Widowmaker
It didn't feel like the first time, but in the same instance, it did. Amelie stared down at the grave of her late husband, a single rose laid before it and the rain coming down hard all around her. It was a fitting set, she supposed. Death was the only thing that welcomed her upon returning home, her mind nearly completely mended, and her emotions reclaimed.
She knelt, the black trench coat draped over her shoulders meeting with the wet ground. The name "Gerard Lacroix" was written clear as day alongside his years of life. This was her final destination as well. Everyone's, really. Knowing Gerard's decaying body rested beneath her dug another pit of suffocation in her heart, and Amelie reached forward, touching the grave and wincing at the sight of the tattoo on her arm, her sleeve pulled back slightly.
'I'm sorry, Gerard. You deserved much better.' She uttered quietly in the same language of the country housing her.
Truthfully, getting back to France wasn't especially difficult. Indeed, her fake I.D. provided by Talon had worked well enough, and Overwatch had already paid her enough for the trip and living expenses for some time. That wasn't even mentioning her own private fortune; one she had somehow managed to maintain despite the degradation of her good name after Gerard's death and her own disappearance. True, she was forced to keep herself somewhat hidden from the public eye due to whispers of a blue-skinned master assassin amongst the terrorists known as Talon, but even that was still considered hearsay, and she was mostly able to function in society without too much suspicion beyond a curious look at her complexion or…figure.
Amelie kissed her hand and touched Gerard's grave one final time, rising from the spot and walking through the streets of Paris. The city hadn't changed terribly. In fact, old landmarks brought Amelie back to a simpler time, when she lacked worldly experience and was solely focussed on her next production and, eventually, Gerard's satisfaction. Omnics were slightly more prominent, she observed, and the overall feel of the city had a touch of anxiety, considering everything that was happening in the world, but being the capital of France brought with it some governmental benefits, and the security as well as authorities in place to maintain peace had done so admirably, as far as Amelie could tell, despite parts of the world suffering from the resurgence of the God program and more powerful omnics than ever before.
Amelie stepped into a bakery she had frequented in her younger days, eyeing the displays of breads and pastries while embracing the scent of fresh coffee. She was greeted politely by the cashier, their intonation slipping perhaps upon seeing the unique state of their current customer, only an elderly gentleman and some college youths (a young man and girl) being the other patrons.
'Hello.' Amelie responded smoothly, gliding about the options presented to her, taking a tray and tongs to satisfy her growing hunger. She felt the male student's eyes on her, clearly distracted from his laptop and the work he and his girl friend (girlfriend?) had been engrossed in. With but a glance, however, he turned away, and Widow grinned to herself, clicking her way to the cashier and watching the middle-aged woman ring her through.
'New to the city?' She asked, doing well not to stare too hard.
'…In a sense.' Amelie decided to answer, also ordering a hot beverage.
'You look a little familiar, but I don't recall knowing anyone with…'
'Such a unique choice of makeup?' Amelie jested, and the woman laughed heartily, the tension broken.
'Exactly. Well, in any case, welcome, and the drink is on the house. Enjoy our fair city.'
'Thank-you, my dear. I will. Have a wonderful day.'
'You, too.'
Normalcy. She had been through hell to return to it. Amelie sat in an empty part of the bakery, right next to the window, watching the rain drip down the glass, cascading in montages of desperate pursuits. She could live her life again for the time being. Be Amelie Lacroix, although not without some complications, she was aware. Still, this moment was something she had craved so. No killing. No violence. Simply…being.
Lena Oxton had given her this precious opportunity, and she had no way of ever thanking her enough. She owed so much to that girl and Angela Ziegler; but primarily the former, because Lena hadn't given up on her. Not once. However, Amelie had to leave Overwatch for multiple reasons. She wanted to fight for the cause. She wanted to get revenge against Talon. She wanted to pay both Lena and Angela back. And yet…
It was selfish. She was selfish. Nemesis had almost killed her. With her emotions back in form, she was able to comprehend precisely what death meant for the first time in what felt like forever. Dying without ever having the chance to live again? No. Not a chance. Thus, she left. But not before displaying just how self-centred she was willing to be now.
Amelie had made love to Lena one last time, almost hoping the idea of it would repel her again. It hadn't. In fact, she recalled the act with longing, her eyes fluctuating thoughtfully as she took a small bite of her flavoured bread. Lena had done as she was told. She didn't return any of the affection whatsoever. It was all Amelie. It was a weak form of defence against the inevitable "row" the intimacy enjoyed may invoke between Lena and Emily. Amelie was regretful only partially. She had finally taken what she wanted, and it was merely the beginning for now.
What the woman hadn't expected, however, was how much she missed Lena already. The girl had weaseled her way into Amelie's life indefinitely, and that final night together – the talking, the drinks, the laughter, and the sex – was difficult to let go of. Ideally, Amelie was making a clean break. That was, unfortunately, a romanticized version of the future she had planned. Returning to Overwatch wasn't out of the question anymore, but certainly not for some time. Amelie had to be completely sure of these emotions she harboured for Lena Oxton and if they were truly worth fighting for…despite perhaps at the expense of Emily's current happiness; a woman Amelie respected enough to care about.
Amelie had to position thoughts of Lena out of her mind for the time being. It was a tricky matter, but she managed until this point well enough. Days had already passed. Surely Overwatch was in no position to waste resources seeking her out. Not after the destruction caused to their base. Amelie could only hope Lena and the others would find safety in a new base and leave her be.
The door to the bakery clinked open, a little bell notifying the workers of a new customer. It was a girl with short, boyish hair and a saunter in her step. Amelie rolled her eyes, turning away after taking the pretty thing in. The world could be cruel, Amelie knew all too well. This she could handle. She finished her snack and drink, left a tip, and made her exit, amusing herself by winking at the tomboy on her way out, likely confusing the poor girl.
The rain wasn't letting up, but that was fine. Amelie knew her next destination; had known she would make her way to the place the moment her plane landed. The neighbourhood had hardly changed, the arts valued in Paris and the strip of various elite schools for dance and the like upkept beyond measure. She felt a familiar anxiety knock into her stomach as she stared up at the large window on the third floor of a prestige building. Without a second thought, she entered, her heels clapping on the floor to the receptionist's desk. With a silky-smooth motion, she extracted her identification card, sliding it along the waist-high surface to the bored looking woman, absorbed by some sort of program on her phone.
'No lessons until the late evening, sweetheart. Sorry.' She mumbled.
'I would like to make private use of the auditorium.' Amelie cooed back.
This forced the irritable lady to shuffle her squeaky chair and observe the card Amelie had provided. She adjusted her sharp glasses and blinked, her mouth hanging open while she looked up. Amelie thought she had recognized her, but the years had been cruel. Smoking did that.
'A-Amelie…?'
'Yes.'
'But…You're okay?'
'It would appear so.'
'What happened to you?'
Amelie shrugged, taking back her card.
'I have learned what it means to be alive.'
With that, the doors were unlocked, and Amelie climbed a familiar staircase, letting her hand glide across the railing and absorbing the moments she once took for granted as a young woman. She held her breath, exhaled, and opened the door leading to her studio; where she had spent countless hours training to be one of the best dancers in France. She returned not only that, but also one of the most lethal killers the world has ever been subjected to. Her eyes had been opened to a great many things her life had to offer, some the very image of hell, and some…not so much. Indeed, the caring touch of another, in every way, shape, and form, had given her a second chance, and she wasn't about to squander that.
Amelie allowed her coat to fall to the floor, and she removed her heels, savouring the cool material beneath her feet with one step and then another, one leg in front of the next, her body a vehicle for communication of the highest level. She lifted her hands over her head, and then slid them down, rubbing her face and her body, feeling the sensation of her own caress, the inevitable reminder of that foolish girl's command of the same motion undeniable.
Amelie faced forward, balancing upon one leg and pointing that same limb's toe, lifting herself up high and twisting about with perfect accuracy. She leapt. Switched feet. Posed. Again. Bending more and more and more. She watched herself in the mirror, seeing the pale, shy woman who once was become replaced by a blue-skinned assassin who knew much more than before.
Talon had raped her life. There was no question about such a fact. And Amelie would never thank the terrorist group for stripping her of everything she knew. But there was also something to be said for where she ended up. Stronger. Wiser. More intelligent. Capable of loving beyond the capacity of her sheltered past self. She had worldly experience; now more than ever. There was a singular woman she had to thank for all of this. Yes. She would willingly show gratitude to her. Perhaps in the future. Perhaps in time…
'Further. Further. Further.' A crackling voice commanded suddenly, and Amelie nearly snickered, doing as she was told almost inhumanly. 'Perfection. See? You can do it.'
'I can do anything now, Madame.'
'Truly? I almost don't doubt it based on what I witness here. Show me more.'
Amelie felt chills cover her skin as a familiar tune began just then. Swan Lake. Her old teacher wanted it. Amelie closed her eyes, saw the two women she was merge into one, and did as was encouraged, incorporating the most challenging of ballet steps to prove her point not only to her teacher, but to herself as well.
Grand Adage. Fouette. Pirouettes. En Pointe. And, quite naturally, more than a few Grand Jetes. Amelie sunk into her art, tears filling her eyes as her mind traversed the journey that had brought her here. A young girl with a hint of talent. A woman finding love. A victim forced into savagery. A lost child amidst insanity. A savior she could only admire distantly. A lover shirking her idea of normalcy. A hero. A new person looking toward a future she never thought she could obtain.
'You are the very image of perfection, Amelie Lacroix. I dare say, the world needs this exertion of emotion now more than ever before. My child, grant this old lady one more show…'
Amelie snapped up, her elaborate costume quivering alongside her heart, and the stadium full of hundreds of thousands roared, leaping out of their seats and whistling over, and over, and over again. Amelie's chest heaved, white makeup stripped across her face and the swan outfit a spectacle in and of itself upon her perfectly shaped body. Her return to the stage was monumental, and she knew it might mean danger, but she wouldn't hide from Talon. They wouldn't rule her life anymore.
Somehow, despite the noise, the colours, and the incredible reception of her debut dance since leaving Paris, Amelie's cybernetic eyes caught sight of a spider tucked away in the corner of the auditorium's back roof. Not unlike before, the creature managed to send a chill through her soul, but not because she was afraid of it as an arachnid, but because of the fact it had no emotion. And without emotion, how could one ever truly live? Ever feel alive?
Indeed, as Amelie greeted fans who had spent an exuberant amount of money to step within three feet of her, the dancer was reminded of what she had gained, and what she had to lose, when a young woman with messy brown hair, a sly grin, and a glowing blue piece beneath her dashing tux handed her the biggest bouquet of roses she had ever seen in her treasured life.
'Bloody amazing, Luv.' Was all she said.
And Amelie cried tears of joy, sadness, fear, relief…and hope.