I'm Sorry

Angela leaned on the cold wall, back into the room she was. The room was lit with orange glow of light that came from the lamp that Gabriel gave it to her. She wrapped herself with the warm blanket that he also gave. Ever since she knew who he was, now the scent was all to familiar for her; a scent that she missed dearly. It was cold, but she never took notice. All she thought about right now was him. Is he okay? Has he already wake up? How was he feeling if he already did wake up?

Will he ever accept her apology?

To be honest, she don't know. She had doubts, but she also had hope. Her eyes wandered on the colored walls, looking at the drawings they made. She smiled remembering the good times they had, even if it was just a short time. The pony that he drew was still there, still looking like a rat. Her pink owl was a bit far, but it was still clearly seen. Then she looked at the other drawings, enjoying her view.

Suddenly her eyes caught onto a small art. It was a bit smudgy, and the crayon used was pure white; she would assume he drew it. It was unfinished, but she could try to guess what it was if she took a good look. She crawled towards the drawing and examined the drawing. She spot a pair of wings, a beak, but the body was short on legs. Her eyes widened briefly, then it softened with a heartfelt guilt.

It was a dove.

Her dainty fingers brushed over the chalky lines of the art, reminiscing how the dove could be so meaningful to her. She sighed heavily.

"Gabriel..."
______________________________________

The light blinded his eyesight for a while, but then he finally got his field of vision after a few minutes of adjusting the brightness. He was still in bed, all bandaged up. The wire on him was attached to a device that showed his heartbeat. It looked stable. His eyes followed the lines on the monitor, pondering to himself.

Does he still have a beating heart?

The monitor didn't lie, so maybe. But still, he couldn't believe it completely. He still thought that he was dead that was moving on its own; a zombie. He let out a sigh. The heaviness on his chest suffocated him, but he couldn't move too much; because he didn't know if his wounds are okay. But he hated to stay like this, doing nothing. So better try, right?

Slowly, he tried to get up from the bed; but suddenly felt the excruciating pain on his chest, where the bullet penetrated his skin. He fell back down on the bed, grunted in pain. Still can't move, huh?

He heard someone came in from the door, and turned to see Widowmaker walking in and stood beside him. She rested her hand on her hip and stared right to his eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"Still feeling unstable?" She asked, he turned away and grunted. She turned to look at his wrapped chest, and then turned back to look at him with a serious face.

"Are you bleeding?" He turned back to her, then tried to look at his chest closely; but she quickly slammed his head back on the bed, not letting him to move any further.

"Don't move. Or you'll open the wound back. If you still have one." She mused. Widowmaker went to change his stained bandage, carefully pulled the right strip and unwound it. To her surprise, there's none.

"Odd... it looks fine." She examined his chest. But when she press where his wound was, he screamed in pain which caught her by surprise and retracted her hand away, seeing the wound reopened into a huge gash, causing him to bleed again.

When he stopped screaming, she watched his wounded chest slowly repaired itself by closing it again. Widowmaker sighed and went to look for a cloth to wipe the overflowed blood.

"Looks like you're not completely healed yet. Your regeneration is countering the draining effect of the bullet. Oddly enough the bullet had already been extracted." She went to the table and took a cloth to him.

"My regeneration won't work until I kill someone. How can that be possible?" He raised an eyebrow at her, Widowmaker didn't dare to look at him, instead she focused on trying to clean his wound. He pondered into thought, then suddenly, his eyes widened.

Angela.

"What the hell did the doc do to me?" He asked. Widowmaker didn't say anything, instead, she sat down on the chair beside his bed and carefully wiped the blood. Her face was stern.

"Anything to keep you alive." She mused.

"I mean it Widowmaker. What did she do to my body this time?" He emphasized. She sighed once again, thinking that he was just being overdramatic.

"Even if you ask me, it's already too late to undo it, Reaper." Widowmaker spat. She looked straight to his eyes, raising an eyebrow to the mercenary.

"What can you do if she already altered your body?" The way the widow put into words, somehow it was very provocative for the wraith.

Rage overpowered him, so he got up from the bed without warning, but quickly fell back as he winced in pain from the forming wound.

More blood came out from his chest, it was too much; he couldn't bear the pain and fell back down on the bed, screaming in agony.

"You can't even stand up from your bed, Reaper. You can't even lift a finger at this rate." She huffed. He curled himself to ease the pain, but it only made it worse.

"I'm calling the doctor." She was about to turn away and leave, but then he shouted.

"NO! Don't. Call. Her." He spoke filled with disgust. She rolled her eyes, even if he didn't see it.

"Fine. I let you bleed to death." She continued to walk away. When she spoke that way, he got second thoughts. He quickly rose him arm reaching towards her, trying to stop her from leaving.

"Wait...." he groaned. She turned back to him and raised her groomed eyebrow.

"Make up your mind." She sounded irritated.

Reaper was speechless. He couldn't let her call the doctor, but he didn't want to be left alone in this state as well. He'd been through hellish pain, and he didn't want that deranged doctor to put anymore weird stuff in him. Ironically, she was his only hope to ease his pain that he created.

"...." he didn't speak. She couldn't stand with all of this drama and sighed. She had enough of this.

".... I'll call her. Whether you like it or not." She decided for him. He didn't argue, but he still winced in pain.

She turned away, this time, she left.