Here's another part of the story. Yesterday I went full salt mode about Tracer and her new relationship, but I quickly realized that it's indeed a very cute pairing, and one does not exclude the other. As I've said, I'm making the story as I write, so everything can change now.
Sitting at a desk, Widowmaker is busy sorting pictures and maps.
A small holographic projector is flashing news on various channels.
She stumbles on a set of Overwatch members pictures.
I remember every meeting I had with them. I remember my time with Overwatch. And I remember my new actions. And yet, I feel nothing.
A picture of a girl in an orange jumpsuit meets her eye. Tracer is happily waving at the camera, her smile frozen in time by the shot.
Lena Oxton. Widowmaker sighs. You've been quite an annoyance these times. I wonder what you're doing when you're not busy bothering me.
Her thoughts go back to that night in London. Scoring the kill on Mondatta really gave her the thrill of being alive, if only for a couple minutes.
The face of that pest when she realized what had happened comes to her mind.
But instead of quiet satisfaction, Widowmaker senses something else.
A grip, she usually felt only for a particular event, manifests inside her.
She had such an heartbroken face. She really didn't know how to react.
"Are you wasting time again?"
The sudden voice surprises her. Doing her best not to show it, Widowmaker turns to meet an imposing, masked and hooded figure.
"What do you mean by that, Reaper?"
"You were supposed to recon important enemy agents last night. It was just a scout mission. You know, perfect job for a sniper."
Reaper is towering above her, a hand casually resting on one of his guns.
"Instead, you told Sombra you had an important matter to resolve and vanished. I had to go out there."
Rolling her eyes, Widowmaker stands up and gathers all the pictures.
"So what? Can't suffer a bit of cold?"
"What was so important that you had to skip the mission?"
"What I do alone is none of your business, bête."
"Careful Widowmaker." Reaper leans on, feeling the sniper's soft breath "Do you think your little bravado has gone unnoticed? I've seen you act strange. I've heard you mumbling stuff about Overwatch and Gerald."
"Don't you dare speak his..."
"That life is over, Widowmaker. You better remember this. You are a Talon agent and nothing more. If you aren't fit for the job anymore I'm sure they will find someone to replace you. You have no time to waste on some stupid private errand."
"Because surely you didn't fly to LA last night, right?"
"Go. Away. Now!"
Giving him an angry look, Widowmaker leaves the room, quickly entering a recreational area of the base.
A few Talon agents are drinking together, watching some sort of sport transmission.
The sniper finds a lone seat and settles in a corner of the room, away from everyone.
Reaper was right about one thing. Recently she's experiencing more and more...things. Sensations and old memories she thought destroyed have begun resurfacing. For an instant, the woman feels a mixture of fear and hope, quickly obscured by an intense chest pain.
This again. Widowmaker is doing her best to keep her cool, but she feels her heart is ready to explode.
*Ba-dump*
Another, full heartbeat fills Widowmaker's acute hearing.
What is happening to me?
Her train of thoughts is stopped by a soft chirp.
Her PDA. A new message just arrived.
We have a new mission. You are to fly to London immediately and assess the situation. You do not have permission to engage, yet. New orders will be transmitted when in place. Do not fail us, Widowmaker. You are being evaluated.
Sighing, the French girl stands up.
Focus Widowmaker. This is no time for stupid thoughts.
"Lena please. Get off me."
"Mffffggh."
After a couple seconds, Tracer realizes she's sleeping on Emily's stomach.
Clumsily getting up, she lets out a big yawn.
"Sorry love. G'mornin'"
"Good morning" giggles Emily, massaging her tummy.
Lena gets up and idly walks to the window.
Snow covers the roofs of London, its ancient buildings and modern skyscrapers mixing together.
"Oi Emily, Do you think that old bugger Stanley has finished painting his shop?"
"Don't know. Wanna head down and find out?"
Lena nods and trots out of the bedroom.
"I'm gonna make some coffee!" she yells from the kitchen.
"Please don't make the American one! I hate it!"
After an hour the two are walking the crowded streets of London.
Omnics and humans are hurrying to get the last presents.
Emily is wearing the green scarf Tracer gave her.
Her eyes full of joy, Lena spots a cat on a roof.
"Emily look! It's a fluffypaw!"
"A what?" giggles her girlfriend.
"That! A fluffypaw!"
"You mean that cat?"
"Yeah, isn't he adorable?"
"Yes it is." Laughs the girl. "You seem to be pretty happy today, Lena Oxton."
Tracer activates her accelerator and dashes to kiss Emily.
"Yeah. I am."
Chat stupide! Go away!
Widowmaker is frantically trying to get the cat away from her hiding on the roof.
The animal seems to be quite interested in her binoculars string.
You'll give out my position!
After toying with the string for a bit, the cat meows in her direction and jumps away.
Squirming between two chimneys, Widowmaker grabs a scope and aims down the road.
There you are. Tracer. I hope you haven't been naughty this year...
The first thing she notices is that the English girl is not alone.
She's hugging a cute, red headed girl. The two are pretty straightforward and tend to kiss often.
Pfft. What a ridiculous scene.
The sniper puts the scope on a sniper rifle and aims at Tracer's head.
It would be so simple. Just a second.
The happy face of Tracer comes in full view inside the scope.
Her eyes are like stars, constantly switching between the road and the girl next to her.
The read headed one has a deep, lovely expression on her face.
Widowmaker squirms. She used to constantly have that expression, a long time ago...
What the...
Her mind goes blank.
She has visions. Memories she had buried deep in her mind.
Walking inside the Champ de Mars, everything white with snow.
Amélie is laughing at a stupid joke a man just told her. The man is firmly holding her hand. Her pink, warm hand.
"Gerard" she says, turning to face him "this is the best Christmas ever."
"Oh, but the best is yet to come chérie. I have a surprise for you."
The man produces a small blue box from his pocket...
Figures, memories and feelings all mix together inside her, a torrent of emotions she forgot existed invading her.
"Well, goodnight chérie."
"Goodnight. Gerard."
Amélie is listening carefully. After a couple minutes Gerard's breath begins to slow down. Without making a noise, she grabs her pillow and pushes on his face...
STOP IT!
Widowmaker snaps back to reality. She finds herself lying on the roof, the rifle not far from her.
*Ba-dump* *Ba-dump* *Ba-dump*
Her chest hurts like never before.
She can clearly hear her heart beating furiously, pumping so much blood around her body she can almost feel it.
Trying to regain control, Widowmaker grabs her rifle and starts aiming at random spots.
She ultimately finds Tracer yet again. The two girls are entering a shop called "Old Stanley's". They're laughing and hugging each other.
Her vision suddenly fogs up as something wet soak up her face.
Are these...tears?!
Lowering her rifle, Widowmaker starts sobbing. She feels angry, sad, distressed. She had never felt like this before and it's making her crazy.
She's cold. Suddenly, her usual outfit seems too light for the weather. Crouching near a chimney, she starts shaking furiously.
Mon dieu. What have I done?