Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Lena was not sure how she ended up dragging a half dead Talon Agent, Widowmaker to be precise, through the rubble of a bombed out building. Well sure, she knew the logistics of it. She tracked Widowmaker to the top of said building after one too many bullets whizzed past her just a hair’s breath away from splitting her skull open where they then fought up until the bomb collided with the building’s already crumbling structure and dissolved it beneath their feet. Lena managed to avoid the worst of the fall by recalling at the last second before impact then blinking her way down.

             As she stared down at Widowmaker’s shallowly breathing, twisted, purple tinged body she had a choice to make. Leave her to die or…most likely Talon would come looking for her. After all she was a huge asset, investment perhaps, Lena wasn’t sure on the specifics, but both equally made her blood boil. Or she could take Widowmaker somewhere safe so she that she could heal.

             After countless battles against the sniper and the Mondatta incident Lena thought she could harden her heart to the woman, but it was in that moment as she lay there still as the dead that Lena could really see exactly how human she still was. She could see… Amėlie shine through. And if she squinted just enough with the way the light streamed through the busted rafters and spilled onto Widowmaker…Lena could almost pretend it was Amėlie dying and not her mortal enemy.

             She tugged the taller woman onto her back and began her slow crawl out from between the destroyed building. As she ducked beneath beams careful not to hit either of their heads Lena couldn’t help to wonder exactly how she ended up in such an unprecedented situation.

             She had been on what was supposed to be a routine escort mission. Keep the cargo safe from point A to point B with her team that consisted of her, Hana, Lucio, Genji, and one of their newest members, Brigitte. It was an easy mission and gave the seasoned members of Overwatch a chance to show Brigitte the ropes so to speak.

             The mission was dull, but as Genji kept reminding the team, dull meant safe. Lena understood the younger members’ eagerness for action. She had been just like that when she first entered Overwatch and for many of the years that followed.

             Hana’s restlessness was the easiest to relate to. Angela benched her for ten weeks in order to heal from an injury sustained on her last mission. In the past Lena dealt with her fair share of injuries and always hated the recovery period when she was about as useful as a rubber chicken.

             She remembered that itchy call to action well and also knew any placating words she would give them would go in one ear and out the other, so she didn’t bother and instead stuck to the plan of her and Genji alternating positions of scouting ahead and checking their perimeter or staying with the cargo.

             About three quarters of the way through the mission was when Lena began to suspect something was up. Hana and Lucio were discussing music, arguing more like, while Brigitte watched on in playful amusement. Lena was the only one not following their conversation as she clocked Genji’s time. His perimeter check was taking far too long. She tuned into his frequency and began.

            “Genji. You there?” she asked into her comm. “Can you hear me? If so, return to the cargo immediately.”

            There was silence on the other end. Lena tried again to call him back and waited. She turned around in a circle scanning every building surrounding them paying special attention to the dark spaces between and the rooftops. She was a moment away from telling Hana and Lucio to shut it while she did a quick perimeter check herself when her comm blasted to life in a burst of static.

            “Tracer!” Genji’s voice was alert and loud. “Talon is here! Watch out!”

            She pulled her pulse pistols from their place on the small of her back and spun them to make sure their clips were full.

            “Look alive, loves. We have company.”

            Hana did not hide her eager determination at all as she gripped tight to her mech’s handles and swung around to face the front of the cargo. Lucio and Brigitte flanked her standing just off to either side of her with hardened expressions of their own. Lena faced the opposite direction and kept her eyes open as she continued to scan the empty streets.

            That was when she heard the distinct crack of a rifle she knew all too well and blinked just in time to miss a bullet to the chest. The bullet landed with a loud ding in the metal of the payload container.

            “We won’t get very far with her shooting at us. I’ll take her out. You three keep the payload safe and rendezvous with Genji.”

            “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’ll be out of range for Lucio and me,” Brigitte said.

            “Absolutely. Take care, loves!” Lena saluted the team with a flashy grin then blinked off in the direction she believed Widowmaker to be hiding.

            She dodged the bullets that rained down on her and tracked their exact position to a rundown bell tower. She caught the glint of the gun as the light hit it and in she went, blinking up to the roof in no time at all.

            She reached the top of the roof, pistols raised and honed in on the lithe figure of Widowmaker as she unfurled herself from her perch. She untucked her long legs and stood to her full height. Tracer’s pistols rose as Widowmaker did.

            “You’ll need to aim a little higher if you want my head, Chérie.”

            “I’m not like you,” Tracer hissed.

            “That much is obvious,” Widowmaker drawled.

            Widowmaker went silent, eyes narrowed momentarily, and then a sly look crossed her face. “It seems like I don’t have the time to dance with you today.” She raised her left arm, the one with the grappling hook, and Tracer lunged.

            The momentum knocked them both off the edge of the building as Widowmaker’s grappling hook did not fire until after Tracer slammed into her. The hook caught on a spire of the bell tower and Tracer latched onto her leg as it dragged them back up and over the edge.

            Widowmaker kicked towards her face and used her free arm to swing Widow’s Kiss around in its fully automatic mode. Tracer had a split second to blink away before the rain of fire hit her. She caught herself on the crumbling edge just beneath the grappling hook. Widowmaker swung the gun back around ready to fire. Tracer reached up and grabbed the hook then released her other hand and together they both dropped to the rooftop with a loud clatter.

            Neither of them wasted time getting back to their feet. Tracer knew better than to leave Widowmaker with enough distance to fire so she quickly blinked to close the distance between them. She clipped one pistol to her back and wedged the newly freed hand between both of Widowmaker’s that held her gun steady. She pushed hard and Widowmaker’s arms broke apart allowing Tracer enough time to bring her elbow down on Widowmaker’s joint and the gun dropped. Tracer kicked it away and watched it slide away from them.

            In the interim of that moment as her eyes left her opponent, stupid really, Widowmaker grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back in a bone crushing grip. She pressed close and slapped Tracer’s other hand down knocking her pistol to the opposite end of the roof.

            “You should never take your eyes off me,” Widowmaker said. “Foolish girl.”

            “And you should never underestimate me,” Tracer growled.

            She kicked back hitting Widowmaker’s knee as hard as she could. Widowmaker grunted and lowered just enough for Tracer to smash the back of her head into Widowmaker’s face. The sting of impact was nothing compared to the pain that blossomed around her arm that Widowmaker still held tight to. Tracer used the momentary lapse to swing around pulling the pistol from her back and aimed. She squeezed the trigger and the burst fire caused Widowmaker to release her unless she wanted to get shot in the chest.

            They pulled from each other and stared. Tracer watched transfixed as a nice trail of dark blood slid from Widowmaker’s nostril and over her lip.

            “I’m surprised you still bleed,” Tracer said.

            “You know nothing.”

            Tracer’s comm crackled to life again and she could hear the fighting that ensued somewhere else in the city.

            “Tracer—we’re taking heavy fire down here—could really use your help!” D.va practically growled.

            “Did you find Genji?” Tracer asked while keeping her eyes trained on the assassin in front of her. Her gaze flickered to her pistol then to Widow’s Kiss and back to Widowmaker herself.

            “He’s injured!” There was a loud explosion that hurt Tracer’s ear. “Brigitte and Lucio are doing what they can, but I think we need Mercy for this one.”

            “Sit tight, love!” Tracer said. “I’ll be right there—whoa!”

Widowmaker tossed a venom mine directly at her. It was instinctual to fire at it and when it burst in her face Tracer only had a moment to recall and avoid the spray. As soon as she reappeared the tables were turned and it was Widowmaker who threw herself at her. They scuffled on the ground as they slid down the stone. Finally Widowmaker came out on top in an uncomfortably familiar role reversal.

            “Tracer?” D.va asked. “Tracer! Are you alright?”

            Widowmaker leaned forward careful to keep her thighs caged around Tracer and her lower half pinned. She plucked the comm from Tracer’s ear with delicate fingers and laughed deep in her throat. “She’s indisposed at the moment.”

            Tracer could hear D.va’s profane shouting just before Widowmaker crushed the little device between her forefinger and thumb. She then leaned back over dropping her upper half until it pressed against Tracer’s chronal accelerator.

            “What would happen if I were to damage this, hmm?” Widowmaker said in a dangerous tone that made Tracer’s eyes widen behind her goggles. “You seemed so concerned to not have it break back with Mondatta.” Widowmaker reached down and pressed her fingers into the glowing blue center.

            “Don’t touch that!” Tracer shouted and tried to buck her off. Widowmaker smashed her legs down with a sickening crunch as armor plated kneecaps met bone. Tracer threw her head back and bit down on her lower lip to keep from wailing.

            “That won’t do,” Widowmaker said with a cluck of her tongue. “I want you to scream for me.”

            Tracer brought her head forward again and glared at Widowmaker. “At least buy me dinner first.”

            “I obviously haven’t done my job right if you can still spout your nonsense.”

            “I think you like hearing me talk, love.” Tracer’s grin was positively biting and vicious and it was reflected in Widowmaker’s scalding expression.

            “Let’s change that then, shall we?”

            Tracer suddenly realized there was an odd stirring in her stomach as Widowmaker drew close enough to have her breath fan over her face and fog the outside of her goggles. This was not good. She had to get back to her team.

            It happened so fast after that. The two barely had time to register the distinct whistle that came with a bomb being dropped from above. Widowmaker pulled back head snapping to look above them as she hissed, “Those idiots!”

            Then the impact came with a rocketing explosion. That’s how Tracer found herself where she was, with a half dead assassin on her back and a bum leg that threatened to give out at any moment. She cursed herself every time her leg wobbled and Widowmaker dipped. The dust was finally clearing enough for her to make out the distinct skeleton of the building and secure an exit route through two fallen beams that were slanted together holding each other up.

            She was a few meters away when something shiny caught her eye. She turned and peered through the gloom. Half hidden beneath cobbled stone and brick was Widow’s Kiss. She glared at the weapon that brought her so much grief. She moved several steps away determined to let the thing rust when she sighed deeply and went back for it.

            “I must be insane,” Tracer grumbled and stuffed the weapon between her arm and side. She wished she had found her second pistol and was going to go back and search for it until the beams around her exit groaned. She hustled forward bogged down by the extra weight and fell through the small gap just in time. The beams collapsed. They kicked up more dirt that coated the two of them in a thin layer of grey.

            Tracer shook herself like a dog to dislodge as much of the dust from her face and hair as possible. It went into her lungs and she ended up coughing and sputtering for a solid minute. With another hearty groan she adjusted Widowmaker and the gun and spit out a mess of blood and saliva.

            “I am sodding insane.”

            The streets around them were silent in only the way that the aftershocks of a bomb could. If anyone had been in the surrounding area before they certainly weren’t now. Tracer had no clue where to go as she looked down the deserted street they were on and without her comm she had no way of contacting her team or Winston back at the base. She wasn’t even entirely sure if there was still an old Overwatch safe house in this city.

            Back in the prime of Overwatch they had dozens of safe houses scattered across countless cities that spanned a massive amount of countries and continents. After the fall of Overwatch many of those safe houses had been raided by each countries respective governments only leaving a few of the better hidden ones intact. Athena had been unable to tell Winston which ones were lost.

            Tracer made her way in the direction of the payload drop off in hopes of encountering anyone from the team. Though she sort of hoped that the extraction team had come to get them out if anything went wrong…and boy did it go wrong. She wouldn’t fault any of them if they did indeed leave.

            She was closing in on the final blocks before the payload dropoff when she heard footsteps coming up fast from behind. She turned, shifting Widowmaker, and peered through the emptiness. Her heart dropped when she saw the telltale Talon uniforms and not her team. Quickly she ducked into an alleyway and dragged them all the way to the back and through a small crevice between two buildings. She propped Widowmaker up against one wall while she pressed against the opposing one.

            She stayed silent and didn’t dare move until all the footsteps moved on. However two stopped at the mouth of the alleyway. One voice she recognized immediately.

            “Her vitals are still coming up so she’s alive,” Moira stated coldly. “She should have been at the impact site.”

            “My team turned up nothing,” Reaper said. Tracer held her breath. It was always hard hearing that voice…she had looked up to him at one point and to see him as he was now hurt almost as much as Widowmaker did.

            “Your team lacks brain cells,” Moira huffed. “Let my team do a sweep. I guarantee they’ll find her.”

            “Watch yourself,” Reaper growled. “Send them in anyway. We have to find her.”

            “I’m on it.”

            Tracer waited until she heard the telltale signs of the two of them…fading away into that weird cloud of black before she dared peek her head out. She picked up the pace and headed towards the dropoff using as many side streets as she knew. It had been some time since her last tryst through this particular European city. Upon coming up to the point she knew in her heart that it was a long shot for her team to still be there, especially if Genji was as injured as Hana made it seem, but her chest still ached when it came up empty.

            The payload was busted, gutted open and bombed out, and she could only hope that the delivery had been successful. She wasted no time there knowing that Talon was not far behind and traveled through towards the outer ring of the city, as far as her leg would take her anyway.

            She prayed that the safe house she was headed towards was still standing. Her back and shoulders ached and her leg was nearly numb. Her head began to swim and she knew she needed to rest sooner rather than later.

            Her heart nearly sang when she came upon the building that held the safe house still intact if not a little worse for wear. It looked mostly abandoned if Tracer was being honest with herself, and she had no time to be anything except brutally honest. This may be a bust, but she had to try.

            She kicked open the door which was sealed from the inside and took a look around. The lower floor of the three story building looked the same if not dirtier and dustier.  It was a front of course. The building had been paraded as a hostel and they did bring in clientele that was not Overwatch from time to time just to keep up appearances, but mostly the top floor was reserved for them.

            Tracer unceremoniously deposited Widowmaker on a couch that had definitely seen better days and set the gun on a nearby table. She rolled her shoulders and neck until she could feel again then set to work on cataloguing what supplies were left and making sure the place was secure. After about an hour of checking the building top to bottom and boarding up any loose ends Tracer collapsed into an arm chair facing Widowmaker with a large black box that she dumped on the table between them.

            She inputted her old Overwatch pin and the box popped open revealing an assortment of medication, specially selected by Angela, rations, and technology. She doubted any of the old tech would work or match the new Overwatch frequencies, but she figured it never hurt to try.

            She pulled out what now looked like an ancient communicator and powered it on happy to find it still did that much. She fiddled with the dials on it trying to find the right frequency that could possibly reach Overwatch, but after about ten minutes of that she gave it up and dropped it back into the box. The next thing she pulled out was what she really wanted. A bottle of pills, mostly untouched, created by Angela herself to help heal most injuries and keep a solider going until they could find better care. On more than one occasion out in the field Tracer found herself using these until she could fly back to base and get checked out.

            She popped two and swallowed them dry and was about to put them away when her gaze landed on the still unconscious woman across from her. She groaned to herself and left the pills out slamming them down on the table. She pulled herself from the armchair and scooped up Widow’s Kiss where she then fiddled with that for a few minutes trying to figure out how to pop out the ammo. The pills were kicking in. She was going to fall asleep any minute now so she stashed the weapon away where she hoped Widowmaker wouldn’t find it and fell back into the armchair.

            The voice in the back of her head told her to fight the sleep and stay awake because the enemy was directly across from her, but the medicine was potent and worked best after a nap. Sure, she could fight it off and stay awake, but then it wouldn’t work nearly as well. She wanted to be ready for anything that came her way, so for that she needed to sleep.

            Besides...somewhere deep in her gut there was this gentle tug that allowed her to relax in spite of Widowmaker's presence. She couldn't make sense of why she felt this way, but she wasn't going to fight it. She had long since learned to trust her instincts and this felt like one.

Chapter Text

           Lena woke to a great clatter and was up in an instant feeling entirely too sore, but definitely more alert than she would have been if not for Angela’s miracle medicine. When she got back to base she was going to buy Angela those Swiss chocolates she loved so much as a thank you.

            Her gaze was drawn to the other side of the room as another loud bang of some container falling echoed through the otherwise silent building. Widowmaker was up and tearing through the place from behind the front counter. Her path of destruction was steep with overturned items and skewed furniture. Lena yawned and Widowmaker snapped to attention with a fury beating behind her eyes.

            “What did you do to me and where is my gun?”

            Lena stretched and listened to her bones crack. “I saved your life. And your gun is somewhere safe.”

            Widowmaker spit to the floor in front of Lena. “I doubt that. Now give me my gun before I force you.”

            Lena observed her, arm outstretched as if Lena would actually pull the gun from behind her back and place it in her waiting hand, and quickly noticed how wobbly she was on her feet. She grinned and chuckled under her breath.

            “What is so amusing?”

            “You are, love. You can barely stand and yet you’re still being so demanding. I do not envy whoever you take to bed.”

            Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed. “If you think a little dizziness will keep me from ripping the tongue from your mouth then you have another thing coming.”

            “Are you always this pleasant when you first wake up or is this all for me?”

            “I’m not playing with you, girl. Hand over my weapon.”

            Lena stood and picked up the pill bottle. In one quick motion she tossed it at Widowmaker who caught it with ease.

            “What is this?” She asked and dropped her gaze quickly to the back of the bottle where Angela’s instructions were scrawled across it. “What sort of trick is this?”

            “No trick. Though I might be crazy for even considering giving you something to make you feel better.”

            “If you think I believe you for one second…”

            “You don’t have to believe me, love. But you aren’t looking too good and those will help.”

            Widowmaker’s gaze went steely as she read and re-read the label on the bottle. In a quick motion she plucked open the top and popped two pills into her mouth. She shut the bottle and tossed it back to Lena who then deposited it back in the black box.

            “You were wrong about something,” Widowmaker said in a low tempered voice. Lena hummed to indicate she was listening. “I always look good.”

            Lena snorted. “Wow, cocky much?”

            “Don’t deny it,” Widowmaker said smugly. “I have seen the way you look at me.”

            Lena, just having opened a ration bar and stuck the top half in her mouth, choked on her own spit and beat at her chest with a fist. “I don’t think I heard that right. Are you daft?”

            “Far from it.”

            Lena narrowed her eyes and her upper lip curled into a snarl. “If there has been anyone checking anyone out it’s you!”

            “Nonsense,” Widowmaker huffed. Her tone read as mildly distressed, but her body language said otherwise as she slid her hands along the counter top in a rather…tantalizing manner.

            “You target me specifically all the time. I think you like having me in your sights.”

            “I will not deny that I do enjoy the hunt. It grows…boring to always hit my marks.” Widowmaker preoccupied herself with a splinter in her finger. “And you are so easy to rile up.”

            Lena folded her arms across her chest. “If you are done being ridiculous I propose a trade.”

            Widowmaker lifted her eyebrows as if to say ‘go on’.

            “You allow me to have your communicator and I’ll give you back your gun.”

            Widowmaker’s expression dipped into something halfway between amused and sinister as she pinned Lena down with her predatory gaze alone. “You’re stuck.”

            “And you have no weapon.”

            “That does not bother me. I bet Talon is crawling all over this city looking for me. I am in good hands. You however, are in deep trouble.”

            “I don’t know…Reaper and Moira sounded pretty mad with you,” Lena fibbed.

            Widowmaker’s face took another turn…an angrier one. It was an odd expression to see on Widowmaker’s usually quite placid face. “They’re here? Those bastards.”

            Lena leaned back with smug satisfaction. “Trouble in paradise?”

            “None that concern the likes of you.”

            “Harsh,” Lena said. “Now hand over your communicator. The sooner we part ways the better.”

            Widowmaker pulled a small device from somewhere behind her and Lena found herself absolutely boggled on where she could even hold that on such a skin tight suit. “I have one question for you, Cherie.”

            “Fire away.”

            “Be careful with your words.” Widowmaker smirked. Lena rolled her eyes at the woman. “Why did you take me with you? You could have left and been done with me.”

            Lena dreaded this and hoped Widowmaker would not ask. She did not know how to answer. She had no clue whether or not Widowmaker had any memory of her past life…her original life before Talon sunk their teeth into her. And there was absolutely no way she wanted to bring up feelings she long since buried and moved on from. There was nothing to attach her to the past and yet all it took was a glimpse of an old face and kick from her heroic heart that had her pulling the woman she loathed more often than not to safety.

            “That building was coming down. I couldn’t leave you to die,” Lena sighed gruffly. “I’m a hero, love.”

            “And I am your enemy. You should have left me there.” Widowmaker paused, expression going passive. “I would have left you if our roles had been reversed.”

            Lena didn’t miss a beat with her reply of, “I know.”

            They fell into silence and then Widowmaker handed over her communicator. Lena snatched it and immediately fiddled with the tiny device. She didn’t want it to be traceable so she paused in her ministrations to look up at Widowmaker. “I’m keeping this for now you know. I can’t have your friends in black tailing me because you’ve warned them.”

            Widowmaker shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”

            Lena fiddled a minute longer then cheered as the signal came to life. “Winston? Mercy? Anyone there? It’s Tracer!”

            Silence greeted her and her heart dropped. She was about to speak again when the other end crackled to life.

            “Lena is that you?”

            “Hey there, big fella!” Lena exclaimed. “Did the team make it back okay? How’s Genji? How did the mission go?”

            “Everyone is fine and the mission was a success despite Talon interference. Where are you? Are you safe?”

            “Yeah, I’m shacked up in one of the old safe houses for now. I could really use an extraction.”

            “We can’t get to you with Talon’s presence being so heavy in the immediate area. Can you get to the outskirts of the city by nightfall? I’ll set up a drop point and give you the coordinates now.”

            “Sure thing!”

            “Good, and Tracer?” Winston paused to let a breath escape. “Be safe.”

            Lena’s expression softened and her heart warmed. “I will. I’ll see you soon. Tracer out!”

            Lena waited a second for the coordinates to come through and they did a moment later with a little ding. She read it, memorized it, and then tucked the communicator into her jacket pocket. She crossed the room towards Widowmaker who was still stood behind the front counter. Lena propped her elbows up and placed her head in her hand.

            “You’re coming with me.”

            “Non! That was not part of the deal.”

            “Sorry, love. You heard our entire conversation and I can’t have you telling Talon about it if I let you leave now.”

            “That was your own foolishness, you idiot girl.”

            “Maybe so,” Lena grumbled because she really should have taken the call upstairs. In her eagerness she allowed herself to slip up. Rookie mistake. “You’re still coming with and we need to leave soon if I’m going to make it to this drop point in time.”

            “I refuse.” Widowmaker tilted her head up in a snooty manner.

            “I’m not giving you a choice.”

            “And what are you going to use as leverage hmm? My gun? I can take that by force.”

            “I’m going to—!” Lena cut off and listened to a creak that definitely came from outside. There was an odd shift she couldn’t quite place and judging by Widowmaker’s deathly stillness she recognized it too.

            Tracer crossed slowly towards the stairs careful to not make a sound. She dipped down towards one of the looser boards and as soon as she tugged it free a gas canister crashed through the window. Several more rained in through the walls that were burst open by gunfire.

            Widowmaker ducked behind the counter and Tracer reached down to grab Widow’s Kiss unfurling it by accident.

            “Cease fire, you imbeciles!” Widowmaker shouted.

            “Don’t think they’re listening!” Tracer called. She reached for her back and pulled out a pulse bomb then spun it out through one of the fresh gaps in the wall. She traced the arc the bomb made and used Widow’s Kiss to shoot it a moment before she lost sight of it. The resounding explosion rained brick into the room and the kickback from the gun knocked Tracer flat on her ass.

            “You idiot!” Widowmaker hissed. She raced over to Tracer, lifted her disoriented self to her feet, grabbed her gun, and pushed her towards the back.

            Tracer tried to pop back up and was pushed back down just as quickly as more gunfire sprayed into the room and blasted apart the wooden steps just above their heads.

            “Don’t shoot blindly,” Reaper’s guttural voice said. Tracer could just see the telltale black smoke sweeping through one of the holes in the wall as Widowmaker dragged them through a door in the back. “Do you damn jobs and get in there!”

            Tracer got her bearings and led them through a kitchen to another back door that was meant for storage. She and Widowmaker made quick work of piling up heavy items to barricade the door and not a second later did they finish could they hear banging on the other side. Tracer raced forward and burst through a sealed back door only to come face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

            She paled. Another goddamn rookie mistake.

            “Got you.” Reaper’s bone white mask shone behind the barrel like a dark omen.

            She had not a single moment to warn Widowmaker before she recalled. She saw the spray of blood and bits of bone one millisecond before the recall took her and she zipped backwards. She came to with a loud bang followed by a raging headache and a thick stream of blood gliding down her nostril.

            “Shit,” she whispered.

            “What just happened?” Widowmaker asked as she watched Tracer grip her head. “Why are you bleeding?”

            “I think I just died,” Tracer bitterly laughed.

            “Excusez-moi?!”

            “No time to explain!” Bile rose up her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth in preparation. “Aim for that door and shoot.”

            Widowmaker unfurled her gun without question and let off two shots in swift succession. Tracer wasted no time in kicking the door open and was pleased to find no Reaper. His wraith form hovered a few feet to the side and in his place was a single talon agent splayed out on the ground with blood flowing from his chest.

            “There you are,” Reaper said. He shifted back to his physical form guns raised.

            Tracer popped off another pulse bomb and flung it at him. He tried to move out of the way, but the bomb stuck to the side of his calf. He shifted back to wraith form as it exploded. Tracer refused to wait to discover if the pulse bomb did any damage to him in that form. She skidded down the back alley loading dock between the two storefronts trying to keep her vision clear as it flitted in and out of focus.

            “Go after her!” Reaper bellowed. “And tranquilize her!” He pointed at Widowmaker.

            “What?” Widowmaker stood perplexed, as if the mere idea of being tranquilized was beneath her.

            Tracer turned in time to see a hazy figure appear at Widowmaker’s six. “Behind you!”

            Widowmaker turned a moment too late. Moira appeared and jabbed a syringe straight into Widowmaker’s neck. She growled as the plunger was pushed in. Moira released a little over half of the unknown substance before Widowmaker backhanded her. In the midst of her turn she shot out her grappling hook which latched on to an opposing building’s rooftop.

            “Oi!” Lena shouted as she blinked after Widowmaker’s retreating figure.

            “Get back here Widowmaker!” Reaper called. Moira stood up next to him clutching the side of her bruising face. “We simply want to reset you!”

            “Reset me?” Widowmaker snapped as she landed on the roof of a building opposite the Talon agents. “I have not been reset in years!”

            “And you have need of it now more than ever. You can’t hide it from us.”

             Widowmaker was about to fire off another retort when suddenly she pitched forward. Tracer burst through the door to the roof and with a surprised noise leaving her throat she blinked just in time to pull Widowmaker by the arm back to safety.

            “Merde,” she hissed. “That scientist is going to get a bullet in the back if she ever tries that again.”

            “Heh—I don’t doubt that, but we can’t stay here.” A jolt of pain ran through Tracer’s body starting at her head and stretched all the way down through her toes. She nearly dropped Widowmaker in the tremors.

            “What is happening to you?” Widowmaker asked none too kindly.

            “I told you already,” Tracer griped with arms wrapped tight around her trembling frame. She managed to drag them forward another couple of steps and out of the line of fire of Talon. “I died.”

            “Impossible.”

            “Not for someone like me. If I recall quick enough I can…cheat death so to speak.” Tracer had no idea why she was telling her this. That was knowledge that even Overwatch had not been privy to. Winston and Angela kept it under lock and key as they did not want anyone abusing this part of her recall.

            “How often have you done this?” Widowmaker asked and slung an arm around Tracer to keep her upright as another set of tremors threatened to knock her off her feet.

            “I don’t make a habit of it.” Tracer stumbled to the other edge of the roof. “Think you can get us a few buildings over?”

            Widowmaker nodded and out shot her grappling hook again. She tugged Lena in close by the torso and swung them several buildings over before Lena told her to stop. They dropped into the building, rushed down the stairs, and then ducked into an alley.

            “We have to take Talon further into the city,” Tracer said through labored breath. “We need to do it quick.”

            “I’m not understanding,” Widowmaker said. “You have to get out of the city.”

            “Talon will fan out until they know where we are. We lure them then loop them.”

            Widowmaker shook her head seemingly dazed for a moment. “I do not think that is smart. You have to be out of the city by night fall. Staying anywhere in the city will only prolong this.”

            Tracer collapsed quite suddenly on all fours with a high pitched cry. Her head felt as if it were expanding and contracting in time with her racing heartbeat and she knew what was coming next would only be worse. Her left arm went first, turning hazy and blue, similar to the streak left behind after a blink. She fell over and collapsed hard on her side as her arm tried to piece itself back into their reality.

            Widowmaker dropped to her knees with her hands hovering uncertainly over Tracer’s pulsing body. “What is this?”

            “Aftershocks.” Tracer’s voice was gravelly, almost like static off an old television.

            Blue ripples ran over her body fraying her edges as if she were unravelling in small increments. She pushed herself up with her right arm head hung low as more tremors shook through her.

            Widowmaker could hear footsteps as they closed in on their location. She looked around to form some sort of plan, but seeing as they were in a dingy alleyway with no cover she figured their odds were incredibly low if they stayed put.

            “We can’t stay here. Talon is coming.”

            “Give me a second.” Tracer’s voice was grating as it sounded like several versions of her fighting to be heard over the other. She pushed herself to her feet and shook out her limbs. Another ripple of blue light pulsed through her and she caved inward with her arms wrapped around her core. “Shit. This is a bad one.”

            The footsteps drew closer. Widowmaker looked above them at the top of the building. She could get them up there, but by now she was certain Talon would have other snipers prepped to scan the rooftops. There was a door towards the back of the alley leading into the building she could probably kick open. It did not look all that sturdy to begin with and was only reinforced by a single lock. Or she could take them into the woods that crept up along the outer rim of the town. She could make out the tree line and estimated it was only a couple hundred yards from their current position.  

            Tracer began muttering incoherent words and snatches of phrases that meant nothing to Widowmaker until she caught on to “slipstream.” There were files on all of the Overwatch agents, old and new, and Widowmaker knew of the slipstream incident. This must be an after effect and now as another ripple tore through her Tracer began speaking in quicker succession; something about not leaving her to fade back through time.

            Tracer looked up quite suddenly and grinned at Widowmaker though it looked entirely too unnerving with the dried blood from her nose and the pain riddled body language. “Amelie!”

            Widowmaker felt like she had been sucker punched. That name…

            The footsteps were bearing down on them, so Widowmaker made an executive decision. She grasped tight to Tracer’s arm and pulled her down the alley. She made a beeline for the door and as she suspected it caved under the force of her kick and splintered apart.

            “Whoa, that was not nice,” Tracer said voice still full of overlapping tones. “Why are you acting so different?”

            This time Widowmaker felt the ripple that took Tracer under. It was like an electric shock zipped through her arm where they were connected. She decided not to look behind them and continued to run. She led them through a bakery and out the front door where she then sprinted across the street to head deeper into the city as Tracer wanted.

            “Fuck, my head hurts,” Tracer groaned. “Why are we running?”

            Widowmaker chanced a glance back and saw that Tracer seemed to be getting her bearings back. “We are running from Talon,” she supplied.

            Tracer’s laugh was immediately followed by a groan as her body trembled. “Oh, don’t make me laugh,” she muttered. “Wait…my voice.” Tracer’s voice was still a mixed concoction although it came out far less grating as if some of the voices retreated back to wherever they came from.

            “Not this again,” she grunted. She felt the tremor shoot down her left side seconds before it was taken over by the aftershocks. She sagged as the entirety of her left side from the hip down edged out and went blue.

            Widowmaker yelped indignantly at the weight shift. Her legs nearly buckled as Tracer went down. “This is absurd!” A string of French curses Tracer could not wrap her head around spilled from Widowmaker’s mouth. “How are we to get out of here if you can barely move?”

            Tracer’s head was still extremely fuzzy and whenever she looked at Widowmaker she felt her memories of the woman bleed together. One second it was the purple skinned assassin the next it was the fair skinned ballet dancer stood in front of her.

            And when she was not looking at Widowmaker the memories of her past resurfaced. Her time spent in the slipstream burst behind her eyes. In intervals her vision of the sleepy European town would give way to the nothingness she once experienced. Her heart clenched. She never wanted to go back.

            “Pull me up,” she ordered. Widowmaker glared at her, but did as she was told. Tracer shook out her leg as best she could and soon it flickered back into place. “Time is blurring for me right now. That was a nasty hit I took back there, so this could last for a few more minutes or an hour. I don’t know.”

            “You are not making a great case for yourself.”

            “I just need your help a little longer alright? I’m lucid enough to pull myself back into this time stream if I start slipping.”

            “What does any of that even mean?”

            “I’ll explain later—keep headed this way. The next street over should lead directly to the center of town.”

            “I still think this is foolish.” Despite her bitterness she still hefted Tracer back onto her feet.

            “For someone who works for Talon you sure don’t seem to understand how they work very well.”

            Widowmaker’s glare was partnered with a vicious snarl. “If you have the capacity to be a brat then you can walk on your own.”

            “Not a problem—.” Another pulse went through her. She pulled back her goggles to rub at her eyes. “How the hell are you not tripping over yourself yet?”

            “It is a byproduct of my conditioning.” She peered down at Tracer with an unreadable expression. “However I am lightheaded.”

            Tracer finally stood up straight. She rolled her shoulders back then fixed Widowmaker with a lopsided grin. Her voice was nearly back to normal as she asked, “You good to fuck with Talon a bit?”

            Widowmaker’s lips pulled up into a sly smirk. “After what they tried to do to me I am not opposed in the slightest.”

            “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

            “You ready for this, love?” Tracer asked.

            Widowmaker looked her over with a critical eye. “Are you sure you are ready? The… disintegration through time seems to still be affecting you.”

            Her shrug was interrupted as another jolt went through her. Through gritted teeth she grinned victoriously at Widowmaker after the tremors passed. “I’m fine.”

            Widowmaker peered at her dubiously. “I am not confident in this plan.”

            “If you—and I can’t believe I’m about to say this—cover me properly this will go off without a hitch.”

            “I will do my job,” Widowmaker replied coldly.

            “Make sure that you do.” Tracer jolted once more and rolled her shoulder as if popping it back into place when in reality she was pushing her fuzzy edges back together. She gasped lightly and took in a shuddering breath. “Ready?”

            “Oui,” Widowmaker announced. She stood to her full height and pulled Widow’s Kiss from her back.

            Tracer stood from her crouch and pulled her lone pistol into her grip. She stared at her hands lamenting the loss of her second pistol.

            “Why do you suddenly look despondent? Do not tell me you are having second thoughts,” Widowmaker hissed.

            “Absolutely not. I have to get out of here.” Tracer glared over at Widowmaker. “I’m a little bummed I lost my pistol saving your sorry arse.”

            “I did not ask you to save me.”

            “Not this again,” Tracer groaned. Another jolt through her free arm left her gasping, sucking in a deep breath, as her fingers zipped in and out of existence for a couple of moments. “Let’s move or else it will be too late.”

            They moved together surprisingly well. Widowmaker’s steps are nearly as light as her own which impressed her what with Widowmaker’s heels and all. Tracer couldn’t help the glances she shot in Widowmaker’s direction every so often as they delved deeper into the heart of the city. They moved in sync checking around corners and covering one another whenever they moved out into the open. It was such a strange, surreal feeling that left an odd weight in Tracer’s chest. She tried to tell herself that it’s left over drag from her episode.

            The sun was going to set shortly and Tracer knew they were running out of time for this plan to work. She marked the sun’s position and guessed that she had approximately three hours to get this plan to work if she wanted to get out in time.

            Tracer pressed herself into the deteriorating brick of a building that flanked the alley she was currently hiding in that opened up into the main city plaza. She could already see Talon crawling around the plaza as if they had guessed her game, or they simply weren’t as dumb as she thought.

            With a sideways glance up at Widowmaker, who was perched on the roof of the same building with Widow’s Kiss already in position, she hoped to receive some sort of confirmation from the woman that she was ready; though she supposed the sharp focus her unfortunate comrade displayed was good enough.

            A lopsided grin to calm her nerves and one blink later allowed Tracer to end up in the middle of a little circle of three Talon agents who seemed surprised to see her.

            “Hi, boys. Betcha weren’t expecting me.”

            Before they even had a chance to lift their guns the person directly in front of her fell back as a bullet split between his eyes. The spray of blood splattered across her goggles and a couple of flecks landed on her lips to which she quickly wiped across the back of her arm.

            Tracer brought her gun against the chest of the one to her left and squeezed the trigger just as the one to her right fell moments after the crack of a rifle echoed through the plaza. Chaos erupted after that.

            Tracer dipped beneath a spray of gunfire that came from two separate directions and rolled out of the way. Halfway through her roll a ripple ran through her midsection. Clutching her side, or what was left of it as the rest fell through time, she pushed off the ground and ran gun blazing. She threw herself into the back of a Talon agent and much like pushing a shoulder back into a socket she felt her body slam back inside of her.

            With a cheerful yip she rolled over top the agent bringing her arms around his neck then throwing him to the ground with a harsh snap. She blinked forward throwing herself into the chest of another agent whose head shattered mid throw. Tracer yelped and darted backwards. With a pointed glare up at Widowmaker’s position and a colorful choice of words she continued to wreak havoc with the assassin.

            A warning shot rang out as a bullet lodged itself next to her foot. Tracer looked up and noticed with glee that her plan had worked, partly anyway. Reaper and Moira were stalking across the plaza headed directly for her. Moira already had her right arm extended and the purple excretion slid towards her like a snake before being pulled taut as it closed it on her.

            Tracer blinked out of reach. “You’ll have to try harder than that to catch me,” she teased. Without waiting for a response she pivoted and took off down the street astride Widowmaker’s perch.

            Looping through the side streets was harder than she thought. Her legs felt fuzzy though they stayed intact much to her satisfaction. Reaper’s steadfast strides were a constant thunk in the back of her skull that she couldn’t shake. He was a stalking predator unbothered by his squirming prey. It was that cockiness that would be his downfall. She was no mouse.

            Moira however was slippery. Whenever Tracer thought she lost her in the maze of cobblestone and brick she would hear the odd suction behind her and she would feel the iciness of the biotic grasp that slid off Moira’s hand and know that Moira was hot on her heels. Tracer would have to blink ahead or around a corner just to escape the feeling of plunging into the icy depths that she had come to associate with the scientist.

            The sound of shoes hitting the ground next to her startled Tracer so much that she blinked into a trash can toppling over it.

            “Overwatch is truly in trouble if you are one of their best agents,” came Widowmaker’s slick voice.

            “Shut up.” Tracer lifted herself kicking off some type of browned fruit from her shoe and continued onward. “I can’t lose Moira.”

            Widowmaker’s gaze lifted. “We go up.”

            Tracer rounded a corner to a dead end and backtracked only to find Moira and Reaper at the far end. She blinked away.

            “Are you crazy? We’ll be spotted.”

            “I took out all of Talon’s snipers.”

            “We’re still too exposed up top.”

            “It will put distance between them and us.” Widowmaker reached an arm across Tracer to stop her then gripped her middle tight. She shot out her grappling hook and they lifted to the nearby rooftop. “Stay down and stay still.”

            The two slid down so that their backs were on the roof and they were staring at the sky. Tracer listened intently for Moira’s hurried steps followed by Reaper’s long strides.

            The strange sensation of being pressed up against a cold body sent unpleasant thoughts racing through Tracer’s mind and she had to remind herself that it was not a dead body next to her. The footsteps came back and stopped beneath them. Almost imperceptibly so Widowmaker’s fingers tightened against Tracer’s thigh. They both sucked in a deep, silent breath and exhaled in unison. Tracer didn’t want to think about how odd all of this was nor the weird feeling that made her guts squirm.

            Even after Talon passed Tracer found her gaze drawn to the arc the sun made in the sky. She was running out of time. It wasn’t until Widowmaker’s grip left her thigh to shake her shoulder that she realized it worked. The air around them was still and quiet. They escaped. If she bemoaned the loss of contact between them she sure was not going to give herself any time to ponder it.

            Tracer wasted no time in pressing onward. Swiftly they darted across rooftops and through buildings until they reached the city limits. They burst through the tree line and Tracer checked her repurposed communicator to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

            They’re close. So close Tracer can taste it. It is then that Tracer’s ears picked up only one set of footsteps; hers.

            She whipped around to find Widowmaker standing still, gaze fixed on the distant city.

            “Come on. What are you standing there for?” Tracer snapped. This was not the time nor the place to stop.

            “I don’t know…what I am doing here,” And for the first time when Tracer looked at Widowmaker she saw a woman lost and uncertain. Something in her gut clenched because even as Amelie, Tracer never once saw doubt creep across her stunning features.

            “You’re escaping,” Tracer started then after a beat she added, “With me.”

            For a moment she could see it, hope, in those once dead eyes and then like a blown out flame it’s gone.

            Widowmaker hardened her expression. “And go where? Overwatch will not welcome me and Talon will search until they find and put a bullet in me.”

            “I’ll speak to Winston and the others. I can’t promise that they’ll welcome you, but you can come with me. Get away from Talon. We have to hurry though.”

            Widowmaker didn’t look convinced in the slightest; however she stalked forward like the lithe predator Talon transformed her into. When she brushes past Tracer can’t help it as her fingers extend towards the other woman.

            Together they press forward. They only have about half a mile left. Tracer could easily blink through that distance in a matter of moments, but now her brain is whirring with what to tell the others. How could she possibly explain this situation? Who in their right mind would trust Widowmaker on or off an Overwatch base?

            She glanced over her shoulder ready to say something, anything, to the woman when familiar smoke appeared through the trees just over her shoulder.

            “Get down!”

            Tracer blinked past Widowmaker throwing herself directly into Reaper’s chest as he rematerialized. The force was enough to throw them both backwards and Reaper landed hard against a tree. Sudden iciness washed over her right side and she blinked away out of reach of Moira. Through the trees filed out as many Talon agents as there were in the city.

            “It’s an ambush—,” Tracer’s voice faltered. “How?”

            Reaper brought a hand up to rub his jaw beneath the mask. “Was it not obvious?” He gestured towards her midsection. It took her a second longer than she would have liked to realize he was drawing attention to Widowmaker’s communicator clipped to the bottom of her jacket.

            Tracer spun around in wide eyed fury and indignation. “You played me!”

            Widowmaker felt as much guilt as her failing conditioning allowed. “Non! I had no idea.” She turned her slit eyed gaze on Reaper. “You bugged my communicator. How long?”

            “I can’t believe I fell for that,” Tracer bit out. A Talon agent tried to sneak up behind her and with one swift jab to their throat Tracer had them down. Her fists clenched in a white knuckled grip as she berated herself mentally.

            Reaper ignored Widowmaker’s comment and reached into the flaps of his long coat. “This is perfect. Two birds—one stone.” He pulled out his guns and all hell broke loose.

            Tracer did everything she could to evade the Talon agents that swarmed her all while keeping as far from Widowmaker as possible. Her cheeks were warm with shame at her own stupidity. And it didn’t matter if Widowmaker looked remorseful, or as remorseful as she could look, whenever their eyes met across the battlefield because she was through playing these games with Talon.

            Somehow the two women ended up in the center of the swarm, back to back thanks to Moira and Reaper leading the charge on either side.

            “Any bright ideas?” Widowmaker asked. She mentally catalogued her remaining ammo, too small of an amount to do any real damage to Talon’s numbers, and with only two venom mines left she was running on fumes.

            “Like I’d share them with you,” Tracer spat.

            “I wasn’t lying when I said I had no idea they bugged my communicator,” Widowmaker replied venomously. “And right now our best bet of getting out of here alive is with each other’s help.”

            Tracer bit down hard on her bottom lip. Anger and blood rushed to the surface. She sucked her teeth knowing Widowmaker was right.

            “Ladies, what are you muttering over there?” Moira asked in a falsely gleeful tone. “Care to share with the class?”

            “Nah, we’re good,” Tracer shot back.

            “Then I guess this game of cat and mouse is over.”

            Tracer was going to snap back something resentful when suddenly she was being shoved, hard. She fell to one knee, wide eyed gaze turned to Widowmkaer who took a hit to the back of the head.

            She crumbled like a slinky folding in on itself. Blood leeched from the wound in the back of her head soaking into the dirt beneath her face. If not for the rise and fall of her chest Tracer would have assumed the worst.

            Suddenly there was a shotgun cocked in her face. She glanced around it wishing her brain would formulate some sort of plan. She could blink away, sure, she still had energy for that, but then her eyes dragged across the woman bleeding out next to her. She cursed herself. Why couldn’t she just bloody leave?

            “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Reaper told her. He lowered the gun from her face, dragging the muzzle against the skin of her cheek and down her neck until it landed on her chronal accelerator with a tink.

            “Look buddy, I’m not planning on dying tonight, and I sure as hell ain’t planning on being a prisoner in some dingy Talon cell.”

            Reaper’s chuckle was as deep as it was unsettling. “Who said anything about you being a prisoner?”

            Tracer’s eyes widened, perceptively behind her goggles. She knew it was a dumb idea to recall when she had been stationary for so long, but she had no choice.

            The gunshot resonated with such a vicious echo that rattled her ears and her brain. The clang from her attempted recall whirred then exploded like a backfired car’s exhaust. Everything fell into a haze as wind rushed past her. Vaguely she was aware of someone calling her name, but it sounded far away as if she were deep under water.

            The pain flared; shooting down every nerve ending, and encompassing every fiber of her being. Her entire body glitched, splicing itself into pieces as multiple timelines fought for space. Her brain simultaneously felt like liquid dripping out her bloody nose and like it was a sponge so far expanded that it would crack her skull from the inside.

She began to lose sight of herself. Mind melding, Winston called it. She could hear her own voices scraping against the sides of her brain followed by a sharp pain. She cried out and for the second time that day she felt herself die.

Chapter Text

            Being pulled back into the slipstream, even partially, felt like a dream. Or perhaps nightmare would be a better term. It always left her unnerved that the slipstream seemed to want her back, if a non-sentient thing could want such a thing, or even want at all. She’d wake in a cold sweat after a bad episode as her own lingering voices became nothing more than whispers in the back of her mind.

            This was similar, only louder. Her current voice was fighting to be heard over the countless others. She couldn’t think like this. And was that Winston jumping overhead? It would explain why she felt herself shake violently upon his impact. Someone called her name, she thought, it was hard to tell.

            Her voices, past, present, and future meshed together with the tumultuous commotion happening around her. She found snatches of conversations, trepidation, laughter, distress, all wound into one pulsing voice in her head. Her own voice, panicked, called out for help as her plane was swallowed by the slipstream. Her heartrate picked up exponentially. No. There was no way this was real. A memory. That’s all it was. She was grounded. She had Winston to thank for that. But then why did she still feel displaced?

            Another voice called out to her friends in Overwatch, another shadow she hoped. Not reality. Not her current reality anyway. Aw hell, her head hurt trying to parse through what was current and what was not. And was someone dragging her? Yes, she was definitely being moved away from the fighting.

            Then a gentle voice pulled the rest aside.

            “Lena, you must stay awake.”

            Was that her own voice? It had to be. She only ever heard herself. Why did it sound so different though? Not squeaky like her younger apparitions, or even plucky like her current voice, but mature as if she were hardened by experiences she had yet to encounter.

            “They’re going to hurt her if you don’t do something. Trust me.”

            A warning? For who? Who was going to be hurt? She could barely understand what she was seeing in the snatches her eyes were open.

            “Lena you won’t like what happens next. You have to do something.”

            How? She still felt unhinged.

            “Get up!”

            Her eyes flew open with a clarity they did not have moments before. Her gaze landed on Widowmaker, pinned face down with the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of her head. She snarled something at whoever was above her.

            Tracer blinked out of the arms of whoever was holding her and heard a faint shocked yell of her call sign. One more blink and she could make it, she would.

            Widowmaker caught her eye as she zipped forward and Tracer noticed shock there followed by hope. Tracer slammed into the side of whoever held the gun and they tumbled to the ground. They lifted almost immediately so she brought her foot down hard against their head. The body rolled over unmoving. A cheer rose in her head.

            She reached out for Widowmaker, but her arm felt fuzzy. Widowmaker peered at her with understanding. She reared up and grabbed Tracer by the middle. Her left arm extended as her grappling hook shot out and together they sped forward.

            Tracer fell into another body and the impact seemed to jolt her body back into place. Arms rose around her protectively as her vision began to go dark around the corners. She peered up and found the golden halo framing Mercy’s head comforting in more ways than one. Though the expression she wore as she stared down Widowmaker was far from reassuring.

            “What do you think you’re doing?”

            Widowmaker straightened her back. “Making sure she gets to safety.”

            “Go before I do something we’ll both regret.”

            Tracer perked up at the unfamiliarity in Mercy’s tone and pushed out of her arms. She pitched forward and stumbled into Widowmaker’s back. “Let her come with us,” she said. “I’m about to black out so don’t you dare leave her behind.”

            The muscles in her back tensed as she gazed out into the field where the fighting continued between Overwatch and Talon. Then her neck craned minutely, enough for her to look down at Tracer.

            “I’m not welcome and for good reason.”

            “I don’t care!”

          Tracer could hear the static hit her vocal chords and knew she was on borrowed time as the darkness crept steadily inward. She was fraying at the edges again, unraveling like yarn, and Widowmaker reached out. The cold grip of her fingers bit into Tracer’s shoulder grounding her enough to finish what she had to say.

          “She comes with us. Don’t hurt her.”

          Much like before she fell into the void fearing it was the slipstream taking her back. The last thing she could feel was the prick of Widowmaker’s fingers as her other hand came to hold her. It was her presence that kept Tracer from panicking as she dipped into the abyss.

          Lena woke to an electric feel and a gasp so sharp it hurt. She sat up, heart pounding, ears ringing, and she leaned over to the side and released whatever was in her stomach. She swiped the back of her arm across her mouth after she finished and noticed she was back at headquarters, in the infirmary no less.

            Lena was spent. She wished she was in her room. Everything in her pleaded with her to go back to sleep. Instead she swung her legs over the side of the bed and tested her muscles. Solid. Nothing felt out of place or fuzzy. Her mind and body were her own again. She gave herself a few minutes to breathe and was pleased to not face a single tremor.

            She grabbed the IV by her side and began to walk to the door. As much as she wanted to be rid of it she knew better than to take the IV out without Angela’s consent or face her wrath. She was just about to open the door when it slid open for her with Angela stood on the other side clipboard in hand.

            She didn’t seem surprised at all to find Lena standing, just disappointed. “You’re supposed to be in bed,” she sighed.

            “You should know by now that you can’t keep me still for long,” Lena said with a tired grin.

            Angela watched her with an analytical gaze. “And you should know better than to discharge yourself from my care.”

            Lena let out a faux gasp of shock and gestured to the IV stood diligently at her side. “I have been good!”

            Angela seemed entirely unimpressed. Her hand came to rest on Lena’s shoulder, warm, unlike the hands from before, and pushed her back to the bed.

            “Let’s get this checkup done because I know you will not stay here no matter what I say.”

            “You know me so well,” Lena replied with a cheeky, much more enthusiastic grin.

            Angela’s expression hardened for just a moment, but it was enough to send warning bells alight in Lena’s head. “I thought I did anyway.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Angela took out her stethoscope and placed it on Lena’s back. “Breathe for me.” There was a moment of silence as she listened before pulling the stethoscope out her ears and jotting something down on a pad. “What were you thinking asking us to bring Widowmaker with us? You put all of us in a precarious position.”

            It was if cold water crashed into her. Lena’s jaw dropped as the two women stared at each other and then Lena was pushing to her feet. “Where is she? You didn’t leave her there did you?”

            “Why are you acting like this Lena? I thought…you put all of that behind you.”

            Lena grimaced, suddenly quite angry at the accusation in Angela’s voice. “Something happened out there and I—couldn’t leave her to die.”

            “She’s not the woman you once knew.”

            “I am well aware of that!” This time Lena did not care at all as she slid the needle out of her arm and stood. “Where is she? The least you can do is tell me that much.”

            For a moment Lena feared Angela would not tell her. She was about to resort to asking Athena when Angela sighed.

            “Holding cell C. I must warn you that there are some who are…angry with this entire situation.”

            “I’ll deal with the backlash. I knew what I was getting into with this.”

            Lena left Angela in the infirmary and quickly made her way to her room. She wanted a shower and a change of clothes before she dealt with the mess she undoubtedly made for herself. She was grateful that no one ran into her on her way to her room or on her way towards Holding cell C after she refreshed herself.

            Opening the sliding door she first noticed Morrison standing with his back to her as he faced the holding cell. She then noticed Widowmaker standing across from him, behind the partition, mirroring his body language.

            “Nice of you to finally join us, Oxton,” he said without turning around to see if it was really her.

            “Morrison,” she said in way of greeting. “What’s going on here? And why is she chained to the floor?” Lena asked, aghast, as she padded close to the partition and was able to see the thick chain latched around Widowmaker’s ankle.

            “She is a criminal and an enemy to Overwatch.”

            “Take that off her. What do you think she’s going to do?”

            “She is a trained assassin—,”

            “And you think chaining her when she is already deep inside a fortified base crawling with Overwatch agents isn’t overkill?”

            “We can’t take that chance.”

            “For fucks sake,” Lena muttered. “Let me in to talk to her.”

            Morrison finally looked at her and she no longer felt the need to bend to his will or direction as she did when she first joined Overwatch. If anything she felt more defiant than ever.

            “You can talk to her just fine from here.”

            “Bloody hell. She had multiple opportunities to kill me already if that’s what you’re worried about. And she didn’t. So, I’m going in to talk to her.”

            Lena was about to palm open the door to her cell when the door behind them slid open. Fareeha stormed in, fists clenched tight at her sides and jaw set in a hardened line.

            “It’s true. She is here,” she breathed. Her fire tinged gaze landed on Lena. “Is it true you’re the one who brought her here?”

            Lena squared her shoulders, not liking the look in Fareeha’s eyes. “I am.”

            “Then I thank you and ask you to get out of my way.”

            Lena’s gaze narrowed. “Why?”

            “Because I’m going to beat her into an unrecognizable mess for what she did to my mother.”

            Lena immediately took up a spot in front of the door.

            Fareeha laughed unkindly. “Move, Lena. My fight is not with you.”

            “I will not let you hurt her.”

            The shock was palpable. “Why are you defending her? You of all people should get how I’m feeling. She has robbed you as well.”

            Lena paced forward until she was square with Fareeha’s chest. “Back off, mate.”

            Fareeha looked like she was about to say something else when Morrison suddenly cleared his throat.

            “Let’s leave Oxton to interrogate Widowmaker.”

            Fareeha’s eyes narrowed. “Interrogate? Is that right?”

            “Sure is,” Lena snapped right back.

            Morrison left the room with Fareeha still simmering, but diligently following. When the door closed behind them Lena asked Athena to lock it for her. She released a large breathe to calm the nerves. She was prepared for anger, but not like that, not from Fareeha of all people; though she suspected it wasn’t without warrant.

            She turned her sights to Widowmaker and palmed open the door to her cell. The woman turned away from the large window.

            “That was foolish, chérie. If you continue to act like that you will isolate yourself from your comrades.”

            “It will take a lot more than an argument for that to happen. How you holding up, love?”

            Widowmaker watched her much like a predator planning its next move and Lena would be lying if she said it did not unnerve her to be stared at in such a way.

            “I am not dead yet.”

            Lena pushed closer, heart aching at the words. “Hey, no one is going to kill you here.”

            “I think the Amari girl would gladly do it.”

            “I won’t let her.” She grew closer and still Widowmaker did not react. Lena longed to reach out and touch her, or for Widowmaker to come to her like she had before.

            “You should,” Widowmaker said, gaze as steely as her tone. “I deserve as much.”

            Lena chewed the inside of her cheek. “I can’t deny that you’ve done some fucked up things, but that was Talon, not you.”

            Something akin to anger, or maybe paranoia flashed behind Widowmaker’s eyes for a single moment

            “This is who I am.”

            “Well yeah, now it is, but it wasn’t always—,”

            “I am exactly what I am. Make no mistake.”

            “This doesn’t have to be who you are. I know you’re changing, breaking free of Talon’s conditioning. You can be more than a killer.”

            “No. I cannot.”

            “Don’t be so stubborn—,” she reached towards Widowmaker who tracked the movement like a hawk.

            “You have a lot of nerve to talk down to me like I am some subservient, unaware, machine. I am in full control of my actions just as you are.”

            Lena’s hand hovered in the space between them.

            “You are just as despicable and perhaps even more so as you are selfish.”

            Lena’s hand fell entirely. “What are you talking about?”

            “You could have saved Mondatta, but instead you chose to save yourself.”

            That name rang through her like one of her tremors. She could recall that night so clearly; including the absolute soul crushing weight that ripped through her as if Widowmaker’s bullet had gone through her instead of the monk.

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena whispered as a cold fury swept inside her same as it did that fateful night.

            “I’ve seen you cheat death firsthand, chérie,” she spat. “You’re no better than me.”

            A blind rage overtook her, clouding her rational thought, and filling her with the same instinct it had when she tackled Widowmaker on top of that roof. As if history was repeating itself Lena threw herself into Widowmaker with a loud, angry cry.

Chapter Text

Widowmaker’s back smashed into the opposing wall with a satisfying crack. Lena curled back her fist and knocked it into Widowmaker’s jaw a moment later. She reared back for another strike, but her fist was caught in an icy grip.

Widowmaker twisted Lena’s arm before she could retaliate. The rest of her body turned with her arm to keep it from breaking. In the interim as Lena tried to pull free Widowmaker brought her knee up into Lena’s stomach and pushed her back.

“Is your solution to beat me? You know my pain tolerance is heightened due to my conditioning.”

Lena blinked forward. Knowing Widowmaker was expecting a direct attack to her center mid blink Lena swung her leg out and as her blink finished her foot connected with the side of Widowmaker’s neck. She was sent into the floor with a dizzying crash. Lena jumped on top of her to pin her to the floor. Her fingers wrapped around Widowmaker’s neck where she applied enough pressure to keep the woman pinned.

“Isn’t this what you want?”

Widowmaker’s response was to bring her thighs up to lock around Lena and throw her down. Widowmaker rolled on top. The victory was short lived as Lena rewound from underneath her. There was a haltingly terrifying moment as Widowmaker tried to figure where Lena would resume herself. Just as it dawned on her the most likely position Lena would end up, the woman returned with her fist ready. Widowmaker tried to duck, but Lena’s knuckles caught her at her temple.

Lena made to punch her again when Widowmaker retaliated by grasping the inner parts of Lena’s wrist and pinching. Lena staggered to a knee and Widowmaker brought the heel of her foot up to Tracer’s diaphragm and kicked hard.

Lena rolled back with a pained, ‘oof’, and tried to catch her breath and blink back into the fight at the same time. Widowmaker was ready for her this time and caught her upside the jaw. Blood dribbled out a split in Lena’s lower lip.

“You’re really putting up a fight for someone who provoked this,” Lena snarled.

“I’m not particularly fond of pain,” Widowmaker replied coolly. “Despite what you might think.”

“So this hurts does it?” Lena asked as she shook out her bruising knuckles. “Good.”

Widowmaker thought someone might have come in by now to stop Lena from attacking her…guess she misjudged Overwatch yet again. With a sudden coolness she straightened and halted Lena by her look alone.

“No one is coming are they?”

Lena’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would they?”

“Because Overwatch is supposed to be better than this. Or was all that simply propaganda?” Widowmaker stepped closer and reveled in the way Lena watched her.

“You’re a special case, love,” Lena replied. She stood her ground allowing Widowmaker to close the distance between them.

“I’m special am I? To who?" Widowmaker's eyelids dipped and a seemingly knowing smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "You?”

The anger melted off Lena’s face to be replaced by distress. “In your dreams.”

“I don’t dream,” Widowmaker deadpanned.

There was a sudden, innocent quality to Lena’s shock. “That’s bloody pathetic.”

The air between them was still charged. Widowmaker stopped with less than a meter of space between them. Lena watched her, rage still stirring in her eyes, and her fingers twitched.

“So you really could have saved Mondatta,” Widowmaker said.

“Shut up,” Lena rasped.

“If you hadn’t selfishly guarded your own life he would still be here.”

“I said shut up!” Lena barked and launched herself across the small space at Widowmaker. She knocked the taller woman to the ground and landed on top. They really had to stop doing this. “Don’t say another word.”

“Why not? You must know that your actions have consequences—,”

“What are you getting out of this?” Lena suddenly asked. Her body trembled, and she was certain Widowmaker could feel the tremors in her thighs. “You target me, you torment me. What for?”

They were far too close. Their bodies pressed together like this was doing funny things to Lena in places she wished they were not. Widowmaker adjusted a leg and it hit Lena in just such a way that a jolt of something went through her. She wanted to say it was disgust, or agitation, but she knew better.

“I don’t know.”

Widowmaker wasn’t even trying to get up. It unnerved Lena to see her on her back relinquishing control. Something was off. None of this made any sense.

“Bullshit,” Lena hissed through her teeth.

This time when Widowmaker moved she did so at an alarmingly lethargic pace. She lifted her arm from the elbow and brought her hand up towards Lena’s face. When their skin connected and Widowmaker spread her fingers across Lena’s cheek something harsh and scarily familiar crushed into Lena’s chest. She didn’t want to feel this. She didn’t want to feel anything in this realm for the woman underneath her. And really, why did they keep ending up like this? Was this her own doing? Was she doing it on purpose? Fuck.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The damn truth!”

“I told you that before. I like the chase. You’re the only one who ever escapes me.”

“That’s it?” Why did Lena’s heart hurt? “You really are nothing more than a toy for Talon.”

Regrettably Lena stood up with the intention of leaving the cell and not looking back. Widowmaker took the opportunity to pounce. Lena fell face first into the floor and for one crucial moment she blacked out from the impact. Coming to she found her arms pinned behind her to the small of her back and Widowmaker caging her with all her weight.

“Get off of me if you know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t think I do…and I don’t think you do either.”

Lena’s eyes widened as her heartrate picked up. Widowmaker leaned over her, lips ghosting across the back of her neck. She hoped the shiver that went down her spine would go unnoticed.

“You’re hung up over a dead woman,” Widowmaker whispered. “If anyone is pathetic, it’s you.”

Lena’s heartrate plummeted as did her heart. With all the fight gone from her body she felt Widowmaker relax her hold.

With the last of her strength she bucked her hips. Widowmaker gracefully stood and allowed Lena the space to stand up.

“You’re a right bitch you know that?”

Widowmaker merely shrugged. “You’re the one who brought me here. You could have avoided all this.”

Lena glowered. “I wasn’t going to let Talon kill you.”

“So you’ll let Overwatch do it instead?” Widowmaker’s gaze scrutinized her in a way that left Lena feeling as if she were nothing more than a wriggling worm in the beak of a bird. “What a saint you are.”

Lena whipped around furious with herself for allowing it to get this far and go on for this long. “I should have let Fareeha have you.” She palmed open the door and stepped through.

Widowmaker’s chuckle was low and dangerous. Her voice drifted through the door as it locked, words chilling Lena down to her core. “And she would be dead right now if you had.”

What was the supposed to mean? Was Widowmaker holding back just now? Toying with her? Lena’s upper lip curled back. Of course Widowmaker was toying with her. When was she not? And here she thought that maybe…just maybe things could be different.

Lena’s plan was to sulk in her room for a bit, then go take out her frustrations in the gym, but life apparently wanted to continue to fuck her, so of course she ran into other agents.

“Christ, Lena, the hell happened to your face?” Jesse whistled. “Someone did a number on you.”

Lena was admittedly a little mad at herself for not hearing them as they approached. She could have ducked out of the way before they spotted her. Then again being part of Blackwatch for so long made the two more than decent at stealth. How Jesse managed to be silent when he wanted while wearing spurs on the back of his boots was a mystery to Lena to this day.

“I had heard you were back and hoped to see you,” Genji said as he moved around Jesse to get to Lena. “I apologize for what happened during the mission. I made a mistake and you got caught up in the fallout.”

Lena couldn’t very well stay mad after hearing such despondent sincerity come from Genji. She clasped him on the shoulder and squeezed, a weak gesture in her state, but she hoped it translated.

“It’s fine. Mistakes happen and we’re all alive so that’s what matters.”

She couldn’t tell if Genji was happy with that response or not as he gingerly took her hand in his and lowered it to their sides.

“So, you gonna tell us what the hell happened to your face?” McCree asked again.

Lena soured at this. She could still feel the roiling fury that wanted to make itself known, but she just couldn’t. She didn’t have the energy or the will to allow that anger back to the surface. Besides, she didn’t think it would do her any good anymore. She did a number on herself the moment she decided to pull Widowmaker free of that collapsing bell tower and now she had to live with the consequences of her actions.

Shite. Isn’t that what Widowmaker had told her?

“Lena?” Genji’s voice pulled her back to the present. “Are you alright?”

Lena flashed a huge, phony grin. “Right as rain,” she chirped. “If you’ll excuse me I think I’m going to the gym.”

She thought she was in the clear until she heard the telltale clinking of spurs. At least Jesse was letting her know he was following. “Lena, hold up.” She didn’t stop, but slowed to a stroll so that Jesse could match his pace to hers. “I heard about Widowmaker being here. Is she—you didn’t go see her just now did you?”

“You’re asking questions you already know the answer to, love,” Lena said with a weak attempt at laughter. “Thought the famous Jesse McCree was better than that.”

Jesse chuffed and despite the fact that she pointedly would not look at him she could feel his eyes analyzing her.

“Look, I don’t need another person to tell me how pathetic I am today alright?” She sighed and combed a hand through her hair.

Jesse choked indignantly. “I don’t think you’re pathetic. Hell, it’s commendable that you did what you did. A lesser man—uh woman would have left her out there.”

Lena finally decided to look at him and found that his expression reflected the sincerity of his words. She smiled, a real smile that lifted the heaviness in her heart just a smidge, and punched him lightly in the arm.

“I hope you didn’t punch her like that,” Jesse laughed. “I know you have a powerful right hook. She better look worse than you do.”

Lena’s laughter this time came out bright and full. She wiped a tear from eye, surprised it came out in the first place. “There’s a decent chance she has a concussion.”

Jesse whistled again, though the sound came out distorted as he could not help but grin. “Wish I had seen that action.”

Lena suddenly froze in her tracks. “Athena recorded it.”

Jesse’s arm came around her shoulders. He proceeded to walk and got her to fall in line. “And Athena can delete the footage. Or at the very least I can…work some Blackwatch magic.” He wiggled his metallic fingers at her.

Her panic melted as she snorted. “I think I’d have better luck doing it myself.”

“I resent that.”

Jesse followed her to the gym where instead of allowing her to work her frustrations out alone on some machine he decided the best course of action was for them to spar. She was surprised he wanted to. He was far more fond of the shooting range than hand to hand combat, and that only made the situation that much sweeter.

By the time the two were finished, after rounds of taunting and laughing at one another, Lena felt lighter with a clearer mind. When she made to thank him Jesse merely waved her off and told her to knock it off with the niceties because that’s what friends were for.

They separated to shower and when Lena finished she made a beeline for the kitchen. It was thankfully empty. She may have felt better than earlier, but she still didn’t feel like explaining the situation to anyone else or defending her choices. She wanted some solitude to eat. And that’s exactly what she was getting—

“Lena Oxton!” Came Angela’s exasperated voice. Lena’s fork clattered to her plate and she resisted the urge to blink out of the room. “Tell me why I just came out of Widowmaker’s cell having treated her for new lacerations, bruising, and a concussion!”

Lena smirked and made a mental note to tell Jesse that she had in fact given the Talon operative a concussion; something she was mighty proud of.

Angela strode towards her in a flurry of quick steps. Upon seeing the damage on Lena’s face her eyes widened and her jaw fell slack for merely a moment before she snapped it shut.

“Look at the state you are in! I just treated you for injuries and now you have more!” She pushed Lena away from her food on the countertop and turned her. Angela’s warm fingers cupper Lena’s cheek and dragged her face in for a better look. “I did not tell you where Widowmaker was so that you could attack one another.”

“It wasn’t my intention,” Lena defended. “She deserved it though.”

“And what about this?” Angela asked as she gestured to Lena’s fractured face. “Did you deserve this?”

Lena’s mirth dipped. “I guess,” she replied with a shrug.

“No you absolutely do not!” Angela reprimanded. “This is what I was afraid of.”

Lena tried to pull back, but Angela’s grip on her chin was firm. She dabbed an alcohol dampened cotton swap to Lena’s split lip.

“I will not allow you to get hurt because of this woman again.”

“That’s not really something you can prevent, but thanks for the love.” Lena’s lopsided grin dropped when she noticed Angela’s lack of a smile at her antics. She could read Angela pretty well after years of working closely with her and she could tell that something was weighed heavily on her mind. “What’s wrong?”

Angela pulled back the collar of Lena’s shirt and peered down. Lena would have yelped at the intrusion, but Angela snapped the collar back a moment later. Angela’s fingers came to press around Lena’s ribcage and sure enough she was painfully sore.

“I have put in a request for Widowmaker to be transferred into government custody and I believe it will be approved.”

“You what?!” Lena jumped back. “How could you?”

Angela at least looked ashamed, but very quickly wiped it away to be replaced with determination. “She has hurt too many people, you included. I don’t feel it is in her best interest to stay here. You aren’t the only one wishing to start something with her.”

Fareeha. Lena remembered Fareeha’s anger and then she remembered Widowmaker’s parting words. Lena wasn’t foolish enough to believe she is the only one capable of taking out Widowmaker, or at least besting her, but she knew enough to be certain that she is the only one Widowmaker is even willing to keep alive. If anyone else were to come after her they would die.

Whoever comes to take her from Overwatch will end up like any other person she has come into contact with since Talon’s intervention. They’ll end up like Gerard…

“I’m sorry I have to go,” Lena said. She pushed away before Angela had a chance to reach for her.

“Lena, wait! Please,” Angela called after her.

“Don’t worry Ang, I know what I’m doing.”

Angela’s indignant sputter of, “That’s not reassuring in the slightest!” would have made her laugh under any other circumstance.

Lena's pace was swift as her legs carried her as quick as they could. She was going to find Winston, or maybe Morrison, anyone who could help her stop that request from going through. There had to be another way to deal with Widowmaker. There had to be some way she could help.

And if there was a weird tug in her chest, near her heart, as her thoughts raced on what to do about Widowmaker, she was going to ignore it. She couldn’t afford to let feeling get in the way of what had to be done. She wasn’t going to put herself in that situation again.

Chapter Text

Lena stood at attention, hands clasped firmly behind her back, as four armed guards led Widowmaker away in thick gauntlets cuffed around her hands. Lena kept her gaze dead straight and whenever she lingered a moment on Widowmaker she would snap back to that boring spot she picked in the distance.

            More than once Angela tried to get her attention, but she ignored those attempts. It wasn’t that she was bitter anymore, though maybe just a little bit, rather she was focused.  She didn’t even notice when Jesse slipped away. One second he was standing across the bridge from her and the next there was a vacant space next to Lucio.

            Everyone’s attention was either on her or on Widowmaker, a mixture of pity, disgust, and confusion had marred most faces and it truly set Lena’s blood boiling in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while. They wanted to believe they understood, but how could they? Lena thought to herself, entirely jaded, because she herself didn’t quite understand it. Perhaps, she didn’t want to.

            One of the guards escorting Widowmaker caught Lena’s eye and when he had her attention he winked. The action sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine and a weight settled in her stomach. She learned long ago to trust her instinct and she would not abandon it now when it was warning her so vehemently.

            With all the attention on either of them no one noticed Jesse’s absence. Genji was the next to slip away unnoticed by all except one. Hana watched him go, her eyes narrowing as he slipped away, and then she turned her attention on Lena with a questioning tilt of her head.

            A minute shake of Lena’s head was all the answer Hana needed as she firmly nodded once then went back to the picture perfect soldier she truly was. It was sort of incredible watching Hana slip back into that role. It was sometimes easy to forget that she was a soldier first and a young adult streamer second. Since there were no cameras to televise the event Lena guessed Hana didn’t have to smile for it, not that she would.

            By the time Widowmaker reached the burg she was to be flown in it was time for Lena to leave.

            “I’m not watching this,” Lena said curtly to Morrison. Without waiting for a reply she strode off feeling many eyes following her retreat. She made sure to head back inside away from the burg in a deliberate line. It wasn’t until she was fully out of sight that she doubled back.

            “Might want to get in there soon,” Jesse said into the com.

            “They’re almost done with preparations,” Genji supplied.

            “I’ll be there in a sec,” Lena said. She slipped her goggles over her eyes until they were nice and snug. “Thanks again for the help.” She flashed a peace sign up at one of the cameras knowing that Jesse was stationed behind it.

            “Feels nice to be doing something against the rules again,” Jesse sniggered.

            “I just want to make things right,” Genji said simply.

            “There was never anything to make right. But I appreciate it,” Lena replied.

            She ducked out of the building and back towards the jet bridge. Shipping crates provided great cover as she blinked from one to the other until she made it beneath the burg in a blindspot to any onlookers. Finally she was underneath the burg and, knowing her way around any flight machine, she popped open an engineering panel that led up into the bowels of the plane. She wiggled through mindful of her chronal accelerator, until she was underneath the main deck. She rapped her knuckles against it once and suddenly light poured in.

            She peered through the panel making sure the coast was clear before she darted out and into the offshoot storage area. This was a transport hub after all and she was easily able to hide out of sight behind some strapped down boxes no doubt full of illegal talon supplies.

            The plane spurred to life in a whir of engines and clinking machinery that was equally comforting and exhilarating. Tracer leaned back into one of the crates and exhaled. There was no going back now. Besides, she was doing the right thing. She hoped.

            The floor began to tremble as the bird lifted and Tracer anchored herself to the crate at her back for take off. A loud clang, similar to her Chronal Accelerator backfiring, sent a shiver down her spine that settled moments after the plane steadied itself in its flight.

            Her communicator crackled to life. “You’re all clear,” Jesse drawled. “We’ll keep em off your back as long as we can.”

            “I owe you guys one,” Tracer whispered. She ducked her head as one of the Talon operatives stomped past. She glanced back up to make sure he was gone before she peeled away from the crates.

            “You really do not—,” Genji began.

            “Get me an apple pie and we’ll call it even,” Jesse said.

            His exuberance made Tracer smile. She peeked her head out the doorway of the storage room and checked both directions before answering. “It’s a deal.”            

            “Call us back if you run into any trouble,” Jesse added.

            “Will do. Later, boys.” Tracer signed off, but not before hearing Genji’s soft, “Stay safe.”

            Her gratitude towards her teammates, no, her friends, was enormous. But as she slipped her goggles over her eyes and entered a crouch along an adjacent wall she knew the time for idle thoughts was gone. She filed away the information about the pie in the back of her brain and promised to think of a way to get Genji something as well before she pulled out her pulse pistols as she heard heavy footsteps approaching.

            She waited an extra twenty seconds after the steps had fully faded before she stood and slid around the corner into a thin hall. Her steps were light and nearly nonexistent as she padded down the far end away from the cockpit. There were two doors facing each other at the end of the hall. Before she had a chance to decide, the door at her left opened up and she came face to face with one of the agents.

            They paused for a moment, long enough for Tracer to bring up her leg and kick the man hard enough to throw him back into the room. She blinked in after him unwilling to allow him time to recover and threw her elbow into his neck. The man sputtered and sank to the ground in a heavy heap.

            “What do you think you are doing?” Widowmaker hissed.

            Tracer looked up from the man, now certain he was going to be out for a decent amount of time, and saw Widowmaker standing behind a partition with a cold indifference.

            Lena gestured towards the body with an aggressive shrug. “Saving your sorry arse.”

            A snarl curled back Widowmaker’s lips for a short moment. “I never asked for this you stupid girl.”

            “Yeah, well I couldn’t let these pricks hand you back over to Talon now could I?”

            “Yes you could have,” Widowmaker pulled back from the partition to lean against the opposing wall. She sized Tracer up with a harsh look of disdain that read in her eyes though not in her face. “I’ve already told you not to mistake me for—,”

            “I’m helping you and this is the thanks I get?” Tracer snapped, effectively shutting Widowmaker up before she could finish. “You want to go back and be a plaything for Talon?”

            Widowmaker’s silence spoke volumes, or so Tracer hoped, but it was hard to tell as the woman had schooled her features into a hauntingly familiar blank slate.

            “Did you think any of this through?”

            Tracer was ready to fire back with as much irritation as there was inside her until she realized, with utter horror that she had not. It was just like when she first dragged Widowmaker’s unconscious body out of that collapsing building. She had acted off of instinct rather than rational thought. And look where that got her.

            “Thought so.”

            This time it was Tracer who snarled as she bent down to rummage through the still unconscious guards pockets. A moment later she found what she was looking for and stalked towards the panel next to the door separating Widowmaker from her.

            “You want to go another round that bad, huh?” Widowmaker teased as she eyed the key card in Tracer’s hands.

            A smoldering pit deep in Tracer’s stomach was stoked to life at those words. Her brain desperately wanted to entertain the outrageous thoughts that were stirred awake, but she stamped them out as quickly as they came.

            “I concussed you, so don’t be so bloody smug.”

            The nearly hidden smirk immediately dropped and Widowmaker scowled, as much as she could. Tracer figured it was the closest thing to a scowl as Widowmaker was capable of producing.

            “And I still see the pretty bruise I gave you.”

            “Pretty and painless.”

            “Oh?”

            The partition door opened with Widowmaker stood directly on the other side of Tracer. They stared, sizing the other up, apprehensively awaiting to see who would make the first move.

            As much as Tracer wanted to knock Widowmaker down a peg or two she knew they were on borrowed time. She pivoted and walked back to the entrance.

            “What are you planning?” Widowmaker asked as she stepped out of her cell and over the body.

            “Help me take out the rest of the guards and you’ll see.”

            Widowmaker bent down to swipe up the gun from underneath the guard when Tracer hissed at her.

            “Without killing them!”

            “I’m not going to follow you blindly,” Widowmaker fired back. “I may be hard to kill, but I do value my life. Which is more than I can say for you.”

            Tracer huffed out her frustrations and stalked down the hall leaving Widowmaker to follow behind. Without any other noise aside from the soft hum of her blink Tracer took out the sole guard lounging in the storage room where she had been earlier. His body crumpled much like the other guards had and Tracer was out before Widowmaker could raise her gun.

            Pulling up astride the cockpit door Tracer readied her pulse pistols just in case. Widowmaker slid against the other side of the door, her gaze resting on Tracer’s pistols for a moment before she turned her gaze on Tracer and lifted a thin eyebrow. Tracer rolled her eyes and jerked her head to ask if Widowmaker was ready. After a curt nod Tracer slapped a panel and the cockpit doors hissed open.

            The pilot and co-pilot did not turn, but the third officer standing in the back, closest to Tracer did. She lashed out, blinking forward and pinning the officer to the wall by the neck. Widowmaker dashed towards the co-pilot and yanked him from his seat. The officer beneath Tracer struggled; face purpling as she applied more pressure. One good swipe caught her around the eyes and her goggles snapped off her face. Tracer staggered back noticing the pilot pulling a gun on her. Quickly she reached forward, fisting the vest of the guard she had been choking, and threw him into the pilot.

            The two fell to the ground and Widowmaker delivered a swift kick to each of their faces knocking their heads back in a spray of blood. All three guards were dead weight on the floor of the cockpit, still breathing, to Tracer’s immense relief.

            Tracer hopped into the pilot seat feeling quite at home and with a grin flipped the switch from autopilot to manual. The transition was smooth and Widowmaker let out a soft noise of approval.

            “So, what now?” she asked as she gracefully dropped into the co-pilot seat.

            Tracer took a look at the navigation discovering they were on route for Berlin. There must have been a Talon base there otherwise why would they deliver Widowmaker. Tracer made a mental note to bring that up to the others when she got back to Overwatch. Maybe some information could smooth things over.

            After a quick updae to the navigation Widowmaker leaned over to see that they were now headed for Lyon.

            “First we drop these sods off. Then I drop you off. I figure you should know France well enough to know where to hide while I loop Talon around for a bit.”

            “Why would I know that?”

            “Because you grew up there—,” Tracer halted, chewing on her bottom lip. “Forget it. Where can I take you that you will feel comfortable hiding out?”

            “Who said I want to go into hiding?” Widowmaker rebutted.

            Tracer’s grip on the yoke tightened. “You want me to drop you off on Talon’s doorstep?”

            Widowmaker leaned back into her seat and fixed Tracer with another, purposefully, blank gaze. “Imagine how they would sing my praises for bringing one of Overwatch’s top agents in.”

            “Fuck off,” Tracer snapped. “You’re not taking this seriously!”

            “No. You’re not taking this seriously.” Widowmaker leaned forward with a snap as her hand came down against the arm rest. “Talon will never stop looking for me. I am their best asset. Hiding will only prolong the inevitable.”

            “They’ll recondition you,” Lena argued.

            “Or they’ll kill me if they deem me too much of a threat to security. Which do you think is preferable?” Widowmaker hissed sardonically.

            After a pregnant pause Lena asked, “But you don’t want to go back do you?”

            “Stop putting words in my mouth, chéri.”

            They sat in silence all through the drop off of the still unconscious guards who they unceremoniously dumped in a field on the border between Spain and France. They continued to sit in uncomfortable silence even as they neared Lyon with only a few minutes to spare before drop off.

            Tracer was so caught up in just getting there and washing her hands of this situation that when she finally looked down at the fuel tank and noticed how low it was she cursed aloud.

            “Do I dare ask what’s wrong?” Widowmaker drawled.

            “This blasted thing won’t have enough fuel to get me back to headquarters let alone get Talon off your back. It won’t even get me to London at this rate.”

            Widowmaker strummed her fingers against the arm rest. “Sounds like you didn’t think this through.”

            “Don’t start.”

            Widowmaker leaned back into her seat with a low rumbling chuckle that equally irritated Tracer as it allured her. Widowmaker threw one long leg over the other and gently moved it up and down in a grand gesture of leisure just to push Tracer’s already frying buttons.

            Landing in a convenient field on the outskirts of Lyon wasn’t all that difficult much to Tracer’s surprise. She expected air control to be on her even with the faulty cloaking the ship had, or at the very least for Talon to have shown up. Tracer had to remind herself that neither of them were in the clear yet and she should not allow relief at one fortunate outcome to prevent her from remaining alert.

As she and Widowmaker stood at the end of the ramp of the plane staring into the steadily setting sun over the distant city something in the air shifted. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she preferred it to the discomfort in the cockpit.

            Tracer almost said something to Widowmaker then thought better of it as she turned away and flicked on her communicator.

            “Jesse, you read me?”

            There were a few bursts of static then clarity. “Sure do. How’d it all go?”

            “Fine except for the fact that this bird doesn’t have enough fuel to get me back. I’m stuck and could use an extraction.”

            Jesse chuckled. “See, I’d hop right on that, but your little stunt pissed off a lot of people and all planes are grounded right now until we get word from you.”

            Tracer’s face twisted. “Well you have word from me so come pick me up.”

            “I don’t think you understand. You pissed off half the people here. I’d lay low just until they cool down so they don’t immediately throw you in isolation for treason.”

            Tracer’s jaw dropped open. “You’re joking. They wouldn’t…” She thought about her friends, the people she had fought alongside for years now. Surely they would understand why she did what she did. Surely…

            “Lena, please. I have to go before they catch wind that I know where you are. I’ll keep this line open in case of an emergency, but I’ll contact you when the heat dies down and I can get you out.”

            “Jesse, they have to understand—,”

            “And they will. You know they will. But right now they’re mad and a bunch of angry Overwatch agents is never a good thing. Remember back when the tension between Reyes, Morrison, Amari, and Sojourn was at an all time high? That’s sort of what this is like.” He paused to laugh briefly. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Angela or Winston lose their cool like this before.”

            “Aw hell,” Tracer groaned. “I’ve really done it now.”

            “They’ll be back to their usual chipper selves soon. Just keep your head down for a day or two. That’s all.” There was shuffling and the sound of muffled voices. “I got to go. Keep safe.”

            The line went dead and Tracer stood there, upset and despondent. And then she tilted her head back and laughed, bitterly.

            She could feel Widowmaker watching her piercingly, but she didn’t care.

            “Seems like we are in the same boat,” Widowmaker said.

            Tracer’s laugh trailed off mirthlessly. “Apparently so. You know any place we can bunker down for a bit?”

            Widowmaker studied her and Tracer was a second away from snapping and walking off on her own when she nodded. “I do have a place in mind.”

            “Great! Let’s grab some food and get wherever the hell you’re taking me. As long as it’s not Talon.”

            Widowmaker nearly laughed as she said, “It is not Talon.”

            True to her word Widowmaker did not lead Lena into a Talon trap. She would be lying if she had said she was not a little twitchy the entire time Widowmaker led them into the city of Lyon and through its back streets. As the night shrouded them Tracer had become antsy and kept her hands close to her pulse pistols just in case, but there was never any need.

            They went to a small store where Widowmaker surprised Lena by paying for their food with legitimate money. And before her generosity could dissolve Lena had dragged Widowmaker into a nearby liquor store and bought as many bottles as she was allowed.

            By the time they made it to the front door of a small complex both women were holding large backs and they had to nudge the door open with their feet. Widowmaker surprised Lena again by taking them to the fourth floor. A door with a small, healthy, plant greeted them as they exited the stairwell and Widowmaker dropped her bags in order to lift the potted plant and pull free a tiny silver key.

            “That is the most cliché hiding place ever,” Lena deadpanned.

            Widowmaker shrugged the bags inside. “It works.”

            Upon entering Lena was shocked to find a relatively normal looking apartment. It nearly reminded her of her own apartment back home, albeit a little cleaner. The place somehow looked untouched, and unlived in, but there wasn’t a single speck of dust on any of the tables or chairs.

            “Okay, what is this place and how the hell is it so clean?”

            “It is my old apartment and have you never heard of a maid service?” Widowmaker walked into the kitchen and began unpacking their bags. When she came to the alcohol she wrinkled her nose. “Did you have to buy so much?”

            Lena stood there, dumbfounded as she took in the place. “I knew you had lived here at some point, but it was really just a guess that you still owned the place!”

            Widowmaker’s shoulder tensed, almost imperceptibly. “Some things I have been unable to part with.”

            Lena’s heart clenched as her stomach dropped. Amelie was still in there, somewhere, and if there were memories of back then perhaps memories remained of…her. Lena shrugged off her jacket and draped it over an armchair.

            “Wouldn’t Talon think to look here?”

            “They buried my past.” At Lena’s scrunched up expression Widowmaker sighed. “No. Even if they do know of this place they will not think to look here anytime soon.”

            Lena nodded slowly then her gaze drifted to all the booze. “So, you going to help me with this?”

            Widowmaker’s eyes landed on the only red wine they bought and Lena grinned victoriously. She swept up the bottle to open it. “We’ll have this first!”

            Widowmaker sighed again, but there was a bright spot in her eyes that Lena had never seen before. The closest she had ever come to looking like this was when they were fighting on that roof except then it had been adrenaline based, or perhaps lust based for the violence. The look she held now, while still reserved, was almost fond.

            And that was how Lena found herself swaying, vision disconnecting a little as she moved. Two empty bottles sat on the coffee table in front of them and Lena, with her feet still tucked beneath her, tried to get up from the couch to use the bathroom when she nearly toppled over.

            Widowmaker’s hand came out to steady her and Lena flashed her a grin paired with a thumbs up as she padded to the bathroom. Once inside and able to look at herself and have time away from the woman that made her dizzy she sobered. A few splashes of water on her face and a generous gulp of tap water from her cupped palms was enough to calm the racing of her heart though not enough to kill the pleasant buzz.

            She walked back out far more confident in her steps and plopped down back in her seat. She made to grab up the next bottle and uncork the top when Widowmaker grabbed her wrist.

            “You’ve had enough for tonight.”

            “Excuse you. I’m an adult and I can decide when I’ve had enough.”

            Having only had a couple glasses less than Lena there was no way Widowmaker wasn’t nursing a decent buzz herself.

            “You could barely get one foot in front of the other.”

            “I was walking perfectly fine thank you very much. Don’t be such a kill joy.”

            This time when Lena leaned forward Widowmaker pushed her back into the couch by her shoulders. Her fingers brushed against Lena’s neck and she involuntarily shivered. Widowmaker’s eyes honed in on Lena piercingly.

            “You should go to bed.”

            “Only if you join me,” Lena laughed.

            “Sure.”

            Lena choked; her laugh becoming strangled until it completely died. “What?”

            Widowmaker’s smirk was that of the cat that caught the canary. “Don’t be such a baby. I’m not sleeping on the couch and the least I can do to show my…appreciation is let you take the bed.”

            Lena allowed herself to be lifted and if she sagged into Widowmaker a little more than she ought to she wasn’t going to say anything. Wondering if the alcohol had loosened Widowmaker’s lips she pried, “So you don’t want to go back to Talon.”

            “I never said that.”

            Widowmaker shimmied open a door and dumped Lena on the toilet. She exited the room and returned with a fluffy towel and a large shirt. She plopped them in Lena’s hands then exited the bathroom closing the door behind her.

            Lena lifted her arm to take a quick sniff and was happy to know that she did not stink that bad, mostly the scent of dried sweat clung to her skin. As she shimmied out of her uniform and gently put her chronal accelerator on top of the shirt she couldn’t help but feel awkward.

            What she wouldn’t have given in the past to be invited to this apartment, and now she wanted nothing more than to get out and go home. She didn’t care if that meant her London flat or her room at Gibraltar. And as she showered away the grime from the day’s events the awkward embarrassment seemed to creep up higher. The more she sobered the more flighty she felt. Every few seconds she found herself peering behind the shower curtain to make sure her chronal accelerator was where she left it.

            Stepping out of the shower Lena toweled off and gently placed her rig in the sink while she dressed. A pair of boy shorts fell out the folded short and she slid those on then the shirt over top. She took a look at herself in the mirror and blanched at how domestic this felt. Quickly grabbing her rig and her crumpled clothes she padded out of the bathroom and hoped to make it past Widowmaker and into the living room without incident.

            Widowmaker was already in bed with the lights off so Lena tip toed past her. She was unable to make it to the bedroom door before Widowmaker sat up.

            “Where are you going?”

            Lena’s shoulders lifted. “To sleep on the couch.” She glanced over her shoulder and a shiver went through her. Widowmaker in the dark was a lithe form, swathed in shadow, but her eyes seemed to catch the light filtering through the window aside her and they nearly glowed.

            “I won’t force you, but just know that the couch is uncomfortable for a reason. I don’t like guests.”

            With a sigh Lena cast one last glance to the door, weighing her options of uncomfortable sleep on a hard couch, or fitful sleep in bed with Widowmaker. Either option was not entirely wanted. She gazed up at the ceiling briefly watching the soft light from outside the window create shapes and made her decision.

            Awkwardly Lena pulled up the comforter up and set her stuff down directly beside her as she climbed into bed. Every nerve ending was alight in agitation as Lena tried to get comfortable in a scenario that her brain warned her was dangerous.

            Her squirming must have become too much because Widowmaker snapped, “You need to relax.”

            “Easy for you to say. You aren’t trying to sleep next to an assassin.”

            Widowmaker sat up, back hunched in a way so unlike her usual put together anal posture. Strands of her hair were spilling out of the hair tie and sloping over her shoulders. “Is that what this is about really?”

            The argument died on Lena’s lips when Widowmaker looked her way. There was something exceptionally vulnerable about this moment and it forced Lena to lean up as well.

            “You could kill me.”

            “So could you,” Widowmaker fired back. “I do not take this predicament lightly.”

            Lena looked away unsure if she could say anything honest while staring into those eyes. “You trust me?”

            “As far as I can throw you.”

            Lena nearly left then and there figuring that she had been a fool to come this far when Widowmaker continued far quieter.

            “To a degree. You have risked a lot for me.”

            Suddenly Widowmaker was crawling across the bed towards her. Lena gulped as Widowmaker threw her legs over Lena’s. Leaning into her personal space Lena had the option to pull back, but she held fast still on the fence about what was the right course of action.

            Widowmaker leaned forward and Lena complimented the action by falling back into the bed. It was then that Lena gave into a slight desire and pulled the hair tie loose. Widowmaker’s long tresses slid free like liquid and fanned out around them. Unbothered Widowmaker pressed, “Why are you going to such lengths for me knowing I would not do the same for you?”

            Lena didn’t even mind as Widowmaker’s hair tickled her face. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

            Widowmaker’s lower lip pursed. “I have made multiple attempts on your life and will do so again.”

            “I know,” Lena exhaled a shuddering breath as Widowmaker’s fingers brushed away the hair that had fallen on her face. “I’ve done my fair share to you too, you know. That isn’t going to change if something doesn’t give.”

            “What can change?” Widowmaker lowered herself, draping above Lena until their chests were almost touching. Her eyes were going to be the death of Lena she was certain.

            Lena inhaled deeply and exhaled her answer, “I don’t know.”

            Widowmaker’s eyes searched her own, some deeply hidden emotion stirring beneath the surface. And just as quickly as it had shown itself it was buried once more in cold indifference. “Keep it that way.” Widowmaker rolled off of her much to Lena’s chagrin and pushed herself to the far edge of the bed.

            Lena lay there staring at the ceiling breathing heavier than expected. She cast one frustrated look at the back of Widowmaker’s had before she turned on her side and scooted as far from the other woman as she could.

            Stupid.

            That’s what she was. Lena would not allow herself to be tangled up any further in the steel webs Widowmaker wove. She would take whatever punishment Overwatch had in store for her, but she would return and when she did she vowed that she would lock away every residual feeling that would threaten her work.

            Widowmaker would never again be a distraction. Merely, she would be an enemy. Nothing more and nothing less.

            But somewhere in the back of her mind there was a voice chiding her for lying to herself. She tried desperately to bury it and solidify her resolve. Though she knew with resounding clarity what she desired and how easily she could succumb. She wasn’t weak, but she had to wonder if it was so wrong to give in even for a moment.

Chapter Text

They hadn’t spoken about the other night. Lena wasn’t sure if she wanted to. If she could forget the entire encounter that would be ideal, but her brain would not allow such mercy. At least Widowmaker did not bring it up either; that was mercy enough.

And she was well aware that she was not required to be here. Honestly, she should call McCree for an extraction and wash her hands for good of this entanglement.

With a hearty sigh, followed by a chipper quip, Lena pulled her goggles up over her eyes. “Let’s kick some Talon ass.”

Widowmaker did not smile upon seeing Lena’s cocky grin. Instead she gazed back out over her previous grand estate. A flash of Amelie. A hardened set in her jaw. Narrowed eyes. Widowmaker nodded and unstrapped Widow’s Kiss. She scanned the building and once she nodded that it was clear it was time to go.

Getting in was surprisingly easy. Tracer had never been to the estate, not for a lack of trying back when Gérard was still alive. She had wondered and puzzled and with youthful exuberance imagined what it might be like inside. None of those fantasies prepared her for the real thing.

Widowmaker led them through a underground passage, one that opened up on the rocky edges of the estate, and took them right up into the foyer.

Tracer was floored upon exiting the dingy tunnel and greeted by light streaming through the large sky light overlooking the grand high arched ceiling.

“You lived here?” Tracer couldn’t help but ask as Widowmaker led them down the hall, past a still impeccable outdoor courtyard.

“Was that not obvious?” Widowmaker deadpanned. “Sometimes your fatuity amazes me.”

Tracer nearly shot back, annoyance rising in her chest, when she was struck with a different approach. She sauntered over to Widowmaker matching her pace then glided past with a pop of her hip. “Ah, you admit. I am amazing.” She shot a flirty wink over her shoulder.

It was always hard to tell with Widowmaker what had an affect on her and what did not. Widowmaker breathed out a french phrase, one Tracer was not privy too, but she hoped it was good. She hoped it made Widowmaker ask for mercy just as she had.

“I don’t know if amaze was the right word,” Widowmaker remedied.

Tracer spun to face her, wagging a finger, still smiling. “No take backs.”

This time Widowmaker did crack a smile and Tracer’s stomach fluttered. “Leave it to you to turn a negative into a positive.”

“That’s part of my limitless charm.”

The soft, almost wrong for her face smile, twisted into something darker. Tracer froze, uncertain as Widowmaker closed in. With all the grace of a ballerina turned assassin Widowmaker glided in, swiping a finger under Tracer’s chin and lifted.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with, so let’s get back to work before you get bitten.”

Heart hammering in her chest Tracer’s jaw dropped. Widowmaker walked off gesturing for Tracer to follow with a little curl of her finger and like a lovesick idiot she followed. Gently she pressed a hand to her neck feeling her pulse jump and decided right then and there that getting bitten wouldn’t be the worse thing.

“Come on, chérie,” Widowmaker cooed, positively enjoying teasing the hell out of her. “We don’t have a lot of time to set up.”

“Oh, love,” Tracer pleasantly said. “What do you think I’ve been doing since we got here?”

Widowmaker turned, eyebrows knitted together. “Excuse me?”

Tracer grinned with all her teeth and gestured behind her. Widowmaker’s gaze went over her head and now it was her turn for her mouth to part, jaw dropping just enough to be noticeable. “I thought your bombs went off within seconds.”

“I’ve learned a few things since Talon compiled a file on me,” Tracer said, proudly puffing out her chest. “Laying charges is no problem. So I put them at the last two choke points and in places Talon is likely to try to exploit or use as cover.”

Widowmaker snapped her jaw shut. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m not just a pretty face you know,” Tracer said, then added. “But you can keep the compliments coming.”

“I’ll reserve that for a more intimate setting,”

Tracer choked on her next words before they came out and played it off with a cough. Quickly she spun away, hands on her hips, and asked, for posterity sake, “You do realize this is a trap right?”

The sharp narrow eyed look Widowmaker shot her was answer enough.

“I’m tired of running.”

 “And I am tired of chasing,” came a cold reply. A dark cloud loomed behind Widowmaker and soon revealed itself as Reaper. “We’ve been waiting.”

Reaper pulled out his guns. In quick retaliation Widowmaker kicked up and knocked his guns loose. There was a gust of wind at Tracer’s back and a deeply amused laugh. Before she could react Tracer’s arms were twisted up behind her and pinched into her thoracic spine.

“I have to say, lovesick isn’t a good look on you,” came the smooth accent of Sombra.

Widowmaker vaulted away as both Reaper and Moira tried to corner her. She glanced at Tracer once then took off down the way they had just come.

“Look at that, she’s leaving you behind. You can do better than the spider,” Sombra laughed cruelly.

Tracer’s shoulders pinched uncomfortably as Sombra dug her arms in deeper.

“You have someone in mind?” Tracer huffed and wiggled. “Underestimating me isn’t a good look on you.”

Just then Tracer’s charges went off in the hall and Reaper howled, barking orders at Moira. Sombra turned to look and Tracer took her chance. She backed up forcing Sombra into the wall as hard as she could. Sombra grunted allowing enough leeway for Tracer to spring free. Ripping another pulse bomb from her reserves she shoved it into Sombra’s chest and blinked away.

The explosion rocked the room and sent a large crack up the wall. Sombra slumped over, dazed and injured.

Tracer zipped away as Talon agents poured in like an infestation. Widowmaker was nowhere to be seen as Tracer continued from room to room. This place was like a maze and Tracer was sure she had passed this column already…

Her communicator buzzed to life. “Tracer here,” she said distractedly as her eyes searched for Widowmaker and Talon agents to elude.

“Looks like you could use some help,” came McCree’s drawl. “Explosions at the old Château, really?”

“You spying on me?” Tracer asked, overjoyed at hearing his voice.

“Keeping tabs more like it. You ready for that extraction? Our ETA is twenty minutes.”

“I didn’t get you that pie yet,” Tracer said, sliding to a halt as a group of Talon agents entered the room before her. She pivoted and ran down a side hall. “Where the hell is she?”

“Get me one later,” McCree said. “You good? I can ask Winston to punch it.”

“I’m fine, just trying to find Widowmaker before you get here.”

She heard Widow’s Kiss fire nearby and immediately sped off in that direction.

“You sure you want to do this?” McCree asked.

“Absolutely.”

Tracer skid into a long hall that funneled into a grand ballroom. Talon agents poised at the entrance did not notice her. The head of one in front exploded in a flash of red gore. Tracer sprinted forward using the moment of shock to her advantage and blinked into the ballroom. Spinning around she aimed and fired on the two charged by the entrance. They went off sweeping each Talon agent off their feet.

Tracer blinked to the back of the room where she found Widowmaker laying on her stomach at a vantage point at the top of some stairs.

“Thanks for helping,” Tracer said and crouched next to the wall to allow her chronal accelerator the time it needed to recharge.

“You were fine,” drawled Widowmaker.

At the end of the hall Reaper appeared alone not sparing a single glance at the agents at his feet. Widowmaker fired a shot that would have gone through his chest had he not gone into his wraith form.

“Can’t we talk?” Reaper called. “This doesn’t have to end in violence.”

Tracer snorted,” fat chance.”

Still Widowmaker exhaled. This time without firing a shot.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Reaper said stepping forward into the room, toeing past the headless agent.

A warning shot went off by his feet and he stopped, raising both hands in surrender.

“Love, he’s up to something,” Tracer whispered.

Widowmaker’s silence was unsettling. Something in the hardened set of her brow and the calculating look in her eyes set off a warning in the back of Tracer’s mind.

“I know what you want,” Reaper continued. “You want to get back at the people who turned you into what you are. You aren’t alone in that sentiment. Join me and we can take back what is ours.”

An abrupt bark of laughter left Tracer as she spun her pulse pistol to reload. “And who does he want to get back at huh? Overwatch.”

The lack of reply from Widowmaker sent a shiver down Tracer’s spine. “Love?”

“You know you can’t do this alone and we share common enemies.”

“He’s playing you,” Tracer hissed.

Widowmaker unfurled gracefully. “You have a point, but you’re a fool if you think I will let anyone else try to control me.”

Reaper sighed, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I figured you might not come easy. Blow it.”

The walls on either side of them exploded with a deafening bang. Both Tracer and Widowmaker were knocked to their knees littered with shattered pieces of the walls.

Their choke point was exposed as were they and Widowmaker popped up with a scowl. Talon agents poured in from either side, Moira on one side, Sombra on the other and Reaper in front.

“Where are the remaining charges located? Widowmaker asked.

“They just went with the walls,” Tracer said. Her gaze flitted in each direction looking for an opening.

“I thought you said laying charges was no problem!” Widowmaker hissed.

“I don’t have an unlimited supply you know!” Tracer ground out. “Not unless I want to unravel myself.”

Widowmaker’s jaw tightened, undoubtedly remembering the last time that happened. “We don’t want that to happen.”

“Surrender,” called Reaper. “You have no other option.”

It wasn’t looking good. Tracer couldn’t see a way out except maybe to go up to the roof…

A large shadow overtook the now open aired space and all attention went skyward. An Overwatch aircraft loomed overhead with the hatch dropping open.

“Winston!” Tracer cheered as her friend jumped from the plane landing on the ground with a resounding boom.

“Nice to see you too,” Winston said in a far more chipper voice than Tracer expected.

Descending from the plane following Winston was Mercy, gliding down angelic as always, McCree, winking at her as if he weren’t dropping into a mess of a fight, and D.VA, eager and revved up.

Mercy landed at her side pulling Tracer into a quick hug. “I was worried about you. Never run off like that again.”

A broad grin stretched across Tracer’s face. “I am an adult you know.”

“Never run off with a dangerous assassin again?” Mercy remedied.

“No promises…” Tracer looked around. For a moment panic flared in her chest as Widowmaker was nowhere to be seen.

Mercy pointed up towards the rafters. Widowmaker was running across the unstable beams. She jumped from one side of the chasm to the other and the beam behind her crumbled, landing in the middle of the fight barely missing McCree who shouted some choice words.

“Can you handle this?” Tracer asked, suddenly frantic as she watched Widowmaker’s figure retreat.

“We’ll be here. Give us a signal and we’re ready to go.”

A quick thanks dissipated into the wind as Tracer blinked upward. She grabbed hold of a column using it as leverage and propelled her next blink up until she was on the roof with Widowmaker in the far off distance almost fading into the gray skyline.

As Tracer ran she strategically used her blinks to close the distance.  Widowmaker’s grappling hook was ready, her arm prepped when Tracer jerked ahead. She cut across Widowmaker’s path to stand firmly in her way.

“You used me didn’t you? Getting Overwatch here was meant to distract Talon so you could escape.”

A calculating look cut across Widowmaker’s face. “Why continue to ask questions you know the answer to?” 

“I want to hear you say it,” Tracer said, still out of breath and huffing. “Tell me the truth.”

Widowmaker exhaled an incredulous laugh. “I used you.” She lifted her arms, Widow’s Kiss held firmly between them, and pointed the barrel at Tracer’s chest. “Now, get out of the way before I shoot you down.”

The pang of fear that arced through Tracer dissipated as quick as a blink. “You keep pushing people away. You’ve always been like this.” Tracer took a step towards Widowmaker who narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on Widow’s Kiss. “And if you were going to shoot me you would have done it already. You’ve never had any issue shooting at me before.”

Tracer pressed forward until the barrel met her Chronal Accelerator. A shiver ran down her spine knowing she was messing with a woman who until a few days ago had willingly tried to put an end to her. She tried to calm her erratically beating heart. “What, no witty reply?”

A part of her, deep in the back of her brain was firing off warnings. The mere touch of the cold gun against her lifeline sent the recesses of her mind spiraling, but she had learned some things about Widowmaker during their time together and she could bet money she was right.

Widowmaker’s lips turned down and her eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t have time for this.”

Tension rolled off them in waves as neither would back down. Both caught in a web they spent years weaving. Tracer felt she was standing on a great precipice, a breakthrough on the horizon.

“Do it, then,” she challenged.

Unexpected.

Widowmaker swooped down and captured Tracer in a kiss that made her chest feel as if it might explode. Tracer’s eyes were blown wide as she froze in place.

Widowmaker’s lips were soft and chilled, lacking the warmth one would usually expect from another. But they were certain and precise as all Widowmaker’s movements were. A soft brush of her hand under Tracer’s chin to tilt and deepen the kiss made her knees momentarily weak.

Finally Tracer allowed herself to be present in a moment she had waited too long for. She shut her eyes, brought her hands up against Widowmaker’s hips, tugging her closer.

Widowmaker pulled back and said, “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re not going to do this alone,” Tracer rebuffed, proud of herself for stringing together a coherent sentence as her mind and heart were racing a million miles a second.

Widowmaker brushed their lips together once more, both relishing in the feeling. Her arms wound around Tracer’s waist. Something tickled. “Oh, Lena…I am.” She then pressed a simple kiss to Tracer’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Tracer barely had time to knit her brows together when the sound of Widowmaker’s grappling hook shoots off. Instead of Widowmaker dashing away Tracer found that it was her own body being repelled, shooting back across the rooftop.

She came to a sharp halt as her back cracked against a still intact spire. The wind was fully knocked from her lungs and it took her a long moment to stagger back to her feet. In a flurry of frustrated jerks she managed to unwind the grappling hook from around her waist and throw it to the ground.

Realistically she knew she would not see Widowmaker, but it hurt nonetheless. The fighting below was unbearably loud, and Tracer could no longer see a point in being there.

She tapped her comm unit and said, “It’s time to go.”

They managed a swift exit with limited injuries. Nothing that Mercy couldn’t patch up on the way back to headquarters.

But as they flew off and Lena gazed down into the Château, she couldn’t help the sadness and guilt that ebbed away at her. The beautiful building she had always wanted entrance too was crumbling, swarming with unwelcome guests who would no doubt turn the place over looking for clues at to where Widowmaker went.

She turned away from the window, silently crossed into the cockpit, and sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “You comfortable letting me fly us back?” She asked.

No one disagreed. And she was grateful once she had the cockpit to herself.

Had Widowmaker truly used her that entire time? She didn’t think so…

Was the kiss the final ruse?

It very well might have been. Though the one thought that she kept circling back to was Widow’s Kiss pressed into her Chronal Accelerator and Widowmaker choosing to not take the shot. That was a huge choice. A choice she made of her own volition. Her conditioning was either fully broken or damn near close enough.

Lena sighed, trying to focus on the feel of the leather of the seat and immerse herself in flying to no avail.

There was no way to predict where Widowmaker would go. She was private long before Talon took hold of her and she had left no clues during their time spent together. It would do no good to chase after her and Lena doubted she would be cleared to leave base anytime soon regardless. Not that she was sure she wanted to...

Lena hoped she might see Widowmaker again. And hoped it would not be like old times. She bit her lip, remembering how it felt to be kissed, then dismissed it with a dour shake of her head.

Eyes on the horizon she focused on what was in front of her. Lena needed some time to process and there was no better place to be than in the driver seat of a familiar plane.

Chapter Text

Lena exited the infirmary, adjusting the Chronal Accelerator to her freshly healed ribs, and winced at the lingering tenderness. The bones were healed, exceptionally quick thanks to Angela, but the bruises would remain a while longer. The large purple splash across her spine pressed uncomfortably against the Chronal accelerator, but she would deal.

There was a mission with her name written all over it and being out doing her job beat hanging out on base and dealing with the pitying looks from her comrades.

At least the anger had passed. That had been a rough dealing. Chewed out and berated by nearly every original Overwatch member who remembered the initial betrayal like it were yesterday. Fareeha was the least understanding, but Lena could understand why. She was simply happy that Angela had managed to quell Fareeha’s rage before she was able to take it out on Lena physically. Whether that was because Angela didn’t want to fix a black eye or because she felt Lena had suffered enough was beyond her.

At least she was spared the wrath of the newer members, mostly. Brigitte still seemed a little put off. Lena’s actions were certainly far off from what the great Reinhardt would have done in her place.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind. They had no place on a mission. And she would not endanger her team because she couldn’t focus on anything outside of the consequences of her own miserable choices.

As she stepped onto the bridge of the plane she would not be flying-as if she were still untrustworthy, and even if she knew where Widowmaker was it’s not like she would take an entire platoon of Overwatch agents to attack her- her grin fell.

Fareeha stared, expression darkening upon seeing Lena, and then she fixed it into her usual fierce game face. An expression Lena knew from experience came straight from Captain Amari.

“Lena,” Fareeha said curtly. “I was not aware you were on this mission as well.”

“Yup,” Lena said with a pop and walked into the cabin. “Glad to be back on duty.”

Fareeha watched her settle in one of the seats then without a response headed for the cockpit, likely to get away from her.

Lena sighed, turning over her goggles in hand.

“That went better than I expected,” Hana quipped from across the cabin. “I almost thought she would deck you.”

This gave Lena a reason to laugh, uneasily. “Wouldn’t blame her if she had. Can’t say I wouldn’t have given it back.”

Hana’s lip curled up into a half smile. “I bet my fans would pay to see that.”

“There will be no brawling among Overwatch members and no broadcasting of any kind,” Angela said as she stepped into the cabin.

Hana laughed outright this time. “I would never compromise the mission or my friends for fame.” She flicked a piece of hair over her shoulder. “I’m famous enough. Besides, I don’t need cheap tricks to boost my audience.”

“And so humble too,” Lucio said, sliding into the room.

“Finally!” Hana grinned and jumped at him, brandishing her handheld gaming device. “Check out this level. You’ll love the beat.”  

Angela smiled softly at the two then came to sit next to Lena. “How are you feeling?”

“You asked me this ten minutes ago, doc,” Lena laughed.

“I can ask as many times as I want. I’m concerned, Lena.”

Lena sobered, amusement falling from her face. “I’m good, Ang. I promise.”

“What about Widow--,”

“I already told you I don’t know where she is.”

Angela squared Lena with a familiar look that fell somewhere between concern and consternation. “I meant, how are you feeling after everything?”

Lena tipped her head back, lips drawn tight. “I don’t know how I’m feeling. Valid enough?”

Angela nodded, attention turning from Lena to Reinhardt who entered the cabin with a grin. He threw his arms out in greeting and suddenly Lena felt a little better.

“Lena! Good to see you up on your feet again,” he said. “My shield is yours if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Lena said with a fond smile. “Appreciate it.”

“Alright, now that everyone is here. We’re headed out. We are 70 minutes out so make sure you’ve finished all preparations before drop.”  

The door shuttered close and the plane began it’s take off. Lena leaned back in her seat and allowed herself to be miserable over the fact that she was not the one flying. Much like a pouting child she slid down her seat and folded her arms over her chest. The action felt better than simply moping.

Angela laughed at her directly for this. “Stop moping, Lena. You won’t be grounded for long.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied more bitterly than expected.

Angela must not have expected it either because for a moment she looked put off. Before Lena could apologize Angela masked the expression and touched a hand to her knee.

“It won’t be long. I promise.”

Great. Lena pouted more. Now I really feel like an asshole.

The rest of the ride was less awkward than Lena imagined. Fareeha made no attempt to engage with her and Lena was fine with that. They could be professional on a mission and keep apart outside of it without issue.

Ten minutes out and Pharah came to the back room, a little tense as her eyes swept over Lena. She checked over her armor meticulously. Five minutes out and Tracer slapped her goggles over her eyes. She rapped at her Chronal accelerator with her knuckles and hummed pleasantly as it whirred. Two minutes out and Hana and Lucio set aside their electronics. Game faces on.

The back of the plane opened and Reinhardt was the first to jump out, shield up just in case as the others piled out behind.

Everything was awfully quiet for what was supposed to be a battle zone. It was like a scene out of a movie. Empty streets, a cold breeze sweeping dust along dingy pavement. Something didn’t feel right.

Tracer had fallen into a few too many ambushes in her time to not understand that off tilt twist in her gut. She blinked ahead, doing a quick sweep, and came back to report that the surrounding streets were just as empty as their drop zone.

“What are they waiting for?” Pharah asked, the hard set furrow of her brow visible through her visor.

“We’ve managed in situations like this before,” Mercy stated. “We’ll do so now. Move out.”

They swept through the town that was supposedly occupied by a Talon excavation crew and continued to find no sign of them. Tracer and Pharah alternated scouting and checking their borders. Eyes above and eyes below gave them a pretty good picture of just how eerily empty the town really was.

Tracer set off on another round, blinking ahead of the group. It wasn’t until she rounded a corner that she stopped, suddenly feeling sick. Bodies littered the street, Talon and civilian alike. The blood was still fresh as it pooled in the gutters.

“Next street up,” Tracer said into her com. “I’ve found bodies. A lot of them.”

She bent down to examine those nearest to her surprised to find that the Talon agents had neat bullet holes in their heads while the civilians injuries seemed sporadic.

The others came up behind Tracer and a palpable tension ran through the group. Reinhardt’s grip on his hammer tightened.

“Who would do such a thing?” he asked.

“Talon,” Pharah spat. “Let’s find the ones who did this.”

As they stepped over the dead, checking for any survivors, Mercy’s expression darkened.

“What were they after that was worth this?”

Something still didn’t sit right with Tracer. She frowned and examined the bodies as they went. “What the hell spooked Talon so much that they would open fire on civilians?”

The others shot her confused looks.

“What makes you say that?”

“The precision shots are on Talon. Looks like they panic fired on the civilians.” Tracer shrugged. “I’m just guessing.”

They didn’t get much further. A hail of bullets shot at them as they turned onto the next street. Between Reinhardt’s shield and D.VA’s matrix all were soaked up and no one sustained injuries.

Lucio’s speed boost got all of them behind the cover of a building as another rain of bullets hit the street.

“We found Talon,” Lucio said.

“I’m going to head up and get a good look at what we’re up against,” Pharah said.

“I’ve got you,” Mercy added.

A second later they both shot into the air dodging bullets and shooting off rockets. The rooftop across from them shattered under a rocket blast and the Talon agents fell with varying shrieks.

When Pharah and Mercy touched back down they seemed nonplussed.

“Lots of activity down this street. Seems like they meant it to be a defensible position. The building at the far end of the street seems to be the target. Whatever they’re up to it’s going down in there.”

“So, we break through these ranks and get inside. No problem,” D.VA said.

“Lucio should stay behind Rein and push him forward,” Tracer said then looked at Mercy and Pharah. “I assume Mercy will be following you closely.”

Mercy nodded. “Makes sense. I can boost you if I’m close and be back to the others if anything goes wrong.”

“It won’t,” Tracer said.

“That leaves you and me,” D.VA said then grinned. “We can do what we do best.”

Tracer smiled, finding some levity in D.VA’s confidence. “Exactly.”

Everything was going well. Between Reinhardt being the ultimate shield, dropping it only to swing his hammer once he was close enough to Talon and backed by D.va bringing up her Matrix to block any oncoming assault, the ground team was unstoppable. Lucio did a great job of boosting the tanks and switching to healing whenever anyone took a hit.

Above them Pharah and Mercy were a lethal duo. Anyone who tried to flank Reinhardt met a well aimed rocket blast. Talon couldn’t stand a chance with two aggressive pushes from ground and air.

Tracer zipped through the battlefield picking off anyone with enough wits to still fight and applying pressure to the back lines. Disrupting enemy lines was one of her specialties and she derived a sort of pleasure in her success. It was dirty work to shoot someone in the back, but it worked. And when it came down to it she would rather not die…again.

Within a few minutes Talon was down and the building they were defending was left open. Pharah and Mercy touched down just outside the front doors. Together they pulled the heavy set doors open by their iron handles.

Tracer hadn’t assumed the building would be empty per say, but she did not expect a large device, at least two stories high in the center of the main room. Thick cables ran along the floor and attached to different points of the device. She approached cautiously.

“What the hell is this thing?”

“Whatever it is, Talon was trying really hard to protect it,” D.va said as she circled the object.

“I don’t think it’s an option to take this back to base with us,” Mercy said.

“We could call in for a team to come here,” Lucio suggested with a shrug.

“In that case we will have to hold this position until reinforcements arrive,” Reinhardt said with his signature boast. “Does that sound good to everyone?”

The group went silent for a moment before Mercy decided to call it in and get advice from headquarters. As she argued with whoever was on the line Tracer continued to check out the building, treading softly in case she tripped some invisible defensive system.

It was an odd building. Talon had hollowed out the middle of the second and third floors to make room for the object. Various generators sat around powering the damn thing and yet it looked like it was off. All dark and mysterious.

“What are you?” She muttered.

“Are you really that blind?” A disembodied voice said.

Tracer whipped around, but couldn’t see anyone. She blinked once to put distance between them, but then something clanked and she gasped, unable to blink forward.

Sombra’s laugh came out dark and smooth and then she was standing in front of Tracer waving her glowing fingers. “If I can hack you, imagine what I can do to your friends.”

Tracer glanced back and realized with a cold bead of fear that she was alone. In her intrigue to figure out what the contraption was she had wandered away from her team.

“It won’t last forever,” Tracer stated.

The soft sound of suction caught her attention. Tracer glanced around discreetly, searching, while trying to still give Sombra her attention.

“I don’t need it to last forever.” Sombra’s grin was wicked and that’s when the suction became loud.

Tracer pivoted just as Moira’s purple arm shot out for her neck. She grabbed the arm and threw her weight down until Moira flipped overhead and landed on her back with a crack. Tracer jumped on Moira, straddled her into the ground, and punched her quickly in the throat.

Moira gurgled unpleasantly, hands coming to wrap around her neck and mouth.

Tracer popped up as Sombra attacked, but there was a whir in Tracer’s chronal accelerator and she knew she was back in business. She popped off a bomb, stuck it to Sombra’s chest, and kicked her back. Sombra’s feet tripped over Moira’s body and she fell on top of her. A second later the bomb exploded and the two shrieked.

“Tracer? What happened?” Mercy’s voice asked over comms.

“Sombra and Moira are here. I incapacitated them, but not for long.” Tracer looked behind her and could see movement between the smoke. “Reaper can’t be far.”

“You’re right.” Reaper’s wraith form hovered to her side and Tracer’s eyes widened as she once more saw the glint of his shotgun far too close for comfort.

She blinked, but not before he took the shot. Tracer cried out as part of the shell shredded into her left leg. Blood splattered the ground and she stumbled. Reaper aimed at her back and she blinked to the side as he shot at her.

Tracer hobbled away, gripping her leg tight to try to stem the bleeding. She came back into the main room with the giant machine and wished she understood what the hell it was for and why Talon was sending their best people to guard it.

Mercy glided over swiftly as Reinhardt, D.VA, and Pharah fanned out around them as a protective shield. Mercy swiftly pulled out a syringe from the pack strapped to her thigh and without warning shot it into Tracer’s leg just above the wound.

“Fuck, Ang,” Tracer ground out.

“You’ll be fine,” she said stiffly. “He didn’t hit any major points. No arteries. Looks like a graze mostly.”

“Doesn’t bloody feel like it,” Tracer said and looked down to see that the material of her leggings around the bloody mess were charred and still smoldering. “That wanker hit me with incendiary rounds?!”

Mercy seemed unimpressed with Tracer’s outburst as she pressed a cloth to the area to smother the burning material. Tracer hissed again, her thigh suddenly feeling raw. Mercy pulled out gauze and began to wrap the wound. She was tying it off when Reinhardt stated;

“We’ve got company.”

Reaper billowed into the room flanked by Sombra and Moira, both of whom looked furious. When Tracer caught their eye she winked and made a kissing motion. Sombra grinned, severely, like she had something awful planned.

“It’s only 3 of them. We have this.” Lucio said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Reaper drawled.

The front doors behind them burst open and icy panic stopped Tracer’s heart for a moment. Doomfist waltzed in flexing his hands. All Tracer could think about was how he set her back, how he nearly destroyed her in a way that would have been permanent torment. She still remembered flickering in and out of existence until she was gone. Back in the slipstream with a pain around her chest from where he crushed into her, embedded bits of her own accelerator into her flesh.

Sigma hovered in next to him seemingly bored by the entire circumstance. He was flanked by three Talon officers and suddenly Lucio cursed; they were outnumbered.

Tracer shook out her leg. Whatever Angela gave her worked wonders. She could put weight on the leg and not feel a damn thing. Though when she looked down blood continued to ooze out the wound, prickling at the gauze. They had to end this quick.

“We just have to hold for reinforcements,” Pharah said low enough so only they could hear.

No other words were said as a firefight broke out. Pharah and Mercy immediately jumped towards the rafters and with Mercy’s buff two of Talon’s soldiers behind Sigma were struck and laid out.

Reinhardt shot off a fire strike that nearly cut through Moira then popped up his shield in time to block several shots from Reaper and Sombra.

Tracer didn’t know how badly she wanted to avoid Doomfist until he was upon her, voice smooth in her ear as he bid her a sinister hello. She tried to back up, blink backwards, but Doomfist’s charge had a greater distance than she anticipated and his fist caught her square in the face. A spray of blood gushed out her nose but she ignored it in favor of shooting at him.

Sigma brought up a shield to block her attacks then threw out one of his own. D.VA zoomed in front just in time to absorb the attack then pushed both Sigma and Doomfist back.

Lucio was on Tracer in a second, switching his beats, and her nose instantly began to mend.

“Thanks,” Tracer said.

Lucio smiled briefly before skating towards Reinhardt to speed him up and pull him out a bad situation as the three from earlier were flanking him.

This is bad, Tracer thought. She raced around in an attempt to flank anyone too busy with one of her teammates to notice her, but it was no use. It was like Talon had it out for her. And they were hitting hard.

D.VA exploded out of her mech before it could crumble around her and thanks to Lucio’s quick feet swooped her out of the way of taking a hypersphere to the back of the head. He quickly got her out the front doors, where there was still cover for her to hide behind as she waited for her next mech to come down from their airship.

Reinhardt charged, catching Reaper and Sigma in the blast and knocked them outside as well. Pharah followed suit and blasted Sombra, Moira, and Doomfist towards the door and when Lucio swung back around her blasted them out the door and into the dirt.

The tides began to change outside. D.VA lifted to her feet and sprinted to the middle of the fray as the agents of Talon got to their feet. She grinned and called her mech down. It landed with an impact that knocked Talon off their feet again and she climbed inside before they could stand.

It was like a second wind for everyone. Tracer almost felt good about her odds as she relentlessly attacked Doomfist to keep him down.

Then the crack of a rifle. Moira collapsed into a pool of blood as a gaping hole in her shoulder left her writhing on the ground.

No way…

Another shot, so quick Tracer couldn’t trace it, and Doomfist’s cybernetic’s around his arm shattered. Wiring and plating littered the ground and Doomfist, with a newfound hatred in his gaze, made to grab Tracer. He almost caught her around the throat, but another shot shattered Sigma’s shield and he bumped Doomfist, knocking him off balance.

Pharah shot back into the air, scanning.

A bullet shattered Pharah’s right jet. A plume of dark smoke followed her descent back to the ground.

“I’ve been hit,” Pharah said across comms. “Doesn’t look like I’ll be airborne again. We need to take out the sniper.”

“I’m on it,” Tracer chirped. Heart racing, cause it couldn’t be…

“No!” Pharah yelled. “We still have enemies ground side to deal with!”

“Tracer, wait!” Mercy called.

They can handle it, Tracer said to herself. They’ll be okay.

Tracer paused at an intersection long enough for a bullet to whiz past her head and clip the ground just to her left. She grinned towards the rooftop, saw the telltale glint of a scope, and knew it was her.

Racing, heart thrumming, Tracer blinked up to the rooftop in record time pausing at the top for just a moment to assess.

In the shadow of a chimney stood a lithe figure staring down her scope. She took another shot, cursed lightly in french, then unfurled and faced Tracer.

“Mon cherie,” Widowmaker said, just as Tracer closed the distance between them.

She threw her arms around Widowmaker, who swooped down to capture her lips in an unexpected kiss that Tracer had yearned for. Widowmaker pulled Tracer into her as much as the chronal accelerator would allow, and it nearly swept Tracer off her feet. Literally. She was on the very tips of her toes eagerly accepting all Widowmaker had to give her. All her previous anger at the woman slipped away until Widowmaker pulled back. Her hands drifted to Tracer’s hips, holding her firm, and then her thumb brushed against the wrappings.

“Who did this?” she asked coldly.

“Reaper,” Tracer answered. “Why’d you take out Pharah’s jet?”

“I couldn’t have her shooting at me when it was your attention I wanted.”

Tracer’s gut twisted and she warmed. She needed some distance, some levity. Her friends were still fighting down there. So she stepped, regrettably, out of Widowmaker’s grip and looked out towards the battlefield.

Widowmaker’s shots on the Talon agents had helped considerably. Tracer watched the battle wage on, but now Overwatch had the upper hand even without her.

They’ll be fine, she reminded herself.

"Were you the one who killed those Talon agents?" Tracer asked. The image of all the dead bodies appeared in her mind again. "Please tell me you didn't kill the civilians too."

"Of course not," Widowmaker hissed, affronted. "Talon did that on their own."

Tracer exhaled. “What is that thing in there?” she asked.

Widowmaker shook her head. “I’m not sure. Could be a number of Talon projects.”

“Well then we need to get down there and disable it before Talon decides to use it.”

“No. That’s not why I’m here.”

Tracer stilled, annoyance rippling under the surface. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not here to help you,” Widowmaker said. Something like guilt flashed through her eyes and she pursed her lips a moment. “I didn’t even know you would be here.”

Tracer scoffed. “Of course.”

Widowmaker didn’t hold back her own annoyed expression. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now.”

“Figured what out?” Tracer hissed.

She got into Widowmaker’s space ready to make her spill all the stupid secrets she kept locked inside when the sounds of battle changed and her attention was brought back to reality.

Doomfist countered Pharah’s vulnerability and grabbed her smoking jets in his still sparking hand. She flailed wildly, tried to get him off, but he buried his arm in between her jets and crushed down. There was a loud explosion that flung Pharah forward. She landed face first in the dirt, blood streaming down the back of her head.

“No,” Tracer muttered.

Mercy flew over. Tried to lift Pharah as she healed her, but was met with a chunk of heavy debris to the face. Her face bled, but she was still conscious as Sigma loomed overhead.

Reinhardt swooped in and swung his hammer into Sigma. He caught the man under the ribs and Sigma went tumbling into a nearby building.

Sombra then hacked Reinhardt like she did Tracer earlier, and his charge fizzled out. Reaper was on him in a second. The shotgun Reinhardt took the back wouldn’t kill him, but it was enough to daze him. Enough time for Sigma to get up, lift the debris from the building he had careened through, and bring it down on Reinhardt.

“Fuck!” Tracer cursed and started to run, only Widowmaker caught her by the wrist. “Let go of me!”

“We can end this. Together,” Widowmaker said.

“Piss off!” Tracer yelled. “I have to help them.”

“I thought you wanted to help me.”

Tracer froze, then bared her teeth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

She broke free of Widowmaker’s grasp then ran as quickly as she could. She used all her blinks, extended them as far as she could. As she approached she readied a pulse bomb. Before Sigma had a chance to realize she was there Tracer stuck the bomb to his back.

As soon as it exploded D.VA was there, knocking him back and shooting until he would not get up.

“Where the hell were you?” she growled.

Tracer had no good response, so instead she raced over to Mercy who was tending to Pharah. Tracer exhaled when she saw both were breathing and awake though Pharah’s eyes were a little glossy and far away.

When Tracer slid to her knees before Mercy she pushed back the bloody chunks of hair from her face so Mercy could better see.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “You should have been here.”

It wasn’t unkind even though that’s how it sounded. “I know.”

Sombra and Reaper were the only two left standing and D.VA was handling them single-handedly as Lucio got Reinhardt back on his feet.

Another anger burned inside. At herself. At Widowmaker. At Talon. All at once. And it threatened to spill out, so she allowed it. She embraced it and used it to propel her forward and right into Reaper’s chest.

“Tracer! What?” D.VA exclaimed.

Tracer didn’t let up. She assaulted Reaper with everything she had in her and between her blows and his dodging soon they were back inside the building with the giant device. Just the two of them.

Reaper caught her jaw with a punch that sent her into the machine. It sparked at her back and she jolted forward just missing another blow.

“What the bloody hell is your problem?” Tracer growled. “You used to be the best at Overwatch! You used to fucking care about the world and helping people and now look at you! You’re a shell of that man. A monster!”

Reaper pulled out a gun and as Tracer pulled her own out he smacked her wrists, crunching them beneath the solidness of his own guns, and she released her hold with a cry. He then kicked her square in the chest and her back hit the machine. He pressed his arm into her throat to hold her in place and pressed the barrel of his shotgun against her temple.

“Overwatch turned me into this,” he snarled. “You follow blindly still. I always knew you were naive, but I thought you had more sense than that.”

“At least we aren’t terrorizing the world. And for what?” Tracer spat.

“You have no idea what we’re trying to accomplish. This device behind you is the start of a new beginning for us all.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Stupid girl,” he hissed. “It’s many things. It’s everything. But we’ll start with the global EMP and move forward from there.”

Tracer’s eyes widened. It’s not possible. He had to be lying. But then…he had no reason to lie.

“Why?”

“Because this is how we evolve. This is how Overwatch falls for good. Starting with you.”

His finger pulled at the trigger and Tracer was about to recall, about to put herself in serious danger again, when someone grabbed Reaper’s wrist and pointed the gun up. The shot rang through Tracer’s ears, and all she could hear was an incessant ringing.

She had enough sense to duck and sweep Reaper’s legs out from under him. Before he could get up Widowmaker was there with her foot pressed into his chest and Widow’s Kiss pointed at his face.

Her lips moved, but Tracer still couldn’t hear. She calmed her breathing down and waited. The ringing began to subside and soon she could hear the gravel tone of Reaper’s voice. He leaned up and Widowmaker’s foot moved from his chest to his neck.

“You took everything from me once,” Widowmaker dug her foot deeper into Reaper’s neck. “I won’t let you do it again.”

“Don’t kill him!” Tracer gasped and stumbled into Widowmaker’s side. “We need to know what he knows.”

Widowmaker didn’t take her eyes off Reaper. “He doesn’t deserve to live after all he’s done.”

“Could say that same about you,” Reaper laughed darkly.

Widowmaker lifted the gun and Tracer shouted, tried to reach for it, but Widowmaker was quick. She spun it around and crushed it into Reaper’s mask knocking him out. She waited a moment to make sure he was out before removing her foot.

Tracer stared, shocked into stillness as Reaper’s face became clear through the bits of shattered mask.

“It really is Gabriel,” she whispered. “We were never sure…”

Widowmaker watched Tracer grapple with the information, but she offered no assurances.

Tracer lifted her goggles and rubbed at her eyes. “Well, what’s next?” she asked.

Widowmaker watched her, warily, and it twisted the knife a little deeper.

“What’s next is I continue to go after Talon.”

“I thought you were running away.”

“I had a change of heart.”

They both froze, staring at each other. And it hurt. But it was good. Somehow bittersweet all in one to have Widowmaker back. To know she was changed. To know she was still so out of reach.

Under the weight of it all Tracer laughed. A little unhinged and a little exuberant all in one.

“Should I call your doctor in?” Widowmaker asked uncertainly. “Your reinforcements arrived and are dealing with everything outside.”

“No. No. I’m fine.” Tracer waved her hand. “This is just so bloody weird.”

Widowmaker nodded a little as if she understood and then she collapsed Widow’s Kiss and began to walk.

Tracer blinked in her face before she could get more than a few steps away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Away before Overwatch decides to arrest me again.”

“You could be a real asset now that we know your conditioning is broken.”

“I don’t know about that,” Widowmaker smirked.

Tracer laughed again. “Did you just joke? Oh my god. I can’t believe this.”

“In all seriousness,” Widowmaker said softly. She cupped Tracer’s cheek in her hand and brushed her thumb over her lips. “I can’t go back to Overwatch. And I don’t want you entangled in my mess. They could arrest you for mere association with me.”

Tracer leaned into the touch. “This is an Overwatch problem too. That makes it my problem.”

“Still…” Widowmaker trailed off letting her thumb rest on the cleft of Tracer’s bottom lip.

Gently Tracer kissed the finger and grasped Widowmaker’s hand in both her own. She lowered their hands then curled their fingers together.

There was still so much unease between them. So much uncertainty and it was driving Tracer mad. She hoped it was doing the same to Widowmaker.

But she knew what she wanted to do. She could have her cake and eat it too.

“You know,” Tracer said, all smiles and happy thrums. A genuine curiosity appeared on Widowmaker’s usually expressionless face. “I think it’s about time I take a mini vacation.”

Widowmaker hummed, dropping Tracer’s hands so she could instead grab her by the hips and tug her back in.

Tracer almost laughed. Wanted to bring up to Widowmaker that she really liked to do this, but thought better of it.

“This won’t be one mission and then it’s over,” Widowmaker said, fingers curling into Tracer’s sides as if afraid to let go.

“I know,” Tracer said, stepping closer. “But I can help you without turning my back on Overwatch.”

“Are you sure?” Widowmaker asked.

Her face was drawing near and Tracer leaned up to meet her halfway. Their foreheads bumped but they held themselves there. Suspended.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

When they kissed this time it was different. Different from before. Free of anger and aggravation. Free of the fear of the unknown. They could do this. They would pull this off.

Tracer wound her arms around Widowmaker’s neck and pulled her lower. In response Widowmaker brought her hands lower and lifted. With a squeak Tracer was up, legs wrapped around Widowmaker’s middle.

She laughed, gloriously full of happiness. “We should save this for somewhere else. A bedroom maybe?”

“Why?” Widowmaker nibbled on Tracer’s bottom lip then pressed kisses to Tracer's jaw and neck. “Your friends are preoccupied and I don’t know how long it will take for you to put in your ‘vacation time’.”

“Worried you won’t see me soon enough?” Tracer joked.

“Yes.”

It was a simple statement, but said with such deliberation that it knocked Tracer speechless. Her hands glided over Widowmaker’s cheeks and pulled her in for another kiss.

They could have stayed there forever. Entangled. Lips never leaving the other’s skin. But then Tracer could hear her name being called. Concern from her team.

Tracer sighed and slid out of Widowmaker’s grasp. With her feet back on the ground everything suddenly felt a lot more real. What she was about to do might harbor repercussions, but as she looked from Widowmaker, to the device, then to Gabriel’s body, she knew she had to. She couldn’t sit idly by and let this opportunity pass.

She squeezed Widowmaker’s hand and pressed one final kiss to her lips. She wouldn’t let Widowmaker run off for good again.

“I’ll get it done quick. I promise.”

Widowmaker nodded then stepped back. She was in the shadows just as her team burst in, a deviously sexy smile etched into her features. 

Tracer schooled her features as she stood over Reaper and watched as everyone’s expressions twisted upon seeing his face. A solemn heaviness hung in the air around them.

D.VA began staring hard at Tracer and when she finally looked back there was a sly grin on her face.

“Tracer,” she asked sweetly, making sure that everyone’s attention was now on her. “Why is there a hickey on your neck?”

Tracer’s eyes widened and no amount of popping her collar could hide the coloring in her cheeks or what was on her neck.

“It’s a bruise.”

“Oh, it sure it,” D.VA cackled. Her laughter grew louder as Mercy snatched Tracer's wrist.

Mercy was the one to drag Tracer off. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Tracer admitted. She glanced back to where Widowmaker had disappeared. “We do.”