Hello guys! Here's the second chapter to this story. Less action than the previous one but I hope you still enjoy!
If you want the musical mood to this, put Zero Time Dilemma's OST on! Especially Interminable Dilemma and Ustulate Pathos.
~ Sarah

Response to reviews
Guest: ohoho indeed it's just a matter of time! ~

Path to Redemption
Chapter 2
Into the spider's web

Tracer didn't exactly fall asleep during the ride, but she didn't stay wide awake either. Once her earlier spike of adrenaline had vanished, her body had started to feel the backlash of the intense effort in running away with her girlfriend. Her consciousness was periodically drifting away as the car rolled in silence, in a somewhat dreamy state; when the vehicle took a sharp turn or hit a stop, the Overwatch agent would be jolted awake before dozing off again.

Widowmaker, on the other hand, was fully focused on her driving. The car was one of the latest models on the market - where Talon got the money for such things, she had no idea - and thus equipped with a fully automated driving IA. But she had shut it down for fear of being spotted by the criminal organization. Besides, the sniper took small, steep roads and she didn't really trust the program to manuever as expertly as she did.

The moon had risen for a while when the car finally stopped for the last time; the loud noise of Widowmaker slamming her door snapped Lena's eyes open. She looked through the window, but it was far to dark for her to see anything. Which meant they were far from any city or even village.
Where on earth had the assassin taken them to?

"Emily, hey. Wake up, love." she whispered as she stroke her beloved's cheek.

The Irish woman answered with a growl, but the former pilot managed to tear her away from sleep. Her usually well kept ginger hair was a mess, and her eyes were puffy with sleep and tears.
And yet, even though the sole dim light coming from her chronal accelartor wasn't helping, to Tracer, she looked as beautiful as ever.

"Come on, this way."

Absorbed in her contemplation of Emily, the brunette hadn't noticed Widowmaker coming back to the car, holding a flashlight. Emily cast Tracer a puzzled look.

"For some reason, she saved us." Lena explained. "I... don't get why, but I hope to figure it out. And you're alive, my dove, that's all that matters."
"Can we trust her?"

Her girlfriend looked understandably confused and scared.

"We don't have much of a choice." Tracer sighed as she opened the door. "But let's stay on our guard."

Emily nodded, before following Lena out of the car. Widowmaker let out a theatrical sigh when the pair caught up to her.

"You're not usually this slow, chérie." she mocked her rival. Somehow, her banter didn't annoy Tracer as much as it usually did; it put her in some known territory, at least. "Speed it up. You too, la rouquine."

Emily didn't understand the nickname Talon's former agent gave her, but she guessed it wasn't very affectionate.

The pair followed the woman down a narrow cobbled pathway. They walked in silence for around a minute before reaching a massive house. Tracer couldn't see much of the building with Widow's small light, but it was enough to gauge its size.

"You live here?" she asked with awe.
"Used to." mumbled the sniper as she fumbled with her tight clothing.

She drew a pendant from underneath the purple spandex, and hesitated for a few seconds before bringing it to the massive wooden door.
She opened the door with a loud creaking noise, causing Emily to jump in fright and grab her lover's arm. Tracer put her hand on her girlfriend's and stroked the skin in a soothing motion.

Widowmaker stepped inside the house, and the couple followed her. The sniper pressed the light switch, making the light bulb above them flicker to life with a dull buzzing sound.

As expected, the room was huge; Tracer guessed it doubled as living room and entrance. Everything looked warm and cozy, as if they had stepped inside a perfect family's house. Comfortable looking couches were surrounding a large holovid set, and the pastel walls were decorated with framed movie posters and what looked like family pictures. There was a fireplace in a corner of the room, which led Tracer to think the house, though furnished with pretty modern furniture, was quite old. Another corner was occupied with a spiral staircase, which led to a floor on top of them.

Emily was still holding on tight to her. Widowmaker went upstairs without a word, leaving Tracer to awkwardly stand in the room without knowing what to do. She didn't dare to sit on a chair or a couch, for fear of being rude.

The thought made her smile bitterly. Since when did she care about being rude with Widowmaker?

Before she could decide on what to do, she heard the sniper coming back downstairs. She was carrying clothes, and handed them to her "guests".

"I do not want any sweaty and dirty people in my home. You could use a change of clothes."
"Thanks, Widow." Tracer mumbled.

She was about to ask where they could go to slip inside those new outfits, but before she could Widowmaker had gone back upstairs.

Emily unfolded the shirt she had been given; it was a warm green which perfectly matched with her hair. Tracer had been given a multicolored legging and a white shirt.

The brunette carefully unstrapped her chronal accelerator and placed it on a nearby chair, then took her clothing off and pulled it aside. She decided to put her device back on her chest after she had changed instead of leaving it by her side like she'd do at home. Even after all Widow had done for her, she couldn't bring herself to fully trust the sniper just yet; and even if the assassin was being perfectly honest, there was still the probability Talon would come and try to take them by surprise.

"Lena, come here, you have to see that."

Tracer noticed her girlfriend was looking at one of the pictures on the wall. It featured a young couple, clearly very in love with each other. The man was tall and had broad shoulders; he kind of reminded her of a younger Jack Morrison, if Jack had a goofy smile and chocolate colored hair. He was embracing a young woman who looked happy, though shier than him. Her dark hair was pulled in a messy ponytail, and her flushed cheeks were a hugecontrast with the rest of her skin, pale as snow. Both their eyes sparkled with joy and life.

It took Tracer a few seconds, but then realization finally dawned on her. She was looking at a picture of a younger Widowmaker.

"Enjoying the view?"

Both women jumped at the loud voice, and turned around to face Widowmaker. Her sharp, cold eyes didn't hold any happiness anymore, and her grin had been replaced by a stern expression.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to-"
"You meant to. Not that I really care, but I didn't think you were the type to lie, chérie."

Their was an awkward silence, before Tracer broke it in a desesperate attempt to lift the mood:

"So, uh, do you have a bathroom? I could use a warm shower!"

It was stupid, but it worked. The sniper cocked an eyebrow at her and shot her a look full of contempt, but she gave an answer:

"I do have a bathroom, like most civilised people. Upstairs, second door on your right."
"I'll go first, if you don't mind." mumbled Emily, climbing up the stairs without even waiting for Tracer's answer.

Lena didn't protest; Emily had nothing to do with all of this, and she didn't want to deny her an opportunity to escape from Widowmaker. She was used to the woman's rather cold personality - or lack thereof - but knew it could be distrubing to other people, especially her girlfriend.

"So, uh... lovely pictures you've got there."

Tracer immediatly regretted her attempt to establish a friendly contact as Widowmaker's eyes narrowed and locked on to her.

"Sorry, I-"
"His name was Gérard. Gérard Lacroix."

The pilot was taken aback by her host's answer.
Widowmaker walked next to Tracer, moving her gaze to the framed picture.

"He used to work for the joke you call Overwatch. I'm surprised you don't know him."
"I... I don't know everyone there."
"Huh."

Tracer scanned her memories of her old Overwatch days, but she couldn't remember meeting or even seeing the brown haired man, ever.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter. You won't be able to meet him now."
"Why is that so?"

Lena gave herself a mental slap. The question was idiotic, and the answer was obvious.

"I killed him."

Tracer couldn't repress a shocked gasp. Okay, that was unexpected.
Widowmaker's expression didn't move an inch; it seemed like she had simply told it was going to rain.

"You... you... killed him?! Why?"

A pair of yellow eyes slowly moved from the picture to the British woman. They seemed empty, but Tracer swore she could distinguish something in the iris. Something trapped, and screaming for help.

"I don't know. Because I felt like it."

Tracer swallowed her saliva with a loud noise. She had seen Widow take down agents on the field, and even assassinate a monk in public. But to picture her killing her lover in cold blood... no. It was too much, far too much. The horror that chilled her to the bone must have creeped on her face, as the Frenchwoman's lips curled into a joyless smile.

"Are you afraid, chérie? Or maybe disgusted?"

The woman stepped closer to her, gauging her reaction. Tracer couldn't do more than stare back at her.
Widowmaker was getting at an uncomfortable distance when a voice echoed in the house:

"Lena! The bathroom's free!"

Tracer jumped on the occasion to take a step back and mumble:

"I-I should go and have a shower."
"Oh please, do so. I'll take care of your little bird in the meanwhile. Don't look at me like that, I won't do anything to her. I have zero interest in people like her."

In other circumstances Lena would have protested the sniper outright insulting her girlfriend in front of her, but she didn't. She settled with a dark glance and ran upstairs, closing the bathroom door behind her and letting out a long sigh.

Things were already looking tough, but now Tracer wondered into which mess she had stepped.