In an emergency meeting yesterday evening after yet another Omnic attack on civilians, the German senate instated high chancellor Adenauer with yet another set of emergency authorities. With this action, the senate completed the set of measures taken after the Omnium incident in Austria, effectively bestowing the position of high chancellor with the rights to rule in a way comparable to a dictator.
Adenauer showed herself worried about these drastic measures, but accepted reluctantly. She yet again stressed her love for the Republic of Germany and the democracy. She reaffirmed that she would immediately lay down those powers once the crisis has been averted. As the first measure taken with her new authority, Adenauer firstly declared a nationwide state of emergency, ordering the German army to re-enforce existing police forces. She furthermore promised to look into the possibility of continuing the former Crusader program from the first Omnic crisis. How and if this is possible after the loss of valuable genetic material during the first war remains to be seen.
Meanwhile Thirey Savant has referred to Adenauer's proceedings as a prime example of decisiveness and the kind of direction the world needs to be headed. Despite not outright criticizing current UN General Secretary Royce, the jab in her direction was obvious.
Savant, who will be speaking at a sold out event in Madison Square Garden Saturday evening, has been a heavy supporter of decisive actions against Omnic violence. In current polls Savant is clearly leading before Lilith Royce. The outcome of the elections in January seem obvious as of now.
How and if Savant contemplates a military campaign against Omnic forces remains to be seen.
-/-
Russia, St. Petersburg, Private loft of Katya Volskaya.
A day off was rare for the director of Volskaya industries. The reason wasn't that she couldn't allow herself more time for herself and her family, but instead because she wanted it to be this way. Her company, the company her father's grandfather had founded, lived and died for, just like his son, the son after him and her father did, was her whole life.
She loved her family, sure. Her husband and her daughter, but the truth was that it was a professional love. Her company inspired a burning passion, which her family didn't and never would. Especially not her husband.
Her daughter was almost as important as her company, and Katya would do anything to make sure that her heir would receive the best education available to become a suitable successor to her. But that was just it. Her daughter was almost as important as her company, but in the end? In the end, if Katya was brutally honest with herself, the love she felt for her daughter was because she knew that one day the company would be hers.
Should it ever come down to deciding between her daughter's welfare and the welfare of her company... Katya didn't have an immediate answer as to what she would do. And that troubled her. Then again, the entire reason for her family even existing in the first place was a bad joke in and of itself.
She had married Olek, her husband, because it was demanded of her. A woman in her position and of her heritage had to be married to a man of proper status. At least that had been what her parents told her on the day they informed her about her impeding wedding.
They surely didn't exchange the sacred vows of matrimony because of love or attraction. Hell, Katya had never seen Olek before they stood in front of the altar of the Khram Khrista Spasitelya, the world's largest orthodox church located in Moscow. Its golden roof shimmered beautifully that day in the surprisingly warm January sun and a red carpet had been laid out, leading into the building. The media loved the spectacle and Katya smiled all the time. She did it because it was expected.
She told people how happy she was, because it was expected.
They went on a honeymoon around the world, because that was what people expected.
And she did her deed in the marital bed, even though she didn't desire Olek. That was not to say that her new husband had been treating her badly, not at all. He was a polite, gentle and caring person. A proper gentleman. But Katya didn't love him. Her mother told her, that love would soon follow and that it had been no different for her, when she had married Katya's father, also in an arranged marriage.
Yet, that did not happen. Two years later, Katya still felt nothing for Olek, who was, despite his best efforts to hide it, growing increasingly frustrated with his wife. Soon, they had a lengthy and difficult discussion about their marriage, their feelings or lack thereof and their plans for the future. How each one of them thought things should be like in the future. They agreed that they were not meant for each other, but also knew that they couldn't divorce. The company would suffer. Their status would suffer. They didn't want to risk that.
So, they agreed on having one child together so that the name Volskaya could live on and would then go their separate ways, only appearing together at official events. Which they did. Was it normal? Heavens no, Katya knew that. But it worked. She could concentrate on her work and Olek could sleep with whoever he wanted. He had been honorable enough to not have a mistress before their agreement.
So, Katya was alone in her loft, sitting on a modern armchair next to a fake fire, a white silk night gown loosely hung around her shoulders. It was open wide, giving most of her slender, nude body away. She had just put it on to see out the usual man she paid for sex. She was a regular customer of his. He took her hard and relentlessly, just like she liked it, and was good looking enough. He was very discrete, too, which was his most important trait. Volskaya usually saw him every one or two weeks, whenever she felt like it and he never left her unsatisfied.
Deciding that she didn't want to think about her family or her fucked up love life or why her company was more important to her than her daughter any more, Katya stood up and headed for the liquor cabinet. On the way there, she heard a weird rattling noise from her front door, which caused her to frown.
She forgot about her plans to have a drink and moved toward the front door. Someone had slipped a note into her loft. Quickly checking the surveillance screen next to the door for any unwanted visitors, Katya sighed in relief. For a moment, she thought that that mad Mexican woman was back again. Luckily, she wasn't. With shaking fingers Volskaya reached for the note.
It was an envelope, with her name written onto it. She tore the paper sealing open and a small disc together with a post-it reading "play me" slipped into her hand.
A heavy frown appeared on Katya's forehead as she clenched the disk in her hand. Nothing good would ever come from messages like this.
Naturally, Katya didn't like how her evening was beginning to develop. Not for a second. She headed over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass of pure vodka before she moved toward her work-terminal and put the disk in. Taking a large swig from the glass, she waited for the video to play.
And it did, showing nothing Katya might have expected.
She thought about someone blackmailing her again. Maybe even Sombra? She thought about someone demanding money, because her daughter had been abducted. Those were the thoughts in Katya's mind. She expected a masked figure, sitting in a dark room and speaking with contorted voice.
But what the director of Volskaya industries saw, was nothing like she expected.
A good looking, well dressed man was sitting in a large, brightly lit and friendly office. There were large windows behind him, showing the skyline of a city Katya didn't recognize. He had steel blue eyes and platinum blonde hair and was wearing a light grey suit which fit him perfectly. He might be considered a rather handsome guy.
"Good evening Director Volskaya." The nameless man started. "First of all, please excuse this... unconventional method of contacting you." a soft smile spread over his face and his immaculate teeth shined through for a moment.
"Allow me to introduce myself briefly. My name is Abraxas Schrodinger, I am counsellor to a very specific organization." He made a long pause. "That organization is known to you as Talon. Now, it is my understanding, that my clients and your company haven't been on good terms the last few years, but fear not. We are intent on changing that. The reason for this message is an offer of peace and possibly partnership. It is our understanding that a mutual effort in times like these are to both of our organizations best interests. My clients would like to offer you the following:"
Abraxas cleared his throat, smiling gently again, yet his eyes betrayed how very serious the man was about his job. His smooth voice and friendly demeanor couldn't manage to hide the fact that Mr. Schrodinger was a tough as nails lawyer who knew exactly what he was doing. Lady Volskaya was listening carefully, not fully believing what she was hearing.
"Firstly, a written, secret reassurance that there will be no more Talon authorized actions of any kind against both Volskaya Industries as a company as well as Katya Volskaya or her family as a person. Secondly, a government authorized trade deal for assault rifles, heavy weapons, mechs and infantry transport and support vehicles in a volume of approximately 450 billion credits." At the mentioning of that kind of money, Katya dropped her glass of vodka onto the exquisite Iranian handmade carpet she was standing on. "All you have to do is do us a small favor. On the back of the note attached to this disk, you will find a number. We want you to contact this number in the event that a woman named Sombra reaches out to you. I am sure you may be wondering about the reasons for such an offer simply to find that woman. Suffice it to say, we have to settle an outstanding score with her. Contrary to her value to you, she is of a certain importance to Talon. A value which conditions you know now. I hope this deal is agreeable to you. It is business after all. Please contact the number only then should the described event happen. In doing so, you agree to the terms of this deal." The screen turned black and Volskaya stared at it for another solid minute.
No more Talon attacks?
A trade deal for 450 billion credits?
All in exchange for a woman who was blackmailing her? Oh, Sombra was in serious trouble.
Then again, Morrison also wanted Sombra, and she promised him she would call him.
She didn't promise him she'd call no one else, though.
Still, it was Talon...
-/-
London suburbs, the next morning
The all consuming darkness slowly begun to fade and gave way to shimmering, soft light. A cool yet soft cocoon was wrapped around her naked body, the velvet fabric brushing tenderly against her cold skin. The peaceful tranquility in her mind was more and more pushed out of her mind, the quiet, but noticeable sounds of reality penetrating her ears. Amélie blinked and stretched her body, some of her joints creaked. It has been a while since she had woken up this comfortable and this gentle. Sighing deeply, her arm slid over to her lover's side of the bed, seeking to snuggle up against her, yet where she anticipated her own source of warmth and comfort, the bed was both cold and vacant.
Not what she expected.
Slowly sitting up in the bed, the blanket sliding off her naked body, Amélie looked about the room. Indeed, there was no Lena to be found inside the cozy small bedroom in her girlfriend's apartment. It was also way too quiet for Tracer to be anywhere in the apartment. No trace of her was to be found. However, what Amélie did find was a small note left on the nightstand together with a beautiful red rose in a small vase. The dark red petals were almost glowing in the soft orange morning light shimmering through the closed window of the bedroom. The rays of sunlight were reflecting in small grains of dust floating slowly through the air, as if they were almost frozen in time.
Unable to not smile ever so faintly, Amélie reached for both the flower and the letter, smelling on the former while unfolding the latter. After inhaling the sweet scent of the rose and putting it back into the vase, Widow brought her attention to the note. It was written in Lena's handwriting and didn't say a lot.
Good morning Blueberry,
You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't have the heart to wake you up. Thought I let you sleep in.
Come and find me in the garage when you get up :)
I love you,
Lena
P.S. Have I told you how adorably cute you look when you sleep? I could watch you for hours and I'm definitely not being creepy, ok?
Amélie snorted a little when she read the last line. She was not cute and she wished that Lena would stop calling her that. Or at least she pretended to wish that, deep inside she had to admit that it made her feel appreciated, wanted and desired whenever Lena called her cute. It was something about the way Lena pronounced the word, she always made it sound hot.
Deciding to go and search for the garage, Widow got up, grabbed one of Lena's old air force shirts and a pair of sweatpants lying around and put them on. The shirt was a little difficult to get in because it was obviously too small. It hugged Amélie's curves very tightly and left her belly mostly exposed, but the assassin didn't really care. Neither did she care to fix her hair beyond some quick disentangling with her fingers, while she walked past the mirror in Lena's vestibule. The mirror Widow had scribbled her goodbye note onto all those months ago. It now seemed like a whole lifetime ago.
She would obviously be going for the bed-hair look today. Or better, for the sex-bed look, taking the line of huge deep purple hickeys and badly bruised skin down her neck into consideration.
Amélie traced one of her fingers down the markings and smiled. She would wear Lena's love bites with pride. Besides, it wasn't like her bubbly lover would look any better.. Oh, quite the contrary in fact with all the sucking, nibbling and biting Amélie did the past night.
With her looks checked and defined as not in need of change in that moment, Amélie strode toward the door confidently, pulled it open and stepped out into the staircase. It was only when the door behind her fell into the lock that she realized two things
Where the fuck was the garage?
She had no key. Hopefully Lena had brought hers.
Widow frowned slightly, deciding that she can't really change the key problem anymore and that the location of the garage could not be that hard to figure out. It must have been somewhere in the basement after all. So, Amélie headed for the elevator, not particularly keen on walking down all those stairs. She pressed the lowest button on the panel inside the elevator and waited for the doors to close, the metal box to move and the doors to open again.
To her surprise Widowmaker didn't find herself in the basement, but instead at a very bright and friendly, yet ancient entry hall at ground level. The staircase ended right next to the elevator and didn't go further down either. Widowmaker looked around a little but didn't discover any indicators of where that damn garage might be.
Irritation spread across her beautiful features.
She hated not knowing what to do or where to go. She should have looked up the blueprints of this building before even going near it, like she always did. Memorizing where emergency exits were, where the main corridors led, which secret routes were available and where they were located had saved her ass on more than one occasion and did come in very handy more often than not. Knowing all the useful things about where she went had always been part of her preparations. Why didn't she do it this time? The last time she had been here it was on a whim and she had actually used her hook to pull herself onto Lena's balcony. Leaving was done in even more a hurry. Back then Amélie didn't have the time to look up the layout of the building. God, she was getting sloppy. And the look on Angela's face when she asked about the layout of Lena's home screamed Are you bloody mental? so loud that Amélie decided to not ask again. She should have insisted, for she felt like a confused chicken, running around aimlessly.
After walking around in the lobby for a while, making no progress in locating the garage or even the way there, Amélie was anything but happy about the recent development the last few minutes.
That was until the front door, featuring lots of frosted glass, opened and an old lady stepped inside with slow steps. An old lady, that was probably a slight understatement. The woman was ancient. Like, really. Amélie actually paused for a moment and stared, someone this old should not be able to walk anymore. Or breathe. Her dry, wrinkly skin was grey and her colorless eyes had sunk into her skull to a point where they were hardly visible anymore. She had short, ashen hair and was walking in a humped and very careful manner. Carrying a bag of groceries, the old-timer moved toward the staircase. Amélie actually rose an eyebrow at that. The woman would at least take half an hour to even reach first floor. But whatever, not her problem. Better use that opportunity.
"Excuse me?" Amélie said and tried her best to sound friendly. Lena had told her over and over again that it wasn't a good way to sound like she was about to murder everyone in the room in their sleep while talking to someone. At that time Widowmaker decided she was better off nottelling Lena that she didn't only sound like that.
"Mhh, yes dear? Sorry, I didn't see you standing there," the old woman croaked, carefully turning around on the stairs. She was standing two stairs up already and could barely look Widow in the eyes. "Can I help you somehow? You do look a little lost if I may say so." The woman laughed silently.
For a moment, Widow was taken aback. There she stood, in this sun bathed foyer, wearing a much too small t-shirt and being distinctively purple without any makeup on and most of her flat, well toned stomach on display. Yet, the older woman didn't seem to care at all. That or she was really blind. Widow cleared her throat, reminding herself that she was supposed to reply something. "Ah, yes, actually, I'm searching the garage."
"And what do you need the garage for, mhh?" The woman asked and narrowed her eyes slightly. Widow only glared at the old-timer with murderous intent, a pang of violence threatening to overcome her.
Don't strangle her. Don't strangle her. Don't strangle her. It would mean trouble for Lena. Don't do it.
Taking a deep breath to not fall back into her old habit of brutal murder, she replied: "Lena said to meet her there, but she forgot to tell me where it is." Widow supposed that the people living in the same building would know each other. Maybe that would be enough to convince the damn woman that Amélie was allowed to be here and finally tell her where that damn garage was.
"Ohhh!" the old hag smiled and her small eyes lit up with excitement "You must be Lena's new girlfriend then!" she exclaimed happily, taking a good look at Amélie. "Ah yes, I see. Yes, yes. She really needed someone in her life again, ever since that last girl. She was no good. I always told her, no good." Slowly, obviously straining herself with every move, the grandma moved down from the stairs again and pointed at Amélie in an almost accusing manner. "You be nice to Lena, you hear me young lady? She is a good woman and deserves to be treated well. Always helps when she can, is always there." the nameless woman nodded and Widowmaker narrowed her eyes slightly, not liking how she was being talked to at all. "She fixed my toaster, you know?"
"The toaster. Formidable." Widow huffed, sarcasm dripping from her lips, while she balled her hands into fists."The garage. Where is it?" she pressed.
"Oh yes, of course. I almost forgot. See, if you are 104 years old, your memory won't be the best either."
"I don't plan to live that long." Widow said plainly, albeit too quiet for the grandma to pick up. Instead Amélie just gave her an urging look, fighting back the urge to slam the helpless pensioner into the wall.
"You just walk down the corridor and turn left. There is a white door. Doesn't look like much. Down the stairs and twice left, and you're there. Lena's parker is probably the one with loud music playing."
"Merci." Amélie said curtly and turned to leave.
"Say, my dear, would you mind terribly to help me with those bags?" the grandma asked, and Widowmaker swung around with a murderous expression on her face. It had been much easier when she just threatened people with a slow and painful death to get what she wanted and right now that seemed like a viable option again.
-/-
With the radio playing some truly old rock songs at maximum volume and of course with her head and most of her lean body stuck under a 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback, Lena didn't hear the door into her small garage opening and someone coming in. She was too focused on her project car anyway.
A more than a hundred year old car and Lena would make it work again. So far Lena had spent many hours of her scarce free time rebuilding that timeless beauty and she was absolutely aware that there would be many more of those hours to come. But one day, her pony car would roll again. So far, most the technical things were running again, she was only waiting for retro break disks since those were really hard to come by these days. Other than that, the Mustang was theoretically drivable again. Something that couldn't be said when she found the poor thing rusting away behind one of the hangars in her old air force days. She just had to rescue this beauty. Her father, her actual father, not the man who had adopted her into his family, had a tiny model of this metal beauty on his desk. That might have played a part in her decision.
Lena only noticed that she wasn't alone anymore when someone suddenly turned the volume of the radio down. "Sorry, was the music too loud?" Tracer called from underneath the car, but didn't get a reply. Frowning curiously, Lena pulled herself out from underneath the machine, rubbing her sweaty face on the sleeve of her shirt.
"What are you doing, chérie?" Amélie asked, standing in the middle of the garage with her arms crossed behind her back. She gave the car an incredulous look and then eyed Tracer while she walked over to her. There was oil and grease all over the Brit.
"What, no good morning kiss?" Lena laughed and leaned into her girlfriend, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. "Slept well, luv?"
"Mhh, the bed was cold when I woke up. Apparently, my girlfriend has to do someone more important than me." Widow quipped dryly, raising an eyebrow. "What's her name?"
"Aww, sorry blueberry. This little rust bucket here is Eleanor. She has some issues you know. Needs help and all." Lena giggled and pulled her lover closer, but Amélie crossed her arms over her chest.
"You are all dirty" she said turning her face away. Lena's grip around her loosened and the smaller woman looked almost a little hurt. "You mind?" she asked with a small voice which immediately hit Amélie with the hammer of guilt. She had only been teasing Tracer. Quickly focusing her whole attention on Lena, Widow wrapped her arms around the other woman and pressed her against the frame of the car, kissing her deeply.
"Of course not" she purred "You know I like it dirty."
Lena only gasped in surprise, but didn't hesitate to return the kiss with fire until Amélie pulled away with a very smug expression on her face.
"You know, it wouldn't have been so bad if you actually told me where that stupid garage was. I had to ask an old hag living here."
"Oh? Ms. Richards?" Lena asked with a slight frown. "Sorry, I hope she wasn't awkward."
"She wanted me to carry her groceries." Widow snorted. "What does she take me for? Some kind of errand girl? Did I mention that I hate people?"
"Did you help her?" Lena asked carefully, acutely aware that Widow's loyalties were very specific. She knew that, no matter how much Tracer wished it wouldn't be this way, Amélie would still have absolutely zero problems with resorting to violence when she felt it would get her where she wanted to be.
Amélie looked past Lena for a moment "Oui." she replied almost inaudible, shaking her head. Lena felt herself let go of a breath she didn't realize she was even holding. Widow put some distance between them and suddenly the mood shifted.
"Wait, did you think I would have done something to her?" Amélie asked, an unreadable expression on her face. Somehow that question hurt Lena more than she thought. She should be the one who trusted Amélie unconditionally. And she did, it was just that... well, Lena knew that no matter how sweet and caring Amélie was toward her, Widowmaker was still very much a ruthless killer. It would have been a grave mistake to ever forget that.
"Would you?" Lena asked.
"Please, chérie. She was an old woman." Widow replied, now fully turning away from Lena, inspecting the many tools on a small work bench which was pushed against the wall opposite to the Mustang.
"That's not an answer." Lena sighed, reaching for Widow's hand but the other woman pulled it away.
"You don't want an answer." Widow said coolly, not facing Lena. There had been a short time when she thought that she had left her past behind her. The killing. The murder. But it took only one trip to New York and the meeting with the UN General Secretary to show her how utterly wrong she was. The excitement of the hunt was back. The pure thrill to be able to stalk her prey until she could deliver the killing blow. The intense rush she felt when she thought about squeezing the trigger again.
She felt it so strongly. And whenever she thought about why, she saw Lena, captured by Talon and turned into one of their slaves. Widow got angry, so very angry. The mere thought of someone harming her Lena Oxton made her skin tingle and her bones itch, for she would kill whoever dared to lay hand on the woman she loved.
It wasn't what Lena wanted. Amélie knew that. And she was so ashamed for it. "You don't want to know." She breathed almost inaudibly.
"I do." Tracer whispered.
"Really?" Amélie replied with an equally silent voice. Tracer had no idea. She didn't know what was going on inside her head. About the promise she made to Royce. About what she would do. About her reasons. Why? Why? Once she lived for Talon. But now? Her entire reason to go on was a young British woman, an annoyance. But Widowmaker knew she wouldn't be able to even draw another breath without that annoyance around.
"Really?" she asked again, louder this time, while turning around. "Lena, have you got any idea of how much you mean to me?" she asked bitterly "Do you have a remote concept of what you did for me, how much I owe you? My whole sense of self, my entire being, is all thanks to you. Each breath I take, I take for you, in each waking moment of my life I think about you, and I never put you second. Because you are, quite literally, the light that keeps me going. And I don't mean that as some kind of metaphorical bullshit, you literally are. I love you so much, chérie, it's scaring me. I was never supposed to feel anything and yet for you, I do. With you I can be. But it's all only for you. I'd do anything for you, my love, no matter what. When you were hurt in Austria, that light inside me, it was gone. There was only cold and bitterness left. I went and talked to Morrison. Almost killed him. I would have done it, but he had reasons. I would have killed that old woman if she was a threat to you, I wouldn't have even thought twice about it. I would kill that annoying Asian friend of yours. I would even kill Angela if she'd betray you and I actually like her. I would kill anyone who dares to treat you badly. I wouldn't care for even a moment if the whole world would go down in a fiery blaze if it would mean you are save." Amélie's voice had deteriorated into a stammering mess as she started crying violently while she tried to speak."The truth is, Lena, if you'd give me a gun and told me to shoot myself, I wouldn't even ask why."
The silence spreading in the garage was deafening. Tracer just stood there and could only watch while Widow fell apart and there was nothing Lena could do against it. Nothing. She felt helpless and powerless and had trouble sorting her thoughts in a coherent manner. She didn't even know where to start.
"Amélie?" Lena's face was wet with silent tears, her heart tearing apart with every word her lover spoke.
"I know that this isn't normal. I know that. But I just cannot fucking help it, you hear me? It's just how I am. You fell in love with a murderer, an assassin! A monster! You idiot, why are you here? Why did you ever come after me? You should have run away like any other sensible person would have done! Go find someone normal."
"Amélie?" Lena repeated and got Widow's attention this time.
"What?" she half spat, half cried, her eyes betraying just how much pain Amélie truly felt. How much confusion, anger and... yes, there was fear, lots of it, whirled behind those stern yellow eyes.
Tracer leaned forward and captured Amélie's lips with hers. "I love you, blueberry. And nothing you say or do will ever change that. Everything will be alright eventually. I love you."
To Lena's horror Amélie pushed her away. "You shouldn't! I just told you... You're a fool!"
"Then a fool is what I am." Lena replied, once again stepping closer to her distraught girlfriend.
"No!" Amélie stammered, weakly trying to fend off Lena who was still getting closer to her. "Y-You can't! I can't... What if I ever hurt you? What if I lose it again?" She didn't know what to think anymore. Her mind was a proper mess by now, one thought rolling over the other. Amélie could only stumble backwards until her back hit the cool stone wall, her hands grabbing hectically at her own arms. "Please..." it was barely a whisper, drowning in icy tears.
"You won't." Lena said and reached out to take Amélie's hands into her own. They were shaking badly and so Lena began to draw soothing circles on them, her warm fingers caressing the cold skin. "Amélie look at me." She said with an almost commanding voice.
Bright golden eyes snapped up and fixed themselves on Lena's. "I know you will not hurt me. I know it." Lena said seriously, looking her girlfriend deep in the eyes. "You said it yourself, that I'm imporant to you. I know you won't hurt me more than I can take."
"B-But..." Amélie started again, but was stopped by Lena who again made it past what little defense Widow had put up
"Hush" Lena whispered and pressed her lips softly against Amélie's. "I love you, ok? Forever."
"Why?"
"You always ask that. I don't know and I don't care either. I just do. Amélie, you and I knew that this wouldn't be easy. Things will get better with time, I promise. See where we had been a few months ago and where we're now. We can do this. Sharing your fears with me is important, you know? I just wished I had known how much you suffered because of this, we could have done something about it."
"How can you say this? How can you be this sure?"
"Because I trust you-"
"You shouldn't!" Widowmaker shrieked, trying to push Lena away once again, but to no avail this time. "It's not... you don't..." she tried to explain, but the words didn't come out anymore. Lena was too close. She was too sure of what she said and no matter how scared Amélie had been, how ashamed she was because of what she did and of what she would have to do again, it all started to fade. Maybe there was hope after all?
"Is this about your trip with Morrison?" Lena asked carefully and Widow stared at her for a moment. Then Amélie slowly nodded and Lena gave her a gentle smile. "I promised you that I wouldn't ask any questions. I trust you, ok? And that's not a mistake. I'm sure you are doing what's best."
"How do you know?" Amélie asked.
"Well, luv, so far I was pretty good at getting in there." Lena gently stroked over Amélie's head, the taller woman just let it sink onto Lena's shoulder, while holding onto her. For someone whose feelings had been reduced to zero not too long ago, Widowmaker had begun to feel quite a lot. Love. Anger. Sadness. The fear of losing Lena. Sometimes she wasn't sure what she liked better.
"It's not your fault." Lena whispered, gently stroking through Amélie's hair. "It never was."
Tracer only felt the grip on her tighten as a response and knew that she had to show her girlfriend that life was nothing to be afraid of. That it could be beautiful, fun and full of possibilities. It wasn't just darkness and pain. Not anymore.
"What do you say, we go upstairs, grab a hot, long shower, then we order some breakfast, eat and then we snuggle in bed for the rest of the day. And if you feel up for it, we can go out in the evening. I'm dying to show off my absolutely gorgeous girlfriend."
"Mhm." Amélie mumbled. "Sure you want to go out?"
"We'll see how we feel then. Let's start at the beginning, ok?"
"Shower and breakfast do sound good." Amélie mumbled, lifting her head from the crook of Lena's neck, where she had buried it before. She stared at Tracer for a moment and opened her mouth to apologize, but before the first word could leave her lips, there was a finger placed on them.
"Shh. It's ok. Come on now, let's see what we want for breakfast before we have that shower."
-/-
The pink pitcher pub, London suburbs, 2110 hours
The plan for the day had turned out the exact way Lena had intended. They had grabbed a long, hot and very emotional shower full of gentle caresses and soft reassurances. The steaming hot water washing away their tears, both old and new, and wrapped them in a liquid cocoon of warmth and safety. After a quiet and delicious English breakfast, they had spent the rest of the day cuddling in bed, not talking about much, just holding each other. Once, Amélie spoke about her fears of being left alone without Lena, with the freezing cold in her heart and no one there to thaw it. She also told Tracer that she'd be coming along for missions now, since Morrison promised that. Lena listened mostly, reassuring her lover that she didn't intend to go anywhere anytime soon.
And now they were in the Pink Pitcher. On what was their second proper date. Their first was in Gibraltar, when they were shopping for clothes.
Amélie had agreed on going out, not only because she wanted to make Lena happy, but also because she wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of living an at least somewhat normal life.
Dirk, the bartender of the Pitcher, was very pleased to see Lena with her new girlfriend, who was wearing the same dark grey outfit from the day before. She had applied a light make-up, to cover her purple skin, but despite the disguise, Amélie turned quite a few heads. Even with half a ton of powder and crèmes in her face she was still a breathtakingly beautiful woman.
"So" Dirk started, smirking as he poured Lena her second Whisky of the evening. Amélie stuck to her first glass of red wine. She was very careful with alcohol, as Mercy told her that it might have very negative effects on her modified body. She didn't want to risk anything. Lena didn't like that smile on the huge bartender's face one bit. Not even a little. "When are you going to make an honest woman out of her?"
"Dirk!" Lena hissed.
"What? Just look at her." He gestured toward Amélie with a warm smile. He had taken an immediate liking to the French lady the moment they had met. So far Amélie at least didn't seem to outright detest the man, so good progress there. "She is probably the best thing that happened in your life so far, even for your high standards, right? I'm just saying, ok? Someone so beautiful surely has a lot of suitors, right? And let's be real here, Lena, she is even out of your league, ok?"
"Dirk..." Lena repeated.
"I mean, no offense lady, but are you sure you want to be with that no good piece of work here?" he asked Amélie. "I mean, she isn't exactly a woman who has settled down or something."
"Oh, I'm quite aware." Amélie replied with a cold smile, sipping on her wine.
"Dirk!" Lena grumbled another time.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing, I just thought it would be fair to warn you that Amélie is probably going to smash your head in with the mushy end of your ripped out leg if you speak another word." She said with an easy smile on her lips, but regretted saying what she did the moment the words had left her loose mouth. It wasn't right to joke about that already, was it?
"Oh, I quite disagree" Amélie hummed, she had crossed her legs over each other, one now teasingly running up and down the side of Tracer's shin. "Actually, I have to concur with Dirk here."
Tracer's mouth fell open for a moment as she looked back and forth between the barkeeper and her girlfriend.
Is she serious? That smile...
"Ok, ok, I will definitely ask you to marry me when the time is right, ok?" Lena threw her hands up in defeat. Not because she didn't want to marry Amélie one day, but because Dirk forced her to say it now, ruining the eventual surprise.
"Oh, I actually meant the part of me being way out of your league" Amélie winked "But good to know" she said and slipped off her chair, excusing herself, saying she would need to touch up her make-up.
Dirk laughed heartily, watching the drop dead gorgeous woman Lena had somehow convinced to be her girlfriend walk away toward the ladies' rooms. Lena just let her head sink onto the counter. "I hate you, Dirk" she muttered.
"Really?"
"No."
Lena lifted her head off the counter again and started to tell Dirk a little more about Amélie, how they got to know each other and how they got together. Of course, she had to leave out a lot of details and sometimes outright lie, but she kept it simple enough to be considered a general story of how they got together. That was until someone slipped onto the bar-stool Amélie had been occupying.
"Lena?" a soft female voice asked. One that Tracer knew all too well. She turned left, praying to all the gods and their mums to listen to her and make it so this was not who she thought it was.
The bright red hair told her otherwise. The gods weren't listening. And neither were their mums.
"Emily." Lena's voice was icy at best. If she had never seen that woman again, it would have been too soon. In fact, she didn't want to see her so much, that she had forced herself to forget that Emily ever existed. Lena never considered her when she thought about her ex-girlfriends, she never considered her when she thought about the women she had slept with. To her, Emily simply never existed in the first place. She just wanted to forget that Emily had ever been a part of her life. With good reason.
"I thought I would find you here." Emily replied warmly, letting her eyes run over Lena once, taking in her outfit. The skintight black jeans she wore had some artificial holes in it and she wore a sleeveless grey top, showing a decent amount of cleavage. Simply because Amélie liked it. She also wore a small brown leather bracelet. "How have you been? You look good." Emily said, adjusting her posture on the barstool, trying to look flirty. It probably would have worked on most people. But not on Tracer.
"Mhm." Lena murmured, not gracing the redhead with a more detailed answer. Instead she reached for her whisky and took a big swig. At the back of her head a little voice, which curiously sounded an awful lot like Widowmaker, whispered that she should simply grab Emily by her neck and smash her head against the counter. Repeatedly. Really, she had the sudden urge to get rat arsed tonight, while she pondered if she would or should suddenly forget how to move off her chair, should Amélie come back and actually decide to turn Emily into red gooey pulp. She had to actually smirk a little at the thought.
Unfortunately, a certain redhead mistook that small smirk as a sign that Lena was simply playing hard to get.
She wasn't.
Emily reached out for Lena's hand, but it was quickly pulled away. Hesitating for a moment, the redhead decided to go on. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you."
"What makes you think I would want to talk to you, eh? I'd rather you'd just piss off." Lena spat and Emily looked hurt for a moment, but quickly composed herself.
"Alright, you have every right to be angry at me. What I did was wrong, and I-"
"Oh, what you did was wrong? Really now?" Sarcasm in its purest form left Lena's mouth. Some might have argued that Tracer wasn't capable of something like a snarl, but oh boy she was. "And what exactly do you mean? The part where you fed me lies about how your parents kicked you out because you're gay and how you struggled to maintain a living? Or the part where you kept asking me out on dates, not because you liked me, but only so you could get close to your target? Or the part where pretended to love me, even though you felt nothing for me? The part where you pretended to want a family with me? Vulnerable little Emily, so alone, so misunderstood. God, and I believed you, while you fed me all the bullshit I wanted to hear so badly! I even introduced you to Winston, and we celebrated Christmas together!"
Lena hissed through her teeth, the pain she had felt when all that happened had turned into anger, before it dissolved into nothing a long time ago. Right now, she was back at the 'angry' stage. Curiously, she was angrier about her ruined evening than she was about the pain Emily had caused her years ago.
She leaned forward toward Emily after taking another swig of her whisky. "Or was it maybe more the part where you finally had everything you needed and got to write that stupid article for your stupid magazine before you shot me down like I meant nothing to you? Was that it? Oh, right, of course I meant nothing to you. You had a boyfriend the entire time. I'm kinda confused what exactly you are referring to when you say you did something wrong."
Emily averted her gaze, deeply ashamed. It was all true. She had done all of that and getting it served to her like that felt anything but good. She had worked for a boulevard magazine, right after she got out of college. It was her luck that she even got the job in the first place, but Emily was absolutely set on making the most of it. She had always wanted to become a journalist, even when she was young and Emily was determined to make a name for herself. She was a career oriented woman with high ambitions. Being young and wanting to establish herself, she would have done anything to deliver a top story. So, she found out about Lena Oxton. Living in London. Being a lesbian. Emily created a persona that Tracer would find irresistible. One of the things Emily did even better than writing stories was acting. So, she acted her role around Tracer, used her charms and her knowledge about her target shamelessly, got to know Tracer, and pretended to fall in love with her. She took her sweet time, didn't rush all the small steps that lead to their relationship. She gave Tracer the feeling of being in control of it all, earned her trust and soon enough her heart. Emily slowly got to know Lena's friends, like Winston while she gathered all the material she needed.
It was all an act.
When Emily had all the material she needed was done with the research, she wrote a horrible article about the remnants of Overwatch. It went into great depth how their remaining agents were wrecks, how Lena was too stupid to realize that the days of Overwatch were long over and that it would have been a better idea to shut the organization down much, much sooner.
She ended the relationship with Lena on the same day she handed in her article. Told her she never loved her, never had feelings for her and never wanted a family. Told her she had been useful for her. At least for a while.
It broke Lena's heart and in that moment, Emily didn't care.
"All of that." Emily said carefully. "I'm sorry, Lena. I came to apologize to you. What I did was wrong and horrible and I was such an ass."
"Oh really? Took you long enough to realize that."
"I..." Emily faltered. "I want you back." She said. Lena blinked. Once. Twice. She had heard that correctly, hadn't she?
"WHAT?!" Lena shrieked.
"I'm serious about this, Lena. Really. I had a lot of time to think and I realized that I didn't lie with everything I said. I... like you ok? For real. I mean, I... I hate what I did to you. Even resigned from my job and all. Broke up with my boyfriend shortly after I left you. I... just give me another chance, please? I can make you happy if you let me."
"Oh, like you did last time? What do you want this time, Emily? Another story? Or just a new kick? Quick shag, mh?"
"I just want you back." Emily replied sadly.
Lena was about to yell the loudest I don't fucking give a shit the bar ever heard, when a third person stepped up to them. One Lena didn't mind seeing one bit.
"What is going on here?" Widowmaker asked, her sensual French accent prominent, yet the words still sharp as razors.
"Excuse me? I'm talk-" Emily was cut off by Widow, who graciously slid onto Lena's lap, wrapped her arms around her and kissed her scandalously with lots of open tongue and quite obviously just to show off.
"Seeing as you are talking to my woman, you are excused." Widow glared daggers at the redhead, who swallowed heavily, but didn't move. "Now would be a good time." Amélie hissed, nodding toward the door. There was so much edge in her voice that is was almost physically painful to hear it cut into the redhead.
"You know Emily, the nerve you have that you even considered showing up here, thinking I hadn't found someone else. If I had been forcibly married to Doomfist, I wouldn't leave him for you. I don't want to ever see you again." Lena spat.
"B-But..." Emily stuttered.
"The lady said you should go. Now. Or I will walk you out the door... and around the corner, compris, patate?" Amélie said slowly.
Emily blinked once, before she realized that the other woman was probably close to committing a very cruel, very public murder, if her facial expression was any indicator. How anybody could look so murderous without yelling was beyond her. What wasn't beyond her, was that now was a good time to slide off the bar stool and vacant the pub in a timely manner. So, Emily grabbed her small purse and quickly scurried off with her tail between her legs.
A victorious smirk played with Widow's lips while she slipped off Lena's lap and onto her own chair "who was that?" she wanted to know, reaching for her glass of wine.
"A horrible person, a liar, a cheater and someone who hurt me very much in the past." Lena sighed. "Don't worry, I completely removed her from my memory. It's all good."
"Really?" Widow inquired, noticing that her girlfriend wasn't at all comfortable.
"Yeah..." Lena sighed "I hate her but what I hate even more is the fact that she just ruined our perfectly good evening."
"It's not ruined, chérie." Widow smiled gently. "I can make sure of that, if you let me. You won't even remember your name anymore" she purred that last part with special seductiveness, winking very suggestively and smiling over her glass of wine.
Lena couldn't help but giggle a little. "You're such a horndog!"
"Made you laugh." Widow smiled, as she set the glass aside and moved her chair closer to Lena. "You want to go home and let me show you that I would never lie nor cheat nor hurt you?" she hummed into Lena's hear, letting her hand run up her lover's thigh, her finger's brushing over her gently, but firmly enough to stress a certain urgency and need. Amélie made an effort to sound teasing and flirty, but Lena didn't miss the serious overtone, the pleading look in her beautiful girlfriend's eyes. Like she really wanted to make sure that Tracer knew those things; like she was worried it could be different. Before Lena could say something, however, Widow went on. "Except the horrible person part. I can't promise that. But you decided on the bad girl. Not my fault." She said with a careless shrug and a smirk.
"Don't say that!" Lena couldn't help but laugh now.
"Oh, why not?" Widow kept her devilish smirk on her lips.
"It's not true." Lena replied, shaking her head because on the one hand it was silly and funny, but on the other hand she was perfectly serious about it, too. Then again, Widow was teasing her.
"Mhh, well." Amélie hummed as she looked at Lena with a predatory expression in her eyes. "So what do you say? Let's go home? Maybe we can still save our evening?" Amélie's expression didn't change at all, she was already undressing Lena with her eyes, which were screaming 'I want you. Now.' Lena didn't miss that at all. And she liked it.
"Let's." Lena nodded and slid off her barstool, reaching for Amélie's hand and pulling the taller woman behind her. "Put it on my tab, Dirk, thank you!" she called as they left the pub.
-/-
A/N:
Well ladies and gentleman, that's it for today. I yet again had to split the chapter in two, because 15k words are just too long for a single chapter, I think. Also, there are some small things I want to change in the other chapter, so this way I can give you all what you just read while I fine-tune the rest. I don't want to keep you waiting for too long.
The beta-reading to this chapter was done yet again by Jfb715. Thanks a lot mate! You rock!
I also wanted to say a huge thank you to all of you out there reviewing or adding favs. I really appreciate it :3 I really do, you lot probably don't have the faintest idea how much it means to me. It genuinely makes me happy.
Soooo...
"Patate, what are you doing here again?"
-Uhhmm
"You're supposed to work for that project of yours! Did you do that?"
-Amélie, listen...
"Non. You listen. This is the third professor this semester you have, because the other ones had accidents. This one will not have an accident as well, just because you were too lazy to do the project. Compris?"
-When did you become the boss in my house?
"Since you stopped taking care of yourself. Have you eaten yet?"
-ehm...
"Angela will kill you before I do, I swear..."
Well... I gotta go... see ya all in the next chapter :D I hope you enjoyed this episode of Addictions. Oh yeah, before I forget it. Someone pointed out that the problems are always solved rather fast. That's for two reasons: First, smaller problems are solved faster and personal problems are also usually solved within the course of a chapter simply because I don't want to and at this point cannot dedicate more chapters on someone's inner workings. I really want to get forward with this story with the actual plot. I really want to finish this before I'm not able to anymore.
I'll stop rambling. You'll get the next chapter before Christmas, promised. Then I will take a small vacation and time for myself.
o7
E82
Should you want to support me and the story with a donation, you can do so:
tipeee com slash e82s-fanfiction
-/-
Translations:
Formidable = (French) Great