docholligay:

Full overwatch universe is here! 

“May I buy you a drink?” Pharah slid onto the stool beside Tracer in the hotel bar, gingerly adjusting the sling around her shoulder.

“You can bloody well fuck off, is what you can do.” She wasn’t sure she felt as angry as she sounded–sometimes, for Tracer, when the emotions were strong, sadness and fear and anger all got bound up.

“I deserve that.” She stared forward to the back of the bar, as Tracer stirred her gin and tonic.

“Can I get you something?” The bartender looked at her, hoping she would order so he could back to pointedly avoiding the two of them.

Pharah nodded. “A Labatt, would be fine, thank you.”

“S’not a beer,” Tracer stared into a drink, “it’s a facsimile of a sham of a beer, it is.”

“It suits me fine.”

“Lots of things suit you fine, that aren’t fine, in anyone else’s mind.”

They sat there silently for several minutes, the buzz of the hockey game humming joylessly above them, the drink like ash in their mouths, both wanting desperately to say something, both standing on the precipice, just trying to take the courage and the humility to take that last step.

Pharah tried to crack a smile. “I haven’t seen you this quiet since McCree shot you. It is offputting.”

“Bet you wish ‘e’d ‘ave finished the job.I go back to England Tuesday.” She took another sip of her drink. “The RAF said they’d ‘ave me.” She tossed her Overwatch badge onto the bar. “There. You got what it is you came for, no need to darken me doorway.” She took a deeper breath than she intended, and closed her eyes against the pain of it.

Pharah turned her badge over in her free hand. “I did not come for this.” She slid it back toward Tracer. “It is not mine to take. Overwatch is as much yours, as it is mine.”

Tracer looked away from Pharah, staring very hard at a fascinating beer advertisement on the wall. “You didn’t?”

“And if McCree had succeeded, it would have been a dark day. In the interest of an accurate record.” she fiddled with the edge of her glass. “I think you should come home. Angela and Winston are beside themselves, and even Dva does not seem to be taking her usual pleasure in destroying her enemies on the internet. 76 is more reclusive than usual, and all of this is disrupting–” She stopped herself. “I would like you to come home.I apologize. For hurting you. I will leave, if–”

Tracer kept her back to Pharah, but there was a slight choke in her voice. “I committed treason against me own team, against every oath I ever took, and against you.”

“You made a mistake.”

Tracer sniffled. “She left me, at the end, if that makes you ‘appy. Didn’t matter any’ow.”

Pharah shook her head. “It is does not.”

Tracer turned back to Pharah, head downcast, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Fareeha. I know she killed your Mum, and I don’t know what I thinking, and when you found us I was tired of being pushed around by the likes of anyone, and you were proper steamed, and I just popped off like I always do.” She gave a sob and a hearty wince of pain, and Pharah wish she would stop, before she joined her in the show of military might crying over drinks. “I just–”

Pharah placed her good hand on Tracer’s shoulder. “Enough.” She gave a low chuckle. “I perhaps should not have lead with calling you a traitor and throwing you into the hallway.”

Tracer looked up at her. “Not much an ‘uman resources department, us two.” She nodded to Pharah’s shoulder. “What’d I do? Win didn’t tell me about that piece of it.”

“Broke my collarbone. It is incredibly painful and will take weeks to heal.You should be proud.”

Tracer wiped her eyes and gave a smile. “I’d laugh, but you cracked me ribs and everything ‘urts. “Ad a concussion for three days.”

“Lena.” That got Tracer’s attention, and her eyebrow arched as she looked at Pharah. “Will you come?”

Tracer searched Pharah’s face in her constantly-moving way. “Can you forgive me? It’s over between me and ‘er, really.”

“Of course I forgive you,” She took a sip of her beer. “You are important to the team. To me. I hope you can say the same, and forgive me also.”

“Fareeha?” She looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to do something that will ‘urt us both.”

“Wha–” before she could finish, Tracer wrapped her in a hug, and Pharah saw spots for a moment as her collarbone moved just slightly. Tracer released her, and laid her head on the bar.

“God, I’m stupid.” She rolled her head to the side, pathetically looking for the bartender as she tried to measure out her breaths and return to normal. “Could use a another one!”

Pharah blinked her eyes a few times, and looked down at Tracer. “Now that you have revived my urge to kill you, may I buy?”

“Honestly, Fareeha, I say we get pissed and call it a day.” she gave the biggest possible sigh she could muster, which wasn’t very large. “Can’t wait to shower without me ‘arness on.”

“But you want to get drunk first?”

“I realize I’ve been out of the ‘ouse a week, Fareeha, but I’m still English.”