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In a horrific moment that seemed to stretch on forever from past to future, Lena gaped at her chronal accelerator, still resting in its harness and taunting her from a few inches above her face. Slender gloved fingers, a tattooed blue forearm--the assassin known as Widowmaker dangled her very life before her eyes. A second later, a bright glint stole Lena's attention and her eyes traveled across the assassin's body to the knife held in her other hand. Lena watched as Widowmaker returned it to a black leather holster resting against her thigh.
Lena realized Widowmaker used it to cut the harness that secured her lifeline into this world. Dread ran through her veins chilling her body, minus a frantic heartbeat. She felt isolated from the material surrounding her, even though her chronal accelerator was still close enough to keep her anchored here. But it hung from the hand of an enemy--a murderer.
A pair of cool golden eyes pierced her own. A sudden cruel laugh escaped the lips of the one who had the power to keep her real and in this world or to erase her again forever.
“It looks like I won this round, Tracer,” Widowmaker broke the tense silence first, emphasizing the name of Lena's call sign with a sneer.
At a loss for words, Lena only answered with a low growl. She pushed herself up off her knees to stand and face her enemy. She landed on the ground only moments ago after she attempted to wrestle Widowmaker's rifle from her hands. The rifle now rested behind the assassin on the pavement; at least Lena was successful in that. But it cost her much more.
Now with mocking confusion written across her face, Widowmaker took one step towards Lena.
“What? No witty comeback? You are such a terrible loser today.”
“Give it back,” Lena cried out as she lunged towards the taller woman. Widowmaker reacted in the blink of an eye and dashed to her right and out of the Brit's grasp. Lena stumbled for a second, almost falling to the street again, before finding her balance.
“Don't worry, I'll return it to you. I enjoy our engagements and would never wish for them to end.”
With a smirk teasing on her blue lips, Widowmaker took a few careful steps towards Lena again. Dumbfounded, she watched this graceful procession until the assassin was within an arms length. She couldn't believe Widowmaker would simply return her chronal accelerator without even asking for something as compensation. The assassin knew by now what would happen to Lena if she lost it.
But Lena had to believe it when the assassin held out her arm holding the precious device, that kept her practically alive. She hesitated for a few seconds before reaching out to take her chronal accelerator from Widowmaker. She expected the assassin to pull it away from her as soon as she got her hand on it, then grab her by the arm to throw her off balance and toss her down to the ground again.
But none of that happened.
Widowmaker allowed her to take the blue glowing device still seated in it's leather harness. Once it was fully in her hands, Lena shoved the chronal accelerator to her chest and the two stared at each other in silence for a brief moment before Widowmaker turned on her heel and walked swiftly towards her rifle on the ground. She recovered her weapon and strode towards a dark alley to the side of the large building behind them.
“Until next time, Tracer. À bientôt,” Widowmaker called to her before escaping into the shadows filling the alley.
Lena hoped there wouldn't be a next time.
A few months passed since the night Lena almost lost herself again. Since then, she turned the scene around in her mind over and over. Why did Widowmaker return the chronal accelerator after removing it in the first place? She could only conclude that the assassin enjoyed toying with her. The thought didn’t put Lena at ease. One day, the spider would likely grow bored of their games and finally go in for the kill.
Today, Lena put those thoughts far out of her mind. She found herself at a small comic book shop in downtown London, just a few miles from that last encounter with Widowmaker. The small store buzzed with excitement as fans from all over the city gathered to see one of the "former" heroes of Overwatch.
Lena agreed to show for the event, the grand opening of the comic shop, and sign autographs for interested fans. She thought it a bit funny everyone treated her as “ex-Overwatch” when she had been running with the reformed group on the sly for almost a year now. But that had to remain a secret.
The crowd emitted undeniable excitement from all over and Lena absorbed it all immediately. She wore her most charming “Tracer smile” as the first comic shop patron approached. The young girl carried a Tracer poster in her left-hand and offered a shy smile as she stepped up to the signing table. Lena softened her face in an attempt to reassure the girl and greeted her with a cheery “Hello” before asking her name.
Bethany.
Lena scribbled an encouraging note on the poster, addressed to “Bethany”. The young girl beamed at Lena before showering her with gratitude.
On to the next smiling face.
Lena needed this after dealing with an almost crippling anxiety since her run-in with Widowmaker and nearly losing her chronal accelerator. No one truly understood what happened to her while she was lost to time. Who could she really talk to? Winston understood chronal dissociation on the scientific level but he never experienced it first hand. No one did... except for her.
As Lena interacted with more and more fans, her spirit started to mend. It felt grand. She couldn't stop smiling and bouncing in her chair every time she met a new person.
She signed an old Overwatch recruitment poster. The art depicted her and Reinhardt in a heroic pose. This one was a surprise for the woman's mother who used to love the organization in its heyday (and Reinhardt in particular).
Next, she met twins in their early twenties who wanted her to sign a new comic book they just bought. It had nothing to do with Overwatch, but she scribbled her name on the cover anyway.
On to the next person. Lena's heart fell into a pit in her chest when a pair of gold eyes locked on to hers. They shone from a face cloaked in a hood, but Lena could make out the bluish tint of the woman's cheeks and nose.
Widowmaker stood tall before her, wrapped in a long, dark grey coat. To everyone else in the shop, she was just another fan, another comic shop patron who wanted to meet the famous Tracer.
Lena felt bile rise in her throat but she forced a smile to avoid alarming the other guests. She wasn't looking to start a fight in here of all places. Hopefully Widowmaker wished the same. But did she really come here simply to get Tracer's autograph?
“Hello, Tracer,” the Talon assassin purred and handed Lena a small Tracer poster; a copy of the one handed out by the front door of the comic store, for those who had nothing in particular for Lena to sign.
With a shaking hand, she grabbed the poster and placed it on the table.
“Who should I make this out to?” Lena's voice shook ever so slightly and her eyes focused downward to study the large goggles framing her own face in the poster.
“Amélie Guillard, your biggest fan,” Widowmaker replied with a smug grin and a hint of sarcasm in her voice. At least, Lena assumed it was sarcasm; neither of them were “fans” of each other.
Lena shifted in her seat but giggled to hide her unease, “Could you spell the name for me, luv? Or would you prefer 'Widowmaker’? It's very fitting, dontcha’ think?” She raised her eyes in time to catch Widowmaker rolling her eyes.
“Write down whatever you wish,” Widowmaker sneered.
So she did. Lena scribbled a plea to the blue assassin, asking her to leave without causing an incident. She returned the poster to Widowmaker, who read the note in silence, chuckling when she reached the end.
“You have a great day now, luv,” Lena forced through gritted teeth while trying her best to smile.
Oddly enough, Widowmaker nodded and walked away from the table so the next person in line could step forward. Lena's eyes followed the assassin out the front door to make sure she left the building without incident
“Why are you here? Why are you following me?” Lena demanded of Widowmaker when she discovered the assassin waiting for her outside the comic shop.
The signing ended ten minutes ago. Lena said her farewells and escaped out the back door with the intent of returning to her apartment. After turning the corner near the alleyway behind the store, she caught sight of Widowmaker leaning against the brick side of an adjacent building. She still wore the long coat and the hood; appropriate attire for a chilly autumn afternoon in London.
“I told you this already. I'm here to see the famous Tracer,” Widowmaker answered, smirking.
Lena huffed, “Cut the act. We’re far from being the best of pals. Neither of us like the other much.”
Widowmaker's face lost its amused expression and her eyes darted into Lena's, “Yes, I don't like you. You're an annoying pest. But an annoying pest is better than nothing. I don't feel a thing around anyone else. Not even for what little memories I have of my dead husband. But something happened that night we first encountered each other in London, on King's Row. I felt alive and...I don't know, real. For the first time since...I don't think you were the cause of this but you were there and it's linked together.”
“Um, okay,” Lena could only force these simple words from her mouth, but her mind wrapped in and around Widowmaker's explanation.
Lena knew the basics of Widowmaker's backstory. A dancer and wife turned Talon assassin...well, "slave" might be the more accurate term. Amélie Lacroix. Sure, she felt awful for the woman but couldn't let her sympathy get in the way of protecting innocents from the assassin's strike. She failed Mondatta and she promised to herself that it would never happen again.
But there was something in Widowmaker's words that pierced her heart and drew her closer to the woman; fully at odds with her better judgement. In a way, the two had a lot in common. Both led relatively normal lives before a personal tragedy changed them forever; even altering them physically. Irreversibly. Theirs was a uniquely isolating existence no one else could understand. Lena would never claim that her experience was on the same level as Widowmaker's, since she at least kept her free-will, but she understood the assasins search to belong in the world. And not just in a social sense; it was existential; a desire to feel “real”.
“I get it,” Lena finally added a bit breathlessly after a few moments of silence between the two. “You want to feel something. Anything, really. It reminds you that you're still one of us.”
Widowmaker shrugged, “Perhaps. It means I'll keep searching for confrontation with you. Unless something changes.”
Lena chuckled, “Oi, then you'll kill me, right?”
The playful grin returned to Widowmaker's blue lips, “Oui.”
With her nerves still on edge, Lena chuckled to ease the tension, “Well, until then…” she pointed to the chronal accelerator resting on her chest, “...you need me just like I need this thing.”
Widowmaker scoffed, “I'm not wearing you on my chest.”
Lena giggled but took note of how indescribably odd it felt joking around with her most lethal enemy.
“No, no. I wouldn't like that much myself. So, you're not here to start a fight with me, are you?”
Widowmaker shook her head ever so slightly, “It seems being in your presence is enough to trigger the feeling.”
“Aw, come on. I'm not that annoying, am I?”
“I don't know. You're just...something.”
Widowmaker pushed herself away from the brick wall that supported her weight.
“I must go. Until next time,” she said before walking away from Lena. She soon disappeared down the alley behind the comic shop.
Until next time.
She was always so certain their paths would cross again.