Hey Guys! Chapter 5 is here! Sorry about the wait, I'm lazy. :3

By the way, WidowTracer has officially started in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!


Amélie stood in the kitchen, staring down at the mixing bowl in front of her. Why in the hell is this not working?! She had done everything perfectly, and even after doing so five times, she still couldn't get the dough right.

When it came to cooking, she wasn't really the most experienced.

"Luv? You almost done in there?" Amélie turned to her right, looking at Lena through the kitchen doorway. "If ya want some help, all you've got to do is ask."

"Non, I've got this chérie. I'm just not really… familiar with it," Amélie answered, taking out another round of ingredients. She hadn't remembered the recipe, but knowing she had made cookies made her want to bake some. The act of baking seemed slightly familiar, but overall, she really didn't have a clue as to what she was doing

Being stuck in a Talon base for a good few years meant you never got an opportunity to do anything but sit there and think about the fact that you literally have nothing to do. The only thing she actually looked forward to was going on missions, and every single one ended the same.

Before Lena had started harassing her, Widowmaker was perfectly content with what her life consisted of.

As if she ever had a say in the matter to begin with.

Widowmaker had wholeheartedly believed that she was going to spend the rest of her life in that facility. Her emotions were dulled to the point of nonexistence, so it's not like she was able to feel sad for herself.

Then, one day, she was assigned with the task of killing Tekhartha Mondatta, during his peace speech in King's Row. As usual, her mission was a success, but unlike her other missions, she had met someone who almost stopped her. A girl. A British, time-controlling girl who, little did Widow know at the time, was going to change her life.

This girl's name was Tracer or, more appropriately, Lena Oxton.

For the three months following the events of King's Row, Tracer had basically followed Widow to at least half of her missions. She would always greet her with a "Wotcha lookin' at luv?" or a "Hey luv! Wot are ya up to?" In the beginning, Widow had hated her, her voice, and everything that had to do with her.

After about a month, Tracer began approaching her more subtly. She would usually make her way up to the rooftops, eventually find the sniper, and blink over to her. With a quick cough, making her presence know, she would sit down on the rooftop behind Widow, completely silent.

She wasn't sure why, but up to this point, Widowmaker had dreaded the time of Tracer's arrival. But now, she simply awaited it. Tracer would sit behind her for quite sometime, simply waiting. If Tracer noticed the sharp intake of breath from Widow, signaling she was about to take a shot, she would find a way to distract the sniper, ending the silence.

Once the third month hit, Tracer began to ask her questions. The majority of them were "How's your day been luv?" or random ones like "Wot's your favorite color?" Widow rarely answered, but one question the brit had asked once triggered something in the back of her head.


"What's it like? Not having emotions and all that," she asked, fiddling with a string on her jacket. Widow was in the middle of placing a well timed shot with a former accountant of Talon. A betrayal, she had assumed. Hearing these words, she flinched, turning to Tracer.

"What?"

"Well wot's it like? Not being able to hate, or like, or be sad or..." she stuttered, barely getting her last word out. "love."

Widow stared at the girl, thinking. What did it feel like? At first, she simply felt nothing, as if that component of her life was never there to begin with. But then she began to notice these small moments where she felt as though she should be feeling something, but she wasn't able to grasp onto it, as if it were just the wind.

"Uhh, luv? Ya there?" Tracer asked, waving her hand in front of her face. Widow shook her head, and looked away.

"Empty," she stated simply.

Tracer looked at her, a confused expression on her face. "Wot?"

"It feels empty," she stated once more, glancing at the other woman. "Like something should be there, but it's not." Why was she wasting her time with this girl? She had a job to do.

"Well doesn't that ever bother ya? Knowing that everyone else, including myself, can feel these thing when you can't?" Tracer inquired, her eyes holding a pleading look. Widow glanced at the device on her arm, checking the time.

"I must be leaving, chérie," she stated, securing her sniper on her back. "Talon is expecting me back soon."

Tracer stared at her, searching her eyes for an answer. She nodded, and stood up. "Catch ya later then." She blinked away, running across the rooftops.

"Au Revoir..." She waited until she was sure she couldn't see the other woman, and pulled her sniper back out. After a quick search, she silently cursed herself for being so stupid. Not only was she talking with an enemy, she had let her target get away. Her mission was still active. She would succeed tomorrow.


After that conversation, Widow had promised herself that she would no longer converse with Tracer, but two missions later, she found herself doing just that. Once again, she asked her if her lack of emotions bothered her.

No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, truth be told, it did.

She began having her nightmares. When she would wake from one, the thoughts of a young pilot and a man would linger in her mind, giving her a slight headache. Other times, only thoughts of the pilot would bother her.

Tracer, seeing her up on the rooftops, seemed so familiar, with the way she talked, to the way she styled her hair.

The night before Widow had finally asked Tracer for help, Widow had a dream. For once, it wasn't a nightmare. This was a good dream, to Widow's surprise, that was full of happiness. It consisted of walks along the outskirts of London, taking in the scenery, and long nights of staying up with the pilot from her thoughts, and watching movies.

Upon realizing that this pilot was Tracer, she realized that this woman might be the only way she could finally understand what was wrong with her.

She mixed the last of the ingredients in, stirring the dough vigorously. She's had enough of this. Taking out a flat metal sheet, she began forming small piles of dough on it, and set it in the oven. Amélie set the timer, and walked into the living room. "Sorry about the wait, chérie," she said, sitting next to Lena. "That took longer than expected. I'm afraid they may not be the best."

"Oh, I'm sure they won't be bad, luv," Lena reassured her, resting her hand on Amélie's. "'sides, you've always been a great cookie maker. They'll probably be bloody delicious."

Amélie turned to Lena, smiling. "Thank you Lena, once again, for everything."

"Ya welcome, luv. Trust me, you deserve to know your own life," she said, smiling back. "But I've been thinking, luv. I could contact Winston and tell him our situation. I'm sure he'd be able to help you if I can just get the big guy to understand what's wrong. We'd be able to stay somewhere more secure."

Amélie's eyes went wide. Not only was Lena willing to help her, but Overwatch itself might be willing to do so as well? She thought for a moment, considering what might happen. "Do you trust this Winston?" she asked.

"Course I do, luv. We've been best friends for years. He knows who you are. Well..." she stopped for a moment. "who ya were."

She nodded, turning away. "Do it. As much as I like it here, I'm sure we would be safer in an Overwatch base."

"Well, it isn't really an official base yet. More of an outpost, if ya ask me. It's still got security systems and all that though," Lena concluded, reaching for her phone. "He'll understand, trust me." She turned it on, and dialed a short number, raising it to her ear. "Winston? Yeah luv, it's Lena."

Amélie rubbed the back of Lena's hand, signaling to her that she was going to check the cookies. Lena smiled at her, taking her hand.

Amélie felt a small feeling her chest, rising from the couch. She entered the kitchen, and put on an oven mitt. She checked the cookies and, seeing that they were cooking well, thought for a moment.

Did she like Lena?

Every time she looked at her, she couldn't help but stare at her eyes. They were beautiful. Her personality so up-beat and contagious that Amélie couldn't help but smile almost every time she talked with her.

"Luv? Can ya come in here?" Lena said from the living room.

"Oui, I'm coming." she responded, taking her oven mitt off, and setting it on the counter. Upon entering the living room, Lena tackled her with the biggest hug she could manage.

"He said yes, luv," she whispered, smiling. Amélie hugged her back.

"When can we leave?" she asked, pulling back to look at her.

"He said he's gonna have a few agents pick us up. I guess they'll be here in an hour or two," she stated, looking at Amélie. "He didn't say who, cause he wants it to be a surprise."

"A surprise?" Amélie asked, suddenly curious. How could a few normal agents be a surprise?

"Yeah, apparently a few more of the more official agents answered the recall." Lena pulled one of her hands back, and began fiddling with a loose string. Amélie noticed this.

Was Lena nervous?

Now that Amélie looked around, she realized that they were still hugging. "Chérie, is everything alright?"

Lena looked up from her jacket, only to find that her face was much closer to Amélie's than before. "Y-yeah, everything is fine." she said nervously. They were mere centimeters away from each other now, their eyes locked to one another.

Amélie's thoughts were exploding right now. 'Putain de Merde, is this really happening?' she thought.

Lena began to lean in, their noses barely brushing. "C-couldn't be better." She stopped herself, their lips now scarcely touching.

Amélie could feel Lena's breath on her lips, and brushing past her cheeks. Why did this feel so familiar? She pushed these thoughts away, and focused on the situation at hand. Vissez.

She pushed forward, fully connecting their lips. Lena sighed into her, wrapping her arms around her neck. Amélie continued kissing her, wrapping her arms around Lena's waste.

After a few moments, they pulled apart, in the need of air. They looked at each other, a smile of genuine happiness on both of their faces.

"I lied, by the way," Lena said, nuzzling her face into Amélie's neck.

"About what?" Amélie asked, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"It was better, luv." she said, smiling. "So much better."


A few of you have been wondering why Amélie has been so... humane. I explained why in this chapter, as I talked about the three month span of their meetings.

Translations!

Non - "No"

Chérie - "Dear"

Au Revoir - "Goodbye"

Putain de Merde - "Holy shit"

Vissez - "Screw it"

Hope you enjoyed!