Strong Like You - Male!Reader X Zarya

1 - The Rounds

You give a deep sigh, spinning from side to side on your chair. While it's certainly more exciting than your previous job, being a medical officer for a secret organization like Overwatch wasn't all fun and games. There was a lot of downtime while you waited for agents to come back from their missions, during which time you maintained the medical bay and occasionally assisted the upper management in their little projects. Not that you were going to complain; getting an opportunity to work under a living legend like Mercy was a dream come true. You shuffle through the paperwork on your white desk, twiddling a pen in your other hand. Last week Tracer had come down with a bad illness, it was tough getting the woman to sit in place for long enough to investigate. A thorough check later and she was knocked out for a fortnight. She wasn't pleased, neither were you, because with it came piles and piles of paperwork to manage.

Most of the agents had the kindness to be enhanced in some way via nano-technology. However a select few were not, forcing some prolonged stays under your supervision while they healed. Thankfully none of them had bad attitudes about it, unlike that Soldier 76 guy who came in once a month ago; confrontational from the word go and not interested in getting help.

Today was the day that the strike team would be finishing up in London, and hopefully coming back home in one piece. You check your watch. There's still a few hours before they're scheduled to return, and it's about time for you to make a round through the ward and see if anybody needs something. One thing you were tired of was the colour white, white walls, white uniforms, white furniture, you suppose it does help the cleaners find dirt though.

You push open the white doors and stroll out into the ward. A simple room, with a nice view of the ocean, rows of beds run down either side with drawn curtains for the patient's privacy. Right now you're working with three people, a private from Tracer's team, a major who nearly lost an eye about two months ago, and Tracer herself, who's moved out of the ward and back into her own quarters.

You pull back the curtain to one of the beds, revealing the major. Some nasty scar tissue was running across the left side of his face, thankfully missing his eye. A month ago he was under the knife for some reconstructive surgery and a skin graft. He's looking much better now, but it'll certainly attract the attention of the newbies. You have absolutely no idea how it happened from the brief and muddled description he'd given you. He placed his e-book down onto the bed and rolled over to face you. He was a sharp looking man with dark hair.

"Mornin' Doc," he grumbled.

"Good morning Major, just checking up on you."

"I'm good," he pointed to his face, "well, except this whole thing I've got going on."

"It'll look much better once the swelling has gone down. That skin graft is some fine work."

"Didn't you do it?"

"I sat in and helped with anaesthesia, it was mostly Doctor Morris. We're just about ready to give you a clean bill and send you back to your room. We're waiting on the deep brain scan to see if any physical damage was done to your brain."

"I hope not."

"I wouldn't worry about it, from what you've told us, the impact was energy based, unless you cracked your head on the ground real hard I wouldn't worry."

"I am one lucky son of a gun huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Try to keep the rest of your face intact."

"I will."

"Anyway, timeline is DBS, report, and I'll have to talk with Mercy about getting a discharge for you. I'd say about... two days at the most."

"Alright, sounds good."

"Nothing else you need?"

"I'm all fine and dandy over here."

With a nod you backed away, the Major pulling back the curtain. The next silhouette was two beds down, the private from Tracer's little squad. Unlike the Major the Private had actually concussed himself on a mission, causing him to vomit and collapse in the hangar. He's been with you for three days now, and is getting close to a discharge.

You pulled away the curtain to find him face down on his pillow.

"Rise and shine?" you asked, prodding his back. He groaned and rolled over, bleary eyed and evidently not having slept well.

"Sorry Doctor. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night."

"That's... concerning. How come?"

"You know, headache."

"Well on the scale from mild irritation to sledgehammer, how bad was it?"

"Uh. About in-between I guess."

You scribble down some notes on your clipboard, maybe you'd have to extend his stay if this continued. A concussion would mean he might have trouble sleeping too.

"Well that's an issue. I'm waiting on a full scan for you too."

"How bad is it?"

"Vomiting, headache and trouble sleeping. Pretty bad. It might take a few weeks to recover in the worst case."

"And the best?"

"A few days. There really isn't much I can do about a head injury like this. I mean, nano-technology can do some amazing things, but it can't repair damage to something as complicated as the brain. We're just going to have to wait and see how things develop."

"Right. I don't feel much up to getting out of bed anyway."

"Good, because the only thing I can prescribe is bed-rest. Do you need anything before I head back?"

He vocalized a negative, before flopping back onto his pillow. Closing the curtains for him, you head back to the office. That didn't take nearly as long as you thought it would.

"Saviour to the hangar please, Saviour to the hangar!"

You groan, Mercy thought it would be "cute" to give everybody codenames. Obviously everybody in Overwatch had them, but your department was the only one where the boss had individually gone through and named each of you. You had the dubious honour of being named "Saviour." Maybe it was an ego thing.

Aside from that, being called to the hangar meant one of two things, the strike team was back early and somebody was dying in the carrier right now, or some idiot had gotten his arm trapped somewhere it shouldn't and they needed you to bring the butter from the kitchen.

You secretly hoped it was the second.