The closer you get to your target, the less they suspect you, the more damage it causes when you strike.
Sombra had memorized those words. They were one of the first things she was told while working for Talon. Reaper had taught her how to fight, how to be an effective agent. A killer. That was her first lesson from him.
She should have known better. From the moment Tracer had walked into her life, all she had done was try and do things for Sombra. Cook food for Sombra, buy lunch for Sombra, console Sombra.
Maybe she's just a nice person. That's what Sombra told herself. What a load of bullshit. There wasn't such a thing as a nice person in this world.
"Overwatch." Sombra said aloud, slowly, studying every sound her mouth made. Each and every syllable felt like gruelling slime, a shallow facade.
I should have known better.
Sombra stood up. She walked to the closet, each step reverberating through the room like the hollow shell it was. Her outfit was in there now. Apparently, Overwatch "trusted" her enough to let her have it back. She looked throughout the room. No cameras. No bugs. She was safe.
Sombra smirked, and slid out of her current outfit and into her own clothes. She had work to do.
"Winston! Please, I need to talk!"
Tracer banged on the lab door again. It had been nearly five whole minutes, and he hadn't answered her. She was beginning to think that he wasn't here.
She slumped over herself, panting heavily. She could feel the rapid beating of her heart echoing throught what seemed to be an empty chest cavity. Her throat was hoarse, mucus had begun to collect on the inside walls. She must have run faster than she had thought. Why were the labs so far from the rest of the facility?
Suddenly, a loud sigh interrupted Tracer's ever unfocused train of thought. "Coming."
The second the door opened, Tracer lept onto him. If it were nearly anyone else, she probably would have tackled them.
"Wintson, I've made a terrible mistake!" Tracer yelled frantically.
Winston released a small 'hurumpf'. "Yes, I would say waking me at this hour is a terrible mistake." Tracer curled her hands into fists.
"Please Winston, this isn't the time!" Tracer snapped back. Her voice was rancid with anger, guilt and desperation. The second Winston heard Tracer's cry, he knew that this was serious.
After an intial pause, he turned to the door and fidgeted with a few buttons. The door closed, and he spun back around to face Tracer. "What happened?" His voice carried all the care and reassurance in the world.
"I, I uh," Tracer stopped, face heating up. She only now realized how embaressing this whole situation was. "I kissed Sombra."
Winston's eyes widened. "You did? I didn't think she would be open to that much intamicy yet."
Tracer suffled her feet nervously. "Well, that's just the thing. She wasn't."
WInston sat down. "I see." He turned his head aside for a brief moment, eyeing a small side experiment. "How did she react?"
"She kicked me out of her room."
Winston sighed. "Yes, that sounds like her."
"I didn't mean to hurt her, I just thought we had a connection!"
Winston cocke dhis head to the side. "After two days?" He questioned.
"Well, I um," Tracer stammered, "I like her." She said weakly.
"Did you happen to stop and think about what Sombra thought?" Tracer shrunk back. "Tracer, she obviously has trust issues. She's nowhere near prepared for a relationship right now! What in the world were you thinking?"
Tracer fidgeted with her fingers, head hung low. "Well, there's sort of a uh, secret." Tracer squeaked.
Winson rasied his eyebrow. "What kind of secret?"
Lena pulled herself onto her feet, eyes shut, hands over her ears, trying all she could to ignore the carnage around her. Men screamed as chunks of their own flesh fell from their bones. Artillery rained down from above, blowing people into small, bloody peices. World War Two. Why did she have to be here?
A large rumbling sound erupted from over her head. A bombing run. The splitstream was HELL. She shut her eyes as tight as she could, clamped her hands as tight as her muscles would allow, but it wouldn't stop anything. It didn't stop the men's pained screams. It didn't stop the bombs from falling, it couldn't stop all these men's deaths. And it didn't stop Lena from thinking.
Form thinking about their pain. About their families. About her family.
The family she would never see again.
Suddenly, the war froze in place. Lena opened her eyes. As she expected, blue fumes started to erupt from the ground. Each one cracked the ground around where they formed, and the world poured into the holes they left. Crackes spiderwebbed from the clouds, and the sky fell like shards of glass. Reality was tearing itself apart, sending her through the malfunctioning splitstream into a new timeline.
With a stomach lurching shift, she phased into a new world. She surveyed her surroundings cautiously, and she nearly cried once she realized where she was.
She was in her appartment. Lena was home.
This wasn't going to last, she knew that, but she was home.
Tears of joy started to stream from her face. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell to her knees, content to let the familiar surroundings console her.
That was, of course, until Tracer arrived.
The door opened suddenly, and a Lena stepped through the doorway. The Lena from this timeline.
Lena's heart beat in her chest. She was here. In the future. She made it out of the splitstream. She was going to be okay.
Lena walked up to the other version of herself, who was now fumbling with her keys. She was definately older, at twenty years older than Lena was now. She wore her age well. Some blue, glowy, thing, hummed on her chest. She turned around, and yelled out.
"Sombra! I'm home! I got chinese takeout!"
Sombra? Lena thought to herself. Who's that?
She didn't have to wait long to get her answer. A few seconds later, a latino woman rounded the corner, rubbing her eyes with her fist. Her outfit was, strange to say the least. Purple wires coiled all around her, hugging the curves of her body.
"You're finally back." The woman, presumebly Sombra, called out. The older version of Lena set the food on the counter, and caught the other woman in her arms, and planted a small kiss on her lips.
"Couldn't keep you waiting forever." Lena answered back.
Sombra smiled. "Did you get my chicken?" Lena nodded. "Oh, what would I do without you?" She huggged Lena. She planted another small kiss on her forehead.
A small light flashed and beeped on the counter. "AGENT SOMBRA. AGENT TRACER. REPORT TO WATCHPOINT: GIBRALTAR IMMEDIATELY."
The couple broke their embrace and headed toward the door.
"Can't they do anything without us?" Sombra said mockingly.
Tracer laughed, and responded cheerily, but Lena wasn't listening. She didn't move then, she didn't move when the blue smoke rose fromthe ground or the ceiling shattered to peices. All she could think of was Sombra.
From that day onward, no matter how bad her time in the splitstream was, Lena just remindered herself of that woman. Sombra, to her, meant safety. She represented getting her life back, that after all the hell she went through, it would be okay. That Winston would find a way to save her, and that she wouldn't be trapped forever.
Lena knew that when she found Sombra, she would do everythng in her powre to help her. To make her life better. If it weren't for her, she would never had had the strength to survive the splitstream sane.
An after all, she couldn't keep her waiting forever, could she?
Winston shuffled uneasily after Tracer finished her story. After a long breath, he turned back to her and spoke in a low voice.
"Have you told anyone else about this?"
Tracer shook her head.
Winston sighed.
"Tracer," Winston began, "I know Sombra means a lot to you, but," He paused, "you have to keep her perspective in mind. She's been hurt, she doen't know who to trust. Just because you know she'll eventually love you doesn't mean she does now."
Tracer nodded. "I understand."
Winston cleared his throat. "So, how do you plan to tell her?"
"WHAT!?" Tracer yelled, jumping out of her chair.
"Well, obviously she needs to know about this . I could tell her, if you want me to."
"No, no, no!" Tracer exclaimed. "It'll sound creepy and weird coming from you!"
"Maybe there's a reason for that, Tracer." Winston chuckled.
Tracer's face contorted into a frown. "That's not funny."
Winston sighed. "i suppose you're right." he put his hand on Tracer's shoulder. "You have to do this, Tracer. I know you can. I promise, she won't hate you."
Tracer breathed heavily. She tried to steel her nerves, to cool the boiling pit of guilt resting in her stomach.
After a brief moment, she raised her head. "Okay, I'm ready." Winston smiled.
And with that, Tracer was off. She raced down the hall, into the kitchen. Fortunately for her, or unfortunately, Pharah and Mercy happened to be inside the kitchen, and their tongues were in each other's mouths.
"Oh!" Tracer exclaimed, and Mercy turned away from Pharah.
"Tr-Tracer! What do you want?" She said frantically.
"I, I'm looking for Sombra." Tracer aswered, ignoring the awkward situation as best she could.
Pharah, who at this point was no longer in Mercy's embrace, answered. "She hasn't been in here. She's probably still asleep."
Tracer sighed. "I wish." She started off, ignoring Mercy's prying questions. She continued down the halls, Mercy and Pharah now unfortunately tagging along. Once she arrived, she knocked cautiously.
"Sombra? It's me, Tracer. Are you there?" No reponse. "Sombra, come on!" Tracer knocked on the door again. "I know you're mad at me, but we need to talk about this."
A small voice echoed through the door. "Go away." It was Sombra.
"Please Sombra?"
"Go away."
"Please?"
"Go away."
"Ple-"
"This is ridiculous!" Pharah exclaimed. "I'm breaking down the door!"
"Wait, honey stop!" Mercy exclaimed, but it was to late. Pharah had already rammed against the door, causing a loud crack to erupt through the hallway.
"Go away."
"PHARAH! WHAT THE HELL! NO, WAIT, STOP!" Tracer yelled.
The egyptian crashed into the door again, this time breaking it completely. She fell onto the floor, cradling her shoulder.
"Why did you-" Tracer stopped midsentence, frozen once she took in the sight of Sombra's room. The blankets lay on the floor, closet flung wide open. Snow clumped up on the edge of the windowseal, pouring in through the broken window. A small tape recorder lay on the desk, with a note laying on it reading; Screw you guys. I'm outta here.
Sombra was gone.
"Go away." A fake voice echoed through the room.
Author's Note: Sorry for the hiatus. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it. I have a feeling it will.