Walking with three legs and no free hand isn’t as easy as it might seem, and as she limps back to the transport with her leg in hand, Orisa can’t stop thinking of how upset Efi will be when she hears of the injury. She’s leaning hard to the right, a combination of the missing front leg and the heavy Fusion Driver weighing her down. The sun overhead is warm and the air is humid, the weather beautiful. The rest of the team is celebrating a job well done as they pile into the transport (except for Roadhog, who seems as unfazed as ever).

Orisa is last to approach the ramp, numbers spinning on her HUD - how likely is a fall with three metal legs on glass, while she is so off-balance? How likely is a scolding from Efi when they have to fly to Numbani to get her repaired? How likely is it that Orisa will be allowed to stay with Overwatch after sustaining such an injury on her first mission?

“Hey, Orisa! Need some help?”

Her apertures blink, adjusting rapidly to clear the numbers. She realizes she’d just been staring at the lip of the ramp for several seconds, distraught.

“Perhaps,” she says. “I believe there is at least a thirty-two percent chance that I slip, with my balance so... disrupted. I am worried I may cause further injury to myself.” She holds up her leg and gestures with the Driver at the space it had previously occupied. Lúcio nods, frowning slightly.

“I don’t think my skates will help,” he says. “Can someone else help her up?”

There's a beat of silence, then a grunt from Roadhog that startles Orisa. He approaches her, footsteps booming (and it is so strange to face a human that is her size, whose face is somehow less expressive than her own), and takes hold of the bicep on her Fusion Driver arm, then helps her climb the short ramp. Once she is inside, he sits back down on the floor, paying the team at large no mind.

“Thank you, Roadhog,” Orisa says nonetheless, and he grunts in response, nodding slightly. A small victory.

The entire team aboard, the ramp raises to close behind her and the transport lifts off.

“Let me take a look at that,” Lúcio says, approaching Orisa and holding out his arms toward her leg. She tilts her head, holding it out of his reach.

“I must go back to Numbani at once for repair,” she says. “It will be easier for Efi if I have my pieces-”

“We’re going back to Gibraltar, not Numbani,” Lúcio says. “And you can’t walk around three-legged until we get a chance to head out again.” He gestures with his hands. “Maybe I can help you out. I am a healer.”

“I offer my assistance as well,” Zenyatta says, rising from his meditation. Orisa’s apertures widen to take him in, having forgotten he was there. His silent movement in battle (she wonders how he floats - it has to be magnetic, somehow, right?) made him almost fade into the background as she struggled to keep her Projected Barrier up against the constant barrage of enemy fire. Now, however, he stands on his feet, his orbs hanging benign around his neck like massive mala beads.

Orisa tries to step back from them, but her behind collides with the wall noisily and somehow the movement of her armored plating causes the open wound to spark brightly.

Armor integrity: 3%, reads off an alert on her HUD. Seek immediate repair.

“...All right,” she says, handing Lúcio her leg. When she lets it go he sags under the weight and his skated feet swerve to maintain balance.

It takes some finagling, but eventually they figure out a position that lets the two healers help her. She stands with her back feet planted on the ground, free hand outstretched for balance as her front leg standing on the table, glasses and playing cards brushed aside for the moment. The Fusion Driver has been disconnected and lies on the curved seat, and Orisa feels inexplicably... naked. The extra weight on an unstable side of her body was troublesome, however, so its removal was probably for the best.

Lúcio is stood on the seat between Orisa and the Driver, working with a small set of light tools to physically re-attach the leg, hands small and nimble, working wires and cables and supports with a musical fluidity. He hums quietly to himself as he works.

Zenyatta is on her other side, standing on the ground, watching Lúcio work and offering assistance. The DJ’s healing music is playing, but with the amount of damage she’d taken, it wasn’t able to do much. The biotic tech stitched scratches in her armor together, and in some places somehow fixed up her paint, but it did very little for her leg. The plan was for Lúcio to get it mostly connected, then Zenyatta would deploy his own healing to do the rest. With the two of them combined, they predicted that it would be good as new. Or, at worst, serviceable until they could get her to Dr. Ziegler or a mechanic (Lúcio suggested they ask Pharah to take a look if need be). Aside from occasional direction for Lúcio and soft whirs of servos, the monk is silent.

It takes maybe half an hour of diligent work before Lúcio straightens and shrugs. “That’s all of it, I think. Work your mojo, man.”

Zenyatta makes a noise like a soft laugh and nods. His orbs raise from his neck to float, glowing with energy Orisa doesn’t understand. There’s a bright flash of yellow light and then- oh, it’s very hard for her to explain. It feels almost as though she is overheating, warmed from the inside, but instead of triggering warnings and her cooling system, it feels... pleasant. She looks up to see a yellow orb of light, tethered to her by a stream of energy almost reminiscent of her mini-Graviton Charge. Her vision is rimmed in yellow and she feels an almost otherworldly peace in the back of her mind, pleasant thoughts of Efi and Numbani and her own successes and triumphs almost managing to distract her from her leg reconnecting to her body successfully, Lúcio amping up the volume on his music to aid further.

“We are as one, my sister,” Zenyatta says, resting a palm on her side gently, the contact welcome.

Armor integrity: 80%... 85%... 90%... 95%... 100%.

As it finishes, Orisa full-body shivers and steps back off the table, testing the give and take of her leg. It’s fine, as if nothing had happened, and she laughs.

“Thank you, Lúcio and Zenyatta,” she says warmly. “I am grateful for your assistance.” Orisa holds out her fist toward Lúcio, and after a confused pause he lights up and bumps his fist against hers.

“No problem,” Lúcio says with a beaming smile. “That’s what teammates are for. It feels alright?”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” she replies, then turns to Zenyatta. “What is this?” She points at the orb still tethered to her.

“My Orb of Harmony,” Zenyatta says, orbs once more settling, and the warmth leaves her buzzing as the orb disappears.

“What is it, though?” she asks again. “How does it function? It did not feel like biotics or nanobots.” As she speaks, she holds out the stub of her right arm toward the Driver and activates the powerful electromagnet, causing it to drag across the table and forcefully snap into place.

“What did it feel like?” Zenyatta asks, and Orisa pauses.

“It felt... warm,” she says. “Safe. It felt like... like a home I have never been to.”

Perhaps it is a trick of the light as Zenyatta bows his head slightly, but he seems to smile wryly. “That, sister, is the light of the Iris shining through you.”

Orisa has many questions, and it seems he can tell as he laughs, settling in lotus position on the floor where he stood. “Sit with me,” he says. Orisa does as told, spinning in place to make sure nothing will be crushed under her weight, and tucking her legs gingerly beneath herself. When she is situated, he speaks again. “Ask your questions. I can feel them buzzing inside your head.”

“Why do you call me ‘sister’?” she asks. “What is the Iris?” A pause. “How do you float?”

Zenyatta laughs again. “I call you ‘sister’ because you and I are one within the Iris. And as for your second question... I cannot answer that. The Iris shines its light where it is welcome, and it seemed more than welcome within you.”

Orisa feels only more confused, tilting her head and re-adjusting her apertures. “Is it because we are omnics?”

“It is not not because we are omnics,” Zenyatta says, and the double negative does not help. “I have dedicated my life to the Iris, and through it I have found ways to aid my allies and destroy my enemies. Through the Iris, we omnics can transcend our programming and be more than we imagine.” He paused. “Perhaps you have heard this before.... They say that the only thing separating omnics from robots is that omnics have souls. There’s no explanation for it - Omnica Corporation called it a fluke of their mutating code, experts and philosophers have ideas but no answers. The Iris is the cause and the effect, the source and the product, where we begin and where we end.”

Orisa pauses to mull this over for several moments of silence. “That doesn't make any sense, Zenyatta.”

“Neither do we, my sister,” he said with a playfulness that should have been unbecoming of a monk, but fit Zenyatta just fine. “Yet here we are.”

She mulls that over, but can't think of any more questions that would perhaps lead to a more concrete answer. She nods silently to herself, thoughtful.

Then, she remembers her last question. “How do you float?” she asks, prepared for perhaps another nonsensical, philosophical answer about the Iris and omnic souls and a strange, innate power that rests within-

“A force even more mysterious,” he says smoothly, and Orisa leans forward in her curiosity. “Magnetism.”

The answer startles a laugh out of her. Her trepidation of before is gone - she cannot wait to tell Efi about this.