@thoughtfulproxy Also asked for anything with Dva! All of my OW verse is here, if you need to put this in time.
Some Form of Apology
She had wrapped the chocolate bars up neatly in some colored paper, and tied it with a bow. It had been her mother’s idea, in the way her mother always half-suggested, half-told her to do things, particularly when it came to dealing with other people.
She could probably use some cheering up, Hana, I know I packed you some gift wrap when you moved to the Overwatch base, it won’t take you very long.
Dva hoped Tracer didn’t look too hard at the wrapping job. All of this had seemed a better idea back in her room.
She walked down the wide hallway to the room with Tracer’s name noted by the door, and was completely unsurprised to find it mostly filled by a giant gorilla.
Dva popped her head. “I was just going to drop this off.” She jutted her arm into the room, pink paper at the end of it. Hot pink with a black bow. Her mother had even plotted color schemes.
“No, come in,” Tracer was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked terribly small in the vast hospital bed, but at least she wasn’t the same color as the wall anymore. “Win was off to get us a spot of lunch anyhow.”
Winston nodded. “I was, don’t, don’t let me bother you, I,” he looked back at Tracer, “I’ll be back in just a little while, so you rest, and, I’ll–”
“Win,” she touched his hand. “I love you very much, but, I’m in an actual ‘ospital. Nothing is going to ‘appen to me, love.” She winked. “Aside from all that, Dva’s ‘ere to be me bodyguard. I’d call Pharah, but it’d make me that much more willing to die then, wouldn’t it?”
Winston frowned. “Lena.”
“‘S a joke, Win, you really need to be getting more sleep.”
Winston picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in an hour, or so.” He lumbered out, sighing and shaking his head, and Tracer watched after him.
“You’d think this was the first time I’d been shot, for ‘ow ‘e’s acting.” She smiled. “To what do I owe this pleasure, love?”
Dva walked closer to her, fiddling with the edge of her collar. “How are you?”
“Starving to death and completely knackered, is the honest answer, but I know I can change at least one of those things, and they other just needs a bit of time, so that’s alright, innit?” She pushed herself up slowly. “Better today than yesterday.”
Dva nodded. “Pharah already turned the heat up in the house.”
“Course she did,” Tracer shook her head, “She thinks the ‘ouse is a desert biome, no matter Winston’s covered in fur and the rest of us can contemplate a world under fourteen degrees.”
Dva stood there for a moment, rocking back and forth, thinking of the things she had practiced saying. I was glad to hear Mercy said you’ll be okay. I hope you get better soon. I’m glad you didn’t die before I had a chance to apologize. I just want to be taken seriously. I remember seeing your poster.
But she simply set the chocolate bars down on the table beside the bed. “Anyway, I’m sorry I got into a fight with you and then you got shot.”
Tracer cocked her head to the side and grinned playfully. “Do you think I got shot because I was thinking about fighting with you?”
“No, I think you got shot because you’re stupid, but I still thought I’d apologize in case you die.”
Tracer laughed, and her face went sheet white as she took in a shuddering breath, her hand gripping the blanket tightly. “Got me that time, love.” She whispered. “Well played.”
Dva sat down on the chair next to the bed and crossed her arms. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” She hoped her tone did carry the weight she felt, did not signify that she had seen so much of death, and so much of pain, and yet still sometimes she woke up, thinking of Tracer bleeding to death on the floor of the van, thinking of the look on Winston’s face and how tenderly Pharah had said her name, of how Tracer had been shaking and struggling for breath. Of how it felt to be holding that dressing to her stomach, feeling the wet of the blood, as Mercy tried desperately to save her.
It had worked, and Tracer had lived, but still her mind lingered there.
“I know that.” Tracer leaned back gingerly, resting softly on the pillows behind her, and closed her eyes. “Dva. I was ‘aving a go at you. In the danger room. I was only playing.”
Dva was surprised she had nothing in retort, the softness of Tracer’s voice more booming than any time she had bounded into the room.
“But,” she opened her eyes and looked back over at Dva, “It’s true, too. I was about your age when I was a pilot first, and I was good, and I did think the world of meself. And I did find meself in trouble I didn’t need to be into. I say this as your teammate, alright?”
Dva huffed.. “I’ve seen plenty, Tracer.”
“Not saying you ‘aven’t. Trust me,” she closed her eyes again, “you’d rather ‘ave this talk with me than Pharah. Pharah gives me this talk, so she does, and I’ve been an operative going on years.” She mumbled sleepily. “In any case, listen to me, don’t listen to me, I’m in no position to fight with you just now.”
Dva stood up and wandered over to the long side table, touching the edges of the flowers on it, remembering what it felt like to be fascinated, as a little girl, by flowers and starlight and the promise of Overwatch.
“It isn’t what I thought it would be like,” She shrugged and looked down at the brights oranges and yellows, “It’s just as…it’s just like fighting at home. I thought I’d feel different. I grew up with the stories. It’s not like a story. At all.” She suddenly realized she had been saying all of this out loud, and stepped away from the bouquet. “Anyway, I’m just fine. You’re tired.” She waved her hand. “I’ll let you sleep.”
She walked as quickly as she could to the door, arms crossed tightly.
“‘R ‘appy t’ave you, Dva.” She she half-snored.
Dva turned around in the doorway. “You can call me Hana if you want.”
😊😊 I love how they play off each other! Tracer’s just too positive for D.Va to make her too mad at her. Love it. 😍
Thoughtfulfangirling 