(Inspired by Okheshivar on tumblr)

It's all I can do to pull away from you.

I cannot get you out of my head. When I close my eyes I see your face. I don't understand why you make me feel so warm. I don't understand why you make me feel anything. Bit by bit, piece by piece, I can feel my mask breaking, like fragile glass. One battle, then another, and we always dance a deadly waltz. I should be leading, but it's you I follow. And when I catch you you're so warm.

I have to let you go, before I'm the one trapped. But I cannot get you out of my head. Hours and days later, you float up out of seeming nothingness. You with your damning smile. It opens up a chasm inside me. I'm layered like an onion and you're peeling back parts of me to shine a light into the places I'm supposed to forget.

I am a nightmare made flesh. The word is carved into my arm. Cauchemar. The needle didn't sting when they marked me. Sensation and feeling are so dulled that they could have stitched it in with a needle and it wouldn't have mattered. I would have just sat there and taken it. Maybe even enjoyed it. They gave it to me after they were done with me. They gave it to me as a warning to others. It was my reward. But it was not the first one they gave me.

The spider. That is another story. The spider is pain, the spider is a reminder. They gave that to me first. Gérard was dead. A black widow to remind me of my namesake. The first step in removing the parts of me that still cared. The needle incessant in my back, for hours. And when they were done, my throat hoarse from screaming, that is when they began their real work.

And it is you that threatens all of that. You find a single thread and you pull and you pull and I'm unraveling and you're so warm and your smile reminds me that something like the sun can exist. You make my body react, you make my pulse race. I remember what it is like to be touched, to want it, to enjoy it. I hate you for it.

The mask I wear is cracking and yet I still seek you out. Getting in proves to be no difficulty at all. I must kill you, or I am lost.

Even in your sleep, you glow, that harness on your chest bright enough to keep most people awake. You wear something over your eyes to block the light, and stir only a little when I kneel on the bed next to you. Your cheek is soft under my fingers. Your throat, I could easily slice open, but instead I cannot stop myself from stroking it. I feel something shift inside me. Shift like the ice over a pond melting in the spring. I slide back and then sink to the ground, wrapping my arms around my knees.

I don't know when you wake up. Only that you sit next to me and caress my arm. Your fingers trace the letters there. For the first time the word stings, but it also stirs something else. All I can do is watch you. You say nothing. None of your cocky jokes, none of your flippant words. It's as though you know what I need right now, and what I don't need is words.

When I rest my head on my knees, your hand moves to my back. Your fingers leave trails of fire along each leg of the spider. I look sharply at you, and you give me a quizzical look. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." I mean to say yes, but my voice betrays me. Shaking and broken I'm falling apart as you pull me to my feet. You step around me, then something warm and soft presses against the spider on my back. You kiss the center, the little red hour glass, before trailing your lips along a leg. One of your hands moves to the word on my arm. Now my breath betrays me. My eyes betray me. My tears betray me.

Your other hand rubs warmth into my lower back. I think I can fight it, I think I can break away and reassert the way I should be. I came here for a reason, to end this charade. I miss the cold, I miss the ice.

Then you make a sound. A giggle. A happy sound like a bullet to my chest. Your tongue flicks up my spine, and then along the curve of the spider's body. It makes me so dizzy. You stop, and turn me around. Why'd you stop? Should I damn you or thank you? Now your fingers are on my face, they're wiping away salt and tears. "What are you doing to me?"

"What do you want me to do, luv?"

It's all so overwhelming. What I'm feeling, that I'm feeling anything. And you're just standing there in a pair of boxer shorts with the union jack on them, and a faded Overwatch t-shirt under your harness. You make me want to smile. "You're a walking cliche, Tracer."

"Amélie...Call me Leda."

I flinch when you say that name. I flinch when you step closer again. You pull my hair out of it's tail and clearly get some kind of perverse pleasure out of running your fingers through it. And I can't take it anymore. My mask shatters. My body suit is too confining. I'm burning up. You're eager to help me out of it but I stop you. I seize you, bruising your lips and leaving angry teeth marks on your throat. We fall into your bed and I'm tearing everything off of you but your harness. I want to taste you, make you beg for me, make you scream for god. Because you broke me, you broke me and you're the only one that can put me back together again.

You're lean and your muscles are taut, quivering with a need I'm only just beginning to recall for myself. But I don't let you touch me. I can't. I have to hold onto that one thing, that one last thing and I'm not ready to give up that control. If I do, Widowmaker is lost. But she probably was the moment I stepped into your room.

I mark your body the way you mark my soul. Bruises from my fingers and from my teeth line your thighs and your chest. I wear myself out on your sweat and your skin. Exhausted, I let you hold me, the pounding of your heartbeat in my ear. I haven't dreamed in four years, but this night I dream.

You wake me gently, fingers on my back. I couldn't stop it if I wanted to. I can still taste you on my lips and I suddenly crave more. There's burning in my limbs, a tingling sensation on my skin as it starts to wake from years long sleep. You kiss my shoulder, and I look at you. "I feel too much. I don't know if I like it."

"C'mon. Stay. We can help you."

There's something selfish in your voice. You want me to stay for you but I know you'd let me go if I asked. It's reassuring. It's human. I start to tell you that I must go. Talon will just break me again and I don't know if I'd survive it this time. Once a glass mask shatters it can't be fixed. Again my voice betrays me. "I'll stay."