Video log #14581, cameras 143, 144 and 146 – infirmary. Athena's deep file vault. Not accessible.
Widowmaker was staring out of the orange tinted window, through her own faint reflection, not looking at anything in particular. Not that there was a lot going on outside, apart from the obligatory seagull circling above the ocean. Amélie paid the bird no attention. She was standing completely still in between two sickbeds, her arms crossed behind her back.
Sitting two beds to her left was Fareeha, who had her feet placed on the floor, standing up and sitting back down over and over again.
"If you keep doing that, Angela will chew you out again." Widow stated plainly, not looking at Pharah. Wondering how Amélie even noticed her little secret exercise, Fareeha halted for a moment, before sitting back down again.
"Is there anything you don't see?" she asked, sighing. This wasn't the first time the former assassin noticed things she wasn't supposed to notice. Like last time, when Widow wanted to know if there was something special to see on Angela's butt. That purple demon had caught her staring.
No matter how it seemed, the two women actually got along rather well. Which was mostly because they were stuck in the infirmary together a lot.
Amélie merely chuckled as a reply, before both of them fell silent again. Fareeha continued to do her exercise, while Widowmaker kept on staring into the distance, her artificial eyes probably seeing farther than anyone else could without binoculars.
Light footsteps approached from behind and Widowmaker saw the reflection of Mercy in the glass. Fareeha was lucky to be sitting in the moment when Angela came into the infirmary. The doctor glanced at Pharah, who tried to smile innocently, but failed miserably. She was found out.
Mercy shook her head ever so slightly, shooting her patient a look which made it clear that they would be talking about Fareeha's liberal interpretation of 'rest' later. For now, however, Angela seemed to be here for her other patient, and so she turned her attention to Widow.
Walking up behind her, she placed her hand gently on the other woman's back.
"I've prepared everything Amélie. We can start with removing some of the implants." She said carefully. Widow hesitated a moment before she looked over her shoulder.
"You remember what I asked of you, oui?" Widow asked plainly and Angela nodded softly.
"Don't worry, your marksmanship will be unaffected. Just your appetite for now."
Widow turned around and walked past Mercy "let's get this over with, then." she stated, stopping at the door and looking back at Angela.
The doctor looked worried and for a moment seemed like she wanted to speak up. Apparently deciding against it, she eventually nodded.
-/-
Watchpoint Gibraltar, 0938 hours, morning after the surgery, infirmary.
Just as Mercy had promised her, Widow was allowed to see Tracer first thing in the morning. The much feared assassin showed up early, so early in fact that the doctor herself wasn't even there yet.
Hardly surprising, considering how long the poor doctor had been performing surgery the day prior and how utterly exhausted she was. Widowmaker would know better than anyone, seeing how she was the one who had tucked a completely passed out Angela into bed, making sure she was comfortable.
So, it was hardly surprising for Widow to find the infirmary void of Dr. Ziegler. She just shrugged to herself, when she noticed that the only person inside the infirmary, apart from the patients, of course, was one of Mercy's staff members. The nurse on duty had the common sense to not ask any questions or even try to stop Amélie from walking into the infirmary, grabbing a chair and sitting down next to Tracer's bed.
The woman wasn't suicidal after all.
A piercing stare from Widow was all it took for the nurse to find a suddenly renewed interest in whatever papers she had been working on. Amélie had that kind of effect on most people. They stared at the gorgeous woman with the strange purple skin, be that because wherever the assassin went she seemed to capture the room with her mere presence, or be that because of her specific reputation, or maybe a bit of both. But they hastily averted their eyes when Widow caught them staring. It was one of the things she didn't like at all. People staring like she was some kind of circus freak. The nasty glances Widow was able to throw at someone made people shiver and were probably capable of inflicting actual physical harm.
It felt relieving when the nurse left the infirmary and Amélie was happy she could sit next to Tracer's bed in peace. She wouldn't have enjoyed it, if she had to explain herself to a lowly employee, someone who had no idea about anything and someone who was not worthy of even a moment of conversation.
Widowmaker sat in silence, watching the soft rays of the morning sun gently falling through the windows of the infirmary and dancing softly on Lena's skin. Her lover was lying peacefully in the hospital bed, the snow-white blanket pulled up over her chest, her arms placed on top of the blanket to her sides. The unruly mess Tracer called her hairstyle was even more chaotic, but it had a certain charm. Amélie ran a hand through her lover's thick hair.
Lena's hospital gown was a world too large for the petite woman and so the soft fabric hung rather loosely around her neck, revealing her left collarbone. Some wires were running into the collar, vanishing underneath the piece of clothing. If not for the whole scenario, the hospital, the injuries and the fact that Widow didn't actually share Tracer's bed, one could have almost thought that nothing was amiss.
Almost.
Widow had often watched Lena sleep. Deep in the night when the assassin couldn't find any rest. She would simply watch how Tracer slowly drew one gentle breath after the other, her unruly hair sticking in all directions, much like it was now, and the freckles darker than during the day. The only thing casting a faint light onto her lover was the bathroom light, shimmering through the halfway open door. Tracer always kept the light on in there during the night.
Lena's face was peaceful when she slept, completely relaxed, without a care in the world.
If Amélie didn't know it better, she'd say that now was no different.
But it was, even though the difference was merely a tiny detail, easy to overlook. Widowmaker never missed the details. How her eyes were closed a little harder than usual, with barely visible wrinkles around her eyelids. Behind the thin skin her eyes were moving frantically, too. Lena wasn't sleeping well.
For a second Widow pondered if she should wake her lover, but decided against it. She was sure that Lena needed the time to heal and not be faced with the problems reality presented. So, trying to comfort the only person the otherwise so cold woman cared about, Widow reached out and took Lena's soft hand carefully into hers.
"Everything is going to be fine, chérie." She whispered softly, while stroking the back of Tracer's hand ever so gently. Her features had lost all of their usual sharpness, the stern look Widow wore all the time. It was all gone. She didn't glare anymore, instead her eyes were large and shimmering, only focused on Tracer like the world around them didn't even exist. An expression reserved for Lena and Lena alone. Chances were no one else would ever get to see Amélie like this.
Someone clearing his throat rather loudly was what got Widowmaker's attention. Just like that, the peaceful, dreamy expression full of love and adoration gave way to the icy glare of a killer. Within the blink of an eye the former vanished, replaced by the latter. She looked up from Lena to see a huge monkey standing in the middle of the infirmary, carefully adjusting his glasses.
"Excuse me. I didn't know you were visiting, Lady Lacroix." He stated carefully. Winston was hit by a prime example of Widow's infamous death-glare. His presence was not appreciated.
"I fail to see how it is your business." she spat, her voice screaming fuck off, no matter the words she used. "But if you must know, I have Dr. Ziegler's permission."
"My apologies. I didn't mean to imply you weren't allowed to visit." Winston clarified politely. He had no intention of aggravating the anything but harmless former assassin. She had stayed put so far, which was more than he had expected of her. Provoking her was not a wise choice. He wouldn't go as far as saying that he was scared of her, his sheer size and strength, combined with the fact that he was a gorilla, put him at an advantage when it came to hand to hand combat. No, scared would have been the wrong word. A healthy dose of respect for her abilities, that was a more fitting phrase. He simply preferred being on her good side than on her bad, for it made life both easier and possibly a lot longer, too.
"Bien." Widow replied curtly. "Was there something else you needed?"
"Yes, naturally." Winston chuckled awkwardly, again adjusting his glasses. He couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in Widowmaker's presence. A quality the assassin was more than aware of and which she used shamelessly to her advantage. Still, Winston was taught politeness and he would follow through with it. "But first, I believe we haven't met in person before. My name is-"
"-Winston. Specimen 28, genetically enhanced by Lucheng Interstellar. You were born on Horizon Lunar Colony. Fled the colony during the uprising of your fellow primates with a rocket you constructed on your own. Now you are the chef of the development department of Overwatch and Morrison's first lieutenant." The information just flooded into Widow's consciousness out of nowhere. She blinked.
Winston blinked, too. They stared at each other for a very awkward, very silent and very long second.
"I didn't think you'd know all that." He sated uncomfortably, a worried frown appearing on his features. "How did you get that information?"
"Did some research." Widow, lied smoothly, shrugging carelessly while pretending that there was nothing more to it. "If you were in my place, wouldn't you want to know with whom you'd be forced to spend your days?" she asked, waving her hand dismissively. The truth was, she remembered because of something else. Winston had been a target. During the raid on the museum, where she tried to secure Doomfist's gauntlet, he was a secondary objective. The task was to kill him if possible. Widowmaker didn't give voice to that particular information. "So, what is it you need?"
Winston cleared his throat. "Oh yes. Of course. I'm here to make sure Lena's accelerator is properly adjusted. Since you have been here longer than I have, maybe you can tell me if you have noticed Lena flickering since you arrived?"
Amélie tilted her head ever so slightly. "Non." she replied carefully, watching the Gorilla step closer to the bed and gently pull back the blanked covering Tracer. A soft blue light was shimmering through the thin green-ish fabric of the hospital gown right on Lena's chest.
"And for how long have you been here?" he asked, quickly glancing at the assassin before turning his attention back to Tracer.
"Maybe two hours." Widow answered truthfully, her eyes fixed on Winston's actions. "How is that important?"
"As I said, I need to make sure her accelerator is configured correctly. The device keeping her anchored in the real time needs to synchronize with her own inner time. That takes a while." Winston replied and with that he moved to unbutton the hospital gown Lena was wearing.
Widow's eyes narrowed and she jerked forward, grabbing one of Winston's large fingers with the entirety of her hand and yanked it backwards with quite some force. The gorilla didn't even get the chance to open the first button.
"What do you think you are doing?!" Widowmaker hissed with venom.
"Making sure she is alright" Winston replied, surprisingly calm. "There is no need to be upset, I am a scientist. I need to make sure the solution I came up with yesterday works for now."
Amélie hesitated for a second, before she let go of Winston's finger. "Fine. But I am watching closely."
Winston nodded, choosing not to comment on Widowmaker's strange behavior, while he opened the first three buttons on Tracer's gown. In doing so he revealed a device underneath it, much like the one the former pilot used to wear on her harness all the time. The soft blue glow which had been shining through the fabric of the gown was emitted from a flat metallic plate in the middle of her chest. The crude device was harshly fixed to the skin by means of a few long clamps, digging deeply into her skin. It almost looked like a spider had dug its legs into Lena's skin and tried to pull everything together. Amélie swallowed. Having that thing on her chest was surely not a pleasant feeling.
What was that? Lena's new accelerator? Was this how she would look like from now on, even when naked? Fused with horribly cold metal?
"You are rather protective." Winston stated, as he connected a short cable to the device on Lena's chest. The other end of the cable was hooked up to a small tablet, the gadget vanishing in his impossibly large hands. How he was actually hitting the correct buttons on the touch-surface was absolutely beyond Amélie.
"Don't be ridiculous." Amélie rolled her eyes. "If I was unconscious, I wouldn't want anyone to unbutton my shirt and fumble around between my tits." she snorted unceremoniously. Which was technically true. Yet not the reason why she had grabbed the monkey's finger.
Winston actually chuckled a little. "Fair enough, I guess."
"What is that horrid metal thing on her chest?" Widow finally asked, the curiosity getting the better of her. "The same thing she wears on her harness?"
"Indeed. Her harness was destroyed, the time-coil inside it wasn't properly cooled anymore and it burned into her skin. I had to-" Winston was interrupted by Amélie raising her hand.
"Stop the tech talk, I don't know what you're talking about." She said shaking her head with closed eyes, inhaling deeply. "Is it permanent?" she asked and internally cringed at how small her voice was.
"No, no. It's just until the tissue underneath had time to heal. And until I was able to construct a new harness for her, considering the changes in her inner time. It is quite complicated." Winston replied, not looking at Widow at all. His whole attention was directed at the data readings on his tablet, muttering some incomprehensible words under his breath, apparently happy with the data. He moved to disconnect the cable from the metal plate again and closed the buttons he had previously opened. "But with that data I can build her a new one before tomorrow, I think. At least if-"
Someone stormed into the infirmary.
"Winston!" a loud voice called out, followed by heavy footsteps on the immaculate floor. Suddenly Jack Morrison appeared next to the gorilla. "Torbjörn has been searching for you. He needs you with that Bastion we... acquired." He looked at Tracer for a second "That is, if you are done here."
"I am, Sir. I'll be on my way then." Winston replied, before facing Widowmaker. "Lady Lacroix." He added and quickly turned to leave. Morrison was left standing in front of Oxton's bed, taking a moment to look at the younger woman and the assassin sitting next to her. Widow shot him a warning glare, overflowing with protectiveness.
After yesterday Morrison knew without a doubt how far Talon's former master assassin was willing to go for Tracer. The answer was almost scary. If Lena had died on that stupid mission to Austria, all the efforts he and Reaper had worked so hard for, all the research, all the planning, all the sacrifices, it all would have been for naught.
Yet they hadn't lost Tracer. And they could go on with their task, plus another member. Realistically they had more luck than judgment, Jack had no illusions about that.
"We will fly tonight." He said, without looking at Amélie. "Meet me at 2am in front of my office."
Her plum lips pushed together into a tight line.
"Very well."
-/-
Morrison had been gone for a while. In fact, it had been hours in which Widowmaker still watched over Tracer. The assassin hadn't moved off the chair even once, her elbows were resting on the bed and she was still gently caressing Lena's hand.
Mercy came and checked on both of them, even brought a small tray of food for Widow, but soon decided to give them space. Amélie wasn't in a talkative mood, only giving sporadic one-word replies when she chose to reply at all. It was obvious that Widow was generally not really paying any attention to what Angela was saying. So, Mercy decided to retreat back to her desk and keep an eye on the two from a distance.
Nothing changed.
The tray of food, a sandwich, an apple and a cup of coffee was left forgotten on the nightstand, untouched.
Tracer was still unconscious and Widow still held her hand, clasped into both of hers as if she tried to reassure her that she still was where she belonged. Sometimes Amélie would whisper something, sometimes she would hum a gentle melody. It was terribly sweet, seeing how the otherwise so cold and ruthless assassin behaved around Lena when she thought that no one was around to see them. Sweet, but oh so sad.
It was so obvious how much Tracer's unconsciousness tortured Amélie. How she was able to be physically close, but at the same time so far away from her lover.
And then, it was almost like there was some kind of god hearing Widow's silent pleas, Tracer regained her lost consciousness.
Though not in a way that Mercy or Widow would have liked.
Tracer shot up in her bed with a desperate scream, gasping for air, while frantically grabbing at the bed, the blanket, herself, anything that came in reach. She didn't notice Amélie's hand on her arm at first and started to hectically look around, eyes wide in panic.
"W-what...?" she panted, cold sweat on her forehead, while Amélie quickly moved her lover toward her, pulling her out of the bed and into her lap, holding her tight.
"It's ok, chérie" Amélie said, holding her lover close "It was only a dream, everything is fine."
"What time is it?" Lena cried, cringing heavily, curling up in Amélie's lap like she was about to vanish into thin air again.
Which was her worst fear.
Widow kept her calm, held Lena's head cupped in her hands and looked intensely at her. "Around midday." She replied gently, noticing in the corner of her eyes how Mercy rushed toward them, but stopped.
Lena's heavy breathing slowed down a little as she seemed to realize that she was indeed back in reality. The adrenaline of the nightmare beginning to clear out, she could think more and more clearly again.
"And what day?" Lena asked again, her voice trembling, still out of breath. Usually people asked where they were when they woke up after being wounded in battle. Yet Tracer didn't seem to have no care in the world where she was. As long as the when was correct.
Widowmaker remembered what Lena told her all this time ago, in Numbani when they became an item. When the lively, ever cheerful woman told her about the single most intimidating issue she had, about her deepest fear.
I could vanish again. And I don't know if they can bring me back a second time. I'd be lost in time again, drifting around, not really here, not really gone. A ghost of time. I never want to experience that ever again. It's a nightmare.
"It's Thursday. You were only out for two days, chérie. Don't worry, you don't need to ask about what year it is. It's all good." Amélie said gently pulling Lena into a tight hug again. The other woman clung to the cool body of her lover for dear life, her hands balled to fists, too scared she would hurt her by digging the nails into Amélie's back.
"I'm..." Lena whimpered, adjusting her vice-like grip on Widow, as if she was about to dissolve in time again if she didn't hold on to her. "...scared."
"Don't be, mon amour. It's all good, you're safe. Angela and that monkey took care of it. You won't fade away again. I won't let you." Amélie said with a voice so incredibly soft, it was difficult to imagine she was usually hissing at people more often than not.
They held this pose for some moments until Lena had calmed down bit by bit again.
Slowly, as if to test if she was really not going to vanish again, Lena let go of Widowmaker and allowed herself to be placed back in the bed again, her hand, however, was still held tightly by her French lover.
Mercy took that as the signal that it was now ok to step closer. "How are you feeling, Süße?" she asked with a warm smile.
"Weird." Lena sighed, her brain not able to come up with a more elaborate answer to put her feelings into words. It was just that. Weird. The past two days were like she had been falling through time. How does one describe the feeling of time? When it rushed past you faster than it should, or when it reverted? The pull under the skin, like ants crawling beneath it, trying to force their way through it, the hot sensation behind the eyes? The freezing cold darkness or the burning hot blinding light? There were no words.
"Can you specify that? Are you experiencing any pain? A certain numbness? Is your memory coherent? Can you breathe freely?" Mercy asked in a staccato of inquiries, blinking after each one.
"Do you want to kill her by means of rapid fire questions?" Amélie deadpanned.
"I'm just tired." Lena forced a smile. "Exhausted. But otherwise I'm fine, don't worry about me."
"Oh." Was all Mercy said, her jaw clenching together. Don't worry. Lena always said that.
It became too much for Angela. Who was it, spending the better part of twenty hours, performing surgery? Who was it, who had to patch them all up again? Who was it who had to sign the papers when she had been to slow to save someone again? Lúcio... he was dead because of her. Because she had to decide between him and Lena and chose her best friend over someone she barely knew. It was wrong. She could have saved him for sure, whereas Tracer had been a gamble. Professionally, she shouldn't have picked her best friend. But she did. Because she couldn't stand the thought of losing her. She couldn't stand the idea of what it would do to Amélie.
Don't worry.
Mercy couldn't stand hearing that combination of these specific two words in that particular order anymore. Nothing good ever followed. Of course Angela worried, what was Lena thinking? The former pilot had no idea what she did to her best friend. And not only to her. What she did to her lover, who had been a total mess until the moment Angela had told her that Tracer was going to be fine. It wasn't fair. It was so egoistical of her. It hurt Mercy and she was pretty sure it also hurt Amélie, probably more than they all knew.
But Lena was oblivious to that.
"Mind filling me in on what exactly happened? Last thing I remember is throwing a pulse-bomb at a squad of Bastions."
"Didn't I tell you to be careful, Lena?" Angela suddenly cried out bitterly, completely ignoring the question. She wouldn't allow this to go unaddressed again. Not like last time. She wouldn't let Lena pretend that all was good. "You have no idea how close you came to dying..." she hiccupped "How close we were to losing you. Don't you dare go on like nothing happened again. Not like last time. Don't you dare..." the medic swallowed heavily "Don't you dare pretend it's no big deal. In the end, I'm always the one who as to patch you up again. And... And... think about Amélie, too... she has been waiting for you all this time, and you almost didn't make it back. Do you have any idea what you did to her? And to me?" Mercy was visibly upset, events of the past obviously aggravating her point even further. Widowmaker could only guess that Angela was referring to the last time Tracer had been close to vanishing in time. She didn't know anything about that.
A heavy silence spread in the infirmary, almost thick enough to grab it out of thin air.
The seconds passed like minutes and the guilt hanging in the air was so thick it was already tangible, until finally:
"Sorry..." Lena whispered with a small voice, turning her head away in shame. "I'm sorry."
-/-
United Nations Headquarters, New York City, 0754 hours.
The usually calm surface was shaking violently with each impact. Hundreds of clear projectiles were crashing into the equally clear liquid, crumbling it completely and causing it to create bubbles.
It was raining heavily in New York and the puddle in front of the back entrance of the UN-Headquarters was heavily assaulted by the raindrops. Not only that, the thrust of a repulsor-drive caused the water to be pushed to the side, as a pitch black limousine came to a halt.
The back door of the car opened and a man in a charcoal suit and a black coat left the vehicle. He opened an umbrella for another figure leaving the car. The other person was clearly feminine, judging from her slender statue and the high heeled shoes she was wearing, but other than that her features were hidden underneath a heavy cloak, her face concealed by a large hood.
Protected from the rain by the umbrella, they hurried inside, the backdoor unguarded and already open.
-/-
UN General Secretary Lilith Royce was sitting behind her desk, chewing on her pencil. She knew that only little kids chewed on their pencils, but she couldn't help it. She never got rid of that stupid, and admittedly a little disgusting, tick of hers.
Truth was, it helped her concentrate.
She didn't like today. The weather alone was horrible, she got up too late and didn't have a cup of coffee yet, so her mood was extra bad.. A combination of all the things that ruined her morning had to come together like someone wanted to send her a message. This day would suck. She could feel it.
Scribbling something down on a notepad so she wouldn't forget about it, Royce decided she would tell her assistant to get her a fresh cup of coffee. Reaching for the button on the communication device placed on her desk, her finger froze a moment before touching the destined button.
A chilling wind brushed down her spine and caused the hairs in her neck to stand up.
Something clicked metallically.
Royce turned around in her chair, rooted to the seat, eyes wide when she found herself face first at the end of the business end of a shotgun.
"Bang." A deep voice said. "You're dead."´
A deep sigh escaped the General Secretary. "Good god, Gabe. Do you want to give me a heart attack?"
"This is too easy, Lilith." Reaper grumbled with a deep chuckle and the shotgun vanished in dark smoke. "You should upgrade your security."
"Oh you know, the Secret Service doesn't really deal with teleporting ghosts." She replied dryly.
He just chuckled again as Royce stood to give the black clad murder a friendly hug, which he did return, albeit a bit awkwardly.
"Am I too early?" he asked, walking through the heavy oak desk and flopping down on one of the two black leather chairs placed on the other side of it.
"Early for what? What do I owe your visit?"
"You don't know?"
"No? Don't tell me you two found him?" her eyes lit up, but lost their spark when Reaper shook his head.
"Not yet. We are close. In fact, we have... recruited... someone for the mission." He said, not entirely comfortable with his choice of words. Recruiting wasn't really a part of it. More being threatened by a gruesome untimely death if certain demands weren't met. He didn't mention that. It still gave him goosebumps when he thought about the effects of the neural command he had given Widowmaker and how she dealt with it.
"Oh?" Surprise was written all over Royce's face. "I thought we had an agreement. Only you and Morrison would work on this. What changed?"
"Yeah, well. We were left with no other choice."
"Who is it, Gabe?"
Reaper cleared his throat, but luckily, he was spared from answering, as the door opened and two more people went inside. One was Jack Morrison in a suit, which he wore with such an apparent disgust, it would have almost been hilarious, if not for the no nonsense expression on his face.
The other one was hidden under a cloak. Lilith knew better than to ask what happened to her guards and what Morrison did to her secretary to simply walk inside her office without being stopped. She knew that he wouldn't harm her staff. At least not more than strictly necessary. And to be perfectly honest, she didn't want to know the details anyway.
"Royce." Jack nodded courtly.
"Morrison." Lilith replied with the same kind of professional acknowledgement.
"I already filled her in somewhat" Reaper said. "So..." he coughed, "The person who will be working with us now" he gestured toward the hooded figure, who took this as a cue to pull her cloak off.
Golden eyes were glowing as she looked up while getting rid of the heavy black gown. Underneath she was wearing a dark grey business blazer with long pants and high heels. The blazer was buttoned closed and if she was wearing a blouse underneath, it was definitely not buttoned up as far as the blazer was. But all of that was lost on Royce, who couldn't help but stare at the color of her skin. She was purple.
"Amélie Lacroix." Gabe said pointing at the assassin with the distinctive complexion. "UN General Secretary Lilith Royce."
The head of the UN stared blankly at the most feared, most lethal hitman the world had ever brought forward.
"Widowmaker." She whispered under her breath, causing Amélie to frown. A second passed and Royce seemed to snap out of her stupor. "Did you two lose your mind?" she asked loudly, yet not screaming. "Of all the people you could have brought here, it had to be her? I don't need to tell you what she did! What on earth made you agree to this? She is a prime target!"
The accusation hung in the air for a moment while Reyes and the Commander exchanged a brief look, one that showed just how long the two really knew each other. And while Reyes' face was masked, it was still obvious how deep the trust between them ran.
"Do we need to remind you what either one of us did? Me in particular?" Reaper asked and effectively shut the General Secretary up. "What she did is not important. We need her one way or another. While it wasn't planned to involve her in any of this, we had her set up to go for the kill when the time eventually comes. And it will come, I can assure you that." He insisted and the Commander nodded, before continuing.
"We are close, Royce. Very close and we cannot afford to mess around now of all times." Morrison said. "We know a few crucial things. We know that the mole who sold out Overwatch is the same person who is leading Talon. We, however, don't know who it is. But what we do know is someone who does know." Morrison said and rolled his eyes ever so slightly at the weirdness of his own sentence. "All we need to do now is wait until we can get our hands on the person who knows and all our problems are solved. That's why Widowmaker is here. Why we need her. You personally gave us the orders. Find and eliminate the head of Talon. We find the target. She handles the elimination."
"And why would she do that?" Royce shot back, completely ignoring Amélie's presence in the room. Widow had crossed her arms under her chest, glancing back and forth between the three, before she finally spoke up.
"She has a name. You know what it is, so I suggest you use it." Widow snapped, angry that she was addressed in third person despite standing right there. There had been a time where she would have silently taken this and said nothing, but that was the past. "I'm here because I want to, not because I have to. I'm not your tool to use when I'm convenient and then throw away after my usefulness expired." Her intimidating golden eyes zeroed in on Royce, the words sharply rolling off Widow's tongue, each one hitting their target. Her face was without any expression or emotion as she stalked towards the General Secretary's desk, leaning on it with her palms. "If you ask me for my reasons and manage a little respect, I might just answer you."
Royce swallowed audibly, blinking twice. She had been rude, hadn't she? The first time she ever saw the other woman and all she had to offer was insults? A part of her was ashamed for herself, this was not the way she had been brought up. Then again, Widowmaker had a certain reputation. Still...
"I apologize." She said with a curt nod and tried to gather everything of her political talent she had used to get as far as she eventually did. "I didn't mean to objectify you. If you could forgive my impoliteness, I would like to hear your motivation for considering a participation in this... endeavor."
A one sided smirk spread across Widow's lips.
"Look at me." She almost spat, forcing the General Secretary to look at the assassin even more intensely than she already did. Widowmaker had a way of being imposing, that was for sure. "What do you see?"
"Ah... uhm... a woman?" Royce tried, her eyes flicking to both Morrison and Reaper in a silent plea for support. She didn't get it.
A haughty, yet very sarcastic chuckle left Widow's throat. "Do I look like a normal woman to you?" she sneered, reaching out to grab one of the General Secretary's hands into hers "Do I feel like a normal woman? Or like a human?"
One could see the goosebumps on Lilith's skin when Widowmaker touched her, her hands cold as ice. "N-no." she replied carefully, most obviously not at all comfortable with the situation.
"No, indeed. That's because I'm not. I am science project. It's all I've ever been to them. Nothing but a useful toy, a walking weapon, a tool. Like your pen. An object they did whatever they so wanted to and with." Anger flared up behind Amélie's eyes as her voice became bitter and infuriated, her throat feeling sore and tight. "No more of that. I'm a person, not just someone's property, oui? It took some time to figure that out, with all they took from me. All they made me forget. All they prevented me from feeling." Amélie took a deep breath before she spat: "I hate them. I hate what they did to me, what they took from me and what they made me into." She hissed, leaning over the desk and piercing Royce with a painful glare. "You want to bring Talon down? Fine. I will murder them all with immense pleasure if you want me to." Widow took a deep breath, calming herself down. She thought she could stay calmer, but she was wrong. Without Tracer around to support her, things simply weren't so simple. The help of Zenyatta was probably proving its worth right about now. Chances were, she'd have lost her cool just now and done something really, really stupid.
"That is your reason?" Royce asked with a small voice, the woman herself almost hiding behind her desk.
"Why, is it not good enough for you?" Widow asked, pushing herself back from the desk.
"No, no... I just didn't expect your reason to be so..."
"Personal?" Widow completed for Royce and allowed herself a hollow laugh when the other woman nodded. Oh, you have no idea how personal this is for me. It's all their fault. I will never have a normal life. No matter how much I try. No matter how much Mercy tries. No matter how much Lena insists it's not important to her. She deserves better...
"If the story those two imbeciles told me is true, I may allow you to use my talents for whatever you need." She paused. "So tell me, what orders did you give them exactly?"
"The whole story then." Royce stated more than she asked. "Very well. You might want take a seat."
Widow looked at the two available chairs, both occupied by Morrison and Reyes respectively.
"I'll stand." She rolled her eyes.
-/-
Flashback:
"Peculiar choice of meeting place, boss" Gabriel Reyes said with a careless shrug, as he sat down on the public bench right in the middle of a children's playground in Central Park. It was broad daylight, children were running around, obviously enjoying themselves with laughter and happy screams filling the atmosphere. Reyes felt like he was standing out like a sore thumb in his black coat and heavy leather boots. Then again, Jack Morrison wasn't really that much better. He was wearing a navy blue suit which was actually looking like he had simply removed all the brass from his uniform jacket. That would have been just like him.
"Don't ask me, I didn't decide that." Morrison looked up at his friend with almost the same careless shrug. They were here for a reason after all.
"Who was it then?"
"That would have been me." A feminine voice announced, walking around the bench and sitting down in the middle of Morrison and Reyes.
"Ms. Royce." Reyes and Morrison both said in unison.
"We need to talk. The three of us." The General Secretary said sternly.
Reaper looked around in the playground and couldn't help but frown. "Why here?" he wanted to know and saw Morrison nodding.
"Playgrounds are perfect places for secret discussions. The only people overhearing it can't make heads and tails from it and those who dare to take pictures of us with a zoom lens from the distance will soon have a mob of angry parents on their tail, thinking they found a perv." Royce explained with a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
Actually, that was pretty smart thinking. Morrison was impressed and also Reyes had heard stupider explanations before.
"So, what do we need to talk about in all secrecy here? In broad daylight. On a playground." Reaper couldn't hold back a deep chuckle.
"I'll come straight to the point. Overwatch in general and Blackwatch in particular. Ever since the existence of Blackwatch became public after the stunt you pulled in Cairo, the public opinion about Overwatch has been deteriorating."
"We are no charity." Morrison stated. "If the public supports us, great. If not, too bad, we'll still do our job."
Royce nodded slowly. "I would agree." She inhaled before deciding to just drop the bomb. "If there wasn't an ongoing investigation against Overwatch and Blackwatch. Issued by the minister of Justice, Jonathan Petras."
Silence.
One second. Two. Then the words apparently sunk in.
"How dare that son of a bitch?" Morrison frowned angrily. He and Petras have never been on good terms and there might have been some heated arguments between the Commander and who was technically his superior. "On what grounds?"
"High treason. The reports are getting worse and worse. You are bleeding information, there is corruption, someone in the organization is definitely a turncoat and the list of unsanctioned Blackwatch operations never ends." She dropped a datapad from out of her purse into Morrison's lap, who picked it up and skimmed through it. "You can read all your misdeeds in this."
"WHAT?!" Morrison spat, his face ashen. "How could that happen?"
Royce was not finished though. "There are ties to Talon all over the place. It's like we are actively helping them, playing directly into their cards. This is a disaster, Morrison." She said and the Commander let the datapad sink. Reyes took the opportunity to snatch it out of his hands.
"Some of those unsanctioned Blackwatch operations were mine. I tried to fix the problem, but found nothing. I know someone has been getting close with Talon, but I don't know who it is. There are no leads. I can't pin it. Whoever is responsible for this, knows us inside out."
"Hang on a second... you knew?" Morrison was baffled.
"Come on, it was obvious. The last four missions we executed were all traps. Talon knew we were coming. So, I had suspicions. Which now are confirmed. But that's the past, we can't change that anymore. Let's focus on what can be done." Reyes cleared his throat. "Which leads us to the next question. We are here. What do you want us to do?"
"I trust you two implicitly" Royce stated. "Which is why I called you here." She stretched the fabric of her grey skirt, making sure there were no wrinkles in it. "Here is what's going to happen: It will only be a matter of time until these reports find their way into the committee and into the press. Both will demand your heads. Actually, I will personally demand them." Royce stated matter of factly. She had been playing the game of politics long enough to know what was bound to happen. Seeing the expression of utter betrayal on Morrison's face, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt tug painfully on her chest. Despite not really liking him on a personal level, she had the utmost respect for the Commander's professional skills. He was a born leader, inspiring his troops. Yet, for all his charisma, some things were even beyond his reach. He was a good man, an honest man.
"However," Royce continued. "This will only be what's happening officially. Unofficially I'm aware that shutting down Overwatch will do nothing. It won't solve the chaos around the Omnics, it won't stop Talon from doing their deeds, it won't stop them from getting their intel in a different way." Royce hated this situation. She would have much preferred that it never happened. But it did. "The Omnics are a political problem, you won't need to worry about that. What you will have to worry about is Talon. Getting rid of them is of utmost importance. For that reason, I want you two to come up with a plan. These are my last orders for you. Do whatever it takes to get rid of the traitors in Overwatch and eliminate Talon by any means necessary. No one else can know about this. And, as I said, don't count on Overwatch being active for too much longer. Grab what you can while you still have the chance and prepare yourselves. You will have no backup, no funding, no authorization. You will operate outside the law. You will be on your own. Which means no one will come to help you should you get into trouble. I want you to do what you have to. This mission is active as long as I am active UN General Secretary. As soon as I'm out of office, you're done."
"Any means necessary?" Reaper asked with a perked up brow, his interest undeniably sparked.
"Yes. Any means. Kill, bribe, blackmail, threaten, lie, torture. Do whatever needs to be done." Royce said and exhaled ever so silently. She knew this needed to be done. Doesn't mean she had to like it. "Are you up for that?"
"Yes, Ma'am" Reaper replied. Morrison merely clenched his fists tightly, staring pointedly into nothingness. He didn't say a word.
"Jack?" Reyes gave his friend a shove, easily able to tell that his friend was thinking. He didn't like that expression on his face one bit.
"Commander Morrison, do you have anything to add?" Royce wanted to know, stiffing in her seat.
"This is illegal." He stated, looking at the other two people present. "Not only is it illegal, it is also wrong. You don't seriously expect me to betray the people I trust with my life and take the law into my own hands? Purging the streets with the gun like a wild west cowboy? I have an obligation to everyone at Overwatch and honesty is definitely a part of that obligation." Morrison spat those words like they tasted especially bitter. To him, they most likely did. He was always a man who did things by the book, according to law and regulations. The Commander was a firm believer in the chain of command and in order and structure. Royce's proposal pushed all the wrong buttons and rubbed him the wrong way.
"Brother, some of them already betrayed you. Not the other way around" Reaper said. A part of him understood his long time friend, the other part just wanted to get the job done. That had always been the difference between him and Morrison. Reyes never had a lot of moral qualms, whereas Morrison did. A fact that would change drastically over the course of the next years.
"But not all of them." Morrison insisted. "This is not the right way. We should do something against that Petras. Convince him that we are doing solid work and take Talon on. Officially."
Royce shook her head. "I'm afraid it's too late for that."
"I will not be part of an illegal, unsanctioned operation. Isn't that what got Overwatch into this mess in the first place?"
"Actually, that would be all the traitors we seem to have." Reaper shrugged. He wasn't really surprised. The fact that someone was selling them out was not new to him. For a while he had suspected Gerard, but the man was dead now. Killed by his wife. And they were still bleeding intel. Then he looked into Ana Amari, but again. She got shot by Widowmaker. The leak still didn't stop. Besides, he doubted Talon would kill their source of information. That is, if they knew their source.
"Still, I will be no part of it."
"Then there is nothing more we can do." Royce sighed, folding her hands over each other in her lap. "Overwatch will be shut down and Talon will have free reign to do as they please."
Morrison groaned.
"But I accept your decision, Commander. I might not agree, but we all have to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror each morning." She said and patted his shoulder, before standing up and turning to leave.
"Wait." Morrison said, causing Royce to stop and turn. She looked at him expectantly. "I'll think about it. Maybe it really is the only way."
"I'm sure you will come to the right decision." She said with a small smile. "Have a pleasant day."
-/-
"Wait, wait, wait." Amélie put up her hands. "Are you telling me that the huge power play between Morrison and Reyes was just-"
"- for show, yes." Reaper grumbled.
"Didn't you blow up half of Zürich?" Widow couldn't help but chuckle slightly bemused.
"I admit we might have gone slightly overboard with that. But we decided it was best to take Overwatch down ourselves before the UN could go through with that stupid Petras act. Ever after that shit in Cairo the world believed Morrison and I were on each other's throats anyway. So why not use that, right? It gave us the perfect opportunity to create a new villain. One who would be attractive to Talon."
"Originally that was supposed to be me." Morrison shrugged, not mentioning anything about the why. Widowmaker didn't have to know that Gabriel Reyes had been the husband of a loving wife and the father of a beautiful girl.
"Yeah..." Reaper grumbled even deeper, obviously less than pleased "But that stupid cunt had to ruin everything."
"Reyes!" The General Secretary admonished. "You were dead."
"So? Who was she to turn me into... that?" he laughed "Seems like today is a freak show-parade, huh, Widow?"
Amélie just made a tsk sound.
"You are alive because of her, never forget that." Morrison said almost tiredly, his voice betraying just how many times he must have had that particular discussion with Reaper before.
"Yeah, and she didn't even have the decency to do it properly." He spat dripping with disgust "Listen, that's not the point."
Widowmaker found this to be highly interesting as she stared at Reaper with curiosity. "So, Mercy revived you, oui?" she asked. "And you hate her for it? Is that the reason why you were so angry with her when we were escaping from the Talon freighter in Russia?"
Reaper made a deep sound reminiscent of a feral beast. "You know nothing." He said. "Someone else had to fix what she screwed up. I might be alive because of her, but I couldn't live anymore. I was dead, yet still walking. My soul was already on the other side. You wouldn't understand."
"Gabriel," the general secretary leaned forward in her desk, folding her hands neatly over each other. "I never knew someone else helped with your condition." Smiling at the masked man, she pressed further. "Who was it?"
A groan later he gave in, albeit clearly not happy about it. "A geneticist named Moira O'Deorain." He said reluctantly. "She used to be Blackwatch, too, before she joined Talon. She might have gotten a little inspiration from the Swiss-cheese-bitch. Always wanted to surpass her. Always failed."
"One of the traitors?" Morrison wanted to know.
"No idea, honestly. It's not like it matters anymore. She was executed along the whole of Talon's Biotech division a few years-" he suddenly stopped mid sentence. "-I just thought about something. Gotta go." Reaper said before he stood and vanished in deep grey smoke. A moment later he was gone, leaving three people back at the office, two of which were staring blankly. Widow was not one of them.
"Never going to get used to that." Royce muttered under her breath.
"Ok, his weirdness aside, let me get this all straight." Widowmaker said, moving to sit down in Reaper's chair. She did so with such enormous grace that Lilith Royce found herself actually gulping while watching. That woman was both enchanting and infuriating. And still very much dangerous, she had to remind herself. All the time when Royce had told the story about how Overwatch was shut down and how she had given Reaper and Morison their secret missions, the former assassin was quiet and listened. It was easy to forget Widowmaker could have easily killed them all with a spoon if she chose to and wouldn't have even broken a sweat.
"Disabling Overwatch the way it was done had only one purpose and that was to get someone into Talon. Namely Reaper."
The General Secretary nodded "And of course render the moles useless, so they can be flushed out." She added. Widow ignored the addition and continued. "Morrison and Mr. Enthusiasm were always working together since that time. For you. The General Secretary of the United Nations."
"They were."
"What about all the missions he carried out?" Widow wanted to know. "I remember fragments of them. Wasn't exactly low profile."
"Some missions were done to keep his cover, some to aid our true goal." Morrison replied.
Widow pondered that for a moment. She had an idea.
"I see." This was her chance. Whenever she had talked to Tracer about the matter, they ended up in front of a metaphorical wall. How would they convince the commander to let her fight again? Now, that wasn't a question anymore. She could join the fight again, do what she did best and also get revenge. This was what she wanted. The thrill of the hunt was back and despite feeling a little nervous about it, Widow knew that this was different. No matter where that thrill was coming from, she wanted it. It was a part of her, just as much as Lena was now. And if everything would go the way she imagined, they would soon stand together against a common enemy. She couldn't have asked for more, really. "And that goal was, and still is, to bring down Talon and kill the head?" Widow knew what the answer to this question would be. She knew and she had come to a decision.
"No prisoners on this one, Widow." Morrison said sternly. "Reaper and I have been trying to get our hands on you for a long time. We knew that we would need someone with your particular skills if we wanted to succeed in the end. Unfortunately, you never had a reason to leave Talon. You never wanted to. And not for a lack of us trying."
Morrison knew he made a mistake the moment the last sentence had left his lips.
Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him in a way that meant nothing good would follow. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her voice warning him to be very careful now.
"What I said." He said carefully, before elaborating further. "We tried to give you a reason, so you'd want to leave Talon." He shrugged in feigned disinterest. If he told her now that he had been sending Tracer on missions where the two would inevitably run into each other, Widow would have most likely thrown him out of the window. Morrison wasn't completely daft, he was well aware that he couldn't disclose that. Not only would he ruin the mission, he would also most likely ruin the relationship between Lena and Amélie. While that wasn't his top concern, he still wanted to avoid it. After all, Tracer had no idea about any of his schemes. "Took us a while to figure out you had a certain ... fondness for one of our agents. We weren't so sure who it was at first, Ziegler or Oxton, but that was hardly important-"
SLAP!
The imprint of Widowmaker's slender hand was already forming with some painful red outlines on Morrison's cheek as she spoke. "If you dare to speak one more word I will kill you, compris? As a matter of fact, let's get some rules out of the way before we go any further. If you dare to get her into trouble, I will kill you. If you use her against me, I will kill you. If you even think about repeating what you and Reaper did tonight, I will kill you. Slowly. Are we clear about that?" Widow glared at Morrison. She intentionally didn't specify who of the two women was the correct guess, even though the commander probably knew by now. Their conversation the day before should have been an indicator.
The General Secretary could only watch from the sidelines, blinking in surprise.
Morrison stared at Widowmaker, rubbing his cheek. Murderous intent was glowing behind her eyes and while he was certain that he might stand a chance against her in a fair hand to hand combat, he doubted that she would fight fairly. He was merely a soldier. She was the world's best assassin. There was a clear difference and it wasn't one working in his favor.
"Crystal." He uttered and Widow turned to Royce with all the determination in the world. It was like she knew exactly what needed to be done in that moment.
"I want a guarantee that I will not be prosecuted for what I did during my time at Talon and that I'm free to live my life however I want after this is done. Do that for me and I'm all yours."
Royce couldn't help but smirk. Getting to watch how Morrison was put in his place was mildly satisfying. Widowmaker had the right kind of mix between ice and fire. "No idea what you're talking about, Madame Lacroix. If I recall correctly you were part of this mission from day one. You just followed orders, after all."
Amélie nodded. "Just say the word if you need someone dead then." She said and stood up, heading for the door. "You coming or what?" she hissed at Morrison.
-/-
London, Kings Row, apartment of Lena Oxton, two days later.
She hated this.
She really did.
Vacation. What utter bullshit that was. Winston was too worried all the time, almost like Angela. She didn't need vacation, she was perfectly fine. A little roughed up maybe, but not in need of vacation. Mercy took care of all her scars and the healing, she was fine. She had stayed in bed long enough at the Watchpoint, there was no need for any more rest.
Especially now that Amélie disappeared with the Commander. Which was just completely strange on so many levels.
"Chérie, I have to tell you something." Amélie had said, her fingers running through Tracer's hair. "I need to go with that stupid Commander of yours. It's... important." She had added. Lena wanted to know why and where she was going, but Widow couldn't tell her. Lena saw how much it bugged her lover that she was obviously unable to tell her, so she let it go.
Still...
What where they up to?
It wasn't like Tracer was jealous or anything. She had no reason to be. Amélie would never cheat on her and surely not with someone like Morrison. The thought alone made her snort in amusement. No, Lena was merely curious. And maybe a little hurt that her lover didn't tell her what she was up to.
They never had any secrets from each other, so why now? What was so important for Widowmaker that she couldn't tell Lena? Or maybe Tracer was thinking about this the wrong way? Maybe it wasn't so important for Amélie, but way more important for Morrison? Then again, why would the commander tell Widowmaker something he wouldn't tell her? Unless... for a brief moment Tracer considered the notion that Amélie found out about a dirty secret Morrison was hiding, but the whole thought seemed idiotic. The Commander was an honorable man, he wouldn't have any dirty secrets. Maybe the whole problem was about Talon?
Lena's guessing didn't take her anywhere. She wouldn't get a chance to ask Widow anytime soon, because Winston had put Lena on vacation. Ha! Vacation. Sure. More like banishment. "You need to have some time to heal properly and relax. You haven't been home in so long Lena. Take some time off. It will do you good. I already arranged a flight for you tonight." he had said. Great. Thanks a lot, big guy.
Deciding that it was finally time to eat something, Lena dropped a torque spanner and a screwdriver into her toolbox and headed for the elevator. She hadn't eaten anything all day, after she had gotten up this morning, Lena had gone straight to the garage in the basement, she had been in the mood for working on her long term project. Now, however, it was definitely time for something to eat. So, this was technically her breakfast, despite the time already indicating it was well past five. Better late than never.
As Lena walked into her flat, she pulled off her shirt on the way to her cozy little kitchen and tossed the greasy piece of clothing over a chair. It would have to wait there for the next load of laundry. With only a plain black bra and a long grey sweat pant on, Tracer leaned over the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. She had been tinkering on her long term project today and got dirty. As usual. Oil was a bitch, really, especially how it had that annoying tendency to get stuck underneath the finger nails and simply refused to ever crawl back out from there.
After deeming her fingers adequately clean, Tracer grabbed a box of cereal and a carton of milk from the fridge. Why she kept the cereal in the fridge, Lena had no idea anymore. It became a habit.
Pouring the cereal into a bowl, Lena's thoughts wandered.
Without Amélie around her days were simply... dull. Boring. Nothing seemed like it was worth the trouble anymore. It was crazy how fast Lena got used to a working relationship again. Especially since the last one she had derailed in such a catastrophic manner, that Lena actually thought she would never enter another one ever again. She didn't think she could ever deal with the heartbreak again.
Look how great that went. You fell in love with a Talon assassin. What could possibly go wrong, right?
She snorted in annoyance while scratching her butt in a very unladylike manner. How wrong she had been. Now all Lena could think of was how she just wanted her stupid vacation to be over and to go back to Gibraltar. Or anywhere really, just as long as Amélie would be there. It was almost scary how fast the purple French lady had been able to fill a hole in Lena's heart. She missed her badly, her presence, her smell, her touch. She craved her. Now if only-
The doorbell ripped Lena out of her reverie.
She jerked startled, spilling some of the cereal all over her kitchen counter. What a shit day.
Setting the box aside, Lena headed for the door and opened it, expecting it to be Ms. Richards, one of her neighbors. The elderly lady was very nice, but tended to have a problem with today's technology. Lena had actually repaired the woman's toaster when she had been home the last time.
A blonde mane was the first thing Lena saw.
That distinctive color and haircut could have only been one person's, and it wasn't Ms. Richards.
Lena blinked.
"Am I interrupting something, Süße?" Angela said, giggling softly. "Or is it too hot for you?"
Lena's confusion turned into a beaming smile. "Ha. Ha. Angela. Funny. What'cha doing here? I thought you were busy helping Fareeha back to her former self."
For a moment Tracer could have sworn there was a small blush on her best friend's cheeks, but it was gone as fast as it came. "Oh, I thought she could use a change of scene. She is waiting downstairs. Stairs are still a bit difficult for her."
"Eh? You left her outside? Angela, she's not a dog!" Lena laughed. "Go get her and come in!" she said, gesturing toward the staircase. Mercy, however, shook her head.
"Actually, I just came to drop something off." Angela smiled. In the same moment, someone walked forth from behind the wall of the hallway. Since Lena hadn't actually left her apartment, she had no way of seeing the person hiding there.
She was wearing a long black coat, buttoned up all the way to her neck with the collar standing up. Her skin was pale from make-up and her hair was pulled into an extremely tight topknot, but no matter what disguise, Lena would recognize her anywhere, anytime. She'd know those golden eyes without a doubt.
"Have fun you two." Mercy said as she turned around and walked back down the staircase, her heels clicking on the wooden steps slowly fading.
"Sooo" Widowmaker hummed. "Are you going to ask me inside?"
She didn't get an answer. Lena reached out, grabbed the collar of Amélie's coat and pulled her forward. Their lips crashed together and Tracer hungrily claimed Widow's mouth in a wave of heated passion. Her tongue demanded entrance and soon enough it was fighting for dominance with the cool counterpart. Kissing Amélie never lost its excitement. It was like freefalling, disconnected from reality, like the real world around them just stopped existing. Time raced and still stood still simultaneously. Aware of her own pounding heart in her chest, Lena pulled Amélie closer, her arms finding their way into her lover's coat and under her shirt. Hot hands met cool skin and Widowmaker shivered.
Breaking away from the mind-blowing kiss, Amélie smirked at Lena. "Why hello. I missed you too, chérie."
"Shut up and come in already." Lena moaned and pulled her lover inside, kicking the door shut. "Damn I missed you, luv. You" She kissed her. "Have" Another kiss. "No" Another one filled with passion burning brightly. "Idea."
Amélie found herself pressed against the wall in Tracer's vestibule, while the bubbly Overwatch agent kissed down her neckline with glazed, lusty eyes. Oh, she didn't mind that kind of aggressiveness one bit. Reaching down and grabbing Lena on her butt, Amélie lifted the smaller woman up and turned them around, now pressing Tracer against the very same spot. Two can play that game.
"You want me to do you right here, or do you think we can make it to your bed?" Widow purred into Lena's ear, her voice dripping with sexual need.
"Why not both?" Lena hummed, attacking a particularly sensitive spot on Amélie's neck. "Too much clothes" she added, tucking on Widow's coat.
The annoying piece of clothing soon gone and Amélie's dark blouse unbuttoned, Lena was delighted to find out that her lover still wasn't overly fond of underwear. Her hand wandered down her lover's side, tracing her cold skin ever so gently. She rested her hand on Widow's hip for a moment, playing with the hem of her grey pencil skirt, her other hand grabbing at the back of her girlfriend while they kissed passionately.
Lena's bra was long gone and Amélie was busy teasing the revealed flesh underneath as Lena slid her hand over Widow's skirt, hooked her thumb into the lower hem, and pulled the fabric upward. In doing so, she revealed an elaborate black lacy garter belt holding a pair of elegant silken stockings of the same color. And that was everything. Searching for any panties would have been futile.
"You naughty vixen" Lena whispered as she nibbled on Amélie's earlobe while her hand was teasingly stroking the impossibly soft flesh on her lover's thighs, deliberately avoiding touching her anywhere else. So close and yet so far.
"You love it" Amélie moaned, the hot sensation of Tracer's fingers on her thighs and the joints on the inside of her hips was driving her crazy. Her lower body was starting to prickle with anticipation and need, but the relieving touch didn't happen. There would be lots of teasing tonight it seemed.
"Mhhh... I do" Lena replied, her hand drawing circles around Amélie's most private parts, but still not touching it. It was driving Widow insane and she tried to grind her hips against Lena's hand. The hand was gone the moment Amélie tried to push herself against Tracer.
"Uh. Uh." Lena hummed with an evil smirk and Widow could only groan in frustration. She decided to change her approach.
With a quick yank Lena's sweatpants and panties were ripped down and exposed her completely. A cool finger slid down from Tracer's neck, in between her breasts where the provisory accelerator used to be, and down over her belly button. For a second Widow wondered how Lena was keeping her presence, she didn't see her small accelerator and she obviously wasn't wearing her large one. Then again, all that mattered was, that Tracer was here, not how she was here. Anything else was for later. Amélie took her time, slowly moving her finger up and down, teasingly circling around Lena's breasts too, but not touching the more sensitive parts.
"You should know better than to tease me like that, chérie." Widow purred, her voice filled with that ridiculously sexy French accent.
She got a toothy grin from Lena as a reply. "I want you, Amélie." She whispered.
Widow didn't need to be told twice. Their bodies crashed together against the wall, a playful struggle for who would get to push whom against it, hands exploring their bodies, knowing full well how to drive the other to the brink of insanity. It was all one big haze of kisses, moans, touching, and stumbling somewhere else.
They had no idea how they suddenly ended up in Lena's messy sheets and frankly they didn't care for even one second. Lena was in the process of kissing a trail of burning, passionate kisses down Amélie's body, letting the older woman shiver each time her lips sucked on her cool flesh, or her tongue licked over her skin, leaving a warm, shimmering trail.
"Lena! Merde" Amélie cried in bliss as Tracer kissed and nibbled on the soft flesh of her lover's inner thighs again, moving closer and closer to a glistening and obviously well aroused part of her body. Widow's hands were buried in Lena's unruly hair and directed her girlfriend towards the place she wanted her to kiss. It didn't help a lot, Lena took her sweet time, stroking Amélie's shivering body and kissing so incredibly close to the real deal. Closer. Closer. Amélie could feel Lena's hot breath against her wet place. It was almost enough to send another shiver of pleasure through her body. And then, when she was so sensitive that even a sharp breath felt like overstimulation, Lena finally decided that now was the right time to devote attention to the most sensitive area on Widowmaker's body. Gently at first, but quickly becoming more aggressive, savoring Amélie's unique taste while Lena kissed, sucked and licked.
The moans of ecstasy filling the air was nothing short of music in Lena's ear, as she continued her ministrations. Widow couldn't help but let go of Lena's bushy hair with one hand and grab at the sheets, trying her best to hold on to something, anything really, while Lena continued to rock her world.
There was only one thing left on her mind and that was Lena Oxton. Everything else was forgotten.
This was wonderful.
It was freeing.
Perfect.
-/-
Meanwhile Pharah and Mercy were slowly strolling through town, merely window-shopping. Even though the night had already claimed London in its darkness, people were still busy on the streets. Nighttime London was hardly less bright and colorful than during the day, maybe even more so. People were happily minding their own business, couples were searching for a nice place to have a romantic dinner and late night shoppers were searching for the perfect store to buy their desired goods at.
None of that mattered to the two women lazily walking down the street. Fareeha had linked arms with the good doctor, walking close to her. She would have lied when she'd have claimed this was only because Fareeha desired the close proximity to Angela more than anything else. However, she twisted and turned it in her head, she had to rely on Mercy's support to walk. Her own balance was still not perfect. She could walk again, but stumbled sometimes or lost her footing. With someone's help, however, she was perfectly fine.
Well, as long as they were walking slowly, which Mercy did. Fareeha was happy either way. She was relatively certain that this was probably the closest she would ever get to Angela. So, she took it.
"Are Lena and Widow going to be alright? I feel bad for just dropping her at Lena's place like that. Do you think she got the impression that she wasn't welcome to go with us?" Which doesn't mean I don't mind her not being here.
"Oh, Amélie wouldn't have wanted to go with us anyway, don't worry about them. They are going to be just fine." Mercy laughed and Fareeha could have sworn that Angela knew more than she let on. Something about how her question was dismissed without a care in the world made her think that she was missing something important. Still, Pharah decided not to press the matter further. It was hardly of any importance after all.
"So..." Angela said in good spirits after walking for a while in comfortable silence. "Where do you want to go?" The cheerful, unguarded smile Mercy gave her was enough to let a soft blush appear on Fareeha's cheeks. That woman really was an angel after all.
"I've never been to London." Fareeha replied carefully. She didn't want to seem indecisive, but she also had no idea what to do.
"Tell you what." Mercy stopped and turned to face Fareeha, holding both her hands in her own. "There is a small park nearby. Let's go there and sit down for a bit, while we come up with a plan." She suggested, almost getting lost in those deep hazel eyes. Finally, the spark of life had returned into them. Despite being injured and not able to walk alone yet, Pharah had regained a lot of that air of strength she used to radiate. The endless confidence that filled the room whenever she entered.
Angela caught how she wanted to step a little closer into Fareeha's arms, but she stopped herself. Pharah was a friend, maybe. A patient, for sure. Where was this coming from? Why was Mercy suddenly so acutely aware of those tight, well trained muscles underneath the soldier's skin tight black shirt? Her smell? Her warmth? How her eyes reflected the orange street lights, giving them an almost magical shimmer? Oh damn...
"Angela?" Pharah asked and Mercy shook her head to snap out of it.
"S-Sorry" she uttered, looking away in shame. What was wrong with her? What was she thinking? This wasn't like her at all! What was happening? "I kind of zoned out for a moment."
"I noticed" Fareeha beamed at her. Her smile would have been even wider had she known the reasons why Angela lost focus. "We don't have to go out longer, if you're tired. We can go back to the hotel. Very slowly."
"Nein, nein" Mercy shook her head, taking a deep breath and calming herself. "Just a lot on my mind. A little distraction will be good for me and you. Let's go." She said. Right. It was just because of work. She had been at it for too long and had forgotten how to properly relax. How to make friends. Maybe she had gone too long without some action. It had been a while after all. Pent up lust, that was all. Hormones. She was a doctor, she knew how her body worked. No big deal. She was projecting that on Pharah, without a doubt. And that was unprofessional. Right. Mercy decided, she would cool off for now, and take care of that issue later. Either alone in the hotel or she'd find someone in one of the bars later on. Nothing to it. She'd be her old self in no time again.
"Want to grab some ice-cream?" Angela asked, pressing her thoughts to the back of her head.
"Sounds good." Fareeha replied with a smile.
-/-
Arctic sea, formerly Soviet nuclear powered icebreaker 'Sibir', officially decommissioned. 2322 hours.
Sombra had no idea how she ended up here. It was retarded, really. The constant ship-hopping was driving her nuts, and now she was stuck on a hundred-fifty meter long and twenty thousand tons heavy deep frozen steel coffin.
Just. great.
The moist dream of her sleepless nights, really.
She was a Latina, her whole body functioned on one thing above anything else, and that was warmth and sunshine. Neither of which this place offered. It was bad enough that there was no daylight basically all around the clock. Sunshine meant energy for Sombra. But ok, she could have lived without that, if not for the other half of her comfort zone missing, too.
What really made her slowly lose her mind were those temperatures. How could anyone in their right mind survive this? The rooms were heated nicely, sure, but Sombra could feel the ice cold winds howling outside the four times isolated windows. She could feel it in her bones, that never fading, all consuming cold outside, freezing anything and everything.
A shudder ran down her body and she flinched as she was stung by a painful sensation in between her legs. God what had she been thinking when she went ahead and got that place pierced? It was such a stupid idea. Yet, at the time, she really thought it would be cute and sexy. After all, she had her nipples done too, so why not go for the complete look? Yeah, she regretted that decision now. For some reason, the newly added decoration didn't heal properly. Sombra had no idea why. And that dammed cold didn't help one bit.
She groaned, zipped her hoody up all the way and got back to work. Things were actually looking really good. Good enough to think about deploying Alchys, the new god-program, soon.
Which meant she would have to contact the boss.
Which was something Sombra didn't want to do. What a creeper, how anyone wanted to vote for that man was beyond her, but current polls were looking rather favorable for him. Well, politicians, she thought, more actors than people's representatives.
Sighing, because she knew that she couldn't avoid it anyway, Sombra reached for the phone and dialed a number with one finger, while leaning back in her chair. She pressed the device to her ear with her shoulder and adjusted the blanket she used to keep her legs and feet warm. Seriously, you have no idea how cold this place felt.
"What is it?" A voice asked after a few cycles of ringing.
"It's me," Sombra said in her usual flippant tone "You wanted me to call you when we are ready to move into phase three?"
"Are we?"
"No, I just thought I'd annoy you a bit."
"Sombra..." the man on the other end warned and Sombra smirked. She liked not being in the same room with that creepster. It made things so much easier.
"Of course it's ready. Why do you think I'm calling?" Because I sure as hell wouldn't want to talk to you if I wouldn't have to.
"Good. Very good. Time to move on then."
"I'll take care of it."
"No. Change of plans, I'm afraid." He said. "I want you to do me a favor." Sombra froze. This time not because of the cold.
-/-
What was wrong with these people?! Sombra had enough. She prided herself on her moral flexibility, but some things were too far, even for her. Screw the job, screw the money, she was done. What the boss wanted her to do was just too much. No way in hell.
She hastily slammed the stuff she needed the most into a kitbag. Her SMG, magazines, two of her translocators, a few datapads, some backups with stuff she could use for blackmailing, a plush teddy and a picture frame.
Tossing the kitbag toward the door Sombra initiated the automatic data-destruction on her terminal, activating a routine she had written herself. Nothing of what she had been doing here would be left. Quickly making sure the program was doing its work, Sombra turned and slipped into the warmest pants she had, put on the heaviest boots and put on the ridiculously fluffy, but amazingly warm parker she owned.
Facing that cold shit out there one more time.
Urgh.
She could do it. Grabbing the kitbag and tossing it over her shoulder, Sombra ripped the door open and stalked outside, finding her way to the helipad.
Talon wouldn't mind if she'd borrow one of the VTOLs they had so many of. She quickly hurried along, hoping no one would-
"And here I thought you hated the cold?" a voice which could only belong to one person in the world asked. Sombra had to think quickly. Attack him or lie? Her weapon was in her kitbag. Besides, she was facing him. No chance. Lying then.
"Oh, Gabe." She turned around, hugging her form to emphasize how cold she was. "I do. Which is why I'm out of here."
"Is that so?"
"My work here is done. I'm no longer needed. And I'd rather spend the night on the plane knowing I'm heading toward some warmer climate than freezing to death here."
Reaper merely chuckled, as he stared her down. He knew she was lying. He knew it. "Is that so?" he asked, not letting her off the hook.
"Why else would I move my ass outside with my stuff packed? I got paid. I'm done. I'm leaving. Got a problem with that, Gabe? Mhh? Will you miss me?" she leaned forward with a grin.
"Not at this range" he replied. "Catch you around, Sombra" he turned around and left.
Sombra headed for her jet, eager to get out of here. Her destination wouldn't be a lot warmer, however. It didn't matter, she'd be safe there. For a while.
She didn't notice how Reaper reached for his phone.
-/-
A/N:
"Hey, patate, what are you doing?"
-I'm sitting on my typewriter. Take a wild guess, Amélie.
"Oui, oui. Not in a good mood?"
-Been better.
"Angela invited us to dinner today. Come on, you have to get ready."
-...
"Don't look at me like that. You are coming with us. She said she will personally see to it that you eat properly again."
- Yes, Mom.
"Don't you mom me. I see that blush on your face. You don't have me fooled. Come on now, hurry up, we are running late."
Alright boys and girls, apparently I am needed somewhere else. Oh the horror... Not.
I will just stop apologizing for the wait between chapters, its starting to feel ridiculous. Good news is: The next chapter is already almost ready. The bad news is: I do have some stuff coming up for university. Sooo... yeah. We'll see how updates go.
Personally, I hate this chapter for so many reasons, but there it is. My beta, Jfb715 told me it was alright and that I don't need to worry, but I am a little worryrat. So, thanks to him and his great work, you get to enjoy this chapter today. Thanks a lot, mate, you rock!
Also: Thanks to each and every one of you out there. Your feedback is amazing, all the reviews, favs and follows mean a lot to me! Thank you very much *bows in deep respect*
I hope you all are going to have a great time and that you enjoy life to the fullest! Keep it up, you are all amazing!
Should you want to fund my next coffee, you can do that now:
tipeee com slash e82s-fanfiction
See you next time (definitely before Christmas)
o7
E82