She was petrified. She knew better. She was always the cautious one. How could she have let this happen? She used every precaution, every measure necessary. She knew human anatomy better than anyone else too. And yet...
Her eyes fell down to the package in her hand. Every part of her prayed that she was wrong. That this was all just her nerves. That she was getting ahead of herself. That she was reading into her body's signs wrong. She'd been stressed to hell for weeks. Maybe this was just her body's way of reacting, of coping.
But then there was a part of her that couldn't believe this was happening, and in the good way. The other half of her was thrilled. Beyond ecstatic. To think, this would be the start of a new chapter in her life. In their life!
That thinking continued until harsh realization set in. Neither were ready. And he had made it painfully clear that he wasn't looking to retire anytime soon. Not to mention, she didn't want to give up her desk or her esteemed title.
No, they'd come too far to quit now. To quit over something so foolish. So... so avoidable.
But she was getting ahead of herself. Again, perhaps it was just stress.
Hands trembling, she tore into the box. From there, she removed the protective wrapper. Normally, she was more neat and organized but not today. Fear plagued her again. She dropped the wrapper and didn't care that it looked horrid against the soft creamy brown tiles in her bathroom.
Hands trembling, she followed the directions on the box.
She held her breath. She slammed her eyes shut. She felt her body tingle as the cool bathroom air wrapped around her.
A prayer was sent to the heavens above. Please, please don't let this be real.
Her eyes shifted down to the tool in her hand.
There were two lines.
The device dropped from her hand. It rattled against the floor.
Her skin paled and her stomach turned over. She felt numb. Cold. A high pitched ring consumed her mind, making it hard to think, to rationalize.
This... this was happening.
No. She grabbed another box. Tore that one open and tried again. It could have been wrong. These things weren't perfect! They always warned of false readings! Perhaps this was the case! There was still hope.
Again, she held her breath and counted to ten. When her eyes fell back on the stick, her breathing broke. She started to breath heavily, approaching the danger zone known as hyperventilating. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't control herself.
Hands shaking violently, she pulled her head into her knees. That's when her sobbing began.
She was petrified and she had absolutely no idea what to say or what to do. And she was alone. Alone in her bathroom with a mess on the floor and tears in her eyes.
Was this the end? Or would it be the beginning? She feared the future. She feared his reaction.
I've got nothing left to say so I'll take my coat and I'll be on my way...
"Why do you keep pushing me away," his venomous tone was quick to open up wounds and ignite a fire. "Are you seeing someone else!?"
She scuffed, absolutely furious that he would even accuse her of such things. "Well at least I'm trying," she hissed back. "When was the last time you did something for me? Huh, huh?!" Her brows fell flat against her eyes. "When was the last time you actually showed you cared! That you trusted me! You said you'd have my back," she argued. "You said you'd have it but it looks like it's only for your to stab it!"
His face contoured and he looked like Reyes when he didn't have his cup of coffee. "What did you just say to me," his words were slow, deliberate. But you could tell that they were full of malice, of hate. She'd crossed a line. A line that neither of them would dare step back behind.
"You heard me," she spat while holding herself. "You can more about your soldiers than me." Snapping her face to the side, she muttered. "You always have."
"You have got to be fucking shitting me," he scoffed. "Me, putting my men above you? Do you even hear yourself! ME!" his hands slammed into his chest hard enough that a low dull thud could be hear, "Putting my men above you! That's fucking bullshit and you know it, Angela!"
"I wouldn't be saying it if it weren't true," she arched her neck much like a snake getting ready to bite.
"Oh because you're so perfect," his sarcasm was blatantly evident. "Oh look at me, I'm Doctor Ziegler. Doctor ANGEL Ziegler. God's perfect woman. The only woman on this whole damn planet that can't do anything wrong." The words just rolled off his tongue. Clearly he'd been holding in some pent-up feelings of her.
"You think I'm perfect," she shifted forward, as if she were tempted to smack him. Instead, she smacked her chest and puffed up her cheeks. "You think I'm perfect! WELL HELLO," she bellowed, "THAT'S THE FUCKING PROBLEM!" Her hands tore into her blonde locks, "I'm far from perfect. I've never admitted to being perfect, but you-" she shook her finger at him, "You sure like to play me up to be this perfect little angel. WELL NEWS FLASH, JACKASS," her tongue danced across her lips as spit flew from her hostile words, "I'M NOT FUCKING PERFECT!"
"FINALLY," he leaned forward, the steam of his rage noticeable against her skin, "something we can agree on." Snorting, he pulled himself back and reached for his coat.
"Just where the hell do you think you're going," she demanded.
"Where's it look, Angela." His cold, heartless stare met her vile, traitorous eyes. "Clearly this isn't going to work."
"Oh really," she snapped. "Because you can't trust me? News flash, that's on you. I'v-"
"You've what?" Jack interrupted. "Go on. Tell me. You've done nothing wrong? Puh-lease! You won't talk to me Angela. You're always sneaking off to meet with someone. Late phone calls in the night. Private texts? Hell, you even locked your phone!"
The way he looked at her made her sink. It made her realize that perhaps this was all her fault. That if she had just been honest. If she had told him everything-everything from the beginning...
"Jack, I-" her eyes betrayed her. Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Jack, please. I'm sorry."
"Sorry's not going to work this time," his tone deflated. This was now the voice of a broken man. Someone who knew that there was no turning back from this point. From this moment. That everything they had-it was going to be a distant memory.
"I-" he started but found it hard to speak. His chest felt tight and his knees weak. "I, I can't be with someone who lies to me. I never thought we would amount to compromising and deceit. I'm going to walk away. I... I can't do this. I told you I can deal with a lot of shit. But lying? Compromising? Making these one-sided things telling me 'I'll tell you later' only to never tell me. I... I can't do that. I tried."
Putting on his coat, he turned for the door. "I'm sorry Angela. But maybe we were never really meant to be. I'm sure you can find someone else."
He left before she could even beg for him to stay. In fact, he left so quickly and spoke so honestly that she never had a chance to explain herself. To tell him everything.
With the slamming of the door, she slumped to the ground. The weight of the world pressed down on her and forced her into the floor. Not a second after his footsteps faded, she broke into tears. Breathing ragged and heart heavy, she remained against the hardwood floors until god only knows when. And only once did she mutter, "I never should have kept this from you..."
Gonna walk away with half of me. We were never really meant to be...
It was hard to feel anything at this point and the weather wasn't helping. Honestly, he should have taken his Jeep. He should have driven to HQ but he knew better. To drive in this state? Oi, someone would have ended up dead, and it wouldn't have been just him.
Now he knew that breaking up was never easy, but for the first time in a long he was hurt. Really hurt. Angela was his everything. His whole world. And to know that from here on out, it was just him... well, it made life unbearable.
He toyed with doing something foolish, like walking out into traffic. But he had men, good soldiers, that still needed him. He had a job. He had the world to protect. To risk his life over a woman, why it was downright foolish.
But she wasn't just a woman. She was his everything.
Jack felt as if he walked away with just half of himself. He didn't feel whole. Knew he could and would never feel whole. He'd always just be half a man now. A broken man whose heart was ripped out and stomped on by the perfect woman.
I'm gonna walk away with nothing else but a ghost of a memory...
The rain pelted his face. He was numb to life and the world around him. He missed all the obvious signs. He was blinded by what transpired hours before.
All he could do was think about her. About those happy memories. Of the time he first saw her and how he made a fool of himself. The way her lips felt when they shared her first kiss (and the way she bashfully buried herself into his chest as he laughed at how adorable she was). The first time they made love beneath the sheets and how she accidentally fell off the bed and they opted to sleep on the floor because 'it was safer.' And all those other times where they shared moments of their lives together. The books they started. The pictures they took. How she's confessed her fears and he admitted his guilt.
They were the perfect team. They always had each other's back. They could support one another in ways no one else could. She knew how to prop him up and make him look tall. He knew how to cross her Ts and dot her Is to make her look perfect.
They were meant for one another. Everyone knew it.
It was a good facade.
They fooled the world. Hell, they fooled themselves...
Now I find myself in pieces on the floor with my back against the wall. I know there ain't no lower places left for me to fall...
Unable to pull herself together, she just laid there on the floor. She did eventually opt to turn on the radio for the stark silence tormented her. It brought her back to those darker days. The days when the bombs fell and the omnics attacked. The day her parents were ripped away from her and she was left a bloody orphan in the streets.
Jack... Jack had promised that he'd never let her face the world, especially war, alone again. And yet, there he went. Right out her front door and with no desire to return.
Hands ripped into the lithe tissue between her fingers, she sniffed hard. No matter what she tried to do, she couldn't stop crying.
If only she had told him! If only he kn-
"We interrupt this broadcast to announce a mandatory evacuation of the lower downtown area. Bombs have been found at the Overwatch Headquarters. I repeat, an evacuation is in place. Please calmly leave the area and vacate the town. We interrupt this broadcast to announce a mandatory evacuation of the lower downtown area. Bombs have been found at the Overwatch He-"
Her heart stopped.
Her skin turned ghostly white.
Whatever strength she had left, fled.
But she forced herself together. She ripped herself off the floor. In no time, she was texting Jack: "Bombs at HQ! Please tell me you'r-"
Her building shook. The rumble sent some of her knickknacks falling. A framed photograph fell off the wall and shattered into a million pieces.
Without a second's thought, she grabbed her keys and bolted. If one bomb went off, it meant more were coming. She had to make sure he was all right. She stole his Jeep and sped off toward danger with only one thing on her mind-him.
He had to be okay. He had to be alive.
She had to tell him. He had to know.
If only she had realized the photo that had fallen... The one of her and Jack. It was now broken and in pieces across her hardwood floor...
You've got it all. I'm incomplete...
"Move," she barked as she jumped from the Jeep. Men in black suits tried to keep her back. "I'm Doctor Ziegler, first responder. Let me pass!"
The men toyed with letting her in. They originally told her no.
"You don't understand!" The tears rolled down her cheeks. "He's in there! I have to save him!"
"Ma'am, there's still another bomb in there. We can't let you in."
"No," she folded at the knees and fell against the debris. "No. No, no, no. I have to get in there! I have to find him!"
Thankfully, a friendly face appeared from the crowd. "She's clean, boys. Let her in." A briefcase was flung at her. "As you know, I was supposed to take this to New York to get it fixed but... well, you need it more than they do. Go get him, Mercy."
She didn't care that the world was watching. She stripped down and put on the Valkyrie Suit. If the news happened to broadcast her underwear, that would be on them. She was here to save a life, his life, not flaunt her toned curves and beautiful body.
The friendly face approached her. "I saw him enter as I was leaving. I heard him mutter something about going up. Check the elevators."
She nodded, thankful for the intel.
"Hey," a hand grabbed her arm. "Just... be care. Comm channel 7 for updates."
She pressed a button a her ear while nodding. "Thank you."
"Ziegler," the man spoke, "this isn't your fault. If you can't s-"
She vanished. Into the rubble she went.
Never mind about the regrets that we've made nor the memories which cut me like a blade...
"JACK," she screamed into the air that was thick with dust, debris, smoke, and what smelled like burnt flesh. "JACK," she made her way toward the elevators located on the back of the building. Over charred corpses she went, checking each one to confirm it wasn't him.
There were so many bodies. Whoever planted the bombs knew the building pretty well. The damage was astronomical. She'd be lucky if she could really find anything in this mess.
The walls around her groaned, weakened by the explosion. Wires and cores snapped and sparked. Rubble shifted and cries could be heard from all around.
The smoke was still settling, which made visibility piss-pour. She was navigating based on pattern. She'd walked these halls too many times to count.
That's when it hit her. Jack never took the elevator. He prided himself on taking the stairs. Said it was like a free excuse to exercise and train. If she wanted to find him, she needed to think like him. And she knew him better than anyone else. After all she was-
"JACK!" she screamed into the blackness. Soot marred her suit, tainting its once brilliant white color to a dulled gray. Even her hair lost it luster. Everything about her lost its angelic glow. Dark times turned even the most beautiful of things into ash.
"JACCCCKKKKKK!" Her voice cracked as she screamed at the top of her lungs. He had to be in here. He had to be! Though truthfully, she prayed she was wrong. That she didn't know him at a-
"A-Angel?" a voice so weak she almost couldn't hear it over the smoldering flames.
"Jack," her panicked voice called back. "Where are you?" She ran her hands nervously through her hair while holding desperately onto hope. "Speak to me, hun, where are you?"
"H-h," his voice was alarming. It was so weak, pathetic. Something must have been pressing against his chest to make him this winded.
That's when she found him. She finally found him.
"Jack," she flew to his side but was quick to notice a part of the stairway was crushing his chest. "Jack," the tears flowed down her cheeks. "It's okay, I'm here. I'll-"
His hand pulled up from the gray rocks. "W-why? W-why r-run t-t-to a b-bomb? E-e-evac-" it pained him to talk.
"Because you're here," she cooed while holding onto his hand. She pressed the speaker on her suit. "I found him. He's by the stairs. In critical condition. I'll need help moving the stairs off him." She turned back to him. "Bomb or not, I won't leave you in the dust and darkness. I promised I'd be by your side through thick or thin."
His weak, fading smile broke her heart.
"Jack," she felt his pulse fading. And not having a biotic field or her staff, she couldn't do a damn thing to save him. "Jack, no. Don't, Jack. Jack," she threw herself against the part of him that wasn't beneath the rubble. "Please, no. You can't leave me. I-I have to tell you-"
"A-Angel," his hand tried to squeeze hers but couldn't. "I-I'm sorry. Y-y-you kn-now I l-love y-y-"
"Shhh," she brushed back his bloody blonde hair. "Don't waste your breath telling me what I already know. Jack," her trembling hand curled around his face. "The reason... the reason for the meetings. The late night calls. The lies... The secrets."
His eyes looked so gray against his paling skin.
"Jack, I'm-" she bit her lip. "I'm pregnant."
At this point, he'd wasted too much energy trying to talk. So he opted for a weak, side smile.
"I know," she could feel his emotions, "I should have told you. But I... I was scared. You... you love your job. You earned your title. And I... I didn't want a baby-me-to take that dream away from you."
"No," he broke out into a fit of coughs. And those coughs resulted him him spitting up blood. "No, Angel." He found the strength to speak without stuttering. "Angel," for a moment, she felt him squeeze her hand, "you were my dream."
And then his hand went limp. His eyes glazed over. His heart stopped beating.
"Jack," she tried slapping. "Jack, no," she wanted to start compressions but the rock was still in the way. She could hear people running toward them. "Jack," she slapped him again. "Jack you were my dream too! But you can't leave me. You have to wake up! Jack! JACK!"
Everything from there on our was a blur. Hearing fading and vision a blur, she lost whatever strength she had left. And after spending that afternoon crying, she had no more tears left to shed. Her body was too weak to produce more. So instead, she sat there beside his lifeless body and stared into the grayness that surrounded her.
War had, once again, taken everything from her.
War had left her feeling broken.
Feeling like she was just half the woman she used to be...
Four years later...
"Mommy," his cold nose pressed against her forearm. "Can you read me this one?" He plopped a book in her lap.
"The Adventures of Skippy?" she looked at it long and hard. She hadn't seen that book since the day she and Jack made it. It was one of their 'projects.'
"Yea," the boy with blonde hair and large blue eyes crawled up onto the couch with her. "It's my favorite." He pushed his butt into the cushions and laughed.
"W-what's your favorite part?" she asked while turning to the first page.
"The part where Skippy poops on daddy's head," he giggled.
"I had a feeling you'd say that." Leaning over, she placed a kiss on his rounded nose. "That was daddy's least favorite part, by the way."
"Teeheehee," the boy laughed.
"What?" Angela pulled away from him. "Do you want your kitty, Doctor Jones, to poopy on your head?"
"Ewwww no! Mommy said poopy!" he giggled while holding his lips. "Mommy said poopy!"
She rolled her eyes before diving across the couch to snatch up her precious only child. She started snacking on his cheeks while purring. "Mmmm, you're so delicious! Mommy's going to eat you up!"
"Mommy," his adorable laughter melted her heart. "Mommy stoppp! You're making me all squishy!"
Noses nuzzling against one another, she graced him with a kiss. "Jack," she curled her hand around his cheek, "you know I love you. Right?"
Bashfully, he nodded. "Yes, mommy. I know both you and daddy love me very much."
Wiggling off the couch, he hopped, skipped, and flopped his way over to a picture. Crawling back with it, he plopped it on the couch beside them. "Okay, now you can read. Daddy is here. He likes this story too."