Ch.2

Hell. It had been absolute hell. She ate, she slept, she was alone. Maybe she was being punished for all the horrible things she had done. Maybe this was a test, she how quickly she would break.

Widowmaker knew they were watching her, she knew that they were taking notes on all her little habits, her behavior...she felt like a caged animal- and maybe she was.

There was a knock, on the door, no doubt some sort of cruel test, she was bound to the wall, how was she supposed to answer? "Come in..." she rolled her eyes, drawing out the last syllable of the phrase in a sing-song voice.

Her eyes widened, and her surprise must have been evident.

Tracer. Tracer was there, standing in front of her, a small, sheepish smile on her face. She stayed near the door, as though afraid that Widowmaker would lunge for her, even though she was physically unable.

"Hey there...How are you feeling, Amelie?" she spoke gently, as if talking to someone on their deathbed, slow and unsure, trying to be reassuring and kind.

"You..." Widowmaker's eyes flashed with the hot fury of anger, cold and unforgiving. "You did this, didn't you?" She asked, shaking her head, "What are you, a child?" Her voice rose slowly, "You want to fix me? You want your friend back? Well Amélie! Is! Dead!"

Tracer flinched, but otherwise didn't react. She wouldn't let Widowmaker get a rise out of her, she wouldn't let her see how upset she was. If they couldn't fix her...then all those times she had spared the sniper, and all those people Widowmaker had killed... it would all be for nothing.

Widowmaker calmed herself as best she could, this was obviously some sort of test, but she couldn't help but become so... irrationally angry around Tracer. She hated her...she needed her. "If that's all you wanted to say..." She growled, looking to the door pointedly, "Then you can leave."

Tracer hesitated, a pain in her heart, but she walked out of the room anyway. The test was over. wanted to see how Amelie would react to her, and now they had their answer. She was angry, understandably so.

"Now...if you don't hold still I can't help you." Angela chided, Widowmaker glaring daggers at the doctor, restraining straps on her arms, stomach, legs, chest, and shoulders. Still, she wiggled and struggled as best she could.

"Va te faire foutre." 'Fuck you', the sniper growled.

Eventually, Dr. Ziegler managed to draw Widowmaker's blood, though it took a little help from Ana, and her sleeping darts. A small revenge for taking her eye, Angela supposed.

Widowmaker awoke yet again, in a strange and unfamiliar place, a small, smiley face bandaid on her arm. She groaned, getting up once again, and sitting on her bed, her arm still chained to the wall. She almost wondered what they were doing with her blood...mostly she didn't care. She was certain they would fail. _

Days went by, maybe weeks, and it was always the same routine. Blood samples, sleep darts, and occasional visits from Tracer...Lena, was her name. As Widowmaker discovered, the smaller woman had tried to jog her memory, and while there was some familiarity, the sniper would never tell her that.

Without daily treatments to make her heart slow, and her blood cold, emotions numb, Widowmaker had began to start going backwards, her skin slowly turning a paler, not as vibrant shade of blue and purple, her blood running warm once again, and her emotions, not as numb. Especially with Tracer. It truly terrified her, for once she was scared for her life. She had been told, by Talon, what she had once been. Weak and insignificant. All of her, even Amelie, didn't want to go back to that...she had had a taste of power, and now, she didn't want to let go. She was lost, and for the first time in a long time, she felt vulnerable, she needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust. But she was alone, in all senses.

It was another few days before Tracer came back, carrying a tray of food for herself and for Widowmaker.

"Hey there luv." she called, offering her kindness, when all Widowmaker had ever given her was pain.

"Why do you do this?" She asked, the hostility gone from her eyes. "Why do you help me? I'm not Amelie. I can't be. She's gone...and all I've ever done for you, all I ever will do, is cause trouble." she paused, evaluating Lena's reaction. "...If I were you, I would've killed me a long time ago."

Lena bounced back from the surprise rather quickly, setting the tray down on Widowmaker's bed. "That's not how we do things around here." she answered simply, taking a bite from her sandwich.

Widowmaker let out a small breath of laughter, shaking her head slightly. "No? I suppose not." Lena and Widowmaker sat in silence for a long moment, before Lena spoke up.

"You got to ask a question, now I get one." She said, waiting for the sniper to react, when she didn't, she went on. "Why haven't you, killed me?"