The Midnight Theory Chapter 14: XIV, an overwatch fanfic

Note: Hey, we're back from the dead. That's neat, and even somewhat thematic. This chapter took a super long time to write, but hopefully you enjoy it for all the hard work we put in. Final chapter coming within the next century. Stay tuned.

She awoke with a start. Where was she? What was going on? Everything around her was a blur, and no sound played against her ears. The first sensation that struck her came only after many still moments, and she instantly noticed its peculiarity: the dryness in her mouth. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, almost as if there was nothing within at all, and there was only a blank cavity inside of her face. She would have to ask Emily about it when she had the chance, but it was probably nothing to worry about. She would be right as rain soon enough. Soon enough. Soon enough. Soon enough. Soon enough.

What was she thinking of again? Emily? Who was that? That was her name, correct? Yes, she was fairly certain that Emily was the name which was agreed upon by all of the necessary parties, primarily and exclusively made up of her and her alone. Her name was Emily… something? That wasn't right. She needed two names, a first and a last. She couldn't have no last name. How would anyone possibly point her out in a crowd of Emilys if she did not have last name? Maybe "Something" was her last name. Emily Something, woman extraordinaire. No, no, that was stupid. Stupid Emily Something. She needed a different name, perhaps with a different sound, or a different letter. Letter. Letter. "L", maybe? L… L… Le…

Lexi. Emily Lexi. Perfect.

Emily Lexi had no idea where she was. The blurriness had not gone away yet, and it probably would have concerned her if she was not already concerned with the fact that she could not hear, or smell, or taste, or touch, for that matter. In fact, she wasn't even sure that she was sitting on anything. Or lying. Was she floating? People weren't supposed to do that (she thought). Why was she floating, and why couldn't she see? She had eyes. She knew she had eyes. She remembered having eyes at some point, because how else would she have looked herself in a mirror each morning and said, "Hello, world. My name is Emily Lexi, and I'm ready for you." She had to be able to see. How would one see again?

Blinking. Blinking cleared fuzziness in the eyes. She knew that because she heard about it on television once. What was a television? Didn't matter. Probably something for nerds. What was a nerd? Didn't matter.

Emily Lexi blinked as hard and as fast as she could, but the blurriness did not disappear, and no sounds came back. Wait, why did she think sounds would come back if she started blinking? Did she think that at all? It was all so confusing. She was sitting/floating in a confusing abyss and her mouth was dry. She didn't want to be in that abyss anymore. She wanted to be free like a bird (noun: a warm-blooded egg-laying vertebrate distinguished by the possession of feathers, wings, and a beak and typically by being able to fly). She wanted to soar. Specifically, she just wanted her damn eyes to work.

Wait a minute. What if her eyes were working? What could she mean, Emily Lexi? Well, Emily Lexi, maybe her eyes were not the cause of the blurriness. Maybe the entire world was blurry, and she was seeing perfectly fine. What if everyone else was the problem, and she didn't have to change at all? What a superior thought!

Wait, why did she know what a bird was? Didn't matter.

How would she test that? Think, Emily Lexi, think. In order to make sure her eyes worked, she would have to look at something that wasn't blurry. But if the whole world was blurry, what could she look at? Her hand? Actually, yes, that would be perfectly viable. Her hand wouldn't be blurry at all. Overridden with smug confidence, she dragged her hand in front of her face, and took a good, hard look at it. It was at that precise moment that Emily Lexi discovered that her hand did not exist. Well, it did partially; in place of a hand was a sketch, a rough outline of what a hand probably looked like, complete with—wait, one, two, three, four, five—five fingers. Her other hand was much the same. As were her legs. And her torso. And probably her super dry mouth. Just drawings, like doodles on a sheet of loose-leaf.

"Well, that's probably not good."

That was the sentence Emily Lexi had every intention of saying. She did not say that. Yes, her vocal chords rumbled and her lips parted, only no sound came forth. No sound at all. Anywhere. That was probably not good.

She was stuck. Stuck in the abyss with no one to help her. How did she even end up in that abyss anyway? What could she possibly be doing to trap herself in such a wretched place? She didn't think she would be stupid enough to just walk in on her own. From what she knew of herself, she was a very clever person. After all, she thought to look at her hand! Something must have forced her there, or someone. But who? No one else existed in the entire universe. Except for her, of course. And Angela. Doctor Angela Ziegler, also known as…

"It's so good to see you again," Angela said happily. "It feels like it's been an eternity."

It had actually been two years. Two years and three months since they last saw each other. Lena took a long sip of her tea. The London weather was kind to them; Angela always preferred to sit outside when she ate, and as long as she was able to put up with the occasional fume from a rusted vehicle, she would be satisfied. Lena understood the appeal. There was something truly liberating about the outdoors, the ability to run off in any direction and just keep moving, not letting anything get in her way. Angela, despite all of the time she spent in a laboratory, was a creature of the sky. It was good to let a bird out of its cage now and then.

"Thank you for agreeing to come all the way out here," Lena said admirably. "I know how much of a burden it can be."

"It was no trouble at all," Angela insisted. "I haven't spoken to anyone since Overwatch's fall. Anyone other than government agents, that is. Talking to people reminds me that I'm still human."

Lena chuckled. "That's the struggle, isn't it? Reminding yourself that you're a normal person despite everyone running up to you and asking for your autograph."

Angela raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "That has literally never happened to me."

"It hasn't?" Lena asked in shock.

"Nope. Never. Does it happen to you?"

"All the time," Lena said grandiosely. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I love it, especially because they're mostly little kids, and they look at you with these super big eyes and speak with the adorable little stutters because they're in such shock, but it is a bit strange. I would never pick myself as a role model."

"True. There is nothing admirable about you at all," Angela said with a knowing smirk. Lena threw her hands in the air.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed. "All I do is shoot things. What's so great about that? Why can't their role model be someone honorable, like a teacher, or a doctor, or even a diplomat? Not to mention, I swear all the time."

"I have never heard you swear once in my entire life."

"That's because I know how to control myself when I'm in front of commendable people," Lena said with eloquence. "But kids? I can't keep my guard up around kids. I get all sucked in by their cute little faces, and then the next thing I know I'm blurting out every four-letter word in the dictionary. And then I feel really bad about it, because I'm robbing these kids of their precious innocence, when all they wanted was to take a photo with me."

"Nope. No admirable traits at all."

"Hey, I don't need your sarcasm," Lena sighed playfully.

"Sorry, sorry," said Angela. "I'm afraid I've gotten somewhat bitter over the past few years. With everything that's happened—"

"No, I get it," Lena said, dejected. "Can't really blame you. Everything changed so quickly."

"Right," Angela said distantly. "Have you talked to anyone else since?"

"Winston, primarily. I send Jesse a text every now and then," Lena mused. "He doesn't text back."

"I guess that is a good thing," Angela stated. "You were always the best at making connections."

"Actually," Lena said nervously, twiddling her thumbs, "that sort of brings me to something I wanted to talk about. Something very important."

Angela leaned forward, listening intently. "What is it?"

"Well, you see… I, um… I sorta," Lena stammered, "met somebody."

Angela blinked twice as the shock sunk in, before leaning back in surprise. "Really?"

Lena practically leaped across the table. "Yes, really!" she screamed with delight. "Can you believe it? Isn't it exciting?"

"That's great news," Angela said warmly. "What's her name?"

"Her name is Emily," Lena squealed, "and I have to tell you: she is just the absolute best. Like, I can't even begin to describe how wonderful she is. She's so sweet and so generous and so funny—she actually laughs at my jokes! Like, she finds me funny. No one has ever found me funny before, Angela! And when she laughs, it's this perfect giggle and her whole face lights up and… oh my god, I can't even think straight when I'm around her. She's too perfect for words. She's too perfect for this earth. And she's a redhead! And not just any redhead, but a fiery redhead that just burns right into your soul every time you look at her. All natural, too. Do you know what the odds are of finding a lesbian redhead in this city? One in thousands! I know. I checked."

"I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before," claimed Angela. "She must really be something."

"And the craziest part is," Lena gasped, throwing herself back in her chair, "we've only been dating for a month. Isn't that mental? I ran into her in the park at complete random, and now, I'm considering asking her to move in together."

"Wow," Angela said pleasantly. "That's a pretty big step to take in a relationship."

"I… I think I love her," Lena said breathlessly. "I mean… I've never felt like this before, about anyone. I don't know if it's true love or what, but every second I'm away from her, I'm waiting to get together again. Do you think I'm moving too fast on this? What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I accidentally scare her off?"

"Well, do you want my doctor opinion or my friend opinion?"

"Honestly, both."

"Okay, then," Angela said, taking a deep breath. "As a doctor, I would say that rushing through a relationship with someone you barely know can be very emotionally stressful, and you should probably be a lot more cautious before trusting a stranger so openly."

"Understood," Lena said with a bitter nod.

"But opinion as your friend," Angela added, "is that you've moved fast your entire life, and in all the years I've known you, despite every reckless decision you've ever made, I have never once seen you stumble. And quite frankly, I don't think I have any right to come back into your life out of nowhere and try to take away something special from you. Do whatever makes you happy. You always seem to know better than me, anyways."

Lena smiled to herself. "Thank you, Angela," she said sweetly. "I don't think I know better than you, though."

Angela merely rolled her eyes. "And yet you still can't figure out why kids love you so much."

Emily Lexi gasped. She was back in the void, floating shapelessly in the hollowness. What just happened to her? She was thinking to herself one moment, and the next, she was there, in the elsewhere of which she knew nothing. Who were those people? Angela? Was that Angela? The name repeatedly rolled off her tongue, but was it really that woman with the funny voice, whose delicate vocals sent shivers down her nonexistent spine? And who was that other girl she inhabited? It all felt so real.

Questions, questions, questions. Too many questions. She did not have time for questions. She needed to figure a way to get out of the void, if there was, in fact, a way out. She could not be trapped there forever, if she was, in fact, trapped at all.

The vision; perhaps it was a clue. Perhaps the void was speaking to her, helping her escape the only way it knew how. It had to mean something. Otherwise, it meant she was going crazy, and that certainly would be unhelpful. No, it definitely meant something. There had to be clues, buried deep within. What did those women talk about? Doctors. Children. Admirability. Love. Redheads. Four-letter words.

Emily Lexi furiously shook her head. Go back. Love. Was that it? Was that the secret to saving herself from the emptiness? Was it possible that love for another human being could help her escape? Was it remotely feasible that compassion and empathy towards another person were so strong that it could transcend dimensional boundaries and exceed the very laws of nature themselves, creating a force so overwhelmingly powerful that it could break through to the point of her singularity and set her spirit free unto the universe?

No. That was stupid. Stupid Emily Lexi. Love sucked.

It was incredibly obvious to her what the actual message of the vision was supposed to be. "You've moved fast your entire life, and I have never once seen you stumble," she stated aloud in total silence. She needed to get her feet on the ground. If she could simply force herself onto a flat surface, she could start searching for a way out. She just had to try.

With a heavy strain, Emily Lexi kicked her limbs about, trying to swim through the void. No matter how hard she threw her arms, however, she remained in place, floating in the blurriness. She tried even harder, paddling like a dog in a lake on a hot summer's day (whatever any of those things were), but she could not move even an inch through the fog.

"What do you want with me?" Emily Lexi screamed quietly. It was pointless. She was completely stuck. What was the point of a vision if it's completely obvious message did not help her? In a mad fury, she stamped her foot against the ground, and within a few seconds, she looked down to notice that her outline of a leg was resting firmly against what felt like solid matter. She stared with tepid shock at her strange little foot, curious as to what it actually struck, for she was confident that there was nothing there at all, and there had not been anything there moments before. Cautiously, she pushed her other foot forward, and tapped the area nearby.

Without warning, her body lurched forward, and she slammed face first into the invisible surface. The impact did not hurt; she only felt a bizarre tingle on her intangible nose. Still, it was enough to send a jolt through her system, and clear her woozy thoughts. With an empty groan, she picked herself off of the floor, and took a look around. The haze was as fuzzy as ever, but she felt more confident due to her newly found sense of orientation. The room felt less like a dream and more like a, well, room. And a room had doors. And doors would take Emily Lexi home. She smirked. It wasn't impossible. She could make it out. And the best part was, she most certainly was not losing her mind.

It was always a treat for Lena to take a walk around the park during the winter season. She had a particular affinity for snow. Ever since she was a little girl she would beg her mother to let her go outside even during the harshest blizzards, just so she could roll around in a self-made mountain of pure white fluffiness. There was simply something incredibly fantasy-like about it, the way it magically appeared in perfect crystalline shape, and transformed the landscape of everything it touched, transporting her to another world. Snow was enchanting, and during situations exactly like they were on February 12th, 11:30 a.m., she found incredible joy merely walking through the icy wonderland outside her window. She was not expecting much from that day, but she didn't require it. Her day would have been perfect already.

It was that much more impressive that someone could manage to catch her eye. As Lena was walking through the park, her gaze managed to drift upwards from the glimmering frost covering the floor, and it saw her, standing in the middle of the pathway ten meters away, staring out at the vast stretch of frozen earth in the distance. Lena instantly froze. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman Lena had ever set eyes upon. Her face was smooth, dotted with tiny, adorable freckles, and she had big, proud hazel eyes that Lena felt she could get lost in. And of course, there was her hair, a brilliant red that flowed like a sea of fire from underneath a pink knitted cap. She was all bundled up beneath a puffy coat for the cold weather, but that only added to her appeal. She was virtually flawless, a bright red, shining star emanating from a sea of pure white. And she was directly on the path forward, completely unavoidable.

Lena panicked. She was unavoidable. Lena would have no choice but to pass her if she wanted to get through. She couldn't turn back. What if the girl noticed? What if the girl noticed that Lena had been staring at her for the better part of two minutes? What then? She didn't think she could bear such a horrendous incident.

A thought flashed through her mind: Maybe she could talk to her? Lena quickly rejected the idea. She was very good at talking to people, but this was different. This woman was gorgeous beyond her wildest imagination. Even when she talked to other attractive women (like a certain Swiss blonde that she suddenly forgot existed), they weren't complete strangers. Besides, what was she wearing? Her stupid flight jacket and that big, ugly harness around her chest. Her hair wasn't even brushed properly. She would just have to march quickly by her, and pray that the woman didn't bother to turn around. Pleased with her strategy, Lena moved with haste towards the woman, hoping to quickly push the lovely creature out of her memory.

But something strange happened as Lena got close. She wasn't sure what caused it. Perhaps she was blinded by the woman's beauty, or perhaps the joyfulness of the snow had seeped into her brain and eroded her ability to think clearly. Regardless of what caused it, what happened next surprised her. She approached the woman with rushed footsteps, but as she drew closer, her pace began to crawl, and she came to a full stop right next to the distracted wonder. Without commanding them, her lips moved on her own, and before she knew what was going on, the words had already come out of her mouth.

"Excuse me," Lena asked sheepishly. The redhead turned to her in surprise. "I love your hair. I was just wondering where you got it done."

The woman smiled sweetly, a light blush on her freckled face. "Oh, thank you," she said softly, "but I actually don't get this done anywhere. I'm afraid it's all natural."

"You're kidding," Lena said pleasantly. "Well, it suits you. Bit of a shame, though; I was figuring on having my own hair done like that, and now I know I can't get it anywhere."

"To tell you the truth," the woman stated, "I don't think you need it. It looks cute the way it is."

Lena smiled considerably well for someone who was internally screaming.

"T-thank you, very much," Lena said hurriedly. She needed to keep the conversation going, so she quickly gestured out to the snow. "So, what were you looking at before?"

"Nothing really. I just like to be out in the snow."

"Me, too," Lena said excitedly. "I just love how quaint it is, you know? It's so peaceful."

"Yeah," the woman replied. "It's really something. I feel like some people don't appreciate it, but I always had a soft spot for it, ever since I was young."

"Same, same," Lena said gladly. She pivoted nervously on the balls of her feet. It was going well. Too well. Far too well to make her feel comfortable. Something was wrong. People did not just meet people like that randomly on the street. The woman had to be hiding something, but her smile was so disarming that before long, Lena found herself talking again, unable to stop. "I used to travel a lot as part of my job and I always hated going to the south because of this. Not that I have anything against those places. They're lovely, but it never snows down there. I mean, except in Antarctica, but my friend studies climate down there and according to her, it doesn't really snow either. It's just very windy, and all the snow gets blown around, but—"

The woman stared at her, enthralled and incredibly confused. And there went Lena's chances.

"Sorry," Lena said hurriedly, scratching the back of her head. "I tend to ramble sometimes. I know you don't want to know the details of my boring life."

"No, don't be sorry."

"It's true, though," Lena stated. "My life isn't really worth any attention. I didn't even travel to that many places. I've spent most of my life in London, not doing much of anything. I don't know why I say these crazy things about myself."

"So, there isn't anything you want to tell me?" the woman asked, suspicious. Lena furiously shook her head.

"No, no, just ignore it," said Lena. "It's not much of a story." Crisis averted.

"Yeah…" the woman said uncomfortably. She shifted her gaze away, and bit her bottom lip. "So… I'll be honest with you. I totally know who you are."

Crisis found. Crisis very much found.

"You… you do?" Lena asked awkwardly. The woman nodded slowly.

"I mean, your face is sort of plastered everywhere," she muttered under her breath.

"Oh."

"And there aren't many people running around with a glowing metal chassis."

"Right." Lena brushed her hand through her hair, and sighed. "I feel like an idiot."

"No, it's fine," the woman said, sweet and charming as ever. "I'm not upset that you would try to hide it or anything."

"It's not about that," Lena said regretfully. "It's just… I-I don't know what I was thinking. It's not right to try and hide that from anyone. I keep trying to pretend like my life hasn't been an absolute mess, and no one ever buys it, and I only end up making things worse by lying about it."

"Well, for what it's worth," the woman claimed, "I think what you did—or, what Overwatch did—was pretty great."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it. I know it's very political and all, but you guys helped a lot of people. We need more heroes in the world."

"Thank you," Lena said graciously. Crisis resolved. It was rare to find Overwatch praise those days. As the redhead said herself, the collapse of Overwatch had become so thoroughly politicized that most people would rather shun her and forget than even attempt to get to know her. Luck was on her side that day.

"Since we're being open with each other," she added, extending her arm, "I'm Lena."

"Emily. Nice to meet you," the redhead took her hand with a kind smile.

"Nice to meet you, too, Emily," Lena said gladly. "It's always good to talk to someone who cares."

"Right," Emily nodded. She released her grip, and turned to walk away. "I better get going. I'll see you around, Lena."

Without thinking, and in a moment of pure panic, Lena jumped. "Do you want to get tea sometime?"

Emily stopped in place. "Hmm?"

"I mean, there's a place right next door that's really great," Lena stuttered. "You should come with me… together… we should go together, just… two girls hanging out."

Emily lovingly rolled her eyes. "I can't, unfortunately. Not right now. But… I am available later this week if you want."

"Um, sure," Lena said hesitantly. "That would be lovely."

"Great! I'll give you my number. You have a phone, right? Or do you use some magical Overwatch technology to text people?"

"Oh, we have phones," Lena said nervously. She could hardly contain her excitement as she reached into her jacket and pulled out her phone, unlocking it as fast as she could. She handed it to Emily, and within seconds, the redhead had entered her contact information with a satisfied grin, and handed the small, brilliant device back to its proper owner. She turned to leave again, taking a few steps before turning around to give a small wave goodbye.

"See you soon, Tracer," she laughed. "Make sure to bring the cavalry with you!"

"Bye, Emily!" Lena called in return. She stared down at her phone, and giggled wildly as she read the number, and the name written starkly above it.

First Name: Emily. Last Name: The Cute Girl From The Park.

Lena watched the redhead fade into the distance, and breathed a sigh of relief. She got a number. From a girl. An incredible, beautiful, funny, kind girl. Maybe snow really was magical, after all.

Her head snapped back. A tremendous shudder ran through her body. Another vision. More people she did not know. The redhead. She was nice. Who was she? Emily, wasn't it? That couldn't be right. She was Emily. Wasn't she? She felt woozy. Sick. That woman called her something strange.

Tracer?

What the hell did that mean? What was a "Tracer"? She didn't trace anything. Then again, her entire body did resemble a pencil sketch, so maybe the name made sense after all. Much more sense than "Emily" did, anyway. She would keep it.

It took a few moments for Tracer Lexi to regain focus, and remember where she was. She was back in the familiar void, though there were two noticeable differences from the last time she was there. The first was that she was standing upright on her hollow, little legs, and the second was that there was a great big mahogany door no more than two feet in front of her face. It towered over her body menacingly, but its design was simple and plain and entirely non-threatening. What caused the door to appear? Who cared. She needed to be out of the void. Perhaps the door took her to snow. She liked snow, and it was the only thing she actually knew she liked, so she wanted to go to it. Without fear, Tracer Lexi reached out, and placed her drawing-of-a-hand onto the wood paneling.

In the blink of an eye, she had teleported. The blur was gone. The door had vanished. She looked around in shock, studying her new surroundings. She was inside a massive cube, yet it had been stretched and distorted beyond any natural capacity to an almost spherical state. More strange, the cube was pulsating in different colors, changing its hue every second. She watched in awe as they flew by: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, pink, cyan, magenta, brown, teal, gold, scarlet, indigo, silver, ochre, maroon, olive, crimson, peach, russet, lilac, cream, black. She became mesmerized by them dancing in the non-Euclidean geometry. She wanted to become part of the colors, almost. Why did she have to leave again? She could have just stayed with the colors. They were kind and polite, and never started a single proxy war. With a kind hand, she reached out towards the ceiling above, craving the light for her own.

The colors abandoned her. Without any warning, they disappeared, leaving behind a bitter, ghastly white in their place. Tracer Lexi sighed. She could never have nice things. She blinked, and suddenly the door was back, right in front of her nose. She was not so certain she wanted to through again, however. The last time she went through, it gave her such a pleasant surprise only for her to end up heartbroken. Then again, perhaps it was even more of a reason to go through the door; at least she would be away from the bleak, colorless room. With a grudging, soundless moan, she placed her hand on the door, and let it take her.

Her journey was short. Instantaneous, even. Tracer Lexi looked around her new environment, if she could even call it such a thing. She stood on the inside of an infinitely tall cylinder, whose inner walls were coated in navy, and whose inner space was filled to the brim was brightly glowing, violet crystals, which hovered in place and cast endless shadows upon the limitless space within. Tracer Lexi nervously stepped forward, walking amongst the glorious objects. What was she supposed to be looking at? Who had bothered to put such beautiful things in a place no one would ever find them? Most importantly, how was she going to ruin it? Because the last time she was in a room with a bunch of pretty things, she ended up ruining it.

Wait, that wasn't the most important thing, Tracer Lexi. Stupid Tracer Lexi. The most important thing was finding a way out. She needed to get home. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Foc—

Those crystals were rather pretty. Tracer Lexi did not see any harm in that. A simple touch. For posterity. What was she thinking of before that? Whatever. Her mind didn't have time to pay attention to things like that. She needed to touch the crystal, and so with little hesitation, she extended her reach and grazed one of the closest crystals with the tip of her finger. It quickly plummeted upon her touch, and upon hitting the same plane as her it shattered, causing a thick, black ooze to pour out of its center. Tracer Lexi recoiled in fear, as the sludge began to grow and spread, latching itself to walls and climbing up them without effort, wrapping around every crystal and snuffing out their light. The cavern grew dark, and soon, the oil came after her, pouring out endlessly over the floor. She turned to flee, only to come face-to-face with the wooden door, towering over the horror. In a panic, she reached out to grab it, and once again, she was transported elsewhere, away from the toxic mess. She hurriedly tried to catch her breath, but when it became apparent to her that she could not breathe, she stopped and focused on figuring out where she went.

The new room was empty and white, like the cube but lacking in any defining features. There was only one thing of note in the entire space, and it was directly in front of her. There, hovering in the emptiness several feet away, as a string of words in big, blocky text, written a language she thought she did not know, yet could understand with ease: "I luv you mom."

Tracer Lexi approached the words with caution. Was it another trick? She thoroughly examined the words, but found nothing strange about them. There was, of course, the misspelling. "Luv" should have been "Love", and she could not figure out why. Did the eternal Elder God who placed that message there not know how to spell, and did it not even know that she wasn't a parent? However, after a moment's reflection, the truth became obvious. The words were not meant for her. In fact, they weren't really words at all. It was a text message, sent from a phone somewhere in the world, broken down into a trillion cellular particles and reconstructed across time and space. She had simply caught it in the process of reassembly, before it finished its journey and came to a rest with the mother who was loved so dearly by her child. The words made her feel strange inside. The bonds of love had somehow managed to transcend the boundaries of the physical universe, and she was witnessing it firsthand, plain as text on a page. A mother and a child. A true bond.

"I... I just don't understand!" her mother cried. "I just asked you if you were sure. I didn't mean anything—"

"Didn't mean anything? It meant everything! How can you not understand that?" Lena spat.

"I get that you're frustrated, but..."

Her mother trailed off as Lena stormed out of the room with a huff. Frustrated? She was furious. Shocked. Like she had been stabbed in the back. The truth was that she didn't really know what she had expected. She wasn't entirely expecting her mother to lunge into her arms and scream about how proud she was, but she was expecting something other than a look of what she could almost describe as panic. She didn't think it would be that bad. It wasn't like she was pregnant or anything, or was planning on joining the military—yet, at least. She just maybe felt a strong attraction to the same sex. She wasn't sleeping around with every girl in the country; just possible attraction to people with a specific set of biological features. Probable attraction. A lot of attraction. And no attraction to anyone else.

It wasn't a big deal, she had told herself beforehand. Coming out wasn't a big deal anymore, or at least, it wasn't supposed to be. All she had ever heard was how tolerant everyone was, in the media and on the streets and in the movies. People like her could exist like everyone else. That was the promise that had been fed to her over and over, but she should have known better. That promised world was too perfect, too pristine to actually exist. Of course, there were blisters underneath the surface. She just didn't think her own mother would be one of them.

"Lena, you have the wrong idea," her mother stated, chasing her daughter through their small, suburban home. "All I meant was that... maybe you don't know. You're fourteen. People your age get confused about these things."

"Well, one, I am not confused about anything," Lena said bitterly, "and two, what would it matter if I was? You shouldn't care either way if you were being honest."

"Lena, you know I wouldn't lie to you," her mother desperately tried to explain. "Believe me, this has nothing to do with what I think. It's just that there are other people out there who aren't very accepting of these things."

"Oh, don't pull that 'I'm just trying to protect you,' shit on me, mum," Lena groaned. "When have you ever taught me to care about what other people think?"

"It's not just about what they think."

"What, are they going to beat me up? Is that what you're seriously worried about?"

"No, but—"

"No. Exactly," Lena hissed. Frustrated beyond compare, she stormed into her comfy little bedroom, and threw herself onto the mattress. She stared up at the preppy pink ceiling, resisting the urge to scream. Her mother followed her into the room, shutting the door behind her. Of course, she did. She couldn't leave well enough alone. She had to push and prod, and make things ten times worse than they would have been if she never got involved.

"Love, I'm not mad at you," her mother started, kneeling by her bedside.

"No, you're not mad," Lena repeated. "You're scared. Scared that you won't be able to use me as a status symbol. Scared that I'm going to go out and contract some weird virus from a random woman in a bar somewhere. Scared that your daughter is some degenerate lowlife."

"I never said any of that," her mother protested.

"You didn't have to."

"Lena, you're being irrational," her mother bemoaned.

Perhaps, Lena considered, she had a point. Perhaps she was being irrational, but how could she not be? She was stressed beyond hell, and she was fairly certain her life was falling apart at the seams. If it was someone else telling her this, like an estranged aunt or a next-door neighbor, then that would be one thing. But her mother? The same women who fed her every evening, who granted her an entire perspective on what kind of person she should have been? It was like finding out Santa Claus wasn't real. It was childish, yes, but it was the only concept she could think of to accurately describe how bizarre she felt.

"Look, I get that you think I'm crazy," her mother tried to explain, "but you have to understand where I'm coming from. When I was a child, these types of things weren't accepted like they are today. Even what we thought was tolerant back then wasn't very good. Despite what we'd like, people have a hard time moving away from traditions, even if they aren't great."

"But I thought you could," Lena sighed. "You're supposed to be better than them. That's the point."

"Well, maybe I'm not, at least not as much as I'd like to be. It's complicated, Lena. It's all very complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it for me," Lena demanded. "Are you happy with the fact that I'm gay?" Her mother moaned. Lena pushed herself up on her elbows, meeting her mother's eyes. "Are you?"

"Yes, of course I am fine with you being gay."

"I didn't ask that. I asked if you were happy."

"Lena…"

"Mum, be honest," Lena said sternly. Her mother did not answer; instead, she groggily took a seat on the bed next to her daughter, and stared blankly at the floor.

"No."

Lena took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. It was the only thing keeping her from exploding.

"Why not?"

Her mother did not turn to her.

"I don't think it's best for you."

"Why do you not think it's best for me?" Lena asked, her voice starting to break. Her mother didn't answer. Lena scrambled to her knees, and forcibly shoved her mother in the shoulder. "Mum, please, look at me."

She refused. "I love you very much. I want you to know that I don't think of you any differently."

"I don't want to hear any of that bullshit!" Lena screamed. Had she always been trembling? "I just want you to look at me! Is it really so fucking hard for you to look at me? Is it?"

"I love you very much, Lena."

It was those words that drove her over the edge. Her mother kept repeating them over and over, like a shield to constantly hide behind, hoping that it would protect her. She probably didn't think she was doing anything wrong. She probably thought she was being reasonable, and that was what stung most of all. It did sound reasonable. It sounded almost accepting. But it wasn't. It was still rejection, just in a watered-down, sanitized format. It didn't matter that it wasn't the same as throwing every homophobic slur in the book at her. It felt the same to her. The world hadn't gotten any better. It simply got better at hiding its dark corners.

As Lena threw her head back against the pillow, something hit her. A thought, which had always lied dormant in the back of her mind, was suddenly coming to light, and as the realization struck her, she felt like a fool for not figuring it out sooner. The world was a mess. Those reports on the news about the modern utopia they lived in were wrong. There were still too many problems in the world to count, and for her whole life, she never even thought about them, never even considered that they might exist. There were people in the world just like her, still struggling to find acceptance, but there were people even worse off, people who didn't have any of the modern luxuries she was graciously born into. They deserved a loving world, too. People like her mother may have been complacent in them. They may have shoved the problems into the dark reaches of their mind. But she wouldn't do that. She was going to help people. All of them. No matter the cost. She was going to make the world a place where she belonged.

"Hey, mum," Lena said plainly. Her mother turned to look at her, but Lena did not meet her gaze. "I want to join the military."

Tracer Lexi gasped. More visions. More people she didn't know. More things she didn't understand. Who was she? Military. Tolerance. Biology. Words without meaning. Why did the world have to be so cryptic? She needed simple explanations of who she was. Well, she knew who she was. She was Tracer Lexi… wait, that wasn't right. Lexi. It didn't fit. It didn't exist. Why did everything feel so wrong?

Tracer looked around, and to no surprise at all, she was somewhere else. A void, eternal in its blackness, surrounded her. She looked in every direction, but there was only darkness. The door was nowhere to be seen, if she could even see it. She couldn't see her own hands if she shoved them in front of her own face.

She had broken it, hadn't she? She broke reality. Great job, Tracer. All she wanted to do was get home, but she didn't even know where home was, or if it ever existed at all. Why did she ever think that she had a chance? Because a random door appeared and sent her on an interstellar wild goose chase? She should never have thought that meant anything. Nothing meant anything. She was in the void. The sad, dark void, and she would never learn who Angela was, or who Emily was, or who Mum was, or who she was, and suddenly, as the disparaging thoughts began to pile up in her head, and the angst and anxiety began to take hold, she saw something floating in the ether.

It was nothing more than a speck. She walked over to it to take a closer look, but it was difficult for her to see much of anything. It was merely a white speck floating among black. Yet, it did not float effortlessly. Upon close inspection, she could see quite clearly that the speck was vibrating, shuddering in place with vicious intensity. Did she need to touch it? The last time she touched something, everything went horribly wrong. So, she waited. And waited. And waited some more. But the speck just stayed there, vibrating in place, waiting for her to touch it. Why she reached out her finger against every one of her natural instincts, she had no idea. But it was clearly the right thing to do, as the moment she felt it, more specks appeared in the darkness, and swarmed in on the speck in front of her, fusing and morphing together in the blink of an eye.

A ball, red and shiny, floated in front of her. It had grown in size, but couldn't be considered any more than another speck. But then, the other balls came, each one as red and shiny as the last, and they huddled around the center ball, vibrating and letting out a single, quiet hum. She watched in awe as they merged together, first dozens and then hundreds at once, as even smaller, bluer spheres began to encircle them and formed a thick cloud of blue, and the humming grew into a solid buzz filling the entire darkened chamber.

Tracer blinked, and a new form was before her: a dark purple sphere, much larger than the others. The sphere began to multiply and it spread out vertically as it did; as its numbers grew it twisted into the sky, ascending endlessly into oblivion. The spheres connected together like woven fabric, intertwined in a perfect double helix. She marveled silently as the strand grew and grew until it finally snapped and folded into itself, merging into a single homogenous blob, no larger than a fingernail. It was a perfect cell, writhing around in its own beautiful wretchedness. Its membrane quivered and ruptured, splintering open as it subdivided and expanded, turning into two, and then four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, one hundred and twenty-eight, growing exponentially until they formed a thick, impenetrable cellular mass, shaped just like her.

Then, the expansion became faster. In only an instant there were two humanoids, then three, then a hundred, then a thousand. So many people compacted together in a single collective, and soon they surrounded her, left and right, front and back, above and below. They gathered together until their shapes merged, and she watched in stunned silence as they formed into another sphere, massive in size, stretching across the horizon. It was blue and dotted with long, strips of green and white, and she could see every detail clearly, every peak and valley, every speck of sand in its deserts and every cloud swirling in its horizons. She could see the billions of people living there, each with a distinct face, each with a distinct voice, and she knew them all, each of their stories, each of their emotions sprawled out across thousands of miles.

The planet drew inwards, and her view expanded so that the surrounding bodies became visible, and soon her vision was engulfed in a tremendous light. A great object of fury and passion appeared above her, larger than she could fully see. Its beams were pure white, and she tried to cover her eyes, but the light shone through the emptiness of her being, and passed into her, absorbing her, absolving her. The great sphere shrunk, and in its place, were hundreds, thousands, millions, billions just as bright, just as intense, just as passionate, burning into her very essence. They reached out in long tendrils, extending across all her known reality, spiraling outwards towards oblivion, and in its center, was a mass of pure energy, so powerful that her eyes could withstand its pressure, and yet she could not look away. A galaxy was spread before her, and she could make out each of the hundreds of billions of suns and their satellites with picture-perfect clarity, and she knew the names of every lifeform, every microbe which wandered on their surfaces, and swam in their oceans, and floated in their atmospheres.

And it expanded further. The hundreds of billions became hundreds and thousands of trillions, as the galaxies themselves condensed into balls of energy, like the atom, like the quark vibrating in the ether. They expanded further and further, more than she thought possible, growing and growing until they eclipsed everything that was ever known and ever would be known. The expansion grew rapidly, increasing in intensity, zooming out far into the cosmos, far beyond the point where she ever thought it could stop. The numbers enlarged past what she could count, and her mind spun, incapable of processing it all. And then with sudden intensity, it stopped, and she could see it as it truly was: a web of light thrust out across all of space and time, the full scope of the known universe. She stared at it with wide eyes and mouth agape, her hollow body trembling at the sight. Its size was indescribable, its beauty incomprehensible. Could all of that truly exist? Is that where she was? Her existence was spread out inside of that thing, for she had no other word to define it except for "thing", for such a perfect word did not live.

And then, without any warning, the web exploded, and the energy flooded into her eyes.

It came to her all at once. Not just it: everything. She understood everything that there was to understand. Every galaxy, every quasar, every element that lived inside of the dark vacuum came to her, and she could name them, see them, hear their roars and whispers, taste their colors on her tongue. But not just the matter, but time as well flowed before her like pages on a book. Every instance that had ever occurred played on an endless loop inside of her head, and she screamed as they flooded her senses to the point of supernumbness, fried and broken past repair. It was too much for her to handle, too much information for a mortal to ever hope to comprehend, and yet the knowledge kept flooding inwards, the memories of the universe itself intertwining with hers. It was incredible, terrifying, painful, glorious, lonely, vengeful. Every emotion. Every planet. Every life. Everything, all at once, just for her.

And what was she? She was nothing, not in the face of such a thing. Her life—all life—was meaningless in the eyes of eternity. Her name did not matter. Emily did not matter. Angela did not matter. She was the atom lost in a sea of stars and seconds. Everything had existed before her and beyond, and she saw both simultaneously, fourteen billion years and an infinite future in which the concept of life whittled away and died, and took with it all of time and purpose. Her being was futile, and she screamed again in unholy agony, wanting to shut out the understanding of her worthlessness, but she could not fight against it.

She wanted to go home. She just wanted to go home. It was all too much information.

Too much information.

Too much—

"You talk too much."

"What?" Lena asked, dumbfounded. Amélie rolled her eyes, leaning further onto the balcony and staring deeply at the Paris skyline.

"You have a tendency to overthink things," the Frenchwoman explained. "When you overthink things, you talk too much. It's a bit annoying."

"Oh, please," Lena said dismissively. Deep down, she suspected that the housewife was onto something, but she those thoughts were a bit too unpleasant, and so she pushed them aside.

"I don't mean it in a bad way," Amélie stated. "It's part of who you are. I enjoy listening to you talk, most of the time."

"It's the other times that offends me," Lena muttered. Amélie laughed softly, amused with the quirky hero.

"Look, Lena, you're so special. The things you can do are far beyond anything I could ever accomplish. Picking apart one random flaw is just some way to make me feel better about myself."

"What have you got to feel bad about?" Lena asked sincerely. Of all the times she had ever met Gérard's wife, it was the only time in which the women had opened up even slightly. She had to take advantage of the situation while it lasted. "You're how big of a ballet star? In how big of a house? With how cool of a husband? The best thing I've ever done is remember to take a shower on a regular basis."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit."

"Funny how everyone says that."

Amélie chuckled. She turned to Lena and smiled sweetly. "Come on, now. Who is the savior of London?"

Lena groaned. "I am," she replied sheepishly.

"Who is the noblest soldier in Overwatch?"

"John?"

"No…"

"I am."

"And who is going to learn to have a little more respect for herself in the future?"

"Probably me."

"Lena…"

"I am, alright? Jeez, you're worse than your husband."

Amélie laughed, gazing out at the wonderful city before her. She took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air. She didn't know that it would be the last time the air ever felt clean. "You're capable of a lot more than you know. Just always remember who you are."

"I know who I am," Lena moaned jokingly. Amélie smiled.

"And who exactly is that?"

Tracer slowly opened her eyes. She was back in the void, floating in the nothingness. The lights and sounds were gone. The pain had disappeared. What happened to her? Where had she gone? She did not know, but for the first time, she did not want to know. They simply didn't matter. She looked down upon her hand, and the lines that had made it up were gone as well. In its place, was a hand. A perfectly normal, human hand. And her legs were perfectly normal human legs. And the numbness in her mouth was gone, and she flicked her tongue against her teeth, feeling their existence as a part of her.

She looked ahead towards the void, and there was the door. Towering. Immovable. But she not afraid of where it would take her. With no effort at all, she willed herself to her feet and walked towards the structure. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the emptiness. Why could she hear them? Didn't matter. Why was her body back to normal? Didn't matter. She walked in front of the door, and took a deep breath. She reached out without the slightest hesitation, and placed her hand against the wooden frame. Where did the door lead? Didn't matter. It would take her where she needed to go. She simply knew it would.

She had given up everything. She had thrown her very existence away to save the people she cared about. Emily. Angela. Overwatch. The names and faces were clear in her mind. But that wasn't all that was left. Sombra was still out there, and she was still a threat to the world. She had started down a long and difficult path, and through all the pain and suffering, the torture, the sacrifice, they had been there for her. They had guided her through. It was time for her to return the favor. It was time for her to take back everything that was stolen from her. It was time for her to be the hero everyone thought she was. She threw open the door, and stepped into the light. Who was she?

She was Lena Oxton. And her watch hadn't ended, yet.