Personal notes for medical report 7962, patient file #OW-WPG-1337 – Amélie 'Widowmaker' Lacroix
Attending physician: Dr. med. Angela Ziegler
-confidential-
/beginning of audio recording...
I completed the first set of treatments for Amélie yesterday. The whole procedure went rather well, but I am worried for her. The fact that Lena wasn't around to support her for this was not beneficial for Amélie's anxiety, but we agreed that it was best to start as soon as possible. After the checkup last week, I decided to start with removing some of the minor implants. The fact that Amélie manages to hide her fear and nervousness to a point where I almost missed it is worrisome. Future procedures are probably best done with Lena around.
As for this first treatment, the removal of several minor implants was successful. Amélie's metabolism should be able to adapt to those minor changes quickly. An increased appetite is to be expected.
Upon closer examination, I was able to confirm what I suspected at first. Her heart was too heavily enhanced to revert Talon's changes. I discussed this problem with her and did mention that there would be other options, like donor hearts or even artificial ones, but Amélie refused. I did tell her that this would mean that she will have to keep her skin color. Even though she didn't provide a reason for her decision, I can think of at least one.
Apart from that, there are medical reasons against removing and replacing her heart. These procedures are, even with today's advanced technology, very risky. But I highly doubt that was any motivation for her decision.
Her reckless behavior is worrying me more often than not. It's what Talon made out of her and I can only hope that Lena is able to fill her life with new purpose and direction.
Also, I have to admit that I am very worried by the extent of the nanochips implanted into her brain, their exact function is still beyond me. I'll have to be very careful when trying to remove them. It's probably best to do them last. At least that is the plan for now.
...end of audio recording/
-/-
Unknown place, unknown time.
"What is it?" Savant hissed, charging through the door into the dark room behind it, countless screens being the only source of light. "What is so important that I absolutely had to come here at this ungodly hour. This better be important, Sombra!" Or else I'll make you regret it.
The hacker just shrugged, sitting on a huge soft pillow in her chair, her posture a little funny.
"Production plant 4 self-activated because of unauthorized access. The Germans and Austrians figured it out, they are mobilizing." Sombra told him and looked over her shoulder. "Thought you might want to know they EMP'd the whole mountain."
Savant groaned, clenching his fists. That was not supposed to happen, but then again, it was planned for. They could afford this. "Effects?"
"Facility 4 is obviously lost, duh, they dropped an EMP on it. Buuuut, since it's a smaller unit anyway and with 5 and 6 still running at maximal capacity, we didn't lose a lot in terms of combat power, Sir."
"Still." Savant mused, scratching his chin before inspecting his hand as if he was expecting the scratching would have opened an old wound "We might have to move central Europe ahead of schedule." He said. "How far is the god program?"
"Eh, still not completely perfect. I wouldn't unleash it just yet, but then again, your call Boss. I might be able to bring some sub-routines online for Europe by tonight. It obviously won't be the same thing as Alchys, but better than those damn tin cans on their own."
"Do that, then. And keep me updated" he grit through his teeth before turning to leave. The head of Talon, however, stopped at the door and turned back again. "Oh, and Sombra?"
"Si?"
"You were out of base yesterday." He said with no particular tone to it. "Where have you been?"
Sombra tried her best to stop herself from blushing, the blood in her body too tempted to rush to her face and a painful spark cursing through her body from in between her legs. "Why is it important?" she managed to ask, having to focus on keeping her voice flat and not faltering. Think of an excuse.
"Mere curiosity." Savant smirked.
"I've been in town for some shopping, if you really want to know." Sombra replied with a shrug, able to compose herself again. She didn't even technically lie.
"Jewelry?" he wanted to know, the devilish grin on his lips spreading further. Sombra's eyes went wide and her mind froze at the thought of the golden ring with the red stone hanging from it, which was the newest addition to her body. Jewelry indeed. Savant chuckled as he stepped closer to the hacker, placing a hand on her shoulder "I want you to do me a favor."
Her mind went blank
"Whatever you desire, master."
"Show me!" he ordered, a shit eating grin on his face. For the fraction of a second the Mexican hacker seemed to hesitate, like she tried to fight what was happening in her brain. A lost battle, all sense of herself was lost as the programming crashed down on her. Sombra immediately got up, turned around and obediently pulled her skin-tight pants together with her knickers down to her knees, lifting her shirt up.
There it was, in between her legs, so clearly visible despite the dim light. The small golden ring with a red gemstone hanging on a tiny golden chain. The ring piercing the most sensitive spot on a woman's body. Just as Sombra was ordered to do.
Savant laughed as he reached between her legs, and gave the ring a rough flick with his fingers, causing Sombra to cringe.
"I'll check in on you later" he chuckled. "For some evaluation."
-/-
Watchpoint: Gibraltar, 0800 hours
The stone steps were narrow and slippery, the angle steep. For many decades, the dark stone was exposed to the will of the tides, the sea spray always making sure that no matter how warm the sun above Gibraltar shined down, the steps would never completely dry out. The salty air wasn't entirely unpleasant, despite the splashes of water which hit Amélie's face from time to time. The former master assassin was walking down these slippery steps, carved into the cliffs, heading to the beautiful beach down below. She had let her hair down, wearing only a light white blouse with the top buttons undone and a pair of beige shorts. So short in fact, that the blouse was almost completely hiding them.
The wind was brushing through her silken hair when she reached the end of the stairs and her bare feet touched the warm, but wet sand. Today the ocean was calm and quiet. The waves covered her feet with water in slow, rhythmic patterns, as the tides gently hit the shore. It was a strange feeling, the wet, warm sand between her toes and the cooler salty water engulfing her feet every now and then, but Amélie didn't really take any notice of it. She only saw a figure sitting on a large dark rock, surrounded by shallow water. The rushing of the ocean was a comfortable sound in the background, hardly something which would have been bothersome during a civil conversation.
Today was a quiet, peaceful day with the warm morning sun shining down from just above the sea, far away at the end of the horizon.
Approaching the figure sitting on the rock, Amélie took a deep breath. She knew that this was inevitable. She needed to confront her past, no matter how scared she was of it. Who knew, maybe she would find out something useful.
Two steps away from the rock Widow stopped. Maybe this was not such a good idea after all. Why the hell did she even tell that stupid cyborg so much about herself? Why did Lena have to go on that idiotic mission now of all times. This was such a bad idea, what was wrong with her, entertaining the idea of talking to Genji's master. An Omnic. A machine. What could he probably know about her past, what could he possibly-
"When Genji told me who it was seeking my support, I admit to being reluctant. An old enemy. Someone who caused me great suffering. Friends died from your hand." Zenyatta said without turning around to look at Widowmaker. "But then I realized that denying you the guidance you seek out of personal spite would make into something even worse. It is not the path I chose for myself, nor is it the way you deserve to be treated. Contempt against someone whose hand was being forced is like hating an actor for the play." Zen pointed at the spot on the rock right next to him "Come. Sit with me." He said while looking into the distance.
Amélie briefly considered simply turning around and leaving, but she was no coward. The only thing she regretted was that Lena couldn't be here. Not that the Brit could have helped her much, but it would have been reassuring.
Widow quickly climbed onto the rock and sat down next to Zenyatta. The monk was levitating a few centimeters above the rock, his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap. A pose Genji mimicked when Widow found him on top of the radio tower.
Amélie had no idea what to say or do now, but luckily, she didn't have to do either of those things. Zenyatta looked at her, regarding her carefully.
"There is darkness within you." He stated matter-of-factly.
Amélie perked up an eyebrow and looked at the Omnic with a quizzical expression. "And what makes you say that?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Zenyatta also turned to look at Widowmaker, tilting his head slightly to the left. "You are being defensive." He stated without any anger or sign of annoyance.
Amélie inhaled sharply, biting back a snarky comment, but unable to suppress the warning glare she shot his direction.
"There is no need for pretending my child. I can see your pain so clearly, your fears and worries. The dark places you have been in. I see your immense strength, the sheer willpower you had and still have. You endured all those wounds inflicted on you for as long as you could. You know what you are capable of. But even your mind knew limits, isn't that right? Eventually you did break. There is no shame in that. I see the shards of what's left and how you hold everything together. The confusion in your head. The uncertainty, isn't that right? A part of you desires these missing fragments. But you are also conflicted. You are scared of your past, scared of what it might show you, scared-"
"I'm not scared!" Widowmaker hissed, his comments hitting way too close to home. The damn machine was too right. She was scared senseless when she thought about what little she remembered from her past. A part of her was arguing that she didn't even want to know. But it needed to be done, it was not only necessary, it was also important for her peace of mind. Was clarity such a bad thing to have? It felt like half of her was somehow missing. Which wouldn't have been such a big problem, if not for everyone seemingly knowing more and referencing evils she apparently committed years ago.
The glares.
The snide comments.
The derogatory glimpses.
The disgusted faces.
No matter how often Widowmaker shrugged and confirmed that she didn't give a shit, no matter how often she scared the offenders away with nothing else but a glance, she couldn't help but notice one thing: Clarity would be great. Knowing the truth, if only for herself.
She needed to know what happened, if only to finally understand why everyone was acting the way they all were.
"Your past makes you feel weak, for you have no control over it, no way of being on top of it and also no way to change it. Weakness or any signs of it always caused you pain, isn't that right? Strength was the only option you ever had, it guaranteed your survival. Or am I wrong?"
"Merde" Amélie muttered. "Who told you all that?"
"You will soon find that there are manifold ways to obtain knowledge and insight. Some messengers are human, some are artificial. But the best messengers are the ones who don't talk, nor walk. We can all see, hear and feel, can we not?"
"So, you want to tell me that you could tell all that by just looking at me?" There was a lot of doubt in Amélie's icy voice.
"Most of it. You are scared of yourself and of what you were forced to become. I can hardly emphasize that enough, but there is no shame in that. It merely means you are aware of your own potential, however destructive that may be."
"Very helpful" Widow huffed, but Zenyatta ignored her.
"Do you want to find out what happened in your past?" Zen asked.
"Oui. Of course I want to."
"Then, if you'd allow me, it would be an honor to accompany you on that journey up ahead. You will, however, have to trust me that I will not cause you harm. I will be inside your mind, you have to allow my presence, else I cannot work."
"In case you didn't notice" Widow sighed "Trust is not my strong point."
Zenyatta looked at her, saying nothing.
"Fine ok." Widow finally said, giving up. She wanted to know what happened way more than she feared the risks of what might happen. "Let's try this. But I say this once. If I get the feeling you are poking in areas which are none of your business, I will turn you into scrap metal, compris?"
"There is no need for threats. I will merely help you see."
"Wha-"
"Gaze into the iris" the lamps on Zenyatta's head lit up and Amélie found herself engulfed in bright golden light. She was startled at first, trying to jump away from the sudden flood of energy and brightness, but before she could do more than tear her eyes wide open, she was already caught inside the golden light.
Before Widow knew it, her body felt weightless, like it was floating. The bright light dimmed away and she found herself levitating in deep space. The stars around her were shining brightly, shimmering like diamonds on the filament, far, far away. Golden stardust was flowing in between the various entities like pulsating rivers, but the streams were interrupted. Many raptures in the universe caused breaks, where the light was refracting like the remnants of broken glass. There were colorful nebulas and galactic clusters illuminating the scenery, but also dark clouds of dust and smoke obscuring large portions of the universe, sucking up some of the stardust and turning it into the same dark grey smoke. The clouds seemed threatening, red lighting flashing through them repeatedly, the thunder however, was silent. Right in front of her there was a transparent wall of blue light, it reflected her own form, her pale purple skin and the golden eyes, her dark purple hair was floating around her body, it all showed in the glowing obstacle crafted from light front of her. It seemed like the twin sister she never had was floating on the other side of the wall, a huge burning lava planet behind her, surrounded by even more of those intimidating dark clouds. Red lightning was thundering through the almost black mist.
She turned around and right behind her there was an enormous planet as well, just like in the reflection she saw. But no burning world, a huge, brightly shining gas giant, glowing in warm light. It seemed to be the source of the beautiful golden stardust which was swirling around the galaxy. From all over its surface the dust gently ascended into the void. It was like the planet itself was like a huge bee-hive and the dust was the bees.
The whole scene was a strange mixture of peaceful beauty and worrisome danger, all mixed together in one confusing chaos.
"experience tranquility" a synthetic voice said from the distance and Amélie couldn't help but close her eyes and take a deep breath. There was some sense of structure and order all of a sudden, and even though it did feel artificial, it wasn't bothersome. She noticed that she had completely calmed down, that she was acutely aware of herself and everything important to her, but it didn't feel threatening anymore, she didn't feel like she needed to be scared about certain things, her doubts and fears were there, but she didn't need all her strength to keep them at bay. It was like they were frozen solid, unmoving, while she got to look at them.
When she opened her eyes again, her reflection in the blue wall was gone, replaced by an image of Zenyatta.
"Where am I?" she asked curiously, the scenery around her entirely alien.
"This is your mind." Zenyatta replied. "Look around, you see that everything is connected to each other in a way. This is all of you. The essence of what makes you the person you are. Your experiences, some stronger than others, your memories, some more present than others, your fears, some worse, some easier. It is all here. The things you remember clearly, but more importantly, also the times you thought forgotten."
"It's... not very orderly in here." Widow remarked, looking at the total chaos around her.
"No." Zen replied, his head hanging and his artificial voice flooded with sadness. "It is not your fault. Your mind should not look like this. All the cracks and tears you see, those wounds were inflicted upon your mind."
"The brainwashing?"
"I fear so." Zen nodded "I would say that I am sorry for what happened to you, but I know you don't need my pity and neither do you want it. Be that as it may, allow me to say that I am deeply impressed by your determination, your willpower, and the strength it must have taken to overcome the shackles placed on you."
Widow snorted. "I hardly did that alone." She muttered under her breath and thought about Lena.
"That does not matter." Zen replied as calm as ever. He could already tell just how extremely different Widowmaker was from Genji. His pupil had lost his way, so filled with hatred and self-loathing, he had disconnected himself from the world and his spirit.
Widowmaker was nowhere near like that.
She too was distant from the world, but in a very different way. Something which she once had was taken from her. She knew that, she knew it was missing, but she didn't remember what it was exactly and neither had an idea of how to get it back or if she even should or could regain it. She was unsure of what to do, the key memories of coming to an educated decision were missing. There was rage and hatred inside her, but where Genji's wrath knew no direction, Widowmaker's did. She had already focused it all on a single target. A huge part of her problem evolved around the shambles left of her mind. Two worlds collided within it. The endless confidence and strength of Widowmaker, a feared assassin, skilled and witty, unstoppable in her ways and a lethal force of shocking precision were one half of herself. The other was the all too human side of Amélie, a woman deeply scarred by her past, scared of what might come, insecure of who she had become and partly terribly afraid of what her other half might do to ensure two vital things. Her own survival and the survival of the person closest to her. Tracer.
It all mixed together in one individual full of complex contradictions. Fragile, yet so strong. Determined, yet so insecure. Cold, yet so caring. Ruthless, but also... No. There was not a hint of compassion left in Widowmaker.
Zenyatta could see these things. They were right there, in front of his mental eye and he felt like all he needed to do was to point at it. But Widowmaker would have never seen it. She had no way of looking at herself the way he was. She would have to be shown the way.
"What now?" Amélie asked.
"I can show you the way to the memories you lost. I can lead the path to a place where all that confusion inside you might clear up and you might come to an understanding of what you are seeking answers for. I can guide you, but I cannot give either one of these things to you. Along the path you will find your answers, but you have to look for them yourself, you will have to pick them up and you have to accept them." He paused for a long moment. "Also, I cannot revert what was done to you. The person you used to be is gone forever. All I can do is help you come to terms with who you can be now."
Amélie narrowed her eyes. "Did I ever say I want to be the person I used to be? Hell, I don't even remember her anymore. All I want is to understand. I can't stand the blank spaces in my mind anymore. I just want..." Amélie paused, staring at Zenyatta with eyes wide open, as she realized what she wanted to say.
"Peace of mind?" The Omnic monk suggested.
"... oui." Widowmaker whispered.
"Very well." Zen nodded and reached out with his hand to touch the blue transparent wall. Amélie frowned slightly, but quickly noticed that he was waiting for her to do the same. Reluctantly she reached out and, after a moment of hesitation, quickly placed her hand on the surface like she was touching his hand. Suddenly the wall became liquid and Zenyatta reached through it, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the other side. For a moment Amélie felt like she was about to drown, before she noticed that she could breath freely. The water around her was bubbling and she heard faint noises, voices talking, but she didn't understand them. Soon she noticed that the voices were originating from the many bubbles around her, so Widow focused on one of the many bubbles. The muffled sounds and noises were clearing up and soon:
She opened her eyes and was surprised to find herself in the past. In a long forgotten life, at a time when she was still a normal young woman. She was at her forgotten home. Amélie's home. The small apartment she had rented for herself while she was attending ballet-school. Widowmaker was forced to forget all of this existed when she was transformed, yet it all came right back to her now. She remembered. Back then she wanted to have her own space, stand on her own feet. Away from her rich parents, the servants, the glamour, Amélie hadn't wanted all that. She had yearned for a life of her own, something she would build herself and not what her ancestors had left for her to inherit. Her parents understood. They always understood.
Amélie took a deep breath. It felt like no time has passed since she had last been in this place. She had no idea why, but it all felt familiar, like each piece was exactly where it was supposed to be. It was instantly home again.
She looked around in her small place's vestibule, where a coat hook was next to a side table; the only noteworthy furniture. There was also an ancient Victorian style mirror hanging on the wall above the side table.
Amélie carefully approached the reflecting surface and dared to look inside.
She couldn't help but gasp, for it was not her body. She had beautiful black hair down to her shoulders, pale white skin and deep blue eyes. Was this the way she used to look? Apparently. Amélie noticed that she was wearing a brown trench-coat which hugged her curves tightly. She unbuttoned the coat and hung it over the coat hanger, revealing a snow white ballet dress she wore underneath.
Amélie's breath faltered. She knew exactly what day she was thrown into. Today was the day she had completed her training at a prestigious ballet-school in Paris with the best possible grades and was allowed to play the lead role in 'Black Swan'. Now that she inspected the vestibule further, she should have noticed sooner. Her certificate was on the side table together with a greeting card from her parents, wishing her all the best. It was one of those cards which played silly music when you opened it. It brought a smile on her lips.
Amélie could feel how proud and happy she was on that day. It seemed so long ago and so far away, but Amélie relived the same feeling of happiness, joy and excitement again.
Noise was coming out of her kitchen and she turned her head to listen to the sounds, before she hurried to see what the cause was.
The moment she opened the door, she felt like she never forgot how all her friends from school were there as well, happily chatting and congratulating Amélie for her success. With a bright smile on her lips Amélie slipped into her small, cozy kitchen and closed the door again, chatting with her friends about so many things. It felt like she was never gone in the first place and she remembered the names of all of them, despite not knowing who they were anymore.
It felt like hours of chatting before the door opened again. The room fell silent and the bright light grew dark everywhere, except around the door. The temperature dropped and Amélie's eyes were drawn to the door. A man wearing black coat and grey hat was standing in the doorframe, smiling widely. He was holding a colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. His green eyes were glowing as he held his arms out, expecting to be embraced.
"Gerard!" Amélie cried overjoyed, leaping into his arms and hugging him tightly.
"Congratulations!" He whispered into her ear "You did it."
"Yes! I did it! I'm so happy!"
"Indeed. Soon we can move on to a proper life." Without childish antics. "send your friends home. I want you for myself."
"But-"
"Come on."
"...Fine."
The scenery whirled up in water, the bubble Amélie had been in kicked her out again, and she found herself floating through the cool water once more, the chaotic voices were back. The muffled bedlam of a hundred memories far in the background. Soon Widow found another bubble and was sucked into it.
Suddenly Amélie was sitting on the veranda of Château Guillard. The ancient mansion her family inhabited for countless generations. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the birds were singing, the wind was softly brushing through the leaves of a few nearby trees, just enough to provide a fresh, cool sensation on the skin. She was sitting under a white sunshade at a small wooden table with two chairs of equal color, her own and the one occupied by an elderly lady with short light grey hair. Her mother, Célestine Marquise de Guillard.
The older woman was a proper lady of high society, well mannered and well spoken, respected by everyone for her fairness, but also known to usually get what she wanted. She was always polite and on top of the conversation, her aristocratic upbringing crystal clear, as were the decades she had been safeguarding her families interests among the aristocrats of France.
The elder countess was looking at her daughter with sad eyes, worry written all over her face. Amélie had always had a good connection to her mother, who was not only the one to teach her most of what she knew, but also supported her in every decision in life. They were very close.
Or at least they used to be.
Until Gerard happened. Célestine might have seen things which her daughter didn't or didn't want to see. She saw the impending misery and tried to protect her beloved daughter from it, but it was to no avail. It wasn't because the man had been a commoner.
"Petit chou, you have to leave him, I'm telling you. He is not good for you, I can see it." her mother said gently, stirring her cup of tea with the precision only a proper lady could ever muster. "You rarely ever go the ballet anymore and when was the last time you visited your friends? He is isolating you, don't you see?"
"It's not that easy" Amélie argued. "I can't just leave him" she said and cringed, before quickly adding "I don't want to leave him either!" her voice was a little panicked. She wanted to. But she was scared. Panicked even. A cold ice was spreading in her chest and she tried to keep her calm. A losing battle it seemed, as the panic overwhelmed her.
Panic. The memory seemed to freeze. She didn't know exactly why she was suddenly so scared, but she knew that it was because of Gerard and what he would say, what he would do what he-
The thought stopped and suddenly there was familiar warmth engulfing her, like a warm light, thawing the scene again. It didn't belong into the memory, was technically foreign, but still very much welcome. After a few moments, the scene could unfold itself further.
Célesitne sipped on her tea. "What's difficult about leaving? Think practical, simply pack your bags and go, you know you are always welcome here. I'll tell the maids to prepare the guesthouse, you'll even have your own home."
"I know that, but..." Amélie paused, a dull feeling in her stomach. "He is all I have, except for you and papa."
The warmth was back, spreading into her body, allowing her to carry on.
"Yes, because he scared your friends away." Célestine said with quite some determination, looking sternly at her daughter. She could see how much Amélie was suffering, but that Gerard guy, he had her under control somehow. She always found a reason why the things that were clearly his fault, had nothing to do with him. The mother was worried for her daughter.
"It wasn't like that..."
"It was and you know it, Amé. He is not good for you!" she insisted and Amélie looked to the side, ashamed. That was when behind her beautiful black hair Célestine noticed a dark bruise. Quickly she reached over the table and stroked her daughter's hair back. Amélie tried to push her mother's hand away, but quickly gave up. She had seen it.
"Did he hit you again?!" Celestine gasped and Amélie averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at her mother.
"No, he didn't. I hit my head on the cupboard."
"The cupboard." Célestine repeated in disbelieve. "The cupboard. Do you seriously hold me for an idiot, Amélie? Do you? Did the cupboard jump forward and smack you? He hit you again, didn't he?"
"I... He did." Amélie admitted ashamed, the invisible source of warmth fighting against the ice threatening to spread around her heart. "But it's not his fault, he has so much stress at work and I provoked him, I shouldn't have done that. I started it, it was my fault."
"Sacre bleu, child, do you even hear yourself talking? You started it? What has he done to you? He is using you, don't you see? Has he been going on about how he wants you to move into the mansion once we're gone again, too?"
"He is not, and he hasn't!" he had. Amélie stood up from the table. "I know you mean well, but you don't know Gerard the way I do. He is difficult, but I love him. I love him. I do." she repeated and sounded like she had to convince herself, before she turned and left her mother alone.
She walked off the veranda and crashed face first into the house butler.
"Desolé, mademoiselle de Guillard." He said apologetically, bowing slightly.
"Don't worry, Albert. I didn't see you." Amélie replied, rubbing her head. "And I'm not mademoiselle de Guillard, anymore, remember?"
"You will always be to me, mademoiselle." He said with a gentle simile, placing a hand on her shoulder.
The scene shifted, but Widowmaker wasn't sucked out of the bubble again, she merely travelled in time, but stayed at the almost same location.
This day was the exact opposite of the first one, hardly a happy memory and far away from a good day. Amélie was standing in the ballroom of Château Guillard, the two open coffins of her parents in front of her. She felt such heavy sadness inside her, but couldn't cry. No matter how much she wanted to, she could not cry. She didn't dare to. He told her not to.
"Madame Lacroix?" Albert asked, again placing a hand on her shoulder. His voice was different, shocked, damaged. Not the man he used to be. He didn't use her maiden name anymore. She was the Lady of the house now, inheriting the entire fortune her parents left her together with all the titles. Amélie Marquise de Guillard - Lacroix "It's time." He said, when the door creaked open and fast steps approached.
"Leave us!" a harsh voice bellowed and Albert had no choice but bow his head to the new count and do as he was told. Gerard was wearing an evil smirk on his lips as he placed his hands on the hips of his wife. She was wearing a black dress, the one he chose for her.
"Finally, we are where we wanted to be" he whispered into her ear, kissing her neck, right there in front of her two dead parents.
Ice gripping at her heart.
Warm light battling against it.
"Oui." Was all that left Amélie's mouth. She wanted to kick him. Scream at him. Beat him. How dare he, on the day of her parents' funeral. She loved her parents, they were the only ones left who understood her, truly understood her, their only source of solace and strength. Now she really was all alone... with him. How could she ever go on? A flare of anger burned up inside of her, and she felt the urge to act on her impulse and actually beat him into a pulp. But she couldn't. He was everything she had left. He didn't mean it like this. He just wanted to care for her. He was just bad at expressing his feelings. That's all. He was nice, if she obeyed his rules. It was easy after all.
"You won't try to run away anymore, will you? You are all mine now." He murmured, his hand sliding under her dress.
"...Gerard" Amélie warned, but he ignored what was her last line of defense, the last threat of sanity she desperately tried to hold on to. Instead he pinched her. Hard.
"Answer me, bitch. You know whose fault it is. You left me no other choice."
"I won't run away... you know I'm yours..." She replied in a whisper. Something inside her broke in that moment. It cracked years ago, but now it finally broke.
He smirked.
The warm light was everywhere.
The cooling water around Amélie dissolved while she was moving, an invisible string pulling her out, through the infinite galaxy, further beyond and into a bright light. So bright in fact that she had to close her eyes to somewhat dull the pain in the back of her head.
Suddenly the calm sound of the ocean waves washing ashore urged against her ear and Amélie slowly, as if she tried to make sure that it wasn't painful, opened her eyes again. The sun was long gone, replaced with the brightest full moon Widow has ever seen. The glowing ball seemingly dipping into the sea, bathing it in cool white and steel blue, while the sparkling reflections in the waves were glistering beautifully, the lights dancing up and down.
Widowmaker said nothing, the images she saw still lingering somewhere in the back of her head, like a faint reverie, fleeting, but there nonetheless.
It all added up.
It made sense.
For so long her whole past was nothing but a dull fog, the events were obscure at best and the people looking at her were mostly annoying, but now she understood. A clear red line, leading from one point of her past to where she was now, at least for the most part. The part she wanted to know. Torbjörns behavior made sense all of a sudden, the reason why he apologized to her was still stupid, but Amélie at least understood now. He saw the real Gerard.
She got why Reinhardt was so hostile toward her, which was equally stupid, but not ungrounded. He never saw the real Gerard, only his public face, the charming man he had been when Amélie fell in love with him. He couldn't believe Torbjörn. It didn't fit into the picture he had of Gerard, his whole concept of how people behave and work did not allow for such a double faced liar as Gerard.
And she understood the reason for Mercy's reservations. She knew what Gerard was. But she also knew that Amélie had said some things hinting at his murder.
She understood why everyone glared at her.
Still, they knew nothing.
Not the whole story, like Widowmaker did now. They knew nothing about Gerard Lacroix, the man they all idolized so much. They thought he was a hero, when the man was hardly anything more than a monster. Their prejudice was nothing but an insult based on blissful ignorance. How dare they judge her.
A smirk spread across Widow's purple lips as she felt a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders.
She could work with what she knew now. She could deal with the hate she faced in a different manner than evil glares and trying not to listen.
"I feel your relief" Zenyatta stated calmly and Amélie felt herself nodding. She felt lost and drifting before, only holding on to some sanity because of Lena and a vague idea of revenge against Talon.
That was no more. It was all so clear. She saw things for what they were, knew where she was and where she wanted to be. A sense of purpose and direction filled her, which she hadn't felt since the time Talon had forced it upon her. What she felt now was different, though.
Before everything felt cold, icy and spiky, everything distracting her from her assignment was forcibly dulled out.
Now she felt like she could breathe freely again, inhaling warm air each time. A sun was shining down on her. Not the real one, reflecting its light in the breathtaking full moon. No, Amélie's source of warmth was a metaphorical sun, their personality like a ray of sunshine, their laughter contagious, and their touch filling her with new life. Lena Oxton had always been able to breach through all that fog in Widow's mind and reach down deep inside of her, touching the most vulnerable parts of Widowmaker, the parts of what little was left of Amélie. It was what made Widowmaker change. What made her wake up from that seemingly unending nightmare. Tracer was always that brightly shining light Widow tried to reach and no amount of fog or confusion in her head could completely blind it.
Now the light shone directly at her.
"This won't fix you, Amélie" Zenyatta stated. "I cannot fix what they did to you."
"I know." Widow replied with a shrug, her pale blue skin reflecting the moonlight and her golden eyes shimmering. "You showed me the way. This is what I needed, I can work with... whatever you did to me." She sighed heavily. "However, you did it. I should scrap you, you were inside my head. The things you must have seen." Her voice was turning into a sneer, before she shook her head at her own suggestion. Stupid.
"We all are one within the iris." Zenyatta stated calmly, but only got a slightly annoyed snort from Amélie.
"Everything is connected somehow. You may think of it like lines linking everything together, showing how every object, be it animate or not, interacts with its surroundings, how each and every piece of the world around us influences one another. The iris shows it all, it makes us one."
Amélie shrugged. He was a monk after all, so she should have expected some religious bullshi- component. It wasn't like it mattered how he did it. What mattered was, that it worked. She had an important piece of her past back. Widowmaker was not fool enough to think that she was cured from all her flaws and all her problems. This was just one piece of a way larger puzzle and she was well aware that she still had a long way ahead of her, that there were still many pieces missing. What she took away from all this was the necessary focus and the relevant context she desired so badly to actually walk the way she had chosen for herself some time ago.
When I woke up inside her bed. When she first kissed me. When she brought me back in Numbani. She made me hers so fast, I couldn't even begin to understand. My way takes me where her way leads. Whatever she decides, I will be there with her.
"May I say that I truly admire your strength and where you draw it from. Such unconditional trust, such absolute commitment. It is rather rare among you humans." Zenyatta said in his usual placid manner.
Amélie perked up an eyebrow. "And what would you know about that?" she asked.
"Oh, I think I know enough. Definitely enough to decide that she was what pulled you through those horrid memories of yours. That she is the fuel to your fire, the reason you are alive. The reason you are sane. The reason you could face what you faced today." He said it and sounded smug, but Widow didn't care.
She said nothing for a moment, blinking in surprise. "The warm feeling?" That was Tracer? The same feeling she got around her?
"Precisely. I let some of the emotions you feel around her pour into your conscious mind when you were having... difficulties to handle your own memories." Zenyatta hummed. "Be aware though. You give her a lot of power over you."
Widowmaker contemplated the Omnic's words for a long while. What he just said was true. She did give Tracer a lot of power over her, allowing her to take control when it seemed necessary. Lena could tell her to stop anything and Widow would simply freeze. Tracer displayed that kind of power over her many times before, when she managed to snap Widow out of her violent fits. It was better that way, Widow knew. It was necessary. "She deserves that power." Amélie finally said, looking away "Lena would never abuse it."
"I agree." Zen nodded and was about to add something, when an Orca shuttle boomed over their heads heading toward the Watchpoint, its silhouette dark against the bright moon.
In the distance a siren went off, screaming in almost painful pitches, followed by an equally loud, but totally calm speaker announcement.
"Attention all medical personnel, this is a category five emergency situation. Attention medical response teams. Emergency squads Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta report to helipad four immediately. Doctor Ziegler, report to helipad four immediately. I repeat: Category five protocols are enabled. Emergency squads Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta report to helipad four immediately. Doctor Ziegler, report to helipad four immediately." The voice was feminine, but artificial, most likely Athena.
Widowmaker had no idea why, but her heart dropped into her pants. Like lightning rushing through her mind, she connected the returning Orca and the immediately following announcement with Lena's mission.
Something happened.
As if pulled by invisible strings she stood and jumped off the rock she had been sitting on. "Excusez moi s'il vous plait." She said to Zen and was gone, vanished into the night faster than a bat out of hell, rushing up the slippery steps on the cliff, only coming to a halt when she reached the top, overlooking the helipad below her.
Parked there was the same Orca shuttle from before, the engines running and steam blowing out of pressure-valves. The flood lights were activated, both of the Watchpoint as well as the lights on the shuttle. The side door was open and a team of medics already rushed toward the opening, carrying big red bags, while pushing a floating stretcher with them.
There was Morrison, barking orders, the voices echoing off the walls of the Watchpoint in a reverberating way.
And then there was Reinhardt. A hastily and rather poorly bandaged wound on his head was still bleeding profusely, but that was not what caught Amélie's eye.
The brave knight was carrying someone.
Widowmaker looked at the form in his arms and her heart stopped, an invisible string wrapped around her throat and choked her, the breath caught in her lungs. She wanted to scream, but couldn't make a sound. Her legs felt like they were giving in and she would sink to her knees, but she didn't move. Her skin felt like it was boiling, a thousand ants crawling underneath it, prickling painfully while she could only stare in disbelieve.
This was not happening. It could not be.
Amélie was vaguely aware of a faint humming sound behind her, but she could not avert her eyes. There was so much blood. Which wasn't even the worst part of it.
"In the darkest hours of the deepest nights, the love we feel for those closest to us is what may keep us alive. And them." Zenyatta stated calmly.
-/-
A/N:
"Have you eaten already?"
-huh? What time is it?
"Almost midnight"
-no, I haven't, I need to finish this.
"I'll fix you something. Come on, patate, you can't sit here all night, oui?"
-Probably... I'll be with you in a second.
Ok guys and gals, that's it for today. I won't even bother apologizing for the long wait, because what can I say. You all know how life goes, I guess. I feel guilty enough as it is, please don't make me feel even more guilty. I am working as fast and as much as I can on this, but there are times when I need some time off too. Writing, whilst being fun, is also exhausting. And the fact that I truly do forget to eat at times while I write, or concentrate on something in general, have affected my health too.
I'm sorry for all of that. Truly, I want to give you more updates, but my health and the fact that I do have to pay bills and need to complete my educations doesn't help me.
I know the quality of this has been suffering, for that I apologize as well. I'm trying, ok? I am. This will be finished. I want it to be finished, I need it to be finished. You all deserve it and I want to do it.
This and the next chapter have been one at the beginning, but it was way too long, so I split in two parts. Good news is, you'll get the next chapter in a few days!
A very special thanks to my new Beta-reading minion Jfb715! Thanks for the help buddy.
I know a lot of you messaged me and applied for the job, so many in fact that I really couldn't reply to all of you. In the end I had to decide on someone and Jfb is someone I saw around for a while, I did talk to him before so I guess I connected with him the easiest. Thanks to all of you for your willingness to help me! You guys rock!
I'll stop talking now, see you in the next one!
o7
E82
-/-
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Translations:
Excusez moi s'il vous plait = (French) excuse me please.