Blue walls, full horizons, nothing but brief moments of existence to tide her over…

Tracer opened her eyes. For the first time in what felt like months she felt relief. She wasn't in the other place. She wasn't something else too. What was it?

She tried to lift her head, but her neck couldn't support the weight. She let it sink back onto the pillow and examined her new room as best she could. It looked like it was honeycombed, and it also looked spherical.

It's made of metal.

This made her feel uneasy. Metal meant secure. Secure meant that whoever was in it wasn't meant to get out.

She tried lifting her arm. Despite her best efforts she could barely raise it from its position before she let it fall to the ground again. As she let it drop it fell out of the bed and into plain sight. It was thin, thinner than she remembered.

What had happened to me?

A door opened. She tried craning her head in the direction of the noise but couldn't see it. Whoever opened the door was approaching. She couldn't repress a small shiver of apprehension. Who would put her in this level of security? Could it be aliens?

Thankfully her visitor turned out to be a human, and a nurse at that.

"Hello Miss Oxton, how are you feeling today?" she said with a smile.

Tracer couldn't help but cry a bit. Those were the most beautiful words she had ever heard. And the nurse, bless her heart, didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest. Instead she got some tissues out of her apron and mopped Tracer up around the eyes.

"It's ok. You can cry as much as you want. Nobody should have to go through what you went through."

"Home?"

"Yes, you're home now, and you're safe."

It seemed too good to be true. As the nurse left the room with the promise of food to fulfil Tracer felt herself fall into unconsciousness again. Now she remembered what else she wasn't.

"I'm not dead." She whispered, then she slept like a log.

Winston looked down at the sleeping Lena Oxton. It had been several weeks since she had first woken up, and so far, she had made considerable progress. When it was established she was still sane all that was left was making her physically fit again. At first it was all she could do to lift a pen and write her name, but she seemed to be recovering quicker than anticipated. It wasn't long before she could walk a few paces with the help of the nurse, and now he was receiving reports that she could even walk unaided. She was far from her old athletic self, but at the very least she could lead a normal life.

General Sanders entered the room. True to his word he had secured all the necessary funds for this project of theirs, but he still hadn't lost his brutal professionality.

"How long?"

"The doctors can give you a better answer than I can. As far as I can tell she still has some time before she can function normally."

Sanders let out an irritated grunt.

"Not her. The harness."

So typical of him. Winston fully turned towards him.

"Thanks to the blueprints of the plane you gave me I was able to shorten my initial estimate of seven months to three. Give me another month and it'll be ready for testing."

The general grimaced. Even now Winston couldn't tell if he was smiling or showing his displeasure that Winston couldn't have finished earlier.

"Testing?"

He looked down at the sleeping Tracer.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be at the lab working on it?"

The armoured gorilla followed his gaze.

"I like to know what I'm working for. I feel it keeps me motivated."

Sanders looked at Winston directly in the eyes, and without a single word turned on his heel and marched out.

At that time Tracer woke up. He panicked. Tracer had never seen him in the flesh, he wondered how his appearance would affect her. Before he could leave she opened up her eyes.

Instead of the fear he thought she'd have she just looked puzzled, curious almost.

"You're Winston?"

He grew calmer again. Of course the nurses would have warned her. He nodded.

"Wow." She said, before falling silent again.

"So you saved me, right?"

"Not just me. I had a fine team of physicists helping me."

She nodded.

"Cheers anyway, love."

She grinned broadly. Winston couldn't help himself; her grin was so infectious that he found himself smiling too.

"So doc, when do I get to leave?"

His smile grew a little.

"It won't be long. A month, minimum."

Suddenly her smile disappeared. Very quickly she looked terrified.

And just like that she was gone.

Winston stared at her empty bed. It couldn't be. What had gone wrong?

"NO!"

Again and again, it never matters. Transit is wasteful. A and B are important.

Tracer was flying again. She hadn't seen this place again for the last two months, yet it was as familiar too her as was her own hand. She felt scared again. Why as she here again? Why after so long?

Once again she felt herself speeding up. That could only mean one thing.

The destination will arrive.

Once again she saw only darkness. Once again she cried out.

The void was trying to reclaim her. She belonged to it and she knew it.

She made one last effort, one last push fuelled by fear to go anywhere, anywhere but the cold.

And, by a fraction of a fraction, she managed.

She didn't have the time to by surprised as a different kind of darkness enveloped her.

Rushing down and down and up and left. Same as up and up and down and right, if you have the time.

Amélie Lacroix lost all track of time. She had forgotten what sunlight was. Bees and trees and flowers were foreign concepts to her. She didn't even know what other people looked like.

They were stealing everything from her and she knew it.

Even her husband's name was only a suggestion of sounds.

Suddenly a blue light opened up like a petal (what was a petal anyway?) and deposited a person in front of her. A woman. She could remember that at least.

She looked… Scared? Amélie wasn't sure that was the right word.

The woman picked herself off the ground, and when she saw Amelie she ran towards her. As soon as she arrived she started fiddling with the chair that held her to the knot. Or did she knot with the chair that held her to the fiddle?

Voices started piercing the door. She knew what that meant. They were coming back.

The woman returned back into her line of sight.

"Look, I don't have much time, but if you can tell me what this place is I'll try to get you out as soon as possible."

She looked dumbly up at her.

"Aidez-moi."

This took Tracer by surprise. She remembered that French soldier dying on some battlefield centuries ago like it was yesterday.

Help me.

She'll do better than that.

"I'll get you out of here." She knew she couldn't keep that promise. Even if she could rouse the general to action she didn't even know where to start looking for her. When, even.

"Remember my name. My name is Tracer."

She looked blankly at her. At first Tracer feared that the woman had gone insane, but then she nodded.

Already she could feel the tug of the timeline, clawing at her, forcing her back to the cobalt walls.

"I'll be back!" she called out.

"Wait for me! I'll be back!"

And she disappeared.

Amelie watched the empty space, hoping that Tracer would come back. When she didn't return she let her head sink a few centimetres lower. Without meaning to her lips uttered a phrase she had once forgotten.

"Adieu chérie."

As the door opened, she swore to herself that she won't forget this Tracer. Talon can take everything else away from her, but they won't take this.

Falling up, flying down, turning forward, everything that it takes to get home.

"NO!"

And just like that she reappeared. She looked different, still scared but steadier too.

"What happened? Where did you go?"

Piece by piece he managed to coax the story out of her. What he heard he didn't like.

"Who was that woman? Can you give me a description, defining characteristics?"

Well built. Dark hair. French?

"Blue skin!?"

Tracer shrugged, unable to say anything else.

"That's what I saw. I don't know if it helps."

He looked at her in disbelief. How could she not know?

Because we never told her.

"Lena, you were gone for three years. A lot has changed since then."

Her eyes widened in surprise. How could we not have told her?

So he told her about everything. About the Omnics and their attempt to fight back against the perceived threat of humanity, starting in Russia. He told her about Overwatch, the engine with which the last two years has stalled and pushed back the Omnics before a joint peace was secured between the two. As his voice filled with pride he told her about the transformation of Overwatch from army to global police force, and in a much more disgusted tone of the rise of Talon, a terrorist organization bent on causing as much damage as possible to the relations between Omnic and human. Then his voice turned to sadness as he told her of Gérard Lacroix and the fate of his wife, who would later go on to kill him.

"That woman you saw was Amélie, now called Widowmaker. I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can do for her now. She's too far gone to be saved."

Lena didn't say anything. She just stared down at the floor. He put his huge hand on her shoulder as comfortingly as his body would allow it.

"She said she would remember my name."

"Lena, what are you talking abo-?"

She silenced him with a look. It was filed with iron, and underneath it he could sense anger, sadness and determination all mixing together in one pot. A recipe for obsession as far as he could tell, and it scared him slightly. A woman he could crush with his bare hands was scaring him! Or was it her enemies that he was scared for? Maybe her?

"Call me Tracer."

The next day she got out of bed without any help and began doing push ups.