Ana looked up from her files, the very files she apparently couldn’t even pretend to read, flicking her gaze to the young woman standing in the doorway of her office. She hadn’t even noticed her coming in, too absorbed that she had been in her own thoughts, mulling over impossible plans, recent failures, and increasingly unbearable pressure she had to shoulder anyway. Overwatch’s Second-in-Command let out a sigh, and made a vaguely dismissal wave with her hand. “If only I had the time for a good long session of weeping. In fact, if I did, I think I would rather make it a good long hot bath with a cup of tea and a book.” Ana cracked a smile, and with a nod of her head, invited Lena to come in.
“Take a seat, Lena.” As the young woman approached, Ana watched her. Cadet Oxton had been nothing but an exemplary recruit ever since her enrollment - powering through training, and then through her problems with the Slipstream system with rare resilience and dedication. To say that Ana had taken a liking in her would have been an understatement. Out of all the young people to have joined their ranks in recent years, Lena Oxton was most certainly one of her favourites - even though she knew she was not supposed to have any. But conflicts had arisen, tensions were escalating - and although the Commanders did their best to keep it all behind closed doors, it was only natural that their men would be on the receiving end of the consequences, unfortunately. “I wanted to talk to you. I know the past few weeks have not been… easy, for anyone.” The uprising on King’s Row had been a victory, but at what cost? “How are you doing?”
Lena settled into the chair across from her--she was all nervous movement. Wringing her hands, bouncing her knee, Lena didn’t know how to sit still. Especially not in front of the commander that even Morrison seemed to be afraid of. She sat pin-straight, not allowing her spine to relax. Attentive and respectful; the Air Force moto. The last thing she wanted to do was make a commander angry.
It was times like these that Lena was secretly grateful that she wasn’t a commander. The piles of paperwork, the blame, the cruel words graffitied about the streets--Heh, if she was still a rebellious teenager, maybe she would be the one spraying ‘down with Overwatch’ on the wall of the subway. But now, she was grown, she was an adult. Luckily not old enough for... all of this. Hell, even the chanting from the crowds, the anger and hatred--Lena could never handle it all.
The thought that a lot of this was due to her make her stomach turn a bit more than the usual motion sickness. After the accident, the world rioted, blaming them. The fact that her last transmission, the panicked maydays and fearful yells as the woman was lost together, was broadcasted across the world had sent those who opposed of Overwatch quickly claiming some kind of inside job, that they intended on all this.
Lena let out a soft breath at her question. “I, uh...” After a few moments of recollection, she started again. “I’m... scared, I guess.” Something felt odd about admitting her fear to her commander, but fear kept one alive. Some fear is good fear. “I’m scared something big is coming, an’ that I wouldn’t be able to fix it. I’m scared of this thing,” she tapped the accelerator, “I’m scared tha’ not everyone is coming home after every mission. I’m jus’... I’m terrified, commander.” Lena didn’t meet her eyes.