Disclaimer: Overwatch and all characters associated with it belong to Blizzard Entertainment. GrimGrave does not make money out of writing fiction.
A Widow's Lament
I can vaguely remember what it was like before – before everything changed.
I remember the smile you always gave me, despite all the work with Overwatch. Nothing could bring you down your resolve, your spirit; whenever you returned home, you would greet me with that big smile, and I couldn't help but smile as well.
I remember the way you hugged me. It was as if you swept me off my feet every time and I danced through the air, holding onto you and bursting with joy. I still remember your scent – you rarely forgot to put on your favourite cologne – and how it filled my nose when you pulled me in close.
I was alive, then. My heart would race, and I laughed with joy.
And it was then that everything you held dear was left for me to destroy.
I remember when you proposed to me, that day; it was a lovely evening in Paris – when the full moon shined brightly – and you had taken me to a restaurant, followed by a walk in the park, and ended when you kneeled down, ring in hand, at the place we first met.
We were so young back then. Yet here you are, buried in the blanket of earth, so deep.
And here I stand, watching your grave, unable to weep.
I wonder…What were you dreaming of, that night – that night when I made sure you never woke up again. I keep thinking about it. Was it a good dream? Was it about me? I hope so; it's better that your last moment, dream or not, was of me, your wife who loved you beyond measure.
Your wife, who no longer exists; the woman standing before your grave is but a phantom, a ghost of a woman long since dead.
So why am I even here? Why am I even doing this? I asked myself that on the way here, unable to find a satisfying answer.
And yet I feel that I'd never forgive myself if I didn't do this, though others wouldn't understand. Not that I blame them – I don't understand this, myself.
"So this is where you are, amiga."
The Frenchwoman glanced back over her shoulder but didn't reply. As the Hacker walked up to her, she returned to the slab of stone embedded in the snowy ground, reading the letters engraved on it again and again.
"I've been looking for you, you know. I wouldn't imagine that you'd be here of all places, though." Sombra sported a small grin as she stood beside her fellow Talon-agent. "Oh? Who's this, then?"
"No-one." Her voice was as cold as ice.
"Gérard Lacroix…" the Mexican read. "I see, it's that former husband of yours! Or, should I say, Amelié's husband?"
The sniper didn't comment. Unfortunately, instead of taking the hint, Sombra took the silence as an invitation to prod further.
"If only he had known in advance, huh. Maybe then he would've stayed away from you – perhaps then you could've lived a normal life, no? What did he see in you anyway?"
Emotionless eyes suddenly shot wide open.
/ Bullets shot through the air. It was at the border of Egypt; Talon had been ordered to attack an Overwatch outpost, which should have been easy, but it had proved to be quite the opposite.
Out in the open terrain, Widowmaker tried to take out her enemy: a fellow sniper, this one with more experience and the kind of wisdom that came from age; an Overwatch agent many had believed to be dead.
"Look at you," the assassin remarked, barely missing the other woman and evading incoming fire. "A legend…now just a shell of a woman!"
The older woman scoffed and fired away, managing to graze the Frenchwoman's leg. "You are one to talk, Widowmaker… Or would you prefer to be called ´Amelié`?"
Anger suddenly spiked. "That woman is dead."
"Just like dear Gérard," the older sniper replied. Bullets flew by. "Gérard was a fool to love someone like you."
Hate guided the assassin's hand as she took aim and fired away./
Time, it seemed, had not made the purplette more tolerant. She grabbed the Hacker by her collar and glared with enough anger to make the younger woman shiver. She replied just like she had done back then;
"You don't know anything about him."
Sombra swallowed hard and held up her hands. "Alright, amiga. I spoke out of line."
Widowmaker's glare didn't go away but she let go of her fellow Talon-agent nonetheless. "Why are you even here, Sombra?"
"We've got our orders to move out," the Mexican responded. "We'll leave in an hour."
"Very well." She looked back at the grave, eying it. "Let's return to base."
"You know, you can stay here a little while longer if you—"
"I said we're returning to base." The assassin raised her voice and the Hacker remained silent. As the two began to leave, Widowmaker glanced back.
The death of a loved one is a curious thing.
"One day, I'll join you, Mon amour."
As she walked back through the snow, the night sky lit up with a myriad of colours and bells were chiming.
