Inspired by Overwatch
By Coraline Morrison
“You know that little voice in your head that tells you something is a bad idea?”
Moira crossed her arms in irritation, tapping her foot impatiently, and radiating an utter feeling of frustration in the man in front of her. It was meant to be a rhetorical question that he knew the answer to; trying to levitate all her beloved test bunnies, only to send them into a mad panic and cause them to scatter around the lab, ducking into any little crack and corner they could get to. What did he think would happen? In a huge lab with tons of machinery and plenty of places to hide in? The fool.
The woman was a world-renowned geneticist, and yet, here she was, babysitting what was once a world renown astrophysicist. Key words being once. Dr. Siebren de Kuiper used to be an incredible mind; now all he could do was scream about was that blasted melody that only he could hear and withdraw into bouts of melancholy and insanity.
Her self-experimentation went smoothly, no hiccups or issues save for the occasional headaches and nausea. She had given herself the ability to rob others of their life force, then return that force to other people. She had become a living weapon, a being capable of what scientists only dreamt of, a god amongst humans, a perfect form of humanity. Siebren, on the other hand, had failed his experiment. He split his mind in two. He literally became two separate entities. He retained his original personality, but struggled to keep it present. He was in a never-ending battle with another entity who called himself Sigma.
Siebren was, what Moira considered, a dopey man. But it was charming in its own way. He’d ask her to dance, only to become so embarrassed that his face would turn strawberry red and he’d have to leave the room. He’d go on about the mystery of the universe for hours at a time late at night not realizing Moira had fallen asleep in the middle of when he was talking. When she did, he’d drape his jacket over her shoulders and sit silently till she woke; and that might’ve been hours. When he wasn’t talking about work, he tried to hold normal conversations with her which ended in him stumbling over words till they weren’t even considered words any longer. Dopey, but charming, and, if Moira was being honest, rather cute.
For a man of his age he was fairly good looking: muscular but not too much so, hair that wasn’t completely grey but just enough to show others that he was more mature, hardened features that complimented his usual soft smile and relaxed eyes.
Sigma, on the other hand, was a narcissistic, arrogant, conceited, pompous man who displayed all the traits of a psychopath. He did not have a soft smile or kind eyes. He always wore a smirk and a glare. A stark contrast between the two was obvious. If Moira hadn’t known him herself, she would’ve said such a person does not exist. No human was that cruel. But Sigma was.
“How I’d love to smack you senseless.”
Moira meant to say that under her breath, but Siebren, or, his current personality Sigma, seemed to have (aside from a frightening intelligence and temper) a uniquely buffed sense of hearing. Sigma and Siebren were truly two different people.
“People like us can’t love, Dr. O’Deorain. We can’t love anything but ourselves.”
A wicked smirk graced upon his face. It felt almost uncomfortable for a man of sixty-two to be wearing that expression. Then again, people had told her the same thing since she was thirty. And, now at the age of forty-eight, it didn’t get much better; the only difference being that the insults were in whispers and behind closed doors. Of course, she wasn’t a fool and she knew what others thought of her: Monster, Witch, Mad Scientist, this being a shortened list of the other nicknames the members of Overwatch had given her.
It never bothered her, or rather, she pretended to let it slide off her back into the endless pool of criticism and hate she had received throughout her career. She knew she wasn’t a well like person in the community, Hell, the world. She followed the ‘fake it till you make it’ principal, but she couldn’t deny the stinging pain she felt in her chest. But Siebren, he was different. He understood. He knew science had no bounds and that being a perfectionist in their work wasn’t enough. He never called her a monster, or a freak. He saw her as an equal, as a creature with emotions, as a human.
“Who am I addressing?”
Moira, although she had begun to be able to differentiate Sigma and Siebren, would always ask who was there. It was precaution she had learnt to take after she had been pushed into her laboratory wall by the force of gravity Sigma had used because she accidently referred to him as Siebren during that time; it left her with bruises and a few broken ribs. It was nothing major, but Siebren thought so. The sight of her grasping for air because it hurt to breath allowed Siebren to take over; running over to her limp body and cradling her on his lap, calling her name till she was able to speak again.
“Sigma present.”
He spoke proudly, bringing her back to the present. That explained the unbearable attitude he was displaying. The cocky grin should’ve made it obvious to her though. How she wished she could’ve slapped that smirk off his face, to break his will; not Siebren, Sigma. Moira’s eyes rolled as far as she could roll them without having them disappear into the back of her head. Speaking to Sigma
“Don’t like talking to me, Moira?”
While Siebren knew how to make her smile, Sigma knew how to make her furious. The only one who was permitted to call her by her first name, Moira, was Siebren, not Sigma. Sigma knew that. He enjoyed making her angry, he relished in the fact that he could make her lose her stoic face and composure. Moira knew Sigma loved to tease her. But she had her own tricks. Their whole relationship was based on knowing what the other hated, and then exploiting it. She sighed, keeping her calm before she smirked wickedly before opening her mouth, knowing that what she was going to say would push his buttons.
“Not that, Sigma. I’d just rather speak with someone intelligent.”
With a click of his tongue in frustration, a low demonic-like growl, and the raise of his hand, it seemed Moira had pressed too many buttons. He flicked his wrist as if he was shooing a fly and, with the power of controlling gravity, sent Moira flying across the room into a steel table piled with filthy surgical instruments that she had been meaning to clean. She got lucky, she missed most of the tools, but one pair of rusted scissors had lodged itself just below her ribs. Both of her heterometric eyes seemed to turn a different shade, each conveying fear and desperation. It hurt, but she wouldn’t give Sigma the satisfaction of knowing he hurt her. She would never allow herself to be defeated.
While this didn’t break Moira’s will, it did strengthen Siebren’s. Enough to cause a fight between the two personalities. It looked almost as if he were having a seizure by the way he moved. Like a cartoon character trying to decide between right and wrong by arguing with the angel and devil on their shoulder, Siebren and Sigma began to argue. Every time a new voice took over, his head would twitch violently to on side, then to the other.
“How dare you hurt her!”
“She doesn’t care about you!”
“But I care about her!”
“You’re a fool.”
“I may be a fool, but I know where my heart is. Moira! Moira wake up! Please don’t leave me! I need you!”
Siebren’s voice, not Sigma’s, trembled, his palms shaking madly as he cradled her in his arms, pulling her limp body into his lap, stroking her cheek fearfully, afraid he had broken her. Tears waterfalled off his face onto Moira’s pale skin. Seems she had blacked out for a moment because she didn’t remember having him by her side; that, or he had gotten beside her really quickly. Regardless, she had Siebren, not Sigma, now, and that’s what really mattered. She took a sharp breath before using his shoulder as a crutch to aid her in sitting up properly.
“You are a fool Siebren.”
Moira huffed, her usual cocky confident demeanor fleeting. What he had said he made her cheeks go pink. He cared about her. Surely he couldn’t have meant in a romantic way; but that’s what Moira found herself wanting the most.
“You called me Siebren.”
She didn’t even realize it herself. She always referred to him by his full name, or, if she ever shortened it, doctor. Only in her head had she ever called him by his first name, until now. Her cheeks turned even redder. Must be a fever, that was it.
“And if I did?”
She attempted to alleviate the situation by turning the tables and questioning him instead.
“Then… I’m happy.”
And there was that cute dopey smile Moira hated to admit that she loved.
“And, I really liked that… So, you could call me that from now on. Um, please.”
His cheeks lit up equally as red as hers, taking her hand and slowly lifting her up to stand. As the two bashfully avoided eye contact, unintentionally revealing hidden feelings that have for so long been ignored, Moira opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent after she realized how much pain she was really in. A hiss escaped her mouth as she hunched over to clutch her ribs. This snapped Siebren out of his daydream and back into the painful reality. The reality that he had basically stabbed her, and the pair of scissors was still lodged into her chest.
“I’ll walk you to the infirmary.”
Siebren reached his arm over her shoulder, pulled her arm over his shoulder, then, supporting all her weight with his, walked with her pressed up against his chest. His heart beating just as fast as hers if not faster. He had wanted to hold her hand for a while, though this was not the circumstances he wanted them in.
“Well, after you’re discharged, I was wondering if I could make it up to you by taking you out to dinner?”
No eye contact and the delivery of the words couldn’t have been choppier, but he said it. He had finally asked her out to dinner. Now all he had to worry about was her response. Unknown to him, Moira was equally as flustered. However, she was able to regain her composure faster, though the complete lack of confidence in her words was evident. This time, she was able to look at him. His cherry-tinted cheeks and quivering anxious smile made her melt, causing a bashful grin to grace her features.
“I-I’d… I’d really like that.”
Fiendish Fan Fiction 