"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." - Laozi
Something felt wrong. Something felt horribly wrong.
"There is enough food stored in the kitchens that could last for several months, a year at most." Amélie said as her eyes drew their attention towards the dining area. Reyes came out of his train of thought and nodded at the woman's statement.
"But not enough ammo to withstand an assault properly." The wraith made his remark grimly.
"A bridge we will cross when the time comes." The sniper replied in a dim yet bright calibre.
Reaper couldn't help but remain vigilant and tense. There was something about this Chateau that stressed the hell out of him. He had made sure that his tracker was switched off, in order to keep off of Talon's radar – yet that in itself could raise suspicions to his whereabouts. If Talon had sent a clean up crew to the Chateau to recover whatever's valuable in this place, then him and Amélie would be forced to eliminate them. If the cleanup crew fails to check in or report back, then Talon won't hesitate to send more Troopers to discover the issue further.
"Should you feel tired, the guest rooms are on the second floor. Simply take the stairs from the main entrance and they should be located on the left hand side. Bathrooms are on the right." The sniper says with her back facing towards him, her attention drawn to the bookshelf in her study – the same bookshelf containing the endearing photo Reaper had discovered earlier.
Reyes paused momentarily, watching Amélie with close attention. Behind his mask, his eyes to what she was looking at. The bookshelf, and piercing through the shadows the image of Gérard and Amélie hand-inhand came to view. She missed him, he knew that much, but the torment she felt within herself for being the cause of his death – that, that he did not understand. Nonetheless, in his thought to be dead heart, he felt sorrow, pity and sympathy.
"You trust me enough to reside here?" Reyes said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Amélie looked back at the wraith with long narrowed eyes, "I told you earlier, as far as I am aware – you would probably be the only one who cares about me anymore."
Gabriel went silent and watched as she walked towards the bookshelf with heavy steps. As she stood infront of the oak stature, she reached into one of it's beams and pulled out the frame containing the endearing picture. Reyes thought it best to simply leave her to her thoughts and direct his attention elsewhere. As he turned his head to the window his eyes caught the movement of a small silhouette scuttling across the glass pane. He watched carefully, before finally spotting a dark spider clinging to the corner edge of the window – spinning it's web with delicate strokes and warily structuring it's new habitat. The moonlight shone through the window, reflecting the web's silky texture as well as the glimmer of the surface of the black widow spider, shone for deadly purpose.
Reyes couldn't help but admire the creature's visage and actions. It was as if he was content on his own goals and frustrated with rage for so long, that he never decided to take the time to simply stop, reflect and take into account the minor things in life. Life.
…Life.
What did a word like that mean to a man like him anymore?
The sudden sound of an object being slammed on something woke Gabriel from his concentration. He turned to Amélie, seeing that she had placed the picture back on the bookshelf and looked straight ahead, her rifle strapped over her shoulder and her expression linear at best.
No tears. No frowns. Only the stern expression that Reaper had come to get used to from the assassin he worked beside with. Slowly he made his way towards the sniper, stopping just beside her. Gradually he raised his arm and placed a hand over her shoulder, letting out a sincere sigh.
"I miss him too." Reyes said in a mellow tone. Amélie raised her head attentively, folding her arms and peering over her shoulder.
"It's not on you." Reyes said calmingly, "Nothing is on you. Don't forget that."
The woman shrugged his hand off her shoulder and clicked her heavy boots forward. Reyes sighed in contempt frustration.
"You had no control over yourself Amélie! They implemented something in your head – forcing you to do the things you did, forcing you to do the very thing you loathe yourself for doing."
Amélie paused and listened, Reyes himself stopped for a moment, hoping that she would listen to him – that her guilty conscience confirmed that the burden should not trouble her soul.
"Gérard…" She whispered softly.
"Gérard." Gabriel repeated. "Gérard would never want this for you – the way you are now. Sulking. Guilty. Angry. Sorrowful. He only wanted what was best for you."
Amélie turned with narrowed eyes, "And what do you know about him?" She hissed.
Reyes in turn hissed back, "I knew him like a brother."
"Then how do you expect me to atone for my sins Gabriel?" Amélie questioned him with an eerily neutral emotion, "How do you expect me to simply accept the memory of my husbands death – by my hand?"
Reaper shook his head and walked towards the Sniper with heavy steps. Gradually, Amélie's head rose to look up at the wraith – she could hear him breathing deeply beneath the scratched mask, unsure whether it was frustration, defeat or simply anger. Her eyes traced the surface of the skull-like mask, a variety of dents and scratches embedded within it's surface.
"Some actions aren't worth forgiving. Not by others…not by whatever God is out there. Those actions can only be accountable to the people who do them." Reyes proclaimed weakly – almost as if he was talking to himself…or about himself.
Widowmaker pondered, staring into the dark hollow pits of Gabriel's mask, knowing that beneath those deep voids held the warm hazel eyes of a sincere man. A man she would never expect to be the mercenary killer she had come to work along side with all this time. Amélie nodded begrudgingly, turning her heel and stalked towards the dining area.
"You hungry?" Amélie asked him suddenly, changing the topic completely. Gabriel waves her off and declines.
"No." He looks around the castle, wondering if a foundation like this could ever support a modern cooking system – or even electricity alone.
"What kind of food do you have around here anyway?" Reyes asks as he turned his head towards the woman. She stood infront of a cabinet displaying a wide variety of different wines and spirits, her eyes tracing through the shelves with great interest.
"Mostly bread, a few cheeses – perhaps some veal or mutton lingering around." Widowmaker replies without even batting an eye to the wraith.
"How stereotypically French." Gabriel remarked.
"There's not much else from the city of Annecy. However the cheese…best in all of France."
"I hate mutton. You sure you don't have beef lying around here? Some Wagyu?"
"Americans…" Amélie said with a smile. Reaper chuckled quietly before going silent. He never really did see her smile, not since Talon kidnapped her and turned her into this ruthless killing machine. There was a sense of beauty – to finally see the human inside that body after all this time.
"Well…since you're not hungry. Something to drink perhaps?" Amélie asks as she opens the cabinet. Gabriel arches an eyebrow behind the mask.
"Now you're speaking my language."
"Will red wine meet your taste?"
Reyes scoffed, "Come on…you can't be serious."
"Huh, unsophisticated." Amélie darts a judgmental glance towards him. Her eyes return to the cabinet and her arm pushes aside the variety of expensive liquor and vintage wines before finally spotting at the very back of the oak furniture, a golden bottle of Scotch Whiskey tied in a bright red ribbon. She grabs the neck of the bottle and pulls it out into view.
"Will this trifle serve?" The woman asked in a humorous attitude.
Reaper narrows his eyes, gleaming as he acknowledges the brand, "Hmph. Perfect."
Amélie places the bottle down on the dining table and returns to the cabinet – producing a bottle of red wine and situating it beside the golden decanter. As Gabriel made his way down to the dining area, Amélie had already taken a wine and shot glass from the nearby drawer and placed it on the table – placing aside the bowl and glass she had partaken from earlier.
Reyes makes his way to the opposite side of where Amélie was standing, throwing his hood back and placing his fingers over his mask. Just then, he hesitated to pull it again. Gradually his fingers lower, Amélie noticing this sudden pause – knows what was going through his mind.
"I don't mind the scars Gabriel." She says as she begins to open both the bottles of whiskey and wine, pouring their contents into their respective glasses.
"In fact – you don't look far from when I had first seen you."
"Huh, reassuring." Gabriel murmured quietly with a slight chuckle before resorting back to his choice.
"I just…I don't think it'd be pleasant."
The woman arched an eyebrow and pulled a seat for herself, situating herself comfortably and raising her wine glass towards him.
"In this world…what is such a thing as 'pleasant'?"
Reaper paused for several seconds before smiling beneath his mask, "Nothing. An illusion made for those who have little to live for."
Sharp talons made their way around his mask and gently pulled it away from Gabriel's face, placing it down on the table and another arm pulling out a seat for himself. Steadily, Gabriel reached for the shot glass brimmed with whiskey.
His hazel eyes looked forward, her golden eyes staring back at him. No disgust, no repulsion, no hatred. There was a different look in her eyes, free of resentment, free of all that pent up detestation – they were hopeful, happy.
"I don't see why you even wear the mask." She says softly, "Besides conducting your vendetta in the most cliché method available. There isn't too much of a change in you Gabriel. The years must've been kind."
Reyes shook his head, "Overwatch was destroyed. Me along with it. The world doesn't need to know that I'm still out there, actively working with the organisation I fought against – as if my name couldn't be more tarnished."
Amélie nodded as she placed her wine glass down and folded her arms, lapping one leg over the other and leaning back on her chair, "And what made you join Talon in the first place? Hm?"
Gabriel clenched his glass tightly with that question, "Might need a drink for this."
"Answer the question when you're sober first." The woman demanded with a stern tone.
Reyes was taken back with the sudden tone, however he understood – she was still skeptical about him, maybe not now, but his goals were still unclear. He paused momentarily, the liquor stiff in his hand – begging to be consumed. He waited, before finally sighing and spoke in a grim tone.
"Overwatch was killing itself internally. I'm not sure how much of this you know, but Jack – the Strike Commander – and I were not on even ground."
"That much I know." Amélie affirmed as she twirled the glass around, the dark red contents swirling in a fluent motion, "But after the feud you and Morrison conducted which ultimately brought about the destruction of the world's last beacon of stability, why did you decide to join the terrorists that you and my departed husband dedicated yourselves to fighting?"
"There was no where else I could go." Gabriel murmured gruffly, "But it's not just because of loneliness. No. It's because Talon may have been right, they may have always been right…"
"About?" Amélie asked with a sip from the cup.
"About everything. This world…it's nation states, the people we as human beings revere as so called 'leaders' of the free world. A lie. Somewhere…no matter the context – corruption breeds within its system."
"And you truly believe that?"
"Believe it? Amélie…I know it. Gérard knew it. The fact that Overwatch tore itself apart is the very cause of Talon's uprise…"
"Delivered by your hand…" The sniper interrupted.
Reyes went quiet and turned his head, "Yeah…by my hand."
He lifted his arm and downed the scotch whiskey with one swift action. "I was convinced that Talon would be the flame to ignite the fire to change."
"Change?"
"Huh, I wouldn't stretch it to the point of changing the world towards a new world order. That shit just doesn't work. But what Talon does – Talon does it to make the world realise: they are puppets, to themselves, or can be made puppets by others. This can be applied to our so called world leaders."
"So you joined Talon in the name of progression for the human race." Amélie asked sipping more of the dark red contents.
"That was Doomfist's vision. Evolution through conflict – that was his policy." Reyes replied grimly.
"And you joined Talon with the same vision?"
"No. True evolution wouldn't happen for the human race in the next million years. All that talk about change, realisation and all that crap – some of it might convince me to give a damn about what Talon's doing. But I'll be honest, Amélie…I just wanted to hunt down the scumbags that brought about the end."
"The end?"
"…Of Overwatch."
"This includes former Overwatch agents themselves?" Amélie asked curiously, however slowly began to piece the events together.
Reyes poured another glass of golden liquor and downed it with a gulp before responding, "Only the scumbags involved with Overwatch's corruption."
The sniper narrowed her eyes and gave him a sharp glare, "Including your enemies…"
Reyes paused. She was clever, and more cunning than he had anticipated her to be. He briefly observed how she had positioned herself. She was relaxed, however her posture was still keen and uptight. He noticed that her eyes were fixated on him and the three long scars over the left hand side of his cheek and the cut just above his upper lip.
"Well…there's no point digging into it now." Amélie concludes with a soft sigh, pushing aside her glass of wine and instead reaching out for the bottle of whiskey.
Reyes felt his throat dry up as she picked up the golden bottle, unscrewing the top off and simply downing it's contents straight down the hatch. His hazel eyes looked down the near empty glass in his hand, his lips curling with slight competition and drinking what was left inside his shot cup before placing it aside.
"Damn. Didn't take you as the type of woman that'd just guzzle alcohol straight up." Reyes said with deep surprise as she placed the bottle down, letting out a satisfied sigh – nearly a quarter of the bottle gone in a manner of seconds.
"Ever since Talon abducted me, performed their surgeries – their brainwashing, their procedures, their guinea pig experiments…" She replied with a deadly tone, "I feel nothing. This didn't just apply to my emotion. I feel nothing."
"Barely alive huh?" Reyes thought to himself as he took the neck of the bottle and began to do the same, the golden liquor pouring down his throat. He felt the same way. Ever since Moira configured his physical condition – he couldn't feel anything. The burning desire of lust, the headaches of being drunk, the scorching cold of the Russian winter, the heat of the desert…all replaced with nothing but hatred and a need for vengeance.
The taste of liquor burned his taste buds, and for some reason, his eyes burned against her skin. His breathing turned heavy, why was he in heat? Now? Why? He knew exactly why. It was because of her. Ever since the day he met her. Everything was because of her.
"The scars." Amélie murmured.
Gabriel turned his gaze up, "What?"
"You may wear that mask for your identity. But it's really for those scars." She made sure to say her words clearly, though stripped of emotion – they held meaning.
Gabriel placed two fingers against his cheek, where the three prominent marks make their presence known. By his standards, these scars healed fine – but contrasted with his dark skin and complexion, they stood out as obvious battle wounds.
"A reminder of a fight that no one won." He whispered, his fingers slowly dragging up and down the impaired flesh. She saw in his eyes that they were shallow – trying to forget this 'fight'. Soon she realised it was the fight that had brought about everything, the fight that tore down Overwatch's Swiss HQ – and evidently the organisation itself.
Reyes could feel the back of his throat linger with the essence of burning whiskey and decides to once more grab the neck of the bottle, placing it to his lips and letting the liquid pour down his throat. The fact that glasses were on the table were in complete disregard at this point. As he settled the bottle down, it was immediately lingered within the woman's hand – grasping the top and taking a quick swiv from it.
"Mon Dieu…" Amélie says with a drowsy tone, placing the bottle down with a loud clunk. "I haven't been this hazy in years."
Gabriel paused and smirked as he turned the bottle to the back, showing her that the contents within it held nearly 45% alcohol. She groaned beneath her breath as she placed her arms on the desk, and placed her head against them, her long, tied hair accompanying her shoulder.
"Drinking this rubbish really does fuck you up…huh Gabriel?" She muffled with her head still down on the table.
Reyes folds his arms and leans back on his chair, humming as a confirmation. "It looked like you needed it anyway." He answers bluntly with a stupid grin on his face.
Larcroix peers up from her arm, her golden eyes just coming into view as they narrow at his expression. "Wipe that smug look off your face imbécile." She shifts slightly in her seat, a sudden rush of blood running up to her head and cheeks. Her face beginning to resonate a bright purple – a colour added to her complexion in which she didn't even know was possible since her abduction.
"Don't tell me that you're drunk already." Reyes says, still retaining that dumb grin.
"I simply don't drink this…," She paused, struggling to find the words and the energy to string a sentence together, "…this. Filth!"
Gabriel looks at the bottle, only a quarter of the bottle is left now – and he knows that half of it is gone because of her. He was surprised that she didn't throw up yet. "You seem to enjoy it."
"I don't." She murmured, lifting her head off the table and wiping her mouth with her forearm. "But you were right. It's something I need at the moment."
"That makes two of us." Gabriel replied, his hand creeping up towards the bottle and his dry mouth begging for the dry liquid.
"Gérard always said...that if anything happened to him – you would be there for me." Amélie began, sitting up straight, one leg crossed over the other, looking to the side in reflection.
His eyes direct their attention from the bottle and look her way. He paused, taking a deep breath before replying, "Mm, he requested that I take up that role a while back." He chuckled awkwardly. In shame almost.
"Look how reliable I turned out to be."
Amélie continued to look in her direction before closing her eyes and lowering her head, "The topics we talk about…" She began in a mellow tone, eyes still closed and tone still hazy from the excessive consumption of alcohol, "…I like to think that they bring out what we desperately try to hide, a chance to know each other better than we think we do."
Gabriel remained silent, unsure of what to say at this point. Her eyes opened, cat-like pupils meeting his gaze, prompting him to say something on his mind. Anything.
"A chance to start again…" He finally whispered, silent words that even Amélie could hear and in her heart, understand. Amélie could feel that peculiar emotion lurking within her again. It was a feeling she had not endured since her first meeting with Gabriel, that common connection – that taboo thought of knowing the other person without even saying anything to them, but at the same time…he was shrouded in mystery.
She tucked a section of her wavy hair away from her face and behind her ear, "There's still the issue of figuring out what to do next." She murmured.
Reyes nodded, "I think we need to come up with a backup plan. In case Talon does find you. Us." He pauses, his eyes draw their attention to the bottle of whiskey next to him. His mind ponders, Talon is coming. I don't know how or why. But I know they're coming. His eyes settle on the bottle for a few more seconds before finally concluding, Fuck it.
"But as you say…Amélie. A bridge we'll cross later." His hand grabs the bottle and places his lips against the neck, chugging the damned thing until it was near empty. He landed it with a clunk, wiping his chin and letting out a satisfied and exasperated sigh. His throat burned, his chest burned, this liquor tasted like flaming menthol. His eyes narrowed as the alcohol worked his way into his system, it was hard to get him drunk – even harder thanks to the procedures Moira provided him to give him these monstrous abilities of his, it affected his metabolism to the point where he didn't even bother to smoke, drink or touch any prescription drug provided to him. But for some reason, that heat crept up inside his collar, making him grit his teeth in frustration.
"Gabriel." A voice murmured.
He looked forward. Amélie sat there, leaning forward – her elbow placed on the table and her chin resting against the palm of her hand, golden eyes narrowed with a wide, sweet smile spread against her lips which shone in a glossy texture as it contrasted the pale moonlight. Gabriel held his breath. The look she gave him, those long narrow eyes giving the impression that she could break a man in two – it was beautiful in a way, like a deadly vixen.
"She's beautiful…" Reyes thought to himself, "That look in her eyes. Hmph. She isn't Widowmaker anymore. Gérard…she's back. I don't know how or why. But she's back."
"Don't tell me you're the one who's drunk now." She said, a sense of mockery tingling at the back of her soft voice. Gabe wouldn't admit it, but he could listen to her talk for hours. Her accent illustrated that foreign atmosphere which was comforting and smooth – French was the language of love after all. But what really illustrated her tongue was the mellow, deep tone of her chords. It wasn't as rough or scratched like his voice was, but her's remained unscathed. Every word coming from those glossy lips perpetuated him into a state of calm reminiscence. It sparked a sense of attraction in a sense. An unwanted attraction.
Wait, what the fuck was he thinking? His eyes turned away from her lips, he snarled silently as he placed an arm on the table and ran his fingers through his curly hair. Amélie arched an eyebrow.
"Are you alright?" She asked with that smooth tone.
"It's the alcohol Reyes. These thoughts in your head, it's the damned liquor talkin'…Shit."
"I'm fine." He mumbled before looking back up to her gleaming, curious eyes. That didn't help at all. Stop looking at me damn it. He mouthed those words with closed lips. The heat. It's coming back. This isn't the whiskey that's causing this.
Abruptly, Gabriel stands up and pushes his chair back. "Sorry. I'll be back. Where did you say the bathrooms where again?" His speech was awkward and near inconclusive.
Surprised and wide eyed, Amélie shrugged and motioned with her left arm.
"Follow the stairs and to the right. Should be the second door."
"Thanks." He departed, leaving his mask on the table and following the woman's directions. Quickly he ascended the stairs and out of the sniper's view, proceeding down a long corridor patented with a red carpet along with several renaissance paintings adding to the traditional atmosphere the Chateau provided. Yet considering Gabe is the local boy raised in downtown Los Angeles, the wraith gave little attention to these details and instead stormed towards the second wooden door.
He opened the door, the bathroom smaller than he had imagined. The floor was tiled, a shower space (fit only for one person) in the far left corner with a latrine across the opposite side to his close left. On the right was the sink, a tap area with a large mirror surrounded by a golden frame hanging above it. Everything was kept in pristine condition. It made Gabe think that it must've been pretty lonely. Living here. All by herself.
He loosened the collar of his vest, tugging the armour slightly down and loosening his jacket. He could feel the sweat building beneath his garments. He rushed over to the sink, removing his gauntlets quickly – realising how clammy and sweaty his hands were – throwing them to the side of the sink and quickly turned on the cold water. He cupped its cool contents into his rough hands and splashed it across his face, proceeding to let out a deep sigh as it cooled him down. After several moments he turned the tap off and placed both of his hands on each side of the sink, leaning forward and breathing heavily. His eyes looked down as the swirling noise of the water was drained into the sink, his breathing steadied to it's nominal pace. The heat that consumed him seemed to have receded from his body, but what bothered Reyes was where that heat came from. He lifted his head to find himself staring at a dead man. A figure with a dark complexion, rugged with a trimmed beard, dark curly locks sitting on his head and heavy hazel eyes stared right at him. With scars. Those unhealable scars.
"Gabriel Reyes." He murmured to himself. "What a mess you became."
Drops of water still found itself trapped within his beard, its visible presence was known as Reyes used his sleeve to wipe it away. He sighed as he began to realise the cause of this scorching effect. He wanted to disregard it and simply pin it on the effects of his wraith procedure. But no, that was an unlikely case. It was her. It had to be her.
"Amélie…" He whispered softly. A soft murmur of the woman's name that touched his mind, heart and soul long ago – even without directly intending for it to be so. Gabriel shook his head, clenching his fists and began to walk back and forth slowly in a rhythmic pattern infront of the sink. He wandered and cursed himself for these thoughts.
"I don't deserve her…" He said to himself, continuously walking forward and back, "I abandoned everything I stood for, fought for – what kind of bastard does that?"
With grit teeth and flaring nostrils, Reyes stopped infront of the mirror and looked at it sideways. His fists were clenched, shadowy tendrils were fuming from his body – an obvious indication that rage consumed him, a rage that he welcomed in order to fuel his vengeance. But at this particular time, he could only think about her. For the first time, that rage wasn't directed towards anyone – not to Overwatch, not at Morrison, not to the media that tore him apart, not to the United Nations that stripped him of everything. That rage was meant and harnessed for no-one but himself.
"You're getting old Reyes." He said through his clenched teeth, "You shouldn't be thinking about shit like this anymore."
He paused, walking towards the sink and once more staring at his reflection.
"I mean, what the fuck was that? You started stammering at the end when you were talking to her, just to ask for where the bathroom was. Fuckin' idiot. Acting like a school boy."
An abrupt finish to the man he was glaring at. That man glared right back at him, a returning expression of matched anger. Gabe was never a smoker, always was a drinker – must've been the Latino genes that resided within him, but if he had the opportunity he might as well suck one in right now in this current situation.
Silently, he raises his hands to his face and curses harshly before finally deciding it was time to go back. He washed his hands (splashing more of it against his face) before drying himself with a convenient station of hand towels situated in the cupboard beside him.
It smelt of lavender. Her scent. It really must be lonely living here.
Her smell didn't help him at all as he quickly felt that heat returning to him. He quickly placed them back before reaching for his gloves and deciding not to put them on. Instead he walked out of the bathroom with both his gloves held in one hand as he returned to the dining area. As he approached the place where he last saw Amélie, he realised that she was gone. Absent from the table where the wine and whiskey bottles still lay. His mask also where he had left it. As he descended the stairs he was about to call her name yet was silenced as his ears picked up the distant tone of music.
Standing quietly, he threw his gloves on the dining table and slowly began to follow the sound of music quietly – gradually leading him away from the dining area and through the corridors, the corpses of Talon soldiers lying dormant against the floor. The soft notes of the violin met his ears as he turned the corner. The violins grew closer and closer as he proceeded down this hallway before finally reaching to the point where the music originated from the room to his right.
Slowly he peeked from the corner and his eyes were welcomed by a massive domed space – an area he didn't realise was apart of the Chateau's foundation. The music soon became orchestrated, percussion instruments, bass and all sorts of categories Reyes was unfamiliar with – was playing from a holotape in the corner of the room and began to illustrate 'A Midsummer Night's Dream-Scherzo Op.61 No.1', though to Gabriel – this sounded like every other classical piece there was. As Gabriel moved out of the wall, which covered his view – he stood in the doorway to find Amélie standing in the centre of this large domed room. Her boots kicked off and found against the left wall. Barefoot and loose, she took a dancing position, a spotlight shone ontop of her. Gabe's eyes looked up to realise that there was not a source of artificial light, but instead the glass domed ceiling allowed the natural light of the moon to illuminate the center of this miraculous ballroom.
The music played, and Amélie followed it's direction. Gabriel watched, her eyes were closed – her movement was fluid and a smile was planted against her face. Seeing her smile, it was a rare occurrence. But when she did, when it was from something she enjoyed. That didn't put Reyes into heat. No.
Instead. It only put a smile to his face as well. Knowing that someone he cared for was happy for the first time.