She smiled. "No, I'm a doctor." She helped him stand. "How does your foot feel?"
He looked down at it.
"Do I have a metal foot now?"
"No," she gently touched his leg, showing him the bandages. "You're just so used to it being painful that it's hard to remember walking normally." She sat him down in a chair while she cleaned up her mess, then she got out an egg carton.
"I suppose you two are hungry?" They nodded.