Chapter Text
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It’s just another regular Tuesday afternoon, Angela tried repeating to herself.
Today marked the beginning of her collaborative work with Blackwatch’s new medical officer, Dr Moira O’Deorain, a fact she was not thrilled about, to put it mildly.
So we are affiliating ourselves with the morally corrupt now? She had asked Jack Morrison after she had stormed her superior’s office. She almost felt bad for Jack. Almost, after all, he was supposed to lead them all into the future they all worked and fought to accomplish, and yet he had not been able to stand up to Commander Reyes on this matter.
Angela had rarely been easy to anger in her life; however, it would seem that during her time working with Overwatch, she had somewhat been remedied of that.
Ironic, when it was supposed to be her chance to help people to and through peaceful times.
As she approached the lab where Dr O’Deorain would be waiting, she halted a moment.
Was she willing to compromise her values, her hard work, her integrity for this?
A tired scoff was all she could muster.
It had been made abundantly clear to her what the organisation truly valued when she had tried to argue that they should establish restrictions on the Overwatch medical database as a safeguard.
The database which was built on the backbone of Angela's contributions.
Everything she had, she had poured into the organisation, her life's work; but all would seem inconsequential in comparison to obtaining the results they craved, no matter her objections.
Angela would not be walking the halls of the organisation if it had not been for Jack’s negotiations with the board and subsequent pleading with Angela. She had given in and stayed if only for her friends still needing proper medical care in the field.
In the end, they agreed to restrict Dr O’Deorain’s access as long as she could acquire access in collaborative sessions with the Head of Medical Research.
She could accept these terms or forfeit any restrictions; the call was hers, they had said, but in truth, was there even an alternative?
As she took a deep breath, she straightened her back before opening the door to their assigned lab.
In front of one of the monitors sat a stern looking woman with fiery red hair, her intense gaze piercing into the projections in front of her.
She had made no indication to have noticed that someone else had entered the room, so Angela cleared her throat to make her presence known resulting in Moira looking up from her screen.
Her brows, a slightly darker hue of red, furrowed inquiringly an expectant manner, waiting for the intruder who disrupted her concentration to say something.
Arrogance seems to check out.
Mentally checking it off on the list of characteristics attributed to the notorious researcher, as she moved towards the root cause of her persistent headache.
“Dr O’Deorain, I presume? I'm Dr Angela Ziegler, head of medical research, welcome…”
Angela offered her hand with a polite smile, silently hoping her discomfort wouldn't be visible.
“Yes, Dr Moira O’Deorain, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr Ziegler.”
The tall woman glanced at the hand offered in greeting and decided to ignore its existence; instead, she gestured toward the side table with fresh coffee and some fruit
“I took care of refreshments, so feel free to partake. Now, if you will excuse me, I would love to get back to work.”
Before sitting back down to continue on whatever she had been preoccupied with.
“That is… Thank you.” she trailed off.
Rudeness, check…
Refusing to be ignored, Angela closed in to see what was on the screen, and as she noticed the other woman stiffen by the proximity, the scent of soap and pine met her nose.
“What are you working on?” Angela asked.
Moira took a sharp breath before turning to look at the blonde woman.
“I am reading up on the material finally available to me” Her eyes narrowed
“And since I am only permitted access to data concerning the newest medical research in your presence, doctor, I would prefer not to be bothered by idle chatter.”
Every word meant to antagonise the recipient.
Ah. She knows I'm responsible for restricting her access. Great.
Angela took a grounding deep breath.
Although this somewhat explained the hostility, the situation still required them to be able to work together in a civil manner, and Angela intended for the Irish woman to know that she would not tolerate being spoken to in this manner nor being regarded as a pushover.
“I am going to give you a moment, doctor. In the meantime, I would recommend that you reconsider your tone with me, as it will otherwise be very difficult to continue this collaboration.”
It pleased her that the other was visibly caught off guard by her harsher demeanor, and as she walked towards the table with refreshments, she could feel the heterochromatic eyes pierce her back.
Don't let her get a rise out of you, Angela. Stay in control.
This day needed caffeine, and lots of it.
Pouring a cup, she took a generous sip of it and immediately gagged, as she was met with the most bitter, burnt-like taste she had ever encountered.
“I’d thought you would be able to hold your coffee, Dr Ziegler?” she sneered from her spot with a raised eyebrow.
Angela shot icy daggers back. This was the last straw.
“I usually can, when it's COFFEE and not whatever this is!”
Damn it! She could hear her accent grow heavier with each word, as she was unable to calm down.
“I wonder what could have happened to it, it is after all the same blend from the cafeteria - although… I did put my own twist to it for efficiency's sake.”
she added in a mocking attempt at innocence.
Angela looked at Moira with an incredulous facial expression.
She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks; she never lost her temper, ever, but somehow this one person managed to be the most infuriating and rude individual she had encountered in her life!
Maybe it was this whole situation with the board, but the geneticist made her lose control, and she hated to witness herself succumb to it.
“What in the heavens do you mean, efficiency!? It's coffee, you can just drink another cup if the first one doesn't cut it!”
she threw her hands up in the air out of pure exasperation.
“Oh, and do enlighten me, doctor, what this 'twist' that you talk of, exactly contains?”
An uncomfortable pause filled the room; they both knew what Angela was implying.
Moira cocked an eyebrow before flashing an ambiguous grin.
“ Do you really think I would poison you by the means of coffee, Dr Ziegler? Come now, surely you don't find me that unimaginative.”
“I didn’t m- ” Angela started defensively.
“Spices.” Moira cut her off - catching Angela's gaze, something predatory appeared in the mismatched eyes, her voice dipped to a lower register.
“I would gain nothing from harming you”.
Angela could feel the hairs behind her neck rise.
The room turned entirely silent for what felt like minutes, eyes locked in a silent contest of who would avert their eyes and back down first.
As the seconds went by, Angela couldn't help the flustered self-awareness surface within her.
It felt as if the older woman had completely exposed her in a manner where she felt almost naked, intensifying her burning cheeks, which she could easily attribute to her anger outburst.
Meanwhile, Moira seemed unfazed, pissing Angela off even more; she would not back down from this challenge.
Suddenly, a pager went off, and they broke eye contact - Moira instantly donning an annoyed facial expression as she checked her device.
“Idiots”, she muttered to herself, before beginning to pack up her stuff.
“I will take my leave now. Make sure to reschedule this briefing session at your earliest convenience.”
“Oh, and Angela?” she flashed her canines “It has been interesting.”.
Angela was left alone in the room. Perturbed, annoyed and with a taste of burnt coffee in her mouth.
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“I don't know what to make of her, Jack".
Angela sipped her tea. Jack had been looking at her weirdly when she had declined the usual coffee they had during their morning briefings.
It had been two days, but the bitter taste still lingered.
“Well, maybe she ain't as bad as you feared." Jack tried, earning him a critical stare back from his colleague.
“You know, when you hired me, you said I would call the shots, and I would make the rules, yet here we are…"
She was getting tired of unkept promises.
“I’m aware that you are not happy about the current situation, Angela.
But know that all of us are working towards the same goal. Even the Irish ghoul". He tried with a small smile
“And yet somehow, I have a hard time believing that statement.” A concerned frown matched her disparaging tone.
“Tell me, Commander. How does developing new types of weapons and even having an undercover strike team align with healing and helping those in need of stability and basic survival?“
She shook her head “- and now I am even forced to collaborate with Blackwatch to further their arsenal of how to dispose of people, or just abandon my life's work to discredited scientists.”
The commander sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
“Listen, I get it, you are still angry about the pitch about the biotic rifle… However, I really believe that they’ll save a lot of lives during missions”.
“Save lives, Jack?” She frowned in a flash of anger.
“They will not be saving the people living with the repercussions long after our battles are done. They will not rebuild homes and replace loved ones!”
Angela took a shaky breath before composing herself, hiding her trembling hands in her lap.
“I am angry that this even got a pitch without me knowing anything about it, it is my technology…
However, my disappointment in my friends weighs heavier. Take that however you want to…”
The silence between them was suffocating.
Morrison’s discomfort at being called out was evident, and he averted his eyes as he cleared his throat.
“I won't keep you for much longer, but… Well… there is one more thing in today's brief…”
He paused
“There is going to be a mission next week”.
He looked back at Angela's face with an almost guilty look.
“Mercy is being called to join the strike team”.
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