Amélie was aware that she was out. She would dream, repeatedly, again and again; at a certain point realizing that she was, indeed, sleeping, although not at any risk of waking soon. In her increasing states of lucid dreaming, eventually she ceased to really "dream" at all, simply thinking in her sleep; thinking in some dark place within the depths of her mind. At least she wasn't dead, she figured; though, even then, she couldn't have known that.
The first thing that seemed to give her reason to think that she was still alive us that, despite being asleep and dreaming, she seemed to still be "alive", in that she seemed to still be acquiring memories, as if she were simply working her way through life, seeing things, people, events, but unaware that those things were there, though they entered her mind anyway.
In the darkness of her mind, she saw lights as though through her closed eyelids; she felt the occasional touch- she knew she was still alive, though in some state between being awake and being in a coma of some sort. She remained in this state for some lengthy amount of time, she knew; between her dreams, she would go blank for some amount of time, before entering another cycle of sleep, allowing her the ability to think once again.
In this dark was that seemed to span years of time, she suddenly felt a slowly rising sense of awareness, culminating in her immediately rising into a feeling of warmth cloth atop of her. Through closed eyes, she came to wake up; the bright lights through her eyelids signaling her to remain as such, as the lights were too bright for her even with her eyes closed. She lifted her hands, just barely, running them against the thick wool of a blanket, running them up toward her face, feeling her skin, knowing she was somewhat normal and awake.
Suddenly she heard a subdued gasp from somebody in the room, a feminine voice suddenly speaking up, excitedly, "Nancy! Call the doctor! Oh my god; Mrs. Lacroix, can you hear me?"
Amélie felt pressure beside her, as if this person had leaned onto the bed, supporting herself over her, even able to tell she had been looking right at her. Amélie nodded weakly, her lips attempting to move to speak, but she was unable to.
"It's okay," the voice spoke, calmly, "You've been out for a long time, okay? Your body needs some time to recover, but you'll be alright. Don't freak out or anything."
Amélie suddenly felt a hand pressing against her forehead, moving to both if her cheeks, a gently laugh coming to her, "There's nothing to be frightened of. Can you open your eyes?
She shook her head.
"Is it because it's too bright?"
She nodded.
The nurse grinned, "Alright, I'll make sure they get dimmed for you. You should feel lucky to have a husband like Gérard; it took Dr. Ziegler a particularly large scalpel to keep him back from disturbing you while you rested. Normally, it's important for coma patients to feel touch, but you were in some odd state that nobody had seen before, but you do seem fine from out-"
The door slid open, revealing a young woman grasping ahold of a clipboard, her long hair worked up into a ponytail as it stayed back and forth, hurriedly, in time with her rapid footsteps. The nurse stood up to regain her professionalism, though the doctor barely seemed to notice that she was even there, her nose was so buried in her work.
"Thank god you're awake," she muttered with a sigh, shaking her head, "You would not believe-"
She paused, though Amélie couldn't ascertain why, the voice continuing soon after, "Anyway, we can't find anything wrong with you, so as far as I'm concerned, once you've recovered, I don't mind at all sending you home."
The nurse had run off, and just then, the lights dimmed to a dark orange, the doctor smiling as Amélie began experimenting with opening her eyes, gently opening them before shutting them again at the light, "Just take your time, okay? We're already in a heaping bit of trouble; I'd rather not risk any further issues by you rushing through your recovery."
"Trouble?" Amélie just barely managed.
The doctor groaned, shaking her head, "Just focus on your recovery, dear; okay?"
She reached down to take Amélie's hand, slowly shaking it, "I'm Dr. Ziegler if you need anything. Your husband was quite adamant that the best physician be placed over your care, so I can assure you, you're in good hands."
She stood back up, sighing again, though this time in relief, "You're actually here in Overwatch Headquarters. Ever been to Switzerland?"
Amélie shook her head.
"Well, I'll leave the blinds drawn so the first thing you'll see will be the Alps. How's that?"
Amélie nodded graciously, still trying to work her eyes awake. The doctor watched for just another moment before smiling, turning toward the door and sliding it open and closed as she left the room, turning down the hallway toward Gérard, who was clearly disheveled as he spoke with Jack Morrison, the older man holding his chin worriedly as Dr. Ziegler approached them, groaning.
"Angela; how is she?!" Gérard asked, worriedly.
"She'll be fine, so pipe down," she grumbled in reply, her eyes narrowed, drolly, "This is a ward, not a gymnasium."
"S-Sorry," Gérard apologized worriedly, though he only earned a reassuring smile from the doctor before he continued, turning to Jack, "What did Gabrielle say?"
Through a scruffy breath, Jack answered, "This isn't going to help anything, if that's what you mean."
Angela eyed him, "Is that what she-"
"They're using this abduction as another reason to terminate the program," Jack answered emotionlessly.
Angela nearly snarled in reply, "How the f- We just saved her life!"
Jack shrugged, "If we can't protect somebody married to an agent, how can we be expected to protect anybody, should the need arise? And if that's the case, what good are we?"
Gérard's head hung low as he rubbed his face, shaking his head, "I should have known something was up…"
Sighing, Jack reached over, patting him on the shoulder, "Judging from your story, you couldn't have known. That being said, I'm incredibly worried over the fact that somebody managed to learn such colloquial knowledge. Esmeralda works in development; there's no way in hell anybody outside of Overwatch would have known about her at all, much less her nickname."
He wondered quietly as Angela turned to Gérard, gently running her hand up and down his arm, reassuring him as she spoke up, "She's awake and starting to regain her faculties."
Gérard was just about to break into a mad dash before Angela forcefully took his arm in her hand, restraining him, "BUT! she needs rest. She's going to need some time to relearn her senses, and she cant have you fawning over her. I'll allow you to see her, but please, try and retain some composure."
He nodded, quickly, before Angela let him go with a shake of her head, watching him scurry off like a teenager. She frowned at the sight, rolling her eyes as she turned back toward Jack, who was still deep in thought. Her frown became something of a worried look, seeing him becoming more and more grim.
"They're gonna want a report, you know," she noted, quietly.
Jack nodded, "I know. But…"
He looked off down the hallway, as if looking for any signs of eavesdroppers, before slowly speak up again, "You don't think it was a bit too easy, do you?"
Angela wondered, herself, for a moment, "From how Gérard tells it, it wasn't at all."
Jack scoffed, crumbling under his breath, "The man was trailing his wife's kidnapper; of course he tells it like some crazy thing. but I was there. For such a prize as the wife of an Overwatch agent, the third lieutenant for christ sake- they weren't laying down their arms, but…"
He shook his head in disbelief, sighing again, "I don't know, maybe it's just me. I'm just becoming an old dog, I suppose."
Angela smiled, "Sometimes observations become old, not the tricks. We have everybody on this; it'll all come to light, I assure you."
"I suppose," Jack answered, "Though, a part of me hopes that it doesn't."
Despite her eyes having been open for about an hour now, Amélie simply stared down at the sheets of her bed, not dating to look up at her husband. It disheartened him, and even after insisting that it wasn't her fault, he would remind her of that fact every now and then. He sat in a chair beside her bed, holding her hand gently, the two remaining there, quietly, together.
"Feeling any better?" he asked, feeling some warmth returning to her hand.
She nodded, head still downturned, "Slightly."
"Good," Gérard answered with a sigh of relief, "Good."
He lifted his sight to watch her face, though she didn't bother to move at all, his voice wavering as he spoke up, "D- Do you know who I am?"
Her head lifted just enough for her eyes to peek at him, "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
Slightly miffed, Gérard ran a hand through his hair, "Just…you won't look at me."
His eyes flashed away as he took a breath, "I want to be here to do everything for you, so that you can feel better. But if I can't see your eyes, I-… If you're feeling guilty, my love, that is nothing you have to worry about!"
His hand had tightened around hers as he pulled it up to his face, squeezing it tight as he watched her through weak eyes, "But I couldn't forgive myself if I were to know that it was my doing that you-"
As if feeling his tears welling up, and refusing to allow them to appear, Gérard simply stopped talking, shutting his eyes as he buried his face in his wife's hand, hiding himself from her as she lifted her head to watch him, sadly. She pulled her hand away from him, which he allowed without a fight, even if he could feel his heart breaking as she did so, though he was revitalized, his eyes shooting open, as her hand rested against his chin, their eyes meeting.
While he fought back his tears, Amélie was faced with hers already running down her cheeks, "I-I'm sorry. I never wanted to be a burden that you had to-"
"You're not," Gérard clarified, through a shacking voice, "You couldn't ever be a burden, my love. None of this was by your doing; you must understand that. I will go to my grave knowing that, without a doubt. Something happened that shouldn't have- I was the one who should have been there with you and I-…"
He shook his head, "I'm just… I'm just sorry."
Amélie pulled her hand back to her bed, clutching the blankets as her teeth bit at her bottom lip, tensed, as she wondered aloud, "Well, what now?"
Gérard sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, running his hands along his face in exasperation, "Well, uh… Right now, all we can really do is remain in our home. It may still be safe, considering where all this went down, but we'll still have some security brought in to keep an eye out."
He paused, bringing his fist to his face as he bit against his knuckle, worriedly, "When I decided I would marry you… I never wanted to force you to, you know, have to change anything. I tried so hard to keep it normal for you, knowing that we'd only known each other for a few months- you'd have enough new stuff with me and the house. And with all this, I mean; I don't want you to have to give up your life, but… but I don't know what else we should…"
Trailing off, Gérard's face fell, sliding down his open hand as his body shook, the tell-tale signs of his tears, though it took every part of him to remain silent. Amélie watched him, silent herself, her brow furrowing sadly. She looked down at the edge of the bed, grasping the mattress as she pulled her body sideways until her legs fell down the side of the bed, dangling there. She pushed herself far enough off for her feet to touch the ground, just barely feeling the cold floor beneath her as her nerves desperately ran unanswered sparks up her body.
She pushed herself up onto her feet, though remained holding the bedframe to support herself. Her teeth gritted painfully as she let go, taking a careful step toward her husband, the ultimately goal to hug him immediately, and literally, beginning to crash around her as she began to wobble, slowly at first, but quickly enough, her legs began shaking wildly as she tried to remain upright.
Gérard quietly muttered, his head slowly lifting itself, "I just don't-!"
Immediately met with the collapsing frame of Amélie, he couldn't even move before her body crashed into him, his arms desperately attempting to cling onto her as she slid down him toward the floor, holding her tightly, yet gently, against himself, terribly confused.
"A- Amélie?!" he questioned, worriedly.
She sadly stared up at him, deterred in her goal, "You needed a hug."
Gérard sighed as he stood up, still holding her, though he quickly bent down and picked her up by her legs, like a princess, before sitting back down, holding her close as he sat her down in his lap between his arms, allowing her to turn her body to hug him.
"I knew you were headstrong, but that was rather unexpected," he chuckled, as if hiding his worry.
Amélie agreed quietly, "I suppose."
They became quiet for a time. Amélie had been feeling a chronic chill from within her, as if she'd had an ice cube implanted within her, unmeltingly freezing her from within. In these arms, though, with her own arms wrapped around her husband's neck, it was the first feeling of warmth she'd felt since waking.
"You saved me?" she asked, quietly, into his ear.
He nodded seriously, "We did. We tracked them down and came and got you."
Gérard chuckled lightly, "Though, I think I was more out of my mind than anything. I didn't want to give them any time to hurt you. From the looks of it, it looks like I succeeded. I couldn't live if I had allowed any harm to come to you."
He trailed off in thought, holding Amélie tighter in his arms as he spoke up once more, "You know, they've had statues built to Jack and some of the others. I used to think I wanted my own, but now… You know, the only monument I want a life built with you. I know we barely know each other and all, but I think it I was so adamant about protecting you, I think that means something."
He turned his head to look at Amélie's face, which had been resting on his shoulder, her eyes staring back at him, tiredly, as he continued, "If you want to keep living your life like normal, I want nothing more than that for you, to keep you happy. Just know that, never again, will I allow you to have to go through this again. I will spend every waking minute keeping you coming home to me."
Amélie's eyes shimmered as she watched him, before her head nodded gently, her eyes closing as she leaned it down toward the nape of his neck, his warmth putting her to sleep. Gérard smiled as he lowered his head, hoping to make it more comfortable for her. He felt the gently breathing past her nose, the soft hair against his skin. All was right, he thought.
Then he felt a gently press of her lips against his shoulder.
All was right, he knew.