Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Widowmaker stood at the window surveying the grounds if her current base. She was bored, there had been several missions that were barely worth her time. The high was still there but it wasn’t quite the same as landing the perfect shot when the odds were not tilted in her favour. She found, it irked her that Overwatch didn’t even bother to show up and disrupt her missions anymore, like they had given up. She was both thankful, as the kills were more efficient without the constant interruptions, but also disappointed as she found that she missed the challenge that was posed by their interference. Now with no distractions the kill felt less fulfilling, like the high it didn’t last as long without a challenge. Now, she was back to a familiar hobby, finding the most efficient way to kill all the guards around her compound. There were exactly fifty-six of them that rotated shifts, and she’d gotten the time down to a mere minute.

A knock on the door. Reyes. He was the only one who dared approach her at her base. Another knock, more insistent this time. She got up, it was unwise to ignore the man, considering the amount of cleanup that was required when he got impatient.

 “No target this time,” he said and yet he sounded almost gleeful, “research subject.”

 “Then it is clearly below my talents,” she said closing the door.

“I would tend to agree,” hissed Reaper next to her ear clearly having phased himself in uninvited. “However, you are in no position to refuse this mission. It is a request from the top, and we all know how much they hate being... disappointed . Besides,” he continued as he ran a finger down the side of her face, “I personally volunteered to bring the file to you. I think you might find this borderline entertaining .”

“Oh?” Now she was slightly intrigued, Reaper rarely bothers to play errand boy unless it furthers his own goals.

“I’ll leave it on your desk,” he said billowing into and out of her office. “I believe that you will find the Subject most interesting.” And disappeared.

Widowmaker, not one to be inefficient opened the envelope and read the assignment.

Asset Widowmaker,

You are to report to the Research and Development Building at 1800. We have obtained a potential asset that has been proving difficult to tame. Under the recommendation of the lead Doctor that we have found it fit that you come in and take part to help bring the Subject under control. As the Subject is highly volatile and dangerous, it is suggested that you take appropriate precautions.

Inside you will find all you need to know on Subject.

Signed,

Evelyn Savent

Head of Science and Technology

Discarding the mission letter, Widowmaker flipped open the file.

Well, well. She thought. This certainly explained some things.

Program : Proteus

Goal: Persuade Subject to work for Talon

Attempt Number: 6,741

Research Subject: Lena Oxton

Known Aliases : Tracer

Known Affiliations: Overwatch (formerly)

Current Status: In Stasis

Known Associates (relation, status, last known location):

Winston (friend, alive, active, Gibraltar)

Hana “D.Va” Song (friend, alive, active, Korea)

Angela “Mercy” Ziegler (co-worker, alive, active, London)

Lúcio Correia dos Santos (friend, alive, Peru)

Torbjörn Lindholm (alive, active, Ukraine)

Reinhardt (mentor, inactive, London)

Gérard Lacroix (supervisor, dead, France)

Al-Farouk (friend, dead)

Bayless (co-worker, dead)

Maria Estrada (co-worker, inactive, Spain)

Widowmaker read the file. She skimmed through Tracer’s history as she knew most of it from her own research. They even included her own notes and mission reports relating to the girl. Her capture was a result of saving a child from an explosion that had happened when a protest had evolved into violence, no small thanks to Talon. Tracer had been knocked out, probably unable to blink because she refused to abandon a child. An ill advised move on her part, but Widowmaker expected no less from the idiot. Tracer had then been dug out from the rubble by a Talon member, quickly sedated, then brought to the facility.

They followed the standard recruitment procedures. But that was where it got interesting. Talon had tried all the usual techniques on the girl. None of them seemed to take for long. Even their most foolproof re-conditioning techniques were shaken off within seconds, repeat exposures did no good. In fact, one had noted down that the time it was being shaken off in shorter intervals, until it appeared to have no effect at all. Escape attempts were frequent, injuries common but no deaths.

Then they tried a different tactic, messing with the chronal accelerator. It worked. Widowmaker scanned the following pictures. Perhaps a bit too well. The next escape attempt had involved blood, quite a bit of it. As she read the details of the autopsies, and wasn’t quite positive if she should admire the work, it was brutal and efficient, if you count efficiency by the number of injuries you create that cause people to lose the most blood, or be appalled at the lack of control that was clearly apparent after everyone was clearly dead. It had taken Reaper to subdue the girl and that was just short of killing her.

They put her in stasis until they could build a cell that could prevent her from escaping.

With Talon’s resources it didn’t take long. They created a room and made it safe enough so that they could ask questions. The got few answers out of the girl pointed to the fact that she had gone from a person to something less. Doctor Hazur suggested they see how the Subject took to animal therapy to bring her back to within acceptable social levels, just as an experiment, perhaps a gorilla, he had noted down in amusement. The comment afterward that stated that particular incident hadn’t gone well was clearly an understatement. The recording that had been captured showed her killing the animal in a way that Widowmaker supposed that the saying “playing with your food” was taken to a whole new level. At the end of it, Tracer, if she could still be called that, was covered in blood and laughing like she had just had the time of her life.

They put her back in stasis after that. There had been a brief argument once they saw her interact with a spider. But the order had gone through anyway.

Widowmaker replayed and paused the image of the Subject laughing.

As she stood there looking the smile, the high pitched giggle of insanity echoed in her mind. Widowmaker, felt a tug of something that seemed almost like loss.

Chapter Text

Tracer woke up strapped to some kind of metal chair, not a good sign. Surrounded by monitors, also not a good sign. She also didn’t exactly appreciate the blue liquid that was trailing down the IV into her arm.

“Where am I?” She tried to ask. Her words were lost as they got stuck in the dryness of her throat. It did bring attention to the fact she was awake, if the sudden pause then resume of activity was any indication.

Tracer strained against the straps holding her down. It did no good, not that she expected it to but it never hurt to try. Okay Plan B. A loud crack sounded throughout the mostly silent room, as Tracer broke her thumb, the people around raced to stop her, but few people can keep up with the speed Tracer can create, and she accelerated her movements and undid all her bindings then blinked back to before she broke her thumb. She jumped into action ripping out the IV as she sprung, she just needed to buy enough time for the chronal accelerator to recharge. It was going splendidly too, up until the point when one managed to tase her from behind. The last thing she saw was the blurred symbol of Talon.

Those still able to move, wasted no time getting her strapped back down and calling for replacements. The reconditioning doesn’t take well. The Subject, as they’ve been instructed to call her, shakes it off, mostly. Muting what she feels doesn’t work, but they’ve been able to manipulate her emotions enough for her to be dangerous.

It was a breakthrough, but she was uncontrollable.  For a second they had succeeded, and second is all the time the Subject needed to be dangerous.

On a side note, Leonardo would never walk again.

They tried to replicated it, but didn’t work a second time.

They turned to cruder methods. Nothing took, even going as far as trying electroshock on the Subject. Even those who liked the challenge were beginning to get frustrated. They were running out of time, the deadline was coming and failure was not something that was taken lightly on a project that was being watched this closely but the higher ups.

They exhausted every idea, tried every new technique, nothing worked. The Subject had stopped screaming long ago. Just grunting and in extreme cases laughing at their attempts. They had avoided experimenting with the chronal accelerator but the options were narrowing and time was not on their side.

You’re falling.

This is a familiar feeling. The slipping away from reality. Did the chronal accelerator get damaged? You never wanted to come here again, the Slipstream where everything and nothing was simultaneously real and not. Winston will help though. He always does. He never gave up on you, and you will never give up on him. You hold onto that hope because he promised, and Winston never lets you down.

Days(?) Months(?) Pass. And you can feel your sanity slipping. There is only so much isolation a person can take, you researched it, once. Way back when you got grounded in reality again. You didn’t realize it was this slow. Or maybe it just seems slow. Time has never been fully stable for you since the accident.

First step towards goal confirmed, Subject woke asking what day is was. Subject has not spoken for since The Incident.

People are becoming blurs. Voices are merging together into some kind of roar. You try to hold on to something, anything, that will ground you into reality. But what is reality anymore? Silence, nothing. Maybe this is it? Then, the voices start again. Some, you think, you recognize but it feels like you’re playing a losing game.

You vaguely hear someone (female?) with an accent telling you, “Don’t. This blood here is keeping you alive.” Does it? What’s wrong with you? Are you bleeding? Before you can ask you are overrun by sounds again.

A male voice. Then silence. It feels like years before the sensations start up again.

There are moments of reprieve from the madness, the overload, the isolation, points where you can hold on longer to a place, to a person, to a voice, an image. You can feel phantom touches but nothing solid, like you’re there yet not, seen yet not seen. Alone and yet surrounded, unable to do anything but watch, not being able to make sense of any of the flashes.

Second breakthrough, Subject has shown no recognition of former associates.

“Why?” An echo, is that you? It sounds like you. At least you think it does. “Why would you do this?”

The answer, if there was one, is lost as you slip again.

The voices roar.

You want to curl up, make yourself as small as you can, maybe that will make it stop, but you can’t. Your limbs won’t let you. Why can’t you move?

“Hold on, Lena!” A male voice, not human, your mind supplies. Your lips twist into a snarl, you hate that voice. It’s the one that used to bring you the most comfort, now it just brings you pain. It’s always that voice before everything falls silent.

Third improvement! For the second time this week, Subject has shown hatred in regards to her former name. Possible dissociation. May be useful later. Will request permission to move on to reconditioning paired with current procedure.

You don’t know which is worse, the overload or the blackness. Always isolated. It repeats over and over. Time has no meaning, you find yourself laughing, other times you find yourself screaming into the void.

But even sound is swallowed there.

Emptiness now is a constant companion, clawing away at your mind. You can feel it, even as it fades somewhat from the new(?) craving you seem to have.

Fourth week of constant pressure and I think we’ve finally got it right. We will attempt re-awakening after a short rest in stasis.

A mistake, the entire team is dead. I was the only survivor, having been in the observation booth at the time. There is a fine line between functioning insanity and insanity, I suppose it was only a matter of time before we found out which side of the line the Subject ended up on. Alas, much time wasted. I am ordering immediate stasis until further notice. We must think of ways to make the Subject functioning before attempting again.

Chapter Text

"Sit on stool there," instructed the Doctor from the observation deck. “You’re going to have to hold the Subject’s hand. Wait until I tell you to do so.”

Coddling , Widowmaker thought. I’m coddling her.

The Doctor flipped a few switches. It was one thing watching a recording of Tracer’s reaction. It was quite another being able to see it up close, watching all the different reactions play across her face. There was an underlying measure of pain that was constant.

“Hold her hand. Now.”

Widowmaker did so. Instantly there was a change, the pain that had been playing across the girl’s face was gone, and her eyes blinked open. There was no focus there.

“What we are doing,” the Doctor explained, “is we are using your unique body temperature to our advantage, by giving her pain and a sense of no reality while you are not in contact we hope it will force her to seek you out and listen to you. Eventually, if successful, we can move onto voice and general presence because I highly doubt you want to be in contact all the time.”

They want you to be her handler. Widowmaker’s mind supplied.

“We tried it once before, with poor results. Ah, let go.”

She did. Tracer’s hand grasped at air, pain being written across her features again.

Widowmaker was asked to repeat this several times. Each response to the lack of connection became progressively more violent.

“That’s enough for today,” the Doctor announced. “We resume tomorrow. We have a room prepared for you so that we can begin again first thing in the morning.”

The days that followed were more or less the same Widowmaker couldn’t decide were interesting or boring. She had never seen so much detail or range in emotions up close. They had moved on to talking, but having to talk to someone who responded little more than a corpse could hardly be called interesting. But it was not her job to question, it was to do.

A month passed, when the Doctor decided that this part of the process had gone on long enough. Two weeks longer than what was probably necessary if the notes were accurate but someone from the top had taken a very keen interest on the project. This time Widowmaker had shown up and the Doctor had promptly dismissed her. Although, it had slightly annoyed at time she had wasted getting to the testing chamber in the first place, it was somewhat pleasant being up on the roof rather than in that enclosed chamber.

“Having fun?” Came a low voice from the shadows. Without so much as a blink, Widowmaker drew her gun and fired a single shot. He laughed as he dodged, the bullet hit the wall where his head had been.

“Playing this game, are we?” Reaper asked, slithering up beside her and tapping her shoulder. “Well then, you’re it.” He lept off the building. Widowmaker took her gun and pulled up the sights. The “game” as Reaper liked to call it was more like training practice. Not exactly fulfilling, but it did prove to be almost as much as a challenge as the girl. Reaper never bothered to attack her directly, opting instead to dodge and hide as though this was a very elaborate game of hide and seek. But she only got one shot or it was over. The score, as Reyes like to reminder her was four to four. And that just wouldn’t do for her professional pride.

Now, where had he gone? Ah. She aimed at his head, but before she could pull the trigger, he had vanished again. Apparently, he had learned some new tricks since last time. A rustle in the bushes to the southwest, could be him. Or perhaps he was lurking in the shadows near the pool. Neither, she decided, as she spotted a shadow move from one tree to another that was too big to be an animal. Calculating his direction and the pattern of his dodging if she aimed right here.

“Widowmaker, I need you in room 439. Quickly!” The Doctor shouted into her comm. It distracted her momentarily but she shook it off and re-aligned her shot. She fired. And it hit the shadow where the head would have been stopping him cold. Feeling some satisfaction, she stowed her gun and went to report to the Doctor.

Widowmaker could smell the blood before she got there, outside the door was the Doctor whose wringing hands and posture, she noted, was that of worry and fear. Mostly fear.

“I need you to go in there and calm her down.” He said, “If, uh, if she does not you have the authority to sedate her however you can without risking major injury or death to the Subject.” It did not escape Widowmaker’s notice that as she walked towards the door, he inched back. And when she opened it, he readied himself to flee. As she passed the threshold, the door slid shut behind her.

You remember waking, you remember the killing. You remember the bloodlust with with a second and third group that appeared. How you felt so alive and grounded then, watching the blood fly through the air. You remember the pain that returns when you aren’t killing, that which leaves you trying to recreate the image on the walls. But it’s not real enough, it’s not quite right. Something in you feels empty and you can’t seem to fill it without more red. The door slides open again, and for a second you pause, you don’t feel the hunger or the need. That’s not right, because that’s all you can remember having. What is wrong with you? You should want to tear out the insides of this new body.

But you don’t.

You paint the walls harder, maybe it will come back, and you’ll be normal again. Yes, normal. Hunger is normal, wanting red is normal. This is not normal and it’s putting you on edge, and yet. Something tugs at you like an old forgotten memory. But what is there to remember? You hunger, you want, you kill. There’s nothing else. Frustration. What is going on?

Growling, you turn to face the new...person. It’s a person, you can see the blood pumping underneath the skin. But it’s not inviting you to cut it open and watch it flow. Anger. Before the person can blink, you’re in front of her, knife to her throat, other hand preventing her arm from retaliating. But then your hands betrays you and the knife drops, the other releases it’s grip without your permission. A foreign feeling comes and you are afraid. But curious. There’s no pain, or hunger. You don’t want to hurt her. You want, you don’t know what you want. But you don’t want her to bleed or be hurt. What is wrong with you?

“I thought you would be more of a challenge,” she says coldly. Something inside you whispers that she’s always cold.

A challenge? You can give that to her. The knife is in your hand again and you attack. She dodges, and it looks like she has a small smile on her face. Is she mocking you? You increase the ferocity of your attacks and she matches it. This feels familiar and you feel a grin spread across your face. You like this. Eventually, she pins you against the wall taking full advantage of her height. It took quite a while and it’s clear she had to work for it. Sweat is running down both of your faces. The places she is touching you makes feel like it’s burning yet cold at the same time.

“Now, now. How about we drop the knife, no?” You do because she asked. You can’t help but feel that she is the only other thing real to you and if she wanted, you’d burn down the world for her. It’s a feeling you can’t explain but you can’t help but want to help her. You search for the emptiness earlier but it is gone.

“Who are you?” You get out, your voice not used to talking.

“Widowmaker.”

“Widowmaker,” the name comes out of your mouth with ease.

“You are to come with me,” she lets go as she tell you this. And you drop the knife to the ground and nod. You want to go with her. She opens the door.

There is a body on the other side of it, breathing, in a white coat, the knife is in your hand again and you rush forward. You want it to bleed.

“Stop,” the body says. You don’t.

“Stop,” Widowmaker orders almost bored. And you do. You don’t want to kill it anymore. The feeling of peace(?) settles into you once again.

“I think,” the white coat says clearly uncomfortable “some reinforcement training may be in order.”

Chapter Text

Winston bent over one of his many work benches working out the kinks of his latest invention, his brow furrowed in frustration, circles under his eyes. Nothing. Weeks of nothing. No sign, no body, the only information they could scrounge up barely gave evidence that Talon might have been involved where Lena had last been seen. But it was a series of circumstances that could very well be coincidence. But that all he had to go on, beyond that slim possibility, it was just one dead end after another.

Part of him blamed Lucio, Lena had been on her way to see hang out with the DJ after his concert in Peru. And he had very quickly reported her missing after she hadn’t made it to the meet. The DJ had even put his World Tour on hold for as long as his managers would let him to look for Lena. Part of him blamed Lena, she always had to be courageous and go where the fight was. Never one to take anything lying down. Shortly, after her disappearance Winston had gotten Mercy and Reinhardt to look in London for the speedster. They had found no sign of his friend, but they had brought back her research on Talon and their movements.

Winston had noted at the time that Lena seemed to have some kind of unhealthy obsession with Widowmaker. She had apparently taken the time to collect all the files and unknown assassinations that had involved the use of a single bullet. She had combined those files cross referenced them several other sources, in addition to what she had collected on Talon and had managed to create a list of potential targets. It was actually quite impressive detective work.

But then there was silence, there were a few possible sightings of Widowmaker early on but they haven’t had one in months. It seemed unlike Talon to take one of their most useful agents out of the field. And they hadn’t made any major plays for a while. Which had put Winston on edge, he was sure that they had to be planning something, big. He was right, two weeks ago, a bloodbath complete with the Talon symbol had taken out one of the potential targets’ on Lena’s list. The next day, a single shot was fired into the head of a minor political party leader that had been gaining popularity with their speeches of peace. Three days after that, one omnic and one human in the same town, each showing eerily similar patterns to the two previous events. Also, on Lena’s list.

There, finished. He had worked out the last few problems (he hoped) and it should help with finding at least one lead. He had taken into account Widowmaker’s unique body modifications and with a few ideas, had managed to cobble together goggles that should be able to find the woman within a hundred foot area. He was just relieved that he managed to finish it before nightfall, there was to be a speech delivered tonight by a visiting politician, and one of the people on Lena’s list. If he was lucky, Talon would strike. And he would be there, ready to get the answers he was looking for.

He spotted Widowmaker four hours later, but nothing could ever prepare him for how it would play out.

Winston pinned Widowmaker against the wall, “Where is she? What have you done with Tracer?” The impact knocked her head and she was temporarily stunned. In hindsight, she should have learned how to combat the gorilla, but that had seemed like a waste of time since her opponent was almost always the girl.

His face was inches away from hers, and he stared at her with barely controlled rage. Where was his friend? The one who bought him bananas and never forgot his birthday. He never really minded when she chattered on and on about her adventures. She always brought him souvenirs, since he wasn’t exactly the most unnoticeable, being a gorilla and all. And she always made sure to check on him whenever he was absorbed in his current science project to coax him to get some sleep. Just ask he was about to demand again, he felt a digging pain in his ribs that forced him to let go. In that same instant, a slice on his brow bleed into his left eye making him lose partial vision.

He wiped the blood away angrily, and looked around in attempt to locate the interloper. He was met with a familiar figure. But it couldn’t be.

“Stay down.” The girl said gently to Widowmaker who was shaking her head probably trying to get her focus back, his ears picked up. Lena? “I’ll take care of him.” It was most definitely Lena, the voice paired with the build made it the most probable conclusion.

“Lena?” he said still not quite believing what he was witnessing. What he saw was his friend, but not. Her eyes blazed with hatred that he had never known Lena to have and the body language that promised pain.

“You,” he heard her hiss as she blinked in front of him.

Winston knocked Lena away, he didn’t want to hurt her. Instead, he directed the sleepless nights, the worry, the frustration, the anger at the only person he could see, Widowmaker. He reached for the assassin in rage, fully intending to end her life and then those of her creators, if he couldn’t make her talk. He never made it to his target.

Pain hit the same time his right leg gave out. He fell, unable to complete his lunge toward the assassin. Before his knee hit the rooftop, there was a knife in his eye, and a large gash down his left arm. He swiped with his right and could barely make out the sight of Lena blinking behind him to cut another chunk, this time out of this left leg. He couldn’t move. Part of his mind was calculating the damage and realizing that he would bleed out if he didn’t get help. The other part was still catching up to the fact that Lena had done this to him. But this was no time to dwell, he was in danger.

He groaned with effort to get back up, only to be roughly kicked in the face by Lena. Probably using gravity to her advantage. Not quite enough to knock him out but definitely enough to give him a concussion. Paired with his legs, he wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere. He felt a movement to his side and saw a foot raise to stomp on his good eye.

“Leave him,” he heard Widowmaker order somewhere in the rapidly growing distance.

“But,” that was Lena somewhere above him.

“He is not part of the mission.”

“He hurt you.” She sounded pained.

“I said leave him,” Widowmaker said, later Winston would realize that she actually sounded annoyed.

“Fine,” said Lena’s voice adopted a slight whine. It hurt to hear that, the bit where she was almost begging to kill him. He wished Widowmaker would just let her do it, because it would be better than the pain he was feeling.

Even with his vision was fading in and out, and he could make out Lena make its way toward Widowmaker. In desperation, he used the last of his strength to reach for her.

“Lena,” Winston mumbled before sliding painfully into unconsciousness.

When he came to, he immediately wished that he had not because it was not a dream. He knew this from the lack of vision from his eye, and the casts that were put on his arm and legs. He knew better than to do what he’s about to do, but he wanted Lena back and this, this was not going to stop him.

Carefully he removed the three IV’s attached to his arm, he could barely feel his right hand but it doesn’t mean it couldn't function just enough to tug the needles out. It wasn't until he practically fell out of the bed that the door slid open to reveal company.

“Winston,” he winced because it’s scolding and it’s Angela. “You know better.”

“Angela, please.”

“No, get back into bed this instant.”

“Angela.”

“Don’t Angela me, Winston. Lucio and Reinhardt did not put all the effort into bringing you back and making sure you made it here just to have you die from further foolishness on your part. And I, did not spend ten hours doing invasive surgery just to have you undo all my hard work so that you can kill yourself the moment you wake up.”

“Angela.” He said with a rueful smile tugging at his lips even though the graveness of the situation that landed him there was not lost.

“What?” She responded, exasperation clearly evident in her voice.

“I am embarrassed to say that I cannot seem to get back up.”

“Oh for…” Angela sighed as she took out a communication device. “Reinhardt, could you please come to the medical bay, I need some help getting a patient back into bed.”

It didn’t take long for Reinhardt to arrive, with his help it was fairly easy to maneuver Winston back into bed.

“Thanks Reinhardt,” said Angela tiredly.

“It was my pleasure, Angela,” Reinhardt said before he turned to Winston taking a second to reassure him. “Do not lose hope my friend, we will get her back.”

It was only after Reinhardt’s footsteps had faded down the hall, Winston turned to Angela. “Did we manage to get any recordings off of my suit?”

“Winston.”

“Angela, please. I promised not to leave medical if you can just get me my recordings.”

She sighed conceding, “Just know that I do this against my recommendation.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll have Lucio bring them to you.”

Hours of watching then re-watching the recordings later, Winston couldn’t take anymore. There was no denying it, Lena’s face was clearly on the screen. He was at a loss, his best friend. He had to turn off the TV, everything felt so wrong.

“Lena, what did they do to you?” Winston asked the empty room.

Little did he know that Widowmaker was pondering that exact question about the same girl. He has no idea that his reaction to Tracer has given Widowmaker the ability to finally able to put a name to the wretched ball of something that had been gnawing away at her. Something she had been ignoring ever since she had seen Tracer take apart the people in the lab.

Loathing at what Talon had done to the girl.

Chapter Text

You know something has shifted. Ever since the gorilla. You don’t like it. Not at all. Why did she stop you from killing it? It deserved to die for hurting her. It did. You don’t know what happened on that rooftop before you got there but something changed since then. You didn’t notice quickly because you were just caught up in the fact that she was going to be okay. And angry with yourself, not at her never at her, for allowing that thing to go free. You should have killed it more quickly before she had a chance to stop you. To make up for it you’ve barely left her side until she had completely recovered. And you were just happy that she didn’t chase you off like she did that thing with the pale mask and low voice. She even let you sleep in the bed with her, where before she insisted you slept elsewhere except for after the missions. You don’t complain. But that’s not the only thing that is different.

She looks at you now with eyes that are growing more expressive as time passes. You don’t hate it, in fact you think you might like it better this way. But you’d take the coolness and almost indifference to what you are seeing now. You’re ashamed you didn’t notice earlier. You had been distracted, also your fault, when you should have been paying attention to what she needed.

She’s hurting and you’re ashamed you didn’t notice earlier.

She covers it up well, you know because no one else has noticed, but it’s there. You catch it when she thinks you aren’t looking. She’s upset, something that stupid ape did to her is the cause. But it only ever appears when you are in the room and you know that right now it’s you that’s hurting her. So you keep away as much as possible.

It’s an effort but you keep the distance. You’re so close to snapping and killing everyone in the area but the only thing that stops you is that she would be unhappy with the amount of waste and effort it would take to clean up. So you suffer through it. The headaches are getting worse, but you force yourself not to kill anyone outside of missions and you think the lack of her might kill you.

It hurts.

God, it hurts.

But it’s worth it. It’s gotta be. You just want her to be happy.

Widowmaker noticed that the girl had started to avoid her. Whenever she entered the room, Tracer however unsubtly, left unless she made the girl stay. The one mission, where they had to share body heat, Widowmaker had felt the tension in Tracer’s body fade and then seen the guilt that flash across the shorter girl’s face.

The distancing that Tracer was displaying wasn’t a concern as long as the girl kept her urges under control. And she was told that it was a perfectly natural progression over time. And although it was her duty to Talon to report any issues the girl may exhibit and so they could modify her behaviour to suit. But Widowmaker found that she didn’t want to. After all, she reasoned, the girl was her responsibility and if it didn’t get in the way of missions. Well Talon need not know about it.

But then, it got concerning.

Widowmaker was awakened from her light sleep by a loud thump against the wall outside her room. Taking appropriate precautions, she went to go check out the source of the disturbance. What she found was Tracer, clutching her head in pain. She watched as the the girl spotted her, and then stumbled toward her. Falling to her knees just short of touching.

“I’m sorry,” Widowmaker heard her repeat over and over. “I’m sorry, I can’t be strong enough. I can’t make you stop hurting.”

“You foolish girl,” Widowmaker said taking the girl into her arms.

Widowmaker could feel the girl relax, and within moments knew the Tracer had drifted off.

“You were always strong enough,” she quietly told the person sleeping in her arms.

Now that she was able to get a better look at the Tracer’s face, it was clear that the girl hadn’t been sleeping well, and looked far worse for wear that Widowmaker was unsure how she was still performing well the missions given to her. Still, Widowmaker knew that Tracer had put herself through this pain on the assassin’s behalf and it doesn’t sit right to let debts go unpaid.

Unconsciously running her hand through Tracer's hair, “Oh you foolish girl, the things I do for you.”

There was no way she wasn’t going to regret this.

Chapter Text

"I don’t trust her,” Winston said squinting at the monitor.

“Neither do I,” Angela agreed.

“Still,” Winston observed, rubbing his glasses “She came to us, which means that this is either a trick or she’s being sincere.” He turned away from video of the chained assassin. “How is Lena doing?”

“With the same amount of compliance as you. You shouldn’t even be out of bed yet.”

“I know,” Winston said. “I promise I’ll return to my room after the interrogation.”

“But to answer your question she’s in bed resting. From what she is willing to tell me her headaches are getting worse.” Angela gestured to the monitor showing Widowmaker, “Do we have an idea on who is going to interrogate her? Not you. You are not even fully recovered. And should she decide to be difficult you are in no shape to protect yourself. Reinhardt is not due to arrive from Germany for at least another two days. Lucio is unable to get out of his tour contract until the end of the month. And I couldn’t even tell that there was anything wrong with her the first time.”

“I can,” said a female voice stepping into the room.

“Ana!” Winston said.

“We thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was too for a while.” Ana put her hand on Winston’s good arm, “I am sorry Winston. I heard what happened. And I am truly sorry that this has happened to you and Tracer. Perhaps if I had come back sooner-”

“Don’t start,” Angela interrupted. “We could go on for hours laying blame but this does not help the current situation.”

“It is nice to see that you right, as always Mercy.”

“We must make time to catch up later,” Winston observed. He gestured to the screen next to the one with Widowmaker. “Lena’s not big on patience, I think this version of her is even less so.”

“I’ll go tend to my patient. Winston, I want you stay here.” Angela told him as he attempted to rise from the floor. “I believe it would be ill advised for Lena to see you right now. And you can let me know if Ana runs into trouble. Ana, Winston will fill you in on what we know.”

For Ana, seeing Widowmaker up close was very different than seeing her through the scope of a rifle. No matter how many times Ana thought about the event in which she lost her eye, she could never quite separate Widowmaker and Amélie Lacroix. Now, however, being in the same room and fully able to study the reactions of Widowmaker, there was no doubt that the person, no matter how physically similar, was not Amélie.

“I had wondered if you had survived,” Widowmaker said idly from her chair. “Are you here for revenge then?”

“No, I have made my peace with this,” Ana gestured to her eye. “But it still serves as a constant reminder to never hesitate to do what is right. Why are you here?”

“The girl.”

“Yes. The girl. Tracer. Lena.” Ana paused momentarily to see if there was a reaction. Nothing. “Why did you bring her here? Your associates at Talon could not help her?”

“They did not seem inclined to.”

“Because they are the ones that did this in the first place?” A rhetorical question.

“Yes.”

“So you don’t trust Talon to help but you trust Overwatch?”

“It is only logical. The girl was close to them, they are more,” Widowmaker looked toward where the camera was, “motivated.” The past tense made Ana stiffen.

“Are you implying that she will not be close to them in the future?”

“I do not have the answers to that, perhaps you should ask the good Doctor or the Ape.”

“Putting aside that we value Tracer, why did you not seek out other people that your organization is on better terms with?”

“Dr. Ziegler is one of the top healers known and the monkey has proven quite dedicated to the field of science. They are familiar with each other and therefore would be more efficient than getting two or more people that have never worked together before.” Widowmaker was lying, not completely, but Ana could tell that she wasn’t being completely truthful. Ana took note of it but let it slide, it wouldn’t do to push too quickly right now. Not while Tracer’s state hung in the balance. From what she had been told most of the trauma that Tracer was facing was mental, and while Angela was quite well versed in physical injuries, she did not have as good of a background dealing with psychological issues. And Winston, while quite good at science was one that was more dedicated to mechanical and practical experiments.

Ana noticed a pattern quite quickly as she questioned the assassin, anything about Talon’s bases, operations, goals, or structure were always evaded quite skillfully, the only exception being anything that involved Tracer. Those questions were always met with vaguely worded or not quite truthful answers, depending on the exact subject. This went on for several hours and Ana was growing weary of the game.

“I am starting to think that this is more trouble than it is worth, maybe it would be better for both of you if I were to put a bullet in Tracer’s skull.” Ana said baiting Widowmaker.

Widowmaker scoffed lightly. “There’s no way that Winston would let you do such a thing.” Ana’s eye widened a fraction. This was the first time she’d heard the the other person say Winston’s name, usually it was ape or monkey or something that indicated that he was nothing more than a bug. If she could just press a little bit more on this opening.

Before Ana could follow up, Angela’s voice came over the intercom.

“Ana, there’s a situation in the medical room. I could use your assistance.”

Both snipers’ were immediately on alert. If Ana had so much as blinked she would have missed the first unguarded real emotion on Widowmaker’s face. Panic. Followed quickly by desperation before returning to the neutral coldness.

“Take me to her,” Widowmaker said.

“I’m not entirely sure that is a good idea.”

“You will take me to her.” Widowmaker demanded coldly, “or I will rip her from this place and I will make it my mission to hunt anyone you’ve ever cared about down before coming for you.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Ana standing up.

Widowmaker stood and met Ana just inches from her face, having escaped from her chains hours ago. “Watch me.” No lie.

“Will you do anything to endanger anyone in this facility?” Ana knew she was wasting precious time but it had to be said.

“I swear that I will not harm anyone within this facility unless it is in defense.” Not the best but then Ana hadn’t expected any more or less from the other.

“Come,” she said opening the door and gesturing Widowmaker to walk in front of her. Better to be safe. As much as she had trusted Amélie, the same could not be said about the woman wearing her former friend’s body.

Widowmaker strode out of the room, she didn’t wait for directions instead letting Ana follow behind her. The clicking of her heels displaying the urgency was the only indication Ana had that the assassin was not as put together as she appeared to be.

They were met outside the medical room by Winston who was frantically trying to open the door.

“Angela, if you can hear me open the door!” He continued to pound on the door even as he explained what was going on to the two snipers. “I do not know what is happening. I tried to get in but the door will not open.”

“Get it open,” ordered Widowmaker.

Winston was so surprised he paused his efforts for a brief moment and looked at Ana for confirmation. She nodded. Winston threw her his glasses and motioned for them to get back before unleashing all his strength against the door. Even utilizing his rage it took several strong hits before the door burst open.

It took Ana less than a second to view a process the scene. Mercy was on the floor against the wall in full Valkyrie gear. The gear was in shambles, but thankfully Ana could tell from here she was still breathing and there didn’t seem to be any blood coming off of her.

Tracer on the other hand was a different story. Against the opposite wall, she sat cutting neat gashes down the back of her arm, both of her hands slick with blood and creating pools on the floor beneath her elbows. Before Ana could move towards either, Widowmaker walked over to Tracer.

“And what do you think you are doing?” As soon as the assassin spoke Tracer ceased her actions like a child being caught red handed with hand in the cookie jar. Ana had to trust that Widowmaker had that under control. The one eyed woman also noted that the words Widowmaker said, while lacking the correct inflection, displayed distress, and anger. Anger at who though Ana could only guess as she gestured at Winston to help her with Mercy.

The moment you hear her voice you flinch and stop what you’re doing. You’ve been doing bad things. Bad things. She told you not to harm anyone on the base unless it was for self-defense, you glance over at the body across the room, you did that. It doesn’t matter that you did it so you wouldn’t do something worse, you still did it. You did it, you did it, you did it. Your hand is twitching, itching to begin cutting again, it would be better than facing her disappointment. But she wouldn’t like that either. No, she wouldn’t.

She holds out her hand, you know what she wants, but you don’t want to stop hurting. You deserve this. Except when you look at her you know it’s hurting her to. Can’t stop. Won’t stop. Hurting her. You just keep doing it. On and on and and on and on. She moves slightly, right the blade, she wants that. You wipe it off on your clothes and give it to her. She moves away, you want to shout at her not to leave but you don’t deserve the comfort she brings your aching mind, and puts it on a nearby table. It’s quieter now that she is here, the need is not quite gone, you can feel it scratching in your mind wanting to come out and play, but it’s easier to control not as insistent with her presence. You struggle to get up as she comes back. A glare at you forces you back down, both your body and your eyes.

She kneels down and you risk a look, she’s analyzing you. A minuscule tug at the very edge of her on the mouth is the only indicator you have that she is frowning. You know she’s come to a decision when she stands and motions at you to follow. You do, before the two of you make it to the door she is stopped by the ape. You scold yourself for not seeing it earlier. The two other bodies that entered the room.

“Do not attack,” she orders, before you can leap at it. You settle for glaring instead. It seems hurt by this. She addresses the animal next, “I promise we will be back, first thing tomorrow afternoon. I just need to remove her from here for a while so the chances of this happening again are minimized.”

“May I ask where?” The shorter still conscious on behind the ape says.

“No, but know I do this for your safety and hers not mine.” She tells the other. There is more going on here than you care to know.

“Winston, release her.” You like this other one.

“But…” It protests and you growl.

“Just do it,” the smaller one says. He does.

When you leave the complex, you feel as though you can breathe just a little bit better.

Winston stayed at Angela’s bedside until she woke. He filled her in on what was going on before calling Ana so they could listen to Angela’s version of events.

“We can’t keep them apart,” Winston said at the end of it.

“We have to, it’s not healthy,” Angela said.

“I agree with both of you. But at the moment we must admit that keeping them apart seems to be doing more harm than good.” Ana observed, having picked up a slight hint about the dynamic between the two.

“That’s what worries me,” Mercy admits.

Chapter Text

You run, pushing yourself to the limit then a bit beyond that. You’ve crossed an entire continent in little less than an hour and you’ve got a few hundred kilometers to go.

“You see those buildings,” she pointed to the group of buildings overlooking the sea. You nodded. “That is where many of the current Overwatch members stay, you are not to harm a single person in those buildings, unless it is in self-defense.” You scowl but what about… “Not even in my defense.”

“I’m not going to stand by and let them take you.”

“Look at me.” You do, her eyes were warmer than you remember them being the last time you got up the courage to do so. “Promise me that you will not harm them.” Her voice is cold but there is the smallest hint of softness in it and you know in her own way she is pleading and you couldn’t find it in you to refuse. Not that you could refuse her anything in the first place.

“I promise,” you said softly making it official. You had no way of knowing at the time that you would fail just a few hours afterwards.

It’s your fault that everything has gone so badly if only you had kept control of yourself yesterday. If only you hadn’t lost it. But it had gotten to be too much, and now this is all your fault.

Despite the clock saying it’s only been a couple of hours, it felt like days since they separated you from her. You’re already suffering from a headache and there’s an itch in your palms that won’t go away. The Doctor’s presence is not helping, you really want to hurt her. Not as badly as the damn monkey but something about her really got under the skin. You’re gripping the edge of the examination table, hard. It’s almost painful and this distracts you just enough to be able to focus and answer the questions she’s been asking. You kept what you told the Doctor short and to the point. Hoping that the sooner this is over with, the less pain Widowmaker will feel when with you.

She looks over, away from the monitor as if sensing something isn’t right.

“Is something wrong?” You hate it when people ask that.

“Headache.” Not a lie but not true either. After all, you don’t go around telling people that you are trying very hard not to kill them.

“The headache?” You nod.

“Getting worse, I suppose,” she mutters. She’s completely unguarded when she turns her back to you. You grit your teeth, the burning in your hands gets worse, you know what it wants. But you promised. You promised, you promised, you promised, you promised. You repeat it over and over again.

All that goes out the window as she barely brushes your arm to get a better look at one of the monitors she has you hooked up to. The next thing you are aware of is a broken piece of glass in your hand and the Doctor lying unconscious under you.

You should have done better, tried harder, anything. But you had failed and because she is so good to you, she knew what you needed. Why? Why did she care? You made it to the big metallic door. You don’t even make it to the communication device to request entry before it slides open to show the monkey, Winston. Your palms start itching again and you’re sure you would feel the urge if you weren’t already falling. It, he, catches you easily in one hand, much more gentle than you would have thought.

“Lena,” he says, inside you wince, “what happened?”

Even as you struggle to answer, it’s a losing battle.

Winston does many things day to day, some are the same, some vary. Take today for instance, Winston was not looking out the window. Just like Winston had not woke up from a fretful sleep because he had been worried. Nor had he spent the last hour counting down the minutes worriedly glancing at the clock before resuming his hopeful look out the window. And he had most assuredly not been binge eating peanut butter out of stress.

Yes.

Winston had, of course, clearly not done these things.

He sighed heavily, looking out the window again. The sun was setting and would soon be night, maybe they got waylaid or had complications. He hoped not. A silhouette came up the road, he tensed in anticipation only to be disappointed as he could clearly see that it was not either one of the people he was keeping an eye out for. Nonetheless, once he got a look at who it was he couldn’t help but smile.

“Athena, let her in,” Winston instructed before she could input her access codes. Despite not being a frequent visitor to the base, Winston had provided her a set of codes after the recall, because although she had not been able to become an Overwatch member she had still been part of the family. He got up to greet her.

“Winston,” Fareeha said. Her voice was warm but serious, her posture every bit the soldier she was, “is Angela okay?”

“There was a bit of an incident. She got a bit knocked up a bit but luckily it was not anything serious. I believe she is still in medical.” Winston noticed Fareeha scowl before quickly adding, “only to clean, she is just a little upset about what happened.”

Fareeha relaxed just a touch after hearing Angela was fine. She laid a hand on his arm, “Winston, I heard what happened to Lena. But I know you and I know Lena. She’s tough, and you are her best friend. You’ll find her and you both will make it through this. I believe in both of you. I will be going now to check on Angela,” she said as she headed to the hallway. For a moment, Winston marvelled at how like her mother she was and yet not. His eyes widened and he ignored the sharp pains in his legs as he hurried to door that Fareeha had just gone through.

“Fareeha,” he called catching a glimpse of her as she just turned out of sight. He hoped that this would reach her, “your mother is alive.” He paused for a moment and heard nothing. He knew she had heard him from the lack of sound down the hall but he had no way of telling how she reacted to the news.

Fareeha stopped abruptly just outside of Winston’s point of view. There was a part of her that wanted to tell Winston that he was wrong, and that her mother had been dead for several long years. But this was Winston, he had never lied to her, when he wasn’t allowed to tell her about certain mission or if he thought she wasn’t old enough yet, he told her so. So even though, every logical part of her was screaming at her that her mother was dead. He had told her that her mother was alive, and she believed him. She shook her head and straightened up being a soldier had taught her how to compartmentalize quite well. Her mother could wait. Angela was first priority. She had lived without her mother long enough a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

She found Angela where Winston said she would likely be. The medic was busy fixing up her suit and running diagnostics on it which would have been all normal and fine. Fareeha didn’t have to look at Angela to know that she was upset. Unless one of her patients needed her, the usual response from the doctor was to greet the visitor and make them feel welcome. Today, there was no response, her face was closed off with just a hint of a frown.

“I am glad to see that you are not harmed,” Fareeha said breaking the rhythmic beeps from the machines. Nothing. Desperate measures then. “I left as soon as my emergency beacon went off.”

Angela looked up, her expression changing from apathy to alarm, “You did what?”

“Left as soon as the beacon went off,” she repeated.

“Are you alright?” Angela asked, she got out a handheld instrument and shone a light into Fareeha’s eyes. “Reaction seems to be normal. Tell me, are you suffering from any fatigue or dizziness?”

“I’m fine,” Fareeha insisted. Angela for her part did not take the soldier’s word for it. Instead forcing the younger woman to sit while she did a check up.

“I cannot believe that you would do this again. How often must I tell you not to push yourself?” Angela said upon finishing.

Fareeha grinned having heard this many times. Just for a moment, the smile washed away the soldier quality that was always in her presence, showing how young the woman really was. Just as quickly, it faded as the door slid open.

Silence.

“Fareeha,” said the voice of a woman that Fareeha never thought she’d hear again.

“Mother.”

They drew close to each other, each one nervous. One unsure of what to say after all these years, the other conflicted between anger and happiness. They stood there taking each other in, marveling at the differences that had happened since their last goodbye.

Neither of them had the chance to say anything, as Winston came barreling into the room cradling Lena in his arms.

Chapter Text

What followed after Winston’s interruption was can only be described as controlled chaos. Angela began barking out orders. Despite the tension between them, Fareeha and Ana went straight to work. Winston had reopened his leg and was now bleeding profusely through his bandages. Angela instructed Ana to tend to him but he refused, insisting he was fine and to focus on Lena first. It was only after some sharp words in his direction from Angela as she examined the girl that he relented. Upon her initial observation, Lena seemed to only be suffering from an extreme case of over exhaustion and her following tests only supported that fact. Ana in the meantime had re-stitched up Winston’s leg with minimal difficulty after scolding him to stay still. All in all, it was going rather well up until Hanzo came in dragging with him a severely wounded Genji.

“Who did this?” Angela asked after Fareeha helped Hanzo get Genji situated onto a table and he was stabilized. They were clearly shotgun wounds, luckily Genji’s unique body structure was what saved him from an otherwise fatal shots. While Mercy had her suspicions, she wanted further information to minimize any possible complications that she may otherwise miss by making assumptions. If it was Gabriel, there was a high possibility that he had added in some extra precautions.

“Reaper ambushed us. We had returned to our home to pay our respects to our ancestors as is custom. The coward took to us from the shadows. I am ashamed to admit, I was taken by surprise, my brother was not.”

“You were lucky.” Hanzo glared at Fareeha. “Both of you,” Fareeha continued as she examined the bullet remnants, “These were designed to bury into the flesh,” she explained before pausing briefly to grab a tongue depressor and fiddled with one of the more intact bullets’, tiny claws popped out and clicked together. “And make it impossible to remove without causing more damage to the victim.”

“Are you saying that I was lucky it was him and not me?” Hanzo growled at the young woman before Angela intervened.

“Knock it off both of you, if there is going to be a fight. Take it somewhere else.” She turned to Hanzo, “But since you are not going to start a fight, I need you to watch your brother while I check on my other patients. He should be fine but if there are any further surprises I will need to be notified immediately.” Hanzo held her gaze for a second, anger and frustration in his eyes before nodding and brushing past Fareeha to stand silently at his brother’s side.

Angela motioned Fareeha over away from the two brothers.

“You should be resting.”

“I am,” Fareeha said going to Tracer’s bedside and sitting down. “See? In this chair, sitting.”

“You know that is not what I meant,” Angela scolded even as a smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. It disappeared as she examined Winston, he had pulled the stitches that Ana had just given him. “You pulled the stitches again, put your leg here and give me just a few moments,” she sighed. It took her barely even a second to fix him up. “You know,” she remarked taking a look around the room, “I would appreciate it if my patients would stop overexerting themselves. Perhaps then my medical bay would be more of a medical facility and less of a meeting place.”

Around the room everyone who was currently residing in Gibraltar could be found. Winston had taken up two patient beds to lay out so that the doctor could redo the stitches. Genji had woken up and was in conversation with his brother, if the look on Hanzo’s face was anything to go by the conversation was not going in the younger man’s favour. Fareeha had fallen asleep next to Lena’s bed. Ana had vanished probably ensuring that the perimeter was secure and no one had followed while they were all distracted. Angela sat down being able to get a breather since Winston was behaving himself after situating himself on the other side of Tracer’s bed. During this time Angela had no doubt that Ana’s disappearing act was more of a chance to collect her thoughts and regrets in order to focus on what no doubt would be a mission once Lena woke up.

Hours past, Winston had long since fallen asleep, and Angela herself began to drift off when the most concerning patient sat straight up. Fareeha was at attention and on guard, shaking off her own exhaustion like the professional soldier she was. Angela approached the bed slowly to not startle the other girl into any reactive movements.

“How are you feeling?”

“Widowmaker,” the girl said completely ignoring the question. “They have her, they have her, we got to get her back.”

“Calm down,” Angela said trying to soothe the girl. “Take your time, what happened?”

“Trap.” The girl struggled to say as she reoriented herself so her feet were hanging over the bed. “Hurt her, threatened.” Rivulets of blood ran from her nose. Angela rushed over with a cloth to help slow the blood flow. “Ordered. Seven days. Kill everyone. Here. Or they hurt her more,” Lena ground out, she took the cloth from the doctor. Instead of using it as a writing pad, her own blood the ink. Fareeha’s hand went to her modified pistol at here hip watching her carefully for any threatening movement. “But can’t, orders.” Lena said as she finished, she closed her eyes and opened them. Her eyes had gone bloodshot during that blink. “So, help. I came.” She attempted to get out of bed as she reached towards Fareeha.

A dart came in through the window and buried itself into Lena’s neck. She clawed it out, messily drawing blood.

“Please help. Her.” was the last thing she managed before falling unconscious. Winston caught her before Fareeha could. He held her still while the soldier bandaged the bleeding neck.

“Lucio is performing in a city about two hours away. I will contact him, he may be able to join us,” Winston said quietly, gently laying Lena down on the bed. He had kept in contact with the DJ since Lena’s disappearance.

“These appear to be coordinates,” remarked Ana from the doorway. “If I am not wrong, I believe that Zarya was not too far from these coordinates, dealing with a minor omnic problem. Are we still able to get in touch with her?”

“Reinhardt is scheduled to be back here tomorrow for a check up, I will call him and ask him to change his travel plans.” Angela said pulling up the travel logs, they would discuss the use of the dart later. There is a time and a place for such actions.

“What about Mei and Hana?” Fareeha asked, “Last time I talked to Mei they were only a few hundred miles from us. Hana been catching her up on all the changes to the world since she’s woken. I’ll call them and see if they are still around, it would be nice to see them again.”

Winston nodded. “Best case scenario we will have a full team with some extra backup.”

Angela sharply turned to face him, “You aren’t going.” Winston then proceeded to do what everyone did when faced with Mercy in Doctor mode.

He conceded.

In the dark, strapped down in a chair, an assassin glares at a camera that kept beeping an annoying red light.

“Where is she?”

Fareeha glanced over at her mother, they had packed her refueled suit into their transportation but only for emergencies. It was to be a silent and quick mission. No intel gathering, no special assassination target, no destroying the base, just a search and rescue. They didn’t have the resources to take on Talon, much less a stronghold. If they followed the plan all should go well, but if it didn’t… she didn’t think Winston could take another blow.

“Come home safe,” he had told them. And she had watched from the back of the transport as he watched them until they were out of sight.

She was confident that the plan would work, they would land several miles out. There would be split up into three groups. Genji, Hanzo, and Ana. Fareeha frowned at the thought of her mother, this was not the time to think about this. There was time for this later, and if the worst happened here, well not much would change. Her mother would once just be the ghost she had been for years, or she would be too dead to need the answers that bothered her. She shook her head. The plan. The first team would scout and clear a path for the second team, made up of her, Mei, Angela, and Zarya. The Russian on their team had to be admired by her ability to be quiet for a person of her size. Everyone else that could take point were either too heavily armoured or too loud to manage the stealth needed for this mission. They would then combine as they headed toward the security control room using the map provided by D.va’s contact. The third team, which would wait with the transport as a last minute rescue team for those on the inside. They had been fortunate that Reinhardt and Torbjorn had run into each other at a local bar on Reinhardt redirected route to meet them. Torbjorn would set up a turret just a few hundred feet from the transport and provide cover fire should they need it. The remainder of the team, Reinhardt, D.va, and Lucio were to rush in if it all went sideways. They were all armed with knowledge of some Talon tactics thanks to her. Overall, not a bad plan.

Surprisingly, the first part of the plan went smoothly, it didn’t take the recon team long to identify weaknesses in the defense. Paired with the information they managed to get out of Lena, they infiltrated and made a path well within their hour time limit. As they progressed through the halls meeting little resistance. Fareeha gradually felt more uneasy as they walked through the halls. Despite her misgivings they found the security room in half the time. The team kept watch as Mei fiddled with a contraption that Winston and her had cooked up some time ago in the lab when she had been recovering from her cryostasis. It took some doing, Fareeha could see a sheen of sweat on Mei from her position.

As the door slid open, the brothers took positions readying themselves for the fight that would ensue. It didn’t. Instead, the door opened to reveal all five of the security guards lying upon the ground. Genji lifted his finger to his lips and deftly checked the closest guard.

“Dead.”

“Either someone is already here, or it’s a trap,” Ana murmured quietly.

“Indeed,” Genji agreed. “I will watch outside.”

“I will join you,” Hanzo said as he followed out the door.

Whoever had been the room before them had already pulled up the internal security footage. Mei pulled it onto the big screen and Mei cycled through the screens looking for their rescue target.

“Wait,” Fareeha said, “go back two.”

Sure enough, there was Widowmaker strapped down to a metal table.

“Looks like,” Fareeha nudged Mei over to take the console controls “she’s about three levels down, west side, room 444. Looks clear, but we should keep our guard up. Let’s move out.”

Angela lingered for just a moment longer after the others left, looking at the screen and her former friend’s predicament. “What did they do to you?”

Chapter Text

They saw no one alive on their descent. Several omnic machines were blasted apart, while others (and some humans) seemed to be taken apart with a small cutting tool whose marks bore resemblance to a knife, and yet more seemed to be untouched but equally unmoving. When they got close to their destination, Ana held up here hand and signaled them to take positions outside the door. Mei prepared with her ice wall in case of ambush. Genji opened the automatic sliding door with a swipe of a keycard he had picked up off one of the guards. They rushed in and stopped.

Inside, could only be described as a massacre. The number of bodies they had found on the journey to the room paled in comparison to this.

“Where is she?” Yelled a very familiar voice that should not have been here. “WHERE! IS! SHE?!” The shouts of her name completely ignored. Ana tried, but failed to stop her daughter from approaching the figure in the room. Fareeha carefully made her way over the bodies, and laid her hand on the shoulder to get her attention. Lena spun around, knifes paused just nicking the skin but not enough to draw blood.

“We’ll find her.” Fareeha promised. Lena’s eyes narrowed. “We will,” she insisted again. Laughter came from hidden speakers before she could say anything else.

“I wouldn’t say that. We’ve hidden our asset quite well and while I could give you the exact location. You’d have to catch me first.” Movement from one of the viewing rooms gave away the location of the speaker.

“I hear footsteps coming this way,” reported Genji from his place near the doorway.

Fareeha assessed the situation, Lena looked at her questioningly appearing to be torn on whether to stay or go. But Fareeha made that decision for her.

“We got this, go.”

Lena didn’t need to be told twice and scaled the wall in a couple of blinks as Fareeha took a couple of well aimed shots to weaken the glass. Lena broke through to chase after the man who had spoken through the intercom.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ana said.

“No time,” said Hanzo pushing Mei inside. “We will have to make the stand, here.”

They readied their weapons at the door. But when the door did slide open, it was not by itself. The room had three other doors that all opened simultaneously with the first. As the party found themselves surrounded on all sides, they readjusted their positioning to deal with this unexpected turn of events.

Genji had his sword drawn ready to deflect any projectiles. Hanzo had a scatter arrow active and holding for a signal, the calculations in his mind already run through so none of his allies would be in the line of fire. Ana held her grenade waiting. Fareeha held two small custom made guns. Mei’s hand was inching toward her belt to give off the distress signal. Angela held her pistol in one hand and her staff in the other, ready for fight or flight as needed. Zarya simply laughed.

The leader was a tall black and dark blue clothed figure, and after Zarya stopped laughing, stepped forward gun at the ready. “Put your weapons down,” instructed a muffled voice from behind the helmet, male from the sound. No one moved to comply. “I said, put your weapons down. You are surrounded and outnumbered, no one needs to get hurt right now.”

Fareeha was not paying attention to him, instead she was more focused on the shadow that had moved above them. It had moved again just after the man had finished speaking.

“Okay,” she said turning her guns to the ceiling in surrender. Everyone looked at her questioningly. But one by one they lowered their weapons. The Talon soldiers also relaxed a fraction, no longer pointing their guns in the party’s direction.

“Kneel.” Ordered the Talon captain.

“Fareeha?” Genji said. “I assume you have plan.”

“No,” she responded. “Don’t move.”

In less than a second, the lights flared blindingly before they burst and plunged the room into darkness. A series of loud gunshots followed by slightly more silent thud came from the middle of their haphazard circle that they had created. By the time the emergency lights flickered on everyone in the room except the team was dead.

“Don’t move,” hissed a voice from the middle of their circle. No one listened, as they all instinctively picked up their weapons to point at the familiar growl. Ana was the first to react, firing her sleep dart at the shadow. “You missed,” the darkness growled as it slithered toward Fareeha. Unlike the others, she made no move to defend herself as it came closer. She felt a hand restrain her arms and cold metal against her neck. “Lower your weapons” rasped a voice. It, predictably, had the opposite effect as everyone tensed further. Reaper simply laughed. Fareeha rolled her eyes, she was already unhappy with his behavior earlier and they really didn’t have time for this.

“Uncle Reyes, this isn’t funny,” Fareeha said exasperated, he always did have a poor sense of humour. “We’re here to rescue Widowmaker.”

“But child,” Reaper replied, the intonation of the words was all wrong and it sounded like he was about murder her, “if that was your only mission then you have already succeeded in that aspect. Your team provided all the distraction that was needed.” He looked around, making a show of taking everything in, “I highly suggest that-” An explosion rocked the floor. His body language changed slightly but to one that Fareeha knew to mean it was time to work, “We should move.” He let her go and slipped under the hallway door.

“Let’s move,” Fareeha told the team as the door opened. She was not looking forward to explaining this later but now was not the time. Another explosion rocked the building as they made it down the hall where Reaper was waiting.

“I thought I told you to wait,” he snarled into his communication piece.

“Whatever you say,,” drawled a sarcastic female voice, “You know, it’s not my fault that Widowmaker’s little pet went off the deep end.”

“You were supposed to have that handled.”

“Dear, S eñor you doubt me?” Reaper could hear the tattle-tale sound of a distant blink. “Okay, so there might be a few problems. ANyway , gotta go, the crazy chica’s found me again. You owe me tequila for this. And none of that cheap stuff either.”

“Agh.”

“Friend?” Fareeha asked him approaching.

“Annoying co-worker,” he said as he led the group to the closest exit.

“And they’re still alive? You must like them,” Fareeha teased.

“Is now really the time?”

“You’re the one who encourage me to spend time with McCree.”

“Don’t remind me.”

As Sombra hung up her communications device, she teleported to her locator right as Tracer blinked into view.

“Mierda, that was close,” she swore going invisible. This was decidedly not her idea of a fun time. She ducked down breathing hard, this was more work than what Gabriel said it would be and she would charge him accordingly. Shorting out and running interference on the triggers Talon had implanted in Tracer had been a challenge worthy of her skills. But it had to be done in real time, while they were being triggered. Reaper had cautioned her that it would be tough and it might lead to some unforeseen consequences as this had never been attempted before.

Unfortunately, doing so had caused the idiot to go berserk and kill the Talon Handler that was supposed to take charge of her. But with no one to ground her Tracer had started killing people and omnic indiscriminately trying to get to Sombra. The hacker’s best guess as to why was because they had been briefly introduced and Tracer had taken an instant disliking to her. Granted, the crazy girl had taken an instant disliking to anyone who wasn’t Widowmaker.

A blade came into her peripheral. Sombra jerked her head out of the way and cursed inwardly as she frantically threw another teleporter. She really had to fix that shimmering that tended to happen briefly when she was fading out of view. She had to get to the Overwatch craft quickly or this cat and mouse game would end not in her favour. Estimated distance was about 10 meters to the exit, 5 meters to the corner then the next 5 would be easy. It was the next 1000 or so meters after that she would have to survive before backup could even be considered in range. Sombra peaked out from the corner just in time to see Tracer flash off the wrong direction. Shit. Sombra took out her gun and fired a series of shots while retreating to the next corner. That was bound to get her attention and maybe summon a few of the last living guards to this position to slow the crazy girl down.

For this size of an organization of so-called professionals, their electronic devices were ridiculously easy to hack. Talon had not asked her to improve their systems either because they didn’t trust her or… no actually that was probably it. Still, easy. As Sombra passed by the door controls, she hit a few buttons and darted out the door. The tattletale whirling noise just seconds behind her and several meters of open field before the edge of the forest. How the hell did she let herself get talked into this mess?

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong?” Fareeha asked Reaper walking up to him pointedly ignoring the wide berth the others were giving him. Widowmaker was safely loaded into the Overwatch craft but Reaper still seemed to be on edge.

“Nothing.”

 “That would be more convincing if you stopped tapping your claws against your arm.” The movement immediately stopped and there was a slight tilt of the head that indicated Reaper might just be scowling at his traitorous appendage.

 “She should have been here by now.”

 “Your frien-... co-worker?” Fareeha corrected herself after his eyes turned to her.

 “Yes.”

 “Then what are we waiting for?” Fareeha asked taking out her gun and checking the settings before efficiently putting it back.

 “Not you.”

 “I’m perfectly capable,” Fareeha argued.

 “As much as it pains me to say it, I agree with Gabriel.”

 “Mother.”

 “I will be joining you.”

 “No.” Reaper objected.

 “Yes,” said Ana in a very much determined tone that Gabriel knew brooked no room for argument.

 “Whatever,” he grumbled. “No,” he said as Fareeha began to move back toward the Talon base. “You stay.”

 She ignored him and continued toward the direction Reaper had been glaring at intensely several minutes earlier.

 “You didn’t even try to stop her,” Reaper said in a low grating almost accusatory voice to Ana.

 “Gabriel, I gave up my right to parent her after my years of absence. She made that fact very clear back at the base.” While Ana sounded professional, Gabriel could hear the tones of regret and sadness that coloured the statement. “Would you mind if we discuss this later when we are all relatively safe and go after my daughter?” Reaper said nothing as he melted into shadows and took off in the direction Fareeha had headed.

 For the first time in a while Pharah was able to put her skills in stealth to use. Most mission had her take to the sky after reconnaissance had been done. Even though she was a bit rusty her training took over, as she moved very quickly and in the minutes it took Reaper to slide up next to her, she had already spotted the tattle-tale glow of Tracer’s blinks. It appeared that the glow was chasing something. She squinted, the focus adjustment did not provide any additional help. Her companion’s huff indicated that he wanted her attention. He held out a set of binoculars.

 “Try about thirty degrees to the left and fifty degrees down.”

 “Is that a shimmer?” Pharah asked in reference to the slight distortion one-hundred and sixty meters away from them and only forty or so meters from the blinks that was rapidly catching up to it.

 “That’s Sombra. Do you have sights on her Ana?”

 “Yes.”

 “Shoot the person in pursuit will you?”

 “Gabriel, you really haven’t changed much.”

 “Just do it.”

 “Mierda, mierda, mierda,” Sombra muttered in time with her run. It was a poor use of air but it did accurately describe her situation. She very much did not like to feel like she was the prey and her predator was catching up in leaps and bounds. Forty meters, teleport, fifty-five meters, forty meters again, invisible, forty-five meters, thirty meters.  And still one-hundred meters from the rendezvous point. Where the fuck was Gabriel? Only a few more rounds of teleportation before she was dead. Ten meters, five meters. Sombra braced herself for contact even as she desperately threw the self-made teleportation device forward. As she dematerialized, Sombra felt more than saw the projectile that rushed by her. She skidded to a stop and turned just in time to watch Tracer stumble a few steps forward before eating the ground hard. A familiar chill ran down her spine.

 “You cut that too close, you bastard,” Sombra snarked relieved to finally be able to take a breather.

 “Would you rather I not come at all?”

 “I didn’t say that, amigo. Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Sombra asked as Ana and Pharah joined them. Not that she didn’t know who they were already, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to be formally introduced, on good terms, to a legend and her offspring.

 “Later,” growled Reaper. “How long will your dart last Ana?”

 “I’ll have to give her a stronger dose before we move her. But I should caution that we do not know how long it will last with considering her unusual condition.”

 “We will deal with that if we need to.” He paused only long enough for Ana to inject a second dart the downed girl. He lifted Tracer and tucked her under his arm like she was unnecessary luggage. Their trek was a fast one, despite the extra baggage and additional people, they made better time back to the craft than when they had left. Ana had radioed ahead to let them know that they needed to be ready. They loaded in quickly.

 “Go, go, go! Sombra! Get in!” bellowed Reaper over the roar of the engines. Sombra had arrived before them but was still outside the vehicle, was typing furiously on her portable holographic computer. She held her pointer finger up on her right hand as she finished the last few keystrokes in a flourish with her left.

 “Want to tell me what that was all about?” Reaper hissed once the door had sealed fully shut.

 “Oh nothing you need to worry about,” she said her trademark smirk grew just a little wider, “I left a present.” The following explosion was followed by silence. Then, Sinfonía India began to play in the plane as a considerable number of explosions went in time with the music. “Several presents?” She said the least convincing innocent tone possible.

 “Right,” Reaper said as he settled back. Her actions would probably have repercussions later but for now, looking around the cabin of the craft, it was nice to be back.