Her nights were becoming routine. Soldier 76 kept telling himself one of these evenings he would grow a pair and actually confess his attraction to her.

No, scratch that. Mercy deserved more than that. If he was good, he would wait for her to get out on the balcony, face crestfallen and covered in tears, and give into that long overdue kiss. The sexual tension they shared back then was starting to grow within him. He wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her any longer.

Setting his alarm for 10 minutes before 2:00AM, Soldier 76 wore a brief smile on his face. Tonight was the night. When she got to the balcony, he would greet her with the romance she deserved.

Beep beep beep, beep beep beep. The three little chirps went off and he sprung from his bed. His hand went for his mask but he waved it off. "Would be hard to kiss her with that on," he joked. Besides, she had to see that he, Jack Morrison, was alive.

He shuddered. What if he was reading into this all wrong. What if she hated him?

No, he didn't self-doubt. He was the goddamn golden boy. He was positive Mercy had to have some sort of crush on him.

Stepping from his room, he moved silently to the balcony. Hiding in the shadows, he waited for her to join him.

Only, she didn't come.

His brows furrowed. Was she finally resting well? Was her emotional rollercoaster over? Had he missed his chance?

"JACCCCCCK!"

His name rang out in a way that caused a shiver to run down his spine. It was a blood-curdling scream. The kind of scream a woman would utter before she was brutally murd-

His eyes went wide.

Making a quick pitstop to his room, he grabbed his gear before barreling down the hall. Foot making contact with the wooden door, he kicked it in. Splinters falling everywhere as that glowing red visor became the first thing they saw.

A few more screams followed as the women didn't expect a man to come crashing in.

"Where is she," he demanded in a no-bullshit mood.

Tracer rubbed her eyes, still trying to wrap her head around what happened. Mercy's bed was right next to hers after all.

Pharah was scanning the open window. "I heard something before she screamed. I think we-" her brows furrowed. "Where did he?"

McCree was standing in the door next. Soon accompanied by Winston and Junkrat.

"Mercy," Tracer pouted. "She's been taken."

McCree, Winston, and Junkrat looked between themselves. "But she was..."

"Don't ask how," Tracer growled. "She's just gone!"

Pharah started putting on her gear but Winston immediately put an end to that. "No, we need to figure out what happened. This could be a trap."

"Should have told that to 76," grumbled while rubbing her eyes. "He was in here the second she screamed. And now he's gone."

As the crew continued to bicker back and forth about what might have happened, Soldier 76 was racing up and down the nearby streets. Unlike the others, he knew they weren't attacked. He was literally standing outside. If a sniper or assassin wanted to kill someone, it would have been him. Odds were, Mercy was reliving a nightmare. She was likely running blindly thought the crumbling streets. Her scream was the same scream he heard the day he supposedly died. It was the call of a woman who had lost her everything.

Slowing his pace to a near-jog, he eventually came to a halt. His trail was cold. He was just guessing on things now. How could he find her? Where would she go?

It couldn't have been far, he surmised. She didn't have her wings. That and she was barefoot.

The window! It was open. They weren't allowed to sleep with the windows open for fear of sniper fire! She likely ran out that. Like she was running from an explosion. That meant his hunch was right. That she ought to be around here. He just had to figure out which-

Not too far off, the sound he feared most gripped his ears. It was the sound of men laughing manically and the muffled pleading of a woman. In her rather scantily clad lingerie, Mercy was an easy mark for any men with ill-intentions that wandered the street looking for a bite to eat.

Wincing, he grit his teeth before taking off in a dead sprint down the back alley. Images spammed his mind, much like those annoying 90s popups. Each flashing image more heart-wrenching then before.

Feet flying faster than they had ever flown before, he finally reached that corner. Sucking in his breath, he prayed for the best but knew to expect the worst.

The soles of his shoes allowed him to skid gracefully into the opening between the looming, depreciated buildings. The second he appeared in the nape between the buildings, the clouds above parted to allow the moon's silver rays to reflect off his tactical visor and silver hair.

He looked good. Damn good. Just like the hero Angela used to gush about.

Gun trained on the hunched over bodies before him, he found her. Angela. Her body was pinned against a dumpster, an arch to her back as large tears cascaded down her face. Her arms were pulled behind her, legs spread apart. Silk pajamas ruffled and on the brink of falling off. Small cuts and scraps littered her arms, elbows, and legs. There was a raw spot on her cheek and chin that looked like it burned like the fire of hell.

Drinking in the grotesque sight before him, Soldier 76 found his blood boiling. No one but he could dare lay a finger on his precious Angela. To defile her was to defile an angel, his angel.

Without a second's thought, the ring of bullets deafened the air. Return fire followed, though Soldier 76 was no novice in this game. Rolling behind a crate, he took the makeshift cover for granted. Popping in a new clip, he rolled back into the crossfire. Only, this time, his visor glowed that ominous red.

"Tactical visor engaged," he quipped in his usual well-rehearsed tone.

Moments later, the spray of bullets and blood ended. Stark silence lingered in the air as did that all too familiar yet never favorable scent of death.

Scanning over the mangled bodies, he finally pulled his gaze over to the grieving woman who's back now rested up against the dumpster. She was defeated. Broken. A look of sheer agony glazed over her eyes. She felt remorse. She felt guilt. She felt lost, alone, afraid.

His shoe squeaked against the pavement as he took his first step toward her. At the noise, her body flinched, which caused him to hasten his steps so he wouldn't make her suffer any longer.

Soldier 76 dropped to his knees, squatting and eyeing her. She looked beat to hell but, but somewhere in those lost bluebell eyes was a flicker of hope. She was thankful and she was probably reliving that first moment when they met.

"Angela," he whispered though he wasn't sure why.

Instantly, her hand rose up as if to tell him to stop. "I," she sniffled while running her arm across her face, "I'm sorry I caused yo-" her eyes looked up. She was pleading him not to interrupt her. "I miss him," she admitted; the words came like vomit. Out of nowhere and unexpected. "I thought I could do this. I thought maybe rejoining Overwatch would help me move on. It didn't. If anything, it just made matters worse."

She paused to catch her breath. To steady her aching heart.

Her sad azure eyes locked with his, which caused Soldier 76's heart to sink. He couldn't stand seeing her like this. It tore him to pieces. Angie deserved better. He never should have put her through this hell. He should have just come forward. Come clean. He had his chance days ago and he missed it. Now he was kicking his ass for being the dick Reyes always said he was.

"I lost him," she muttered though repeated it again. "I lost him. And I never had a chance to tell him how I felt. I thought it would be easy. Moving on. But," her brows furrowed, she was about to step out of her character, "but damn it all to fucking hell-"

Yes, she was still the same Angela, always wearing that cute little wrinkle on her nose when she was about to say something she didn't like. Ah, he could never get over that. She was precious, too precious.

"I loved him."

Soldier 76 kept his eyes locked on her. They seemed to fade and zone, hallowed over by fear. Regret. Who, he wanted to ask. But deep down, he knew who.

"Jack," her voice cracked before her body curled up on itself again. "I lost my Jack. My hero." She buried her tears in her hands, refusing to look up again. The more she cried, the more ragged her breathing became. She was working herself up. On the brink of hyperventilating.

"Angela," he was going to kill himself later for saying this but, "heroes never die."

Yup. He couldn't believe he just uttered such a cheesy line. But it was there thing. He was awkward. She was gorgeous. He didn't know how to talk to her. Hell, he never did. It's why he never asked her out so long ago.

Slowly, he peeled back the mask that kept his identity from the world. As he did so, he saw Angela pan her gaze from his chest up to his lips. Then, finally his eyes.

Her lips pursed as her eyes tried to register just what was before her. For a moment, she looked happy. No, behind happy. This was magic. There was a glisten and glow to her sapphire orbs. Her face was like that of a bride on her wedding day, glowing with bliss.

Angela's hand reached across the space between them but stopped when she took hold of the scars that ran along his face. Pulling that hand back, she quivered her lip before turning her head to the side. The look of hope faded. Instantly, her skin paled and her eyes fell a dull gray color. "I'm dreaming," she whispered. She knew she had been lacking sleep, proper nutrition, and after this scare...well, her wits.

"Angie," Jack cooed while gracing her cheek with his no longer gloved hand, "it's me. I'm right here. I haven't left you."

His words fell on deaf ears, as indicated by the sudden fall forward. She landed against his chest, body completely exhausted. And if he really listened, he could hear her faint coo-like snoozing. She sounded just like a kitten.

"The one time I try to be romantic and you fall asleep on me," he chided while rolling his eyes. "Whoever said heroes get the babes clearly has no idea what they're talking about." He pouted thought quickly grew a smirk. He knew Angela loved her romantic revelations and reveals. Too bad she wouldn't remember this one. Oh well, at least she was safe. At least they were together.

Scooping her into his arms, Jack didn't even bother reapplying his facial apparatus. He was more concerned about getting his blonde beauty into bed and making sure she was all right.

When he finally arrived back at their bunker, he was met with the panicked faces of their friends. They had finally figured out that Mercy left on her own accord; that there was no kidnapping. That her gripping fear drove her from the room and to the streets.

At first, they paid no attention to the maskless Soldier 76. They were all worried about their Mercy, their beloved medic. They hadn't realized just how much pain she was enduring when she decided to rejoin Overwatch. They felt guilty, like they should have known she would have grieved over Jack's death on the day of his funeral's anniversary. Today.

Refusing to let anyone take her from his arms, Winston finally caught that familiar face in his eyes.

"I've done enough damage," Jack quipped before pushing past the awestruck, mouth ajar faces of their friends. When his back was finally to them, he added one last comment. "It's good to be back."

Pushing open his door, he vanished into the dark room. He didn't bother turning on the lights; he knew his way around. Making a bee-line for the bed, he laid his sleeping partner on his bed. Walking away, he grabbed a towel and dampened it before patting her arms and cheek (thought if he had turned the lights on he would have learned it was her stomach and nose he was cleaning up). It wasn't perfect (namely because he was guessing in the dark now), but it would do.

Tugging off his shoes then jacket, he crawled onto the bed beside her. Jack refused to let her out of his sights. She would stay beside him until he was ready to let her go. And, from how things were playing out, he highly doubted that day would ever come.

"I'm home," he whispered while brushing back her golden fringe. "And I don't plan on leaving your side."

Although he couldn't see it, he knew Angela was smiling. Her soldier had returned.