London suburbs, weekly market near Lena Oxton's appartment, two weeks later, 1027 hours.

Lena was browsing the different booths at the weekly market in her neighborhood which was taking place each Saturday at the civic center right in front of the town hall. It was a popular event, where fresh vegetables were sold along with various other different agricultural products. Oxton walked through the crowd, making her way from one booth to the next, sometimes chatting happily with the owners or joking with some customers. Chatting about meaningless stuff with the vendors was refreshing and took her mind off the events from two weeks ago.

In hindsight, Lena shouldn't have been surprised when she found the bed in front of her vacant of the person she had put inside of it the night before. And truth to be told, she really wasn't surprised so much by the absence of Widowmaker as she was by the condition of her bed-room. All the blankets were folded neatly and stacked above one another, the clean sheets separated from those soaked in blood. The first aid kits were packed together and properly stored away, while all the used instruments had been placed in the dishwasher.

Widowmaker had cleaned up before she left.

Lena couldn't help but laugh as she inspected her apartment. It might have been more tidy than before. There also was a note left for her, written to the mirror in the vestibule with red lipstick.

Merci beaucoup, ma chérie. I owe you. And the imprint of a kiss right next to it. Tracer smiled like an enamored teen at the note. Chances were she'd never wipe that away.

Somehow Lena expected something to happen after that. Some hint or some event, that would lead her to Widowmaker one more time.

But nothing did happen at all. And she knew it had been a stupid wish. She had told Amélie herself that the truce would only be for one day. Back when Lena said that, she did so hoping it would make the French beauty feel more comfortable. Yet now Oxton wished she hadn't said that. Maybe then Amélie wouldn't have left? Maybe.

Still, even with Amélie's absence, there was an overwhelming happiness spreading in Lena's heart, making her cheerful like she never felt before. For the last two weeks there didn't pass a day, in which Widowmaker wouldn't appear in her thoughts one way or the other. Imagining a world where they could openly approach each other had become Tracer's favorite diversion; it simply made her happy. She was aware that this feeling of bliss wouldn't be with her forever, but she still wanted to hold on to it for as long as possible.

What Tracer wasn't aware of was the watchful eye which followed her ever since she had left her apartment. It was there the moment she had closed the dark green wooden front door, it was there on her hasty way to the market, and it was present now. A transparent red crosshair was right in between Lena's beautiful brown eyes when she handed an elderly looking woman some coins before grabbing a juicy looking, bright red apple. Lena smiled happily as she bit into the deliciously sweet fruit.

The crosshair followed Tracer with deadly accuracy, wavering not once, as the Overwatch -agent strolled further around the market. There had been a couple of dozen opportunities for an absolutely deadly shot since Oxton had left her apartment. All the hidden sniper inside the belfry of the town hall would have needed to do was squeeze the trigger and Lena's fate would have been sealed.

But that obviously didn't happen.

Widowmaker wasn't here to kill Tracer, no. And even if she was, it might have been most likely the first order she disobeyed. Luckily, that wasn't the case this time. The skilled assassin had again been sent to London to get rid of some random businessman who had tried to scam Talon for some of their money. And even though they wouldn't even have noticed the sum was gone in the grand total of things, the matter wouldn't be permitted to slide. Talon dispatched Widowmaker to find and dispose of him, leaving the planning and preparation of the mission to their operative, like they always did. She told her superiors she'd need maybe three weeks or more for the job and would return after everything had been taken care of.

That had been a brazen lie, the likes of which Widowmaker never told her superiors before. She entirely blamed Reaper for it. He was the one who got her hopes and dreams back up and running when he prevented the last scheduled mental overhaul.

Or so she told herself.

But who was she really kidding here? It was Tracer who screwed with her head so much. The last two weeks had been the worst torture and the sweetest heaven all at once. What the bubbly Brit had done for her and why she helped her was still not quite clear to Widowmaker. What was clear, however, was the fact that the woman was undeniably stuck in her mind. Now even more than before. And while before Widow tried to rationalize her feelings, telling herself it was just because Tracer managed to get closer to her than anyone before, she now didn't care anymore. The brown- haired Brit with the warm eyes made her feel. She did from the moment they first met, and continued to do so every time they ran into each other. Their last encounter was proof enough. In fact, it was enough to convince the otherwise loyal Widowmaker to lie to her superiors.

The businessmen on which the hit had been put posed no problem whatsoever for the experienced assassin. He had been found and killed on the first day she arrived in London. Ever since then, the golden -eyed hitman was watching Lena, obviously without her knowledge. It was for that very reason Widow told her superiors she'd need way more time for the job than she actually needed: just so she could study the girl, who made her insides tremble just by thinking about her, more closely. Widowmaker hoped she might be able to figure out why that was exactly.

Reaper be damned, if he hadn't prevented the memory cleaning, she wouldn't have the first idea who Tracer even was. But her memory didn't get wiped, and so the urge to interact with the bubbly Brit grew stronger and stronger each day until Widowmaker decided she needed to at least see her.

And now she did see her; through the scope of her sniper-rifle, true, but she was there, as close as she could allow herself to get to the girl who made her feel alive whenever that cheeky smirk of hers flashed in front of her mental eye. Tracer was so lively with such an unwavering positive attitude towards anything and anyone, even an assassin like Widowmaker.

Doing so much as imagining those large, brown buoyant eyes Tracer had made Amélie almost remember that she once was a warm and caring woman herself. The bubbly Brit was so full of life and so reviving that even thinking about her intoxicating smile, her warm eyes and her careful touch felt like being reanimated from hibernation.

And she was beautiful. From her head to her toes, there wasn't a thing Widowmaker would have changed; especially not those almost infinite legs, which ended in the most perfect butt god ever created. Wearing that bright orange, skintight pair of leggings didn't help reducing the attention to that particular feature of Tracer either.

Widowmaker didn't even bother thinking about the idea that it could be abnormal for a woman to think that way about another woman. She simply accepted Tracer as someone who made her feel and Amélie didn't give a single flying fuck where Tracer's genitals were positioned. Not only because those kind of social reservations were among the first things Talon's brainwashing program blew into oblivion, no, but mostly because Widowmaker truly didn't care about it. There was the faintest hint of a straw in reach, which may be her ticket to something she thought impossible.

Happiness.

She wouldn't deny herself that because the person making her happy was another girl. Who the fuck cares seriously? Well, most people at Talon cared, actually. They would probably rather see me go out with that ridiculous talking monkey than another girl.

The gorgeous assassin groaned, frustrated, letting her rifle sink for a moment to blink a sharp pain out of her eyes. She had been staring through that sight for too long, memorizing every small detail about Tracer. The way her hair bobbed with each step she took, her almost cheeky freckles which made her beautiful face so adorable, and her gorgeous smile which was enough to lighten up the night. Oh, what wouldn't Widowmaker give to be able to simply go down there and talk to Lena.

But it was impossible, and not because her skin was an unnatural shade of blue, which would attract all the unwanted attention, not because she was carrying a huge-ass sniper rifle around with her, and also not because she certainly wasn't dressed for a stroll in the market in broad daylight.

No.

Widowmaker didn't care about any of those things. She would have done it anyway if it wasn't for one fact: Amélie was sure that the first thing she'd see from Tracer wouldn't be her candid smile, nor would it be her beautiful brown eyes. No, it would have been the business end of her rapid-firing plasma-pistols.

She couldn't really blame her. Their truce was for one day and one day alone. Tracer had done more than enough to help her rival. They were back to being enemies again, and Tracer had made that clear. Besides, Widowmaker wouldn't know what she'd say anyway.

All of this felt so stupid and so out of place. It might have been an ungrounded fear that Tracer might attack her on sight, but it was a fear nonetheless. Widowmaker was so confused at the moment. She wanted to be close to Tracer, but at the same time, she didn't. She hadn't the first idea of what to do, so maybe telling herself that approaching the bubbly Brit would result in violence was just a feeble excuse for not having the guts to do something.

Widow picked her rifle back up, letting the scope glide over the market, searching for the girl which let her tiny emotional world blow up in a giant whirlwind. The crosshair scanned over the crowd, but Tracer was already gone. The assassin groaned again, letting the rifle sink down one more time. Of course she'd lose her in that crowd. How could she be so stupid? There were a million different alleys, corners, or even other stores which Tracer could have vanished into in those few seconds she didn't pay attention.

The beautiful, purple-haired woman thought back to the last time Tracer had vanished from her sights like that. That was back in the museum, when she tried to steal Doomfist's gauntlet together with Reaper. She had her directly in her sights, back then with the full intent of squeezing the trigger and shooting her. But Reaper suddenly had to deal with that monstrosity of an ape, so Widowmaker shifted her attention for the fraction of a second. By the time her watchful eye returned to where Tracer had been, she was already long gone. The Overwatch-operative reappeared directly behind her just a moment later, letting off a witty comment with her alluring British accent.

Widowmaker chuckled silently. She could imagine what Tracer would say now.

"What'cha looking at, luv?"

Widowmaker heard that voice of this one girl, who had rescued her, who did those confusing things to her soul, and who she had been watching those past few days like she was really there, right behind her. Great, now I am already hearing her voice inside my head. I am going to go insane...

"At you, ma chérie" Widowmaker replied out loud, completely ignoring that she would only go insane way faster if she started having conversations with imaginary Tracers. "Because I am a pathetic excuse of a woman who cannot work up the courage to talk to you, even after all you did for me. We should have extended our truce for a few days. I can't stand just looking at you from afar," saying it aloud like that made it sound even more ridiculous than it felt. And it already felt pretty ridiculous.

For crying out loud, she was the deadliest, most dangerous assassin the world had to offer. She had killed people from completely impossible angles in even more impossible situations, taking risks no normal human would ever have taken, and walked away from it just fine. Yet she couldn't grow a pair and approach Lena Oxton. Because of what?

Because they were enemies? Because they weren't supposed to talk?

No.

Because Widowmaker feared that Tracer could feel similarly. That particular fear wasn't as bad in the past, but ever since Amélie was injured, it kept creeping in her mind like an annoying little bug. Even if her memories of that night weren't the clearest and even if there definitely were some black spots, Widowmaker recalled one thing more clearly than anything else:

Tracer had been in a gay-bar. And it was her local. She said so herself. And that could only mean one thing. The mere thought drove Widowmaker crazy with anxiety but also some kind of weird excitement. She didn't understand herself fully, but something inside her definitely had changed when she was thinking about Tracer. Was it because the other girl could technically be an option now?

Widowmaker didn't know. She didn't even know how to feel about it either.

Amélie was scared the bubbly Brit might show an interest in her, giving the brainwashed sniper a tiny insight in what she was truly missing out on. A normal life of sorts. And just when she'd had caught that glimpse of what could have been, Widowmaker knew her brain would be wiped clean again and she wouldn't remember anything. The next time she'd meet Tracer, she'd shoot to kill again.

The thought alone scared her out of her mind. Not only would she lose everything for another time, she would endanger Tracer as well, in a similar way in which she had killed her husband. Exploiting built up trust.

She could never let that happen. Ever. If one of the two would have to die, it surely mustn't be Tracer.

Widowmaker pushed her rifle out of the way, frustrated with the entire situation. "Mon Dieu!" she whispered to herself "What am I even doing here?"

"You know, luv, we can extend that truce for as long as you want."A voice Widowmaker surely did not imagine said from behind her. "And if you want to ask me out, you just have to do so. I usually don't bite"

She spun around on the floor, as if stung by an adder, just to see Tracer standing right above her, boldly taking a bite from the apple she just bought while stemming one hand to her hip, pressing it to the side just a little bit.

The fact that Widowmaker was here, watching her browsing through the market was enough for Tracer to throw all caution into the wind. The assassin was here just for her, and not her as a target, but for her as a person she was interested in. Now was Lena's chance, and she wouldn't let it pass by. But that meant being clear about her intentions from square one.

"If you want to go out with me, I'd love to, you know?" Tracer added cheekily, licking her lips.

"The bar..." Widowmaker's eyes were wide open, a heavy shock stuck in her bones, making movement completely impossible. The only option for her was to stare blankly, struggling to comprehend how the world around her at the moment was real life. What the abused sniper saw was blowing away all her doubts and fears at once and left nothing but an unfamiliar, yet confusing, feeling of bliss. Widowmaker was completely stunned while she took in the overwhelming presence of Tracer.

The cutest giggle Widow has ever heard was enough to return her drifting thoughts back to reality.

"You know, luv, in your condition I wouldn't have noticed the person picking me up, yet alone some random bar." Tracer snickered. "But yes, the pub." Lena took another bite off her apple, hesitating for a moment with if she really should say the truth so straight forward. Well, she always did, so why start beating about the bush now? There really was no reason. "I'm as gay as girls come, so no false shyness!" she announced, while winking at Widowmaker in a rather seductive way.

The overwhelmed assassin was never in her life before so completely dumbstruck. Her own body didn't comply with her brains commands anymore.

How?

Why?

She felt like someone dumped a huge amount of water into an undersized funnel. There were so many new things, new feelings and new information, which were only slowly trickling down into Widowmaker's conscious mind.

"How did you...?" she asked, still dumbstruck like never before. The woman with those beautiful golden eyes had no idea how Tracer was even here right now. Because there was no way she should have been. Not that Widowmaker didn't like the idea, but there shouldn't have been a way Tracer could have noticed her presence. Unless...

The brown haired beauty laughed happily "Well, I had an eye on the rooftops since you vanished from my apartment." Tracer smiled.

"I didn't want to-"

"Kill me?" Lena finished the sentence. "I know. You had plenty of opportunities to do that" Tracer said with her disarming smile, carefully sitting down on Amélie's knees, almost in her lap. It was a bit on the bold side, but Lena didn't want to hold back any longer; she really wanted to be even closer to Amélie now that she already was so close already.

Unbeknownst to Tracer, the natural warmth of her body was seeping into the modified assassin, making her heart beat unnaturally fast for her circumstances. It was the first time the hitman recalled that she felt her own heartbeat.

She inhaled sharply at the contact, but welcomed the warmth with an anticipating shiver. There went her plan of leaving Tracer alone for her own safety. Simply being so close to the Brit made her head spin and her cold skin tingle in anticipation.

"How are you? Your injury and... well everything else?" Lena asked with honest interest, running her hot hands gently over Widowmaker's arms. Not once did the Brit break eye contact. Her deep brown orbs peered deeply into the cold gold like she tried to see what was underneath it. Widowmaker felt as though she were melting like warm butter in the summer sun, her petrified body cured by nothing but a gentle smile and a warm touch.

Tracer had to be a witch. Or a drug. There was no other way to explain why else Widowmaker would feel so good in her company. So safe, so wanted, and so welcome. Gone was the fear Tracer might reject her along with her reservations concerning that stupid truce. Widowmaker now saw it for what it was: A ruse. Meant to keep up a pretence.

"I'm alright. Don't worry; it's healing..." faster than it should. Amélie replied, before suddenly changing the topic. This was nagging in her head since Tracer suddenly showed up, and Widowmaker didn't want to talk about her health anyway. "How long have you been standing there?"

Lena tilted her head sideways. "What you mean, luv? Didn't I ask you what you were looking at?" Tracer wanted to know, blinking innocently, like their current position was the most normal thing in the world.

The assassin just now seemed to realize what Tracer had said before.

I'm as gay as girls come.

Up until now, it was a suspicion. Something likely, but also something not definite. Now it was as definite as eggs is eggs.

Oh. My. God.

And she basically told that gay girl she was doing nothing else than looking at her. Way to go, Widowmaker, way to go. Well, Amélie ruined her chances of plausible deniability long before she knew she would even need them.

"Mon Dieu!" Widowmaker exclaimed "I... I thought I imagined that"

Lena laughed cutely "No, luv, you didn't. I asked you"

Oxton obviously didn't realize what she was doing to Widowmaker. How she turned the smart assassins brain into nothing but goo, just by the way she was talking to her. How she made her body respond in a way Widowmaker never experienced before, just by the way she was touching her, how her voice was a sweet symphony in those alert ears, and how the mere thought about Tracer gave Widowmaker goosebumps.

Lena didn't have the first idea that she wielded such power over the assassin. This was simply the moment she had been hoping for since Widowmaker burst into her life.

Her one chance to say something to the assassin, and it was even in a rather peaceful environment as well. Lena couldn't have hoped for a better opportunity than the one presented to her right in this moment.

Yet now that the time had come, she felt as nervous as never before. Dammit, Tracer hadn't been nervous while talking to a girl since forever. Why now all of a sudden?! It was the worst possible timing! But Lena just couldn't help it, Amélie looked even more breathtaking today than Lena remembered, and gazing into those magnificent golden eyes made her forget her own name. Over the last few days, she tried to come up with witty or smooth things to say, and up until now, everything went according to plan, but now there was a really tricky part up ahead and the words Lena had prepared were suddenly forgotten.

Oxton was left with no other choice but to ramble nervously, in much a similar way Revy did back in the bar: "You know, it's funny, cause I actually wanted to talk to you. I kinda hoped to do it last time, but you were already gone when I woke up" Lena tried, turning the apple in her hand with shaky fingers "I really don't know why I brought that truce up the last time either, because the reality is... I... I kind of kept thinking about you and, well I... Didn't want to overwhelm you, because I... I..." the words got stuck in Lena's throat.

To Amélie this was some kind of twisted paradise. Something long forgotten, something very much human awoke back to life deep inside her. Some part of her, which still had earthly needs and primal desires. It was something Talon had tried to suppress with all their modification.

But they failed.

They didn't fully achieve what they wanted. Deep inside Amélie, something was starting to heat up again, fueling her desires, making her feel a strange warmth in her chest. A warmth no number of kills managed to create before, a warmth she never thought was possible and a warmth which could only originate from those forcefully suppressed human desires. Amélie didn't know a lot of them, but she recognized them when they showed up. One of those desires was right in front of her now, not even the length of an arm away, basically sitting in her lap.

Tracer.

The bubbly Brit was so wonderfully close again, Amélie could feel the heat of her body and smell her intoxicating scent, both of which let her drastically slowed down heart beat higher and faster. If her world had been black and white up until now, in that moment it had turned into the most beautiful of lively colors without her even understanding.

She wasn't even listening to what Tracer was trying to say anymore, because adrenalin was ringing so loudly in her ears she couldn't hear her if she wanted to. She didn't need to listen; looking at Lena was more than enough to understand. Inwardly, Amélie wanted to laugh at her own stupidity. She hadn't really thought that Tracer would be hostile if she'd approach her. How could she honestly consider that a possibility? Lena had saved her from bleeding to death in a dirty alley, let her sleep in her own bed, and held her hand through the entire night.

You don't do that for people you consider your enemy. No one would. No matter what they say, ultimately what they do is of importance.

Widowmaker wanted to laugh. How could she seriously assume anything else but the truth?

Tracer liked her. Widowmaker didn't know why, and she didn't know how, but it didn't matter anymore.

In that moment, Amélie couldn't hold back anymore.

She knew this was wrong.

She knew it was dangerous for both her as well as Tracer, but there wasn't a thing she could have done against it. An overwhelming urge to touch pulled on her heart as the otherwise cold and collected Widowmaker lost the iron grip which was forced on herself by Talon for the first time. She leaned forward to do exactly what her soul yearned for. Touch Tracer. Touch her. Feel her. Taste her. Do it!

Lena suddenly opened her eyes wide in shock as the girl she tried to clumsily convey her situation and weird feelings to and who, up until now, hadn't done anything but stare at her like she was a ghost, suddenly shot up. Widowmaker held Lena's flushed face with gentle, yet horribly cold hands before she brought her face closer to Lena's. Golden eyes were peering into brown ones, glistering with surprise and anticipation. Amélie was so close to Lena, she could already feel the warmth of her skin on her own. After a very brief moment of hesitation, Amélie tenderly pressed her lips onto Lena's. A wave of electricity rushed through both of their bodies, as Widowmaker brushed her lips over this beautiful forbidden fruit.

For a second, Tracer's body froze solid in shock before she realized that this was really happening.

It was no dream.

It was no wild fantasy either.

This was real life.

Lena's eyes fluttered closed before she granted Widowmaker's equally cold tongue entrance into her mouth, returning the kiss with hot passion. This felt so unreal, yet it also felt so infinitely better compared to the fantasies Lena had masturbated to on a regular basis since King's Row.

She felt the apple she held in her hand glide out of her fingers as Amélie intensified the tender kiss. The red fruit fell to the ground, probably rolling out of the belfry and falling down onto the civic square. Tracer didn't mind; she was too caught up in the moment, letting Amélie explore her mouth. Her hands wandered up Amélie's bare back, drawing warm circles on exposed cold skin, when Widowmaker suddenly wrapped her arms around Lena's body, picking her up and lifting her into the air. A few steps later, Tracer found herself pressed to the wall of the stair-house in the middle of the belfry, moaning with appreciation at the more and more violent attack of Widowmaker's tongue.

If Lena had died in that moment, she would have gone happily and without another wish in the world. Her heart was beating as fast as it never did before. If something on earth could be close to heaven, this had to be it. Widowmaker smelled wonderful, like fresh flowers in a field right after a heavy rain, and her lips were unexpectedly sweet. Lena could no longer resist the urge, so she let her hands run through Amélie's deep purple hair. It was just like she imagined; the feeling of what had to be liquid silk.

Lena wouldn't have minded if the encounter would have continued forever.

Yet it was over as soon as it had begun.

Widowmaker suddenly pulled away, taking a step back, leaving a heavily breathing Lena leaning into the wall, her face flushed all over, and her knees weak.

Lena needed a moment to realize the assassin looked scared out of her mind. Her beautiful golden eyes were wide open and shock was written all over her face.

What had she done? How could she have done that? Now everything was different, everything changed. She just deliberately turned her own world upside down, completely ignoring the dangers. If Talon found out about this, they'll turn her against Tracer quicker than you can say Jesus Christ. They'll force her to kill the beautiful Brit before they'll tear her mind apart once again.

Non, non, non, Putain de merde, this is not really happening now! She should never have come to this place in the first place!

"What's wrong, luv?" Lena wanted to know silently, her face showing her confusion.

"I-I'm sorry, ma chérie" Widowmaker whispered. "I'm sorry" she repeated. This just didn't happen! She didn't just allow this to happen?! Why, why, why did she?! Why did she get caught up in a moment? This had never happened before! Holy shit, Amèlie felt so much; all at the same time, and it all felt so good.

But the better it felt the more dangerous it got for both of them. This couldn't be. It was absolutely impossible! Oh god, she wouldn't only lose everything at the next scheduled mental reset. That wasn't seriously happening now, was it? Maybe it wasn't too late yet? Maybe she could still get out of it? "I have to go" she said, turning to leave.

"Amélie!" Tracer called, reaching out for her hand to stop the beautiful woman from leaving. Her hand firmly grasped the other one's, fingers interlacing with each other. "Don't go now!" she pleaded.

The French name was floating heavily in the air, like it had its own echo.

Amélie! Amélie...amélie. Widowmaker couldn't believe her own ears as she heard this foreign name, a name she didn't recognize, but which felt oddly familiar. For a moment she was confused, but then there rushed a sharp pain in her head, like someone had stuck a thin needle into her brain. A brief moment passed and suddenly a wave of short blurry images and distorted visions flashed into her mind. Widowmaker had no feeling of time and the voices were muffled, but she felt like remembering something long forgotten.

Gleeful laughter. Her own. She hadn't laughed since Talon

An elder couple smiling at her. Her parents. She didn't recognize them

A man in an expensive grey suit in front of an altar. Gerard, her husband. She had long forgotten his face

The elder couple again, telling her they were proud. She barely heard them talk

The man kissing her. It felt like someone else

A dark room. Her head being drilled open. Horrible pain. A forlorn scream.

Amélie! It used to be her name. She didn't remember.

Widowmaker squeezed her eyes shut for a second and looked away. The images whirled up in white dust, taking the stinging pain in her head with them. And when she opened her eyes again, she felt like something important had been in reach for her to grasp, but the opportunity had already passed by. Instead her eyes peered into warm brown, a concerned one sided smile brought her back into the here and now.

"Luv?" Tracer asked, her voice heavy with worry. Widowmaker looked heartbroken, and not only that, she generally looked broken. Her golden eyes had suddenly lost their spark as she seemed to realize just how much was taken away from her.

"I don't remember Amélie anymore" she whispered bitterly, as a cruel reality dawned on her. "They erased her out of my head. Just like they are going to erase you" Amélie said, not wanting to even think about this.

Lena shook her head in clear disagreement. There was no way she would ever let that happen. "They won't be able to erase me! I will remind you about this every time we meet! You are still Amélie deep inside yourself; I'm sure of it! They just made you forget! I'm sure you'll remember if you have enough time."

Widowmaker laughed a sad laugh "Time is the one thing I don't have, ma chérie. I have to go. If I do that now, I might have a chance." She hoped for the program to not recognize a small memory imprint. Maybe, just maybe the software would just miss the detail, like it did before sometimes. Amélie remembered useless bits and pieces from long past times, fragments of things she did long before the first memory-wipe.

She clung to that hope, fully aware that the emotional indicators were far too obvious for the cleaning program to miss. By the time of the next iteration, Widowmaker would have forgotten about Tracer, because one thing was sure: Reaper definitely wouldn't show up out of nowhere again.

"No! No! You don't have to! Let me help you, Amélie!" Lena exclaimed, pleading the beautiful assassin with her eyes. "I can help you" she added in a whisper.

Widowmaker's smile brightened up, as she stepped forward and placed a quick peck on Lena's lips. "You are as sweet as I imagined you would be, ma chérie" she said silently "But for me, all help is too late. Next time we meet, be careful. I am dangerous. I might not remember. I might try to kill you. Don't approach me with your guard down, understand?"

"I..." Tracer felt tears build up in her eyes as a sour knot choked her throat.

"Hush, ma chérie" Widowmaker replied. "Just be careful next time, oui?"

"No!" Tracer exclaimed "Dammit, I won't let you leave now! You can't just watch me for days, kiss me like you want me, and then leave me standing here! I'll go crazy, and when I do, who will remind you of what we shared, when I sit in the loony bin?"

Widowmaker looked sad. It sounded so cruel the way Lena said it. No matter how painful it was to admit it, Amélie knew full well how Tracer must have felt. It wasn't like she didn't want Tracer; quite the contrary. The French assassin would have liked nothing better than to stay with Lena from now on, until the last breath she drew. But the things she wanted and the things she should do, unfortunately, weren't the same.

A quick step forward brought Amélie close to Tracer's face again. For a short moment, she seemed to hesitate before she, once again, kissed the beautiful woman with mesmerizing brown eyes. A long, soft and gentle kiss. "If I could decide, I would stay with you" she whispered. "But I can't decide. Talon would come for me...and they would find me. They would take me back and kill you. Or even worse, they'd turn you into another version of me. I don't want that to happen, ma chérie. I don't want anything to happen to you. Which is why I have to go." Amélie smiled as supportively as she could, looking into Tracer's hurting eyes. This was necessary, the assassin knew it, yet why did it have to feel so brutally cruel?

"Next time I see you, don't you dare not remember me! You hear me? If you do, I'll make you!" Lena replied bitterly, her voice hurting while speaking. A sour knot in Lena's throat was dangerously close to suffocating her. Lena tried as best as she could to not start crying, but she failed miserably. Why was the world so cruel? Just some time longer with Amélie was hardly much to ask for, wasn't it? So why did things have to end now of all times?

"Now I, at least, have some motivation" Widowmaker smiled, pronouncing the last word with a heavy French accent. Carefully retrieving her hand out of Lena's grasp, Amélie reached up to Tracer's face, gently wiping away the heavy tears which started to fall down those freckled cheeks. They were turning her beautiful hazel eyes slightly red. "No need to be sad, chérie" Amélie said, "just promise me you'll be careful, S'il vous plaît."

"I promise, luv. I promise" Lena sniffled, still trying not to break down crying like a little girl, and still not winning.

"Merci beaucoup, ma chouchoute" the french assassin replied sounding both relieved as well as thankful. Taking a step back, Widowmaker kicked her rifle up from the floor and caught it with a precise move. She kissed her hand and blew the sign of affection toward Tracer while the assassin dropped out of the belfry.

Lena raced to the edge, but Widowmaker was already gone, and with her she had taken Oxton's heart.

Why did it have to happen this way?

Why?

-/-

A/N:

So, that's it for today. As usual, I hope you liked the chapter. Thank you guys so very much for the AMAZING support in the last chapter, it really blew my mind! Your encouragement warmed my heart. I love you all. Internet cookies for everyone!

Quick question: Is the French understandable or do you need translations? I'm careful and try to only use a foreign language, when I think the context of what is said should be clear. But maybe I am wrong.

Tell me what you think, just like last time, there is that really convenient box right down below :D

Well, this time it might not really be right down below, so why not keep reading on for a little bit longer? It might pay off? Got the hint? Yes? Good :D

And also just like last time, a HUGE thank you to the one and only EhMattissimo for yet again being the most awesome Beta-reader I could have hoped for. Don't really want to know how this chapter would have looked like without you...You rock, friend! *bro fist bump*

That obviously goes for the rest of you as well, thank you all for your kind support, I'm glad such an overwhelming majority of you likes to read the stuff I make up ^^

I'll see you in the next one :)

o7

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-/-

Watchpoint Gibraltar: Overwatch headquarters, at the same time.

Jack Morrison was sitting in his office staring at the screen in front of him. If there was one thing he had found out since the first day of Overwatch, it would have been this: He hated paperwork. Every single aspect of it disgusted him. The fact that you had to sit down and write things together when there also were video-files to watch wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was the unnerving bureaucracy. That had always driven him nuts. The agent in the field always had to make a choice. It was their life they put in line, so they called the decisions. And out of ten times, nine decisions were perfectly fine to everyone.

It was that one time which got Morrison so worked up and the fact of how things were taken for granted by society.

Say a well trained soldier throws himself onto a grenade out of reflex to protect innocent civilians, sacrificing himself in the process. That soldier loses his life in that moment, yet no one seems to care. It is expected.

But have the very same soldier instinctively shoot a civilian because he figured that person a threat, ohhh the shitstorm.

Morrison was disgusted with these antics. He really was. All they did was impose on good soldiers. They didn't get work done and they didn't help anyone. They just obstructed important missions. Nothing else.

Luckily, the ringing of his phone stopped him from growing more angry. He grabbed the receiver and held it to his ear. "Yeah?" he asked, not bothering with his name. Only very few people had this number.

A deep voice said something, causing a heavy frown on Jack's face.

"I told you already, don't call me here, you moron!" he hissed, followed by more talking on the other side. The voice really was unnaturally deep.

"Yes, I know." a long pause, followed by concentrated thinking.

"No, that's no problem." More listening

"Alright, I will disable the outer security systems for your operation tomorrow. That is all I can do, or the monkey will notice. He will have minimal forecast lead time, but it is time nonetheless. So strike hard and fast."

The reply sounded a lot like a growled "good" followed by unintelligible mumbling.

"No. As discussed, I sent everyone else away on missions or vacation. You'll have the house to yourself and your Talon friends. The monkey will be here, though. So take that into consideration."

A deep chuckle followed by a question sounded through the phone.

"What? Fuck it, just disable Athena if you have to. No one cares." Jack said with a nod. "Good luck" he said, tossing the receiver back in place.

With a sly grin on his face, he turned back to his paperwork.

Another step was done.

-/-

*laughs*

sweet dreams

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