Epilogue - The Change

Widowmaker felt herself smile. It was a true smile, unlike those kind of smiles she had learned to plaster on her face for convenience. Those had been a necessary evil. People got a little bit unnerved if she wouldn't occasionally respond with an adequate facial expression. But that had been then. Now was now.

Once again she was reminded how quickly things had changed what felt like such a short time. Sometimes it was still too much to take. Too fast. Too many feelings, thoughts and memories would crash in at once. Tracer would hold her shaking hand and they'd quietly walk, unseen from any possible onlookers until she had gathered her thoughts and regained control. But she was getting better, and so was Tracer. Everything seemed to be getting better these days.

A soft sigh brought her back to the present. It was raining and they were far above the ground. She was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Her eyes shifted to the source of the sound.

Beneath her, next to her feet sat Lena. Back turned to her, one leg dangling dangerously over the deep edge and one folded beneath herself. She was rummaging through her bag, appearing to be looking for a replacement of a small part for the blaster in her lap, which had started malfunctioning in its last battle. A soft Ahaa was followed by a triumphant looking Lena snagging the part from a small pocket in her bag. Her attention went back to her gun, now partly dismantled.

Her hair had grown. Not much, but enough to see the beginnings of gravity introducing itself to her unruly strands. Amélie liked it. But she supposed she liked the slightly shorter variant too. She thought that as long as it was part of Lena she'd like it.

There was a comforting calm between them, something that had been happening increasingly often lately. Neither of them were speaking. They didn't need to. Not always. They were both on the same wavelength now after all. There was a connection. The quiet was their reassurance that everything was okay.

The rain was getting more intense. They had taken refugee from it in some kind of decorative alcove of a rather large and imposing looking church. London's finest, according to Lena. They were up pretty high. If she peeked over Lena and the edge she was sitting on she could see the street lights, cars and numerous umbrellas passing by.

Lena interrupted their shared silence. "Amélie?" She asked, not bothering to look in her direction.

"Hmm?"

"You think they know it's us by now?" She was still tinkering around with her blaster.

"That's quite likely, seeing as you waved at the camera"

Lena pouted and finally looked away "It was following our movements! Someone was peeking at us!" She huffed.

"Well we were trespassing, cherie"

At that Lena grinned. "You got a point there. They were asking for it though"

"Certainly" Amélie agreed. "Thinking they could steal tech from Overwatch and successfully keep it for themselves is naïve"

A blank look suddenly marred Lena's features. She turned her head and stared somewhere in the distance.

Widowmaker stared intently at the girl below her, who showed no signs of recognition as she stared into the rain.

Quietness settled over them once again. Only the sound of rain surrounded them.

For a long while neither of them moved a muscle, not even the rise and fall of their chests in breathing was present. An observant third party might have said it looked like they weren't breathing at all.

Widowmaker recognized that expression on the girls face. It came over the girl ever so often these days. It was a new expression, or at least Widowmaker had never seen it before. Before the change. A quiet seriousness, without any betrayal of what might be going through the girls mind. Calling it a blank expression wasn't the correct way to describe it, somehow it was less. As if what was going on underneath it wasn't wholly connected with the outside.

Widowmaker was familiar with it, from before. Often it had been like her own expression, her own mask perhaps as in her case it seemed to be clinging to her. Unable to be taken off, covering what fleeting emotions she would feel until they too would pass. Then she'd be at the mercy of the everlasting numbness again.

That was until Tracer came to her. Until she had changed.

Until both of them had.

The process had taken long. Lena would not be broken easily, Widowmaker mused with an odd sort of pride. Because of the girls strength both of them had nearly succumbed. To nothingness, to death, to obedience. Anything to make it stop. It had been tempting. To Amélie it had even been familiar, as she had given into that temptation herself, a lifetime ago.

But they hadn't given in. They hadn't been alone. That kept them rooted in who they really were. So instead they balanced on the edge, clinging on to each other. For Tracer it had been the heaviest, of course. Amélie wasn't one to fool herself into thinking she suffered the most. No, she had broken much sooner compared Tracer had, when it had been her turn a long time ago.

She had thought that had been it. Her change had completed. They broke her into pieces and build her up differently. A change that couldn't be undone. She would function according to her programming, and eventually she'd be thrown aside. It was functioning, but it hadn't been living.

But then she had touched Tracer, in the beginnings of the girls own change. It had joined them. With Widowmaker there, present in the process of Tracer herself being broken down and build up again, she had left her own presence in there. And in turn Tracer started twisting and turning the pieces in Widowmaker she had long thought were too broken to move.

They had shared pain and pleasure, and within it they had connected over and over again on the brink of death. They would stay there together. Lena breathlessly trying to hold on to anything to not lose her mind, and Amélie taking as much of that burden on herself as she could. She would touch her, distract her, kiss her, hurt her. Keep her fragile mind in the present, fractured but still complete, until the girl's body would give out. She realised she was almost desperate to keep the girl close to her, and to turn her into something she could connect with. A small part of her, perhaps a part that had been much bigger before her own change, reminded her of the cruelty of her actions. Perhaps the right thing to do was to make sure that what happened to her would never happen to anyone else again. But other thoughts and feelings drowned that voice out. She needed this girl by her side so desperately. So badly she wanted to make her understand.

Each time Tracer made it through another session Amélie would gently pick her up in her arms and carry the girl to the resting chamber. This had become progressively harder. Over time her own body was wearing down along with that of Tracer. Bruises marred her skin, malnutrition was evident in her face and there was a near constant tremble in her movements. But each time she had managed it. Each time she would put Tracer in the bed and crawl next to her, holding her close, watching her sleep.

When they woke Amélie would dutifully help Tracer out of her clothes, carry her to the shower, clean the blood and sweat off her and put her back into the bed with a fresh change of clothes. A white gown that made her look innocent, almost holy. After she'd administer a feeding tube into the girls nose and an iv with blood make sure she'd get the nourishment and strength she desperately needed. She took care of everything the girl needed to survive.

They never spoke during the resting periods, which usually didn't last more than day or two. Tracer never resisted or tried to run, apparently having accepted whatever treatment had been forced upon her, and trusted Widowmaker with her fate. During her waking moments she would lay calmly in Amélie's arms. Mostly she'd lay there, staring at the ceiling. Occasionally she'd toy with Amélie's hair or fingers. Sometimes something dark would come over her and she'd bury herself into Amélie as deep as possible. Amélie would held her then. Caress her back and arms, which often slowly evolved into a full massage. She gave her the support and comfort she needed to deal with her mind slowly being broken. It was horrible, Amélie knew from her own experience. She was glad that she was here with Lena, so the girl wouldn't have to suffer alone. Widowmaker needed her on the edge of being broken, not over.

After a while Lena would come to, she would search for Amélie's eyes and smile. It was a tiny, vulnerable, almost fragile smile. But it was a genuine one. Widowmaker thought it might be the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen.

There was something empowering about having Tracer, her victim and captive fully relaxed on your lap, as you gently massage her scalp. She seemed so content. Had she been broken after all? No, then she wouldn't smile anymore, not like that. It started dawning on Amélie that maybe Tracer wasn't her victim, but had instead willingly surrendered herself to her hunter, to Widowmaker. A strange sort of love welled up in her at that. And she begun to realize that there was a lot more love and care involved in supporting Lena.

When another session began Amélie would always be beside the girl, always lovingly hold and touch her. No matter how much it hurt her, she would share in the pain. Lena would scream as she clung to Amélie with all her might. Her eyes glazed over, her body trembling. Amélie would hold her still if her body was struggling, to keep her from hurting herself. Would kiss her from keeping her throat go numb. Would whisper words of encouragement and love to her if she grew afraid, and lightly touched her when she lost focus, the shocks of pain keeping her alert. Sometimes they'd idly watched the dark liquid slowly being pumped into Lena's veins.

Each time their connection deepened, each time they shared the same feelings and sensations. A deep connection was created between them, and together they pushed on. Whenever Tracer fainted too quickly, Widowmaker would bring her back. And in the end Lena had even brought her back a number of times.

With each session the last one grew closer.

Others had been present, during the ordeal. Not in any of the chamber reserved for tracer, for they would surely die. If not by the toxicity in the room caused by the fluids being pumped into Tracer it would be by Widowmaker slaying them for contaminating their personal space with their filthy presence.

They had been in charge of supervising the process, and in the beginnings had tried to protest against. Widowmaker being more deeply involved than previously anticipated. For that had been against their orders. Unfortunately for them Widowmaker wasn't in a position to take orders from them, and simply informed them that the process would continue normally, only she would be present whenever and wherever she wanted. They had complied, apparently concluding that as long as the process was completed they had fulfilled their orders.

One man wouldn't have accepted so easily though. In fact he would have probably kindly taken Amélie to a separate isolation chamber for a healthy dose, or an overdose, of reprogramming. That man had been occupied though. Be as it may, Sombra had gotten herself into problems with Overwatch and now she was in a... compromised position. Which Amélie took as the girl being either captive and being interrogated by Mercy and her bunch of friends, or the girl was simply being tempted by what must be a generous peace offer from the ragtag bunch.

If Widowmaker had in fact, paid more attention to the details, and had spend more effort figuring out what was going on outside of her own current affairs she might have connected the dots or at least grown suspicious of the whole story. Because as it happened to be, Reaper might have been completely in the dark about her actions regarding Tracer, Sombra was absolutely not.

Maybe if Widowmaker had been more observant she would have noticed that there were more cameras in the rooms than there were screens with feeds of them in the control room. Maybe if Widowmaker had used her cognitive abilities better she might have found it odd rather than simply convenient Reaper never once checked in on her, with or without her knowledge and notice that something wasn't going according to his plan. But Widowmaker never noticed and so never had the chance to feel grateful to the purple haired girl. Because as it were, Sombra was holed up being all cosy with Overwatch, (though they would describe it as a bit of a mutual hostage situation) informing them, almost truthfully, how Tracer was doing, and how she was fixing Amélie at the same time. And not only that, while Reaper was busy 'rescuing' her, Sombra was busy sending him false reports on Tracer's process, faking camera feeds and brain statistics, and most importantly, keeping Widowmaker's own little journey of self discovery hidden from his sight. Why? Reaper annoyed her lately, with his over controlling behaviour on the both of them, like he was the boss or something. That and she felt the Spider deserved a little fun. And hey, if her preferred choice was to electrocute and torture herself on a regular basis then who was she to put a stop to that. Must be a French thing. Fun to watch though.

She could only keep this up so long however. And eventually Reaper marched on home, with a very irate Sombra in tow.

Widowmaker had been informed by their arrival beforehand and time finally caught up with her. Momentarily she had wondered who could have made sure of that, but soon it slipped her mind with more urgent matters.

Weeks, maybe more had passed since Tracer came to this facility. Tracer's change had been almost completed, and neither of them was quite sure what she had become. Just like Widowmaker her heart had slowed down, though not quite as much, and both her cognitive and physical abilities should have been increased, but it was unknown to what extent. Her expressions and behaviour had changed, she seemed more controlled and more calm. In a way it was very unlike Tracer, and for Amélie it was a bit unsettling.

She wondered if the girl was ready. She was pretty sure she was stable but other than that, well only time would tell. After waking Tracer, dressing her in fresh white hospital gowns and informing her they had to go they made their way towards the exit of their little subset of rooms. Widowmaker walked briskly and behind her Tracer copied her movements. There was no expression on her face, not even tension as she blankly followed her caretaker. Amélie worried if Tracer would care enough to fight and defend herself.

There had only been so many guards points they could have passed with excuses of executive orders before they had started to grow suspicious.

A guard came after them, calling her name.

Amélie hissed they should run.

She led them through a series of halls, footsteps and shouts muffled in the distance, and eventually she made it to a storage space she'd been looking for. They dove into it and she closed the door behind them. Quickly she opened various locked doors and drawers, using the needed access codes she had memorized. Inside there were a number of weapons. Nothing big, not her or Tracers preferred weapons, but enough to defend themselves. She shoved a couple of guns and plenty of ammo in Tracers direction, as the girl always enjoyed double blasters, and took a gun and a knife for herself. Tracer mechanically reached for a belt with compartments for the extra magazines and strapped it around her waist. She looked a bit like an angel preparing for warfare, Widowmaker mused, with the white gowns softly illuminated by the chronal accelerator beneath, finished by the ammo around her waist. Her own thought surprised her and she smiled. Tracer had set something in motion within her. She prayed she did the same to her as well.

From a small compartment she pulled out her own suit. Tracer gave both her and the suits owner a long hard look. She had hidden it in here while Tracer was still in the middle of the process. Just in case something in her would change and she would wanted to break out. Her rifle was bugged, so it would be traced. Her suit, with its grappling hook, poison vials And even a well hidden knife, was not bugged.

As she was putting it on she felt some strength flow back into her system, now supported by the suit.

The shouting became louder. Widowmaker put a hand on Tracer's cheek and looked in her eyes, searching for that familiar flash of life that had always been present in their previous battles.

''We're going to fight'' she whispered. ''Are you ready?''

Tracer kept still for a long moment, staring blankly ahead. Widowmaker though she saw a whisper of emotion flicker across the girls face.

Then, life sparked back into those eyes. Faint, doubtfu and uncertain but definitely there.

"Are you?" Was the answer she got. It sounded numb yet there was faint hint of mischievousness in there, but also something deeper, something serious. Are you really ready to defy them? To give up on everything you have?

Widowmaker allowed fear to course though her body. More than she had felt in forever. She was scared yes. If they got out then what? Overwatch would probably be mildly disturbed by Tracer's new gig. And she was to blame for it. There was little chance she'd have a place with them. They'd have to run. Or she would have. There was no guarantee Tracer would stay with her.

But that wasn't relevant. Tracer was like her now, in a way. The only one who could understand. She needed to be protected. Protected from Reaper who would destroy whatever spark there still was in those eyes, and end what made the girl who she was.

Determination settled in her mind. She had a clear goal now, and she had something to protect. Her body might be worn from the whole ordeal but she was more ready to fight than ever.

She leaned forward and kissed the smaller girl. Their first kiss outside of session. Momentarily both of them were surprised by the lack of pain that previously accompanied such activities, and the gentleness was something new.

A crash behind them shook them from their calmness.

"Let's find out" Widowmaker heard herself say and with her gun ready she dashed to the exit of the room. She kicked the door open and was met with a group of not too happy, and slightly scared guards. They were hesitating, didn't want to shoot their superior, but also didn't want to be held accountable for what would happen if she'd escape. She made use of their moment of weakness and shot at them, giving herself and Tracer the chance to make a break for it. Behind her she heard Tracer dash out of the room. She ran after her, covering them both.

Soon they ran into another patch of guards. Widowmaker begun to fire rounds and next to her she saw Tracer do the same.

In hindsight most of their escape had become a blur. There had been guards, a lot of them. They had fought to the teeth, running, shooting, avoiding as they moved though the catacombs, trying to make it to the exit a couple of floors above them. She knew the codes and passwords. There were endless halls and staircases, locked down by equally as much bolted doors and locks. She closed them all behind them, buying themselves some time.

The fighting might have been a blur, but Tracer's pressence was engraved in her mind. At first her movements had been mechanical and calculated, her face still expressionless. No sound came from her aside from the occasional grunt. Her actions could have been called crude, as she was getting used to the new abilities of her body. A unnecessary step here, a little too much momentum there, the occasional rebalancing. Tracer took it all in uncaring stride as she meticulously and absentmindedly worked her way through her opponents.

Gradually Widowmaker begun to see changes.

She first noticed when she saw a flash of intensity in the girls eyes as the she shot a guard who had been about to shoot at Widowmaker. Soon it became more and more apparent. An extra step, a slight touch of her hand as the two passed each other. Shouts in warning or in anger.

"Lena, to the left!" She yelled. And as she saw the life erupt in the girls expressions she wondered when she stopped calling her Tracer.

Lena sprung to life and made short work of the guards trying to approach her from the side.

Then Lena giggled. Relief washed over Amélie, who had begun to fear she'd never hear that sound again.

"Thanks, love!" Lena replied. Their eyes met. There was still that controlled calm on the others face. The weariness of someone who went off the deep end, someone who had been almost broken and who isn't moved by the proximity of death anymore. But underneath it was that familiar fire. Excitement, tension, the thrill of a battle. It was all still there. Silently they reached an understanding. Something born from the experience they had shared.

They were alive once more. More than they ever had been.

Lena winked and broke eye contact, choosing to dash after another few men who were insisting on ruining the moment. Amélie joined.

Giggles became more and more abundant. The more they fought the more it changed into their familiar dance again, except this time they were joined un unison. Lena had grown into something more. More than she ever had been. Perfectly she danced around and laughed in amusement. Widowmaker felt herself laugh too. Together they were unstoppable. Together they were one.

Even if they had perished here it would not have mattered. Neither feared death. They were already complete. If one had died so would the other have.

Somehow though, they made it out. Fought their way all the way to the upper level of the facility. There had been a particular amusing elevator ride. It was a spacious industrial elevator, meant to carry supplies between the upper, less restricted layers to the secret facility below. It was gray, sterile and thankfully didn't have any music. Both of them managing to get in and just barely getting the doors to close before numerous guards would close in on them. Unsure of what to do with themselves with the temporary break they were granted they had both started laughing. Amélie winced and felt a surge of pain shoot though her right rib. It had surprised her, as she had previously regarded pain with a more passive attitude. With a professional approach and a mix of mild worry and mirth both of them quickly checked each other for injuries. As Lena concluded that they couldn't trust their own pain responses.

They were both marred with bruises and cuts, the result of the more close combat fighting they had done. There was some evidence bullets had grazed them, but there was nothing serious enough that would prevent them from running once the elevator reached its destination. And it wasn't until they fought themselves out of the upper levels and were lost deeply within a forest with the sun fully set that they stopped running.

They would be hunted, they both knew that. It would be another few hours before Reaper would reach the facility, and he would try to track them. They would need to lay low and cover their tracks.

Over the next few days they would make their way through the forest, Widowmaker having a general idea of which direction they should be going for them to reach society and decent shelter.

Quietly and discreetly they traversed the woods.

They hunted together when needed. They couldn't use their guns. It would attract attention and they were low on ammo anyway. But Lena had her speed and Amélie had her grappling hook. They would huddle close at night, sleeping in trees if they couldn't find dry suitable grounds.

They didn't talk much, and Lena would occasionally turn inside herself. A hazy blank expression would appear on her face and she would mindlessly follow Amélie for a while, her mind far, far away on matters far too intense to put into words, yet unable to feel much emotion about it.

Amélie would let her be, knew from experience the girl was putting her shattered mind back together in whatever form that may be. Reaching far into herself to settle on which was truth and which was delusion. Eventually Amélie would wait for Lena to catch up and grab her hand. And together they would walk until Lena regained her senses.

They reached shelter. Nervously Lena had tried to contact Overwatch.

They'd been relieved to hear she was okay. They had been less than happy that Widowmaker, not as cured as Sombra had them believe, was beside her. They had been downright upset to discover what happened.

They didn't outright reject them, but they also didn't trust them. That hurt Lena deeply, even though her emotions weren't fully functioning. Amélie understood where they came from. She had been the one to deeply hurt their trust in the first place. They had took her back in after she had been kidnapped, the doctor had examined her and declared her healthy and sane.

Then she had murdered her husband, their former colleague and had gone back to join Talon.

To hear that the same thing had happened once again was hard on them, and they had a deeply rooted fear that if they let Lena back in they would one day wake up with another one of their friends murdered.

They could come, but then they would be detained. Words like 'intense examinations' and 'solitary confinement' fell and both Lena and Amélie had gotten pale. No they wouldn't let themselves be imprisoned, not after they had just escaped.

They settled on keeping on their own for a while. Still on the run from Talon, but they never got too close. Overwatch had generously supplied Lena with a new suit, her blasters and some fixes on her accelerator. They went as far to them by spreading the rumour that Lena and even Amélie were operating under Overwatch again, to put off Talon even more.

Lena took it as a sign of trust, and determinedly told Amélie they would fully gain the trust of Overwatch and would proof to them they were on their side.

Amélie wasn't particularity interested in joining the busy ragtag bunch, especially with so many noisy members, but she also wouldn't mind giving Lena a place that accepted her. As long as they could be together Amélie didn't complain. Though she doubted both of them would ever fully have their heart in Overwatch matters again, and also doubted if Overwatch would ever be fully comfortable with them. Lena seemed to thrive better on the idea she would at least have a family to come home to. She could try to grand her that at least.

Lena had quickly set her plan into motion. Working on various ways to show Overwatch their genuine intentions. Recently they had learned a splintered group of Talon agents had stolen some cargo from Overwatch and had hidden it in the underground scene of the city. Lena had insisted they infiltrate and get it back. Amélie had complied.

They succeeded of course, but not before Lena made sure everyone knew it had been them who stole it. Her wave had been recorded on several cameras and soon the entire underground would know the pair had gotten in. It wouldn't be long before Overwatch would be informed, but of course long before then the tech would have already magically and anonymously appeared at their doorstep.

Amélie kneeled beside Lena and rested a hand upon the other's. Occasionally Lena would disconnect from her emotions. They had attempted to wire her without emotion after all. Similar to Amélie she would feel utterly alive in battle, but be confronted with a numbness without it. It would, unlike Amélie's experience, cripple her in her ability to process things very well, emotions being the thing Lena needed most to function. It never stuck to her though, and the episodes were either very short or not all that strong. In the same way Amélie had regained some of her emotions. Sometimes she'd be overcome by them, with no idea what to do. But most of the time they were vaguely there, much less than what an average person felt, she guessed, but still infinitely more than she had felt before.

She squeezed Lena's hand. Soon she'd go back to being mostly her old self, yet more perfect, according to Amélie at least.

After a while the numb expression on Lena's features faded and she turned to face the other woman.

"Heya" she whispered sheepishly.

"Welcome back"

Amélie noticed the forlorn expression on the other girls face. Her eyes quickly darting back and forth and a quiet nervousness marring her features.

She inched closer and softly caressed Lena's arm with her hand. "There's nothing wrong with you" she said softly. " It's alright. You're you. You're perfect. The numbness will pass" She softly scratched the girls upper arm. "Trust me I know" She heard Lena giggle and received a playful nudge against her shoulder.

In turn she scratched hard and received a sharp gasp in return.

They exchanged glances with each other. Fire behind both of their eyes.

In one fluid movement Amélie stood back up, grabbed their supplies and all but threw them in the corner of the alcove, hidden in the shadows. She turned around on the spot and without hesitation she lunged at Lena. Roughly she pulled the her up by her arms. Lena struggled and scrambled to her feet. Amélie pushed her backwards against the wall. She grabbed both of the girls arms and pinned them above her. With her free hand she lunged at Lena's throat, tightening her grip just enough that Lena would have slight trouble breathing.

They both stood still. The only sound between them was Lena's shallow breaths. The rain hiding them from the rest of the world.

This girl she had pinned against the wall was her prey, her kill, but also her love, her meaning. Concepts such as loving someone and killing someone become intermingled for creatures such as them. You feel alive in loving, you feel alive in killing. Holding the close and feeling, touching every spot on their body was close, but holding the other close as you put a bullet in their stomach, and cradle them in your arms as they slowly bleed out, the light softly fading form they eyes as they grasp onto you with all of their being is closer.

Lena's previously limb body now started to struggle. As she tried to free herself from her captor, said captor fired her grappling hook at a ledge she'd preciously noticed, lunged once again at Lena and pushed the both of them over the edge. As they fell she grabbed Lena and slammed her into the wall they were falling along. Lena roared in pain and anger.

A normal person might have broken a rib or to, but Lena merely gasped. Amélie let Lena fall and watched with satisfaction as the girl crash-landed on the ridge several feet under them.

Quickly she fired the her grappling hook again and started scaling the building. She paused on a ledge a few feet above Lena. She sought the others eyes, seeking to know what was going on behind them Their eyes met and vaguely Amélie could make out some expressions. Intensity. Yearning. Alive. Then for one second Amélie saw another, very worrying expression. Fear, confusion. It was gone in a flash.

The both of them stood there, staring at each other.

Do you trust me, Lena? She asked wordlessly

Lena seemed to be pondering for a moment.

Suddenly she looked up and met Amélie's gaze. It was an intense look. I do.

A quick wink. Widowmaker's heart skipped a few beats. Lena suddenly growled. "You better run, love' It sounded angry. Good.

They trusted each other indefinitely.

Now it was time for Amélie to grin. Without looking back she made a break for it, quickly moving from the church towers roof, going for the churches flat roof where she could move more freely.

The sizzling sounds coming from behind her told her Lena was hot on her heels, no doubt flashing closer by the moment.

She heard those familiar blasters going off, and a moment later she could feel the heat on her skin as the bullets passed her.

This was life, this was heaven. Another series of shots rang out and a searing hot pain in Amélie's upper left leg made her wince in pain and temporary struggle to keep her balance. Lena is shooting more seriously this time. She mused. The wound was bleeding. She could feel it seep over her legs, but there was no time to pause and take a good look at it. She took out her rifle and went for higher ground, preparing to retaliate. Revenge for the scratch Lena had given her.

The wound didn't matter. They would care of each other's injuries afterwards, like they always had done. They trusted each other, they knew how much the other could take, much more than normal humans. This game of theirs was their dance. Widowmaker swirled around, dodging bullets and firing a rain of her own. It was a dance full of fire and life.

The cargo destined for Overwatch's doorstep still lay in the corner alcove hidden in the shadow, protected from the rain. Momentarily forgotten.

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My sincere thanks for reading. And my apologies for the weird delay. I got caught up in matters called life. And somewhere I felt a bit awkward finishing this. Thank you to those who bugged me. It helped a lot.