"You know, he's a lot different than when he was at Blackwatch," Reaper mutters half an hour later. By now he's put the armor back on—whether because he's overcome his disgust or because the pain won out, I'm not sure. Knowing Gabe, probably the former.

"Hm?" I ask, lifting my head a little.

"Genji," he says because, yeah, that was the part that needed clarifying. I don't grill him on it though, since sitting here for so long has made me stiff and woozy. Reaper goes on, "He's…content now. Not as angry. Ironic, looking at us both."

I shrug. "This place must have done him some good. He and the medic do seem to be all buddy-buddy."

"Well, Genji did always have a fondness for doctors." We lapse back into silence, but I know by now that Reaper never starts a conversation unless he has a purpose. Sure enough, a minute later he says, "…have you thought that maybe you should lay low for a while?"

"Thought about it? Yes. Actually want to give up? Not a chance."

Reaper grumbles. "Look, I've seen Doomfist since Talon. After you destroyed what he saw as the world's one shot at 'advancement', there's no way he won't chase you until the ends of the Earth to bring you down."

"What, now you're worried for my safety?" I scoff.

"I've stuck a lot on the line for you," he says. "And like it or not, I'm mixed up in your stupid quest. What I'm saying is there are tactical advantages to setting up shop here in Nepal—we don't exactly have a lot of allies at the moment, and we're going to need every advantage we can get against Talon."

In a moment of rare reservation, I actually consider it. It's been a long time since I've really had a headquarters. Even at Talon, we were always hopping from base to base, mission to mission. If I'm being honest, I settled into the people, not the place. But before I reach a solid conclusion, a messenger appears on one of the meditation room's two entryways; an omnic with a horizontal fold in their faceplate.

It's the one who got me the first time, (do they really make the same guy run all their errands here?) and they say, "Sombra, Gabriel Reyes, I'm pleased to inform you that your friend is awake. Tekhartha Zenyatta has sent for you."

My heart skips a beat, which isn't helped when I jump up and all the blood rushes to my head. I immediately begin towards the messenger, but look back to see Reaper is still on the floor.

"You go ahead," he says when I raise an eyebrow at him. "I'll…be there eventually."

I would argue the point, but my anticipation to see Widow overrides it. I leave Reaper to his brooding, and power walk all the way to the medical ward.

The messenger drops me off with a curt nod and I stop outside the ward, apparently one of the few places in the monastery with an actual door. But, despite the fact that she's only a few feet away, I pause when I hear voices on the other side of the ward's lone barrier. Maybe it's the anxiety. Maybe you can't teach a cat not to hiss. Either way, I slide against the wood and listen in.

"…I have killed more than you know." Widow. Soft and…sad? "Your faith is misplaced."

"I understand." Zenyatta. I didn't think that far ahead the last time I left them alone, more focused on bugs crawling inside of my other best friend, but now it occurs to me this conversation could go very badly. My already jittery heart rate picks up another couple beats per minute.

"You say this, but your tone tells otherwise." There's something prim in Widow's voice that I've never heard before, and it takes me a second to realize she actually sounds tired. Not surprising considering what she's been through, but the realization is uncomfortable. Widow never shows when she's feeling weak. At least not to me.

"I may not know what all you have done, but I know that there is much more you can do. There can be peace, my friend. Believe me on that. And I ask that you think about what I have said."

Apparently that's the end of the conversation, something I don't clue into until Zenyatta is grabbing the other side of the door. Thankfully, as a professional eavesdropper, I'm well practiced in the art of slipping into stealth and pretending I was never there.

I backtrack a few steps, reappear, and greet Zenyatta with a cheerful, "hola Sparky. Your company hasn't gotten you feeling blue, I hope?"

"Sombra, a pleasure. I am glad you arrived first. I believe she will want to see you now." His voice is warm, no clue that I'd already started spying on him again. Once I'm within the ward, he closes the door with a pleasant, "I will give you two some privacy."

Widow's up, alert. There's no trace of her earlier ailment now, the exhaustion I'd heard from beyond the door wiped as soon as I crossed the threshold. If there were any evidence, it would be the indigo under her eyes and sweaty mess that's become of her hair.

"Hey there, amiga," I say not unkindly.

She stares black. Okay, wasn't expecting the silent treatment. I wonder if I've done something to get me in trouble.

I try again. "So. He tell you what he found while you were down 'n out?"

"Yes. A matter most urgent. It's imprudent that you are not tending to it already."

I roll my eyes. "Straight to business as always, araña. No time for girl talk?"

"This girl wants to talk without her location being broadcasted for any longer than it has to be."

Smirking, I come to rest beside her on the pallet. In all my dithering I did at least remember to bring my tools, and it's not before I have her in front of me, relinquishing control once again as I start digging into her skull.

It's exactly what I expected. Same trackers, same behavior modifiers; the surprise is diminished both because it's what I've found on Reaper, and because deep down I always knew something like this was here. The bugs come out with a fight, threatening to start shutting Widow's bodily functions down all the while, but I didn't get to where I am by not knowing how to counter some rudimentary self-recycling code. Widow's inanimate the whole time and I'm left with a back full of black hair to stare at while the last of my tools power down.

"It is done then?" she asks me.

I'm not sure what she's hoping to hear, but I might as well go with the truth. "Yeah. They're all out. You're home free."

"Hm," she grunts. "I thought I was home free the day Talon went up in flames."

Clicking my tongue, I scold her, "I knew you couldn't be that upset about that!" Absently, I reach forward, gliding my nails gently through the knots in her hair. She gives a brief hiss when I catch a snag, but relaxes when I get the worst of it undone. "Should have told me how much you hated that place. I could have helped, you know."

"I wanted to." Her shoulder blades slide with each deep breath, the bones in her visible even underneath the robe. With a turn of her head, she just barely acknowledges me, the sharpness of her profile glowing in the candlelight. "You have been speaking with Reaper, then?"

"A little." I pick at another knot, thinking this is probably the worst I've ever seen of Widow's hair. Justified, considering how long since we've had a shower or a decent night's sleep. Even I'm starting to feel the effects of our escape, my eyeshadow old and cracking and wings long since wiped away. "He said he tried to keep me out of it."

"Mm," she hums. "He was right, you know. It is unwise to trust you."

"Yeah. And yet for some reason people still keep doing it."

We lapse into silence, me fighting the monster and slowly winning. It's grossly intimate is what it is, like the nights when we'd share a bottle of wine between us and just sit in silence, sucking up all the clean air in Reaper's quarters. Widow was never one for talking but…those nights I knew were as close as she would get to friendship.

"How long?" I ask, slipping a strand behind her temple, the silver disks still glaring at me menacingly. "How long has it been going on?"

"Since the attachments?" She uses Reaper's word. Or maybe he was using hers. "I cannot say. Maybe forever. Perhaps ever since the day they killed Amélie Lacroix, something has been slowly struggling out of the person she used to be. But…I do know the day I first realized it. It was Yamoussoukro, mission four seventeen. One year ago."

I remember. How could I not? We'd almost died, Reaper and I, trapped under the collapsed building with our communications cut out and Talon's plan gone terribly wrong. It was my first look into how disposable I was, and that I might not have gotten out at all if Reaper wasn't there with me.

"It was…" She starts again. "I realized, in that moment, that if both of you were to perish…I had no reason to go back."

My hand pauses at her neck, her words sinking in. I never thought about what that day might have done to her, what it must have been like on the outside, able to do nothing. I guess I assumed she wouldn't give a damn.

"At first, I considered submitting myself for immediate reconditioning. But then…I spoke with Reaper instead. The rest I am sure you can guess."

Her strands are all straight now—silky if not clean. With careful folds, I begin to layer them over each other, small braids springing to existence while we rehearse our usual companionable silence.

"Widow?" I ask, the question coming from the room itself rather than actually putting any forethought into it. "What were you and the Shambali talking about before I came in?"

She doesn't ask why, or blame me for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Instead, she says, "I simply told him that I have no place."

I don't press further. I think I've done enough at this point.


When the braids were done, I get off the pallet, aching as I unfold my legs from their crossed position. Ah, if only to be young again, where I could spend days in criss-cross-applesauce instead of cramping after only a few hours. Even if I wasn't done, Zenyatta is back, heralding Reaper behind him.

I wave Zenyatta off when he motions me to stay, saying, "Ah, don't worry about me. Patients only get one visitor at a time, right?"

Zenyatta makes no comment, and Reaper ignores me entirely, favoring to sulk at the edges of the room while he stares unabashedly at Widow. I shrug and make my exit.

It only takes a minute of (very sore) walking to realize I've forgotten my tools back in the ward. Not looking forward to the Very Uncomfortable energy that was building when I left, I shrug, slipping into stealth and resolving to just pop in and out.

What I see when I get back stops everything else.

I don't recognize what I'm looking at first. What my eyes are sending to my brain just doesn't compute, the sight so beyond the realm of possibility that my invisible foot is just hanging in the air like a goddamned cartoon.

Zenyatta is nowhere to be seen, but Widow is exactly where I left her, Reaper standing next to the pallet. His mask is pushed up and…there's no way not to see what's going on. They're kissing. Her hands are on the sides of his face, purple skin meeting void as one of his hands comes to rest on his shoulder.

They're blind to everything in the world, don't notice at the sharp intake of breath that comes from the middle of dead air.

I turn heel and run.

I don't know how to explain the sudden bottomless feeling in my stomach, the gut reaction that watching Widow and Reaper kiss shouldn't be giving me. It shouldn't make me feel like this, this awful, pulsing thing that's just burning inside me like flash paper lit from the center. I forget everything, just keep walking until the monastery is a blur, the world getting louder all the while.