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The stakeout mission was a long one, but nothing Widow wasn’t used to. She sat perfectly still, her sniper rifle trained at the door which a man named Roger Stevenson would walk through. She did not think - thoughts would only be a distraction. She noted briefly the background sensations of people talking, lights blinking on and off, a light breeze making her ponytail sway, the smell of fast food wafting from the street below, but her eyes and mind trained singularly on the door.
Any minute now.
She was not sure how long she had been sitting at the roof. Time seemed inconsequential when she was so high from the ground, and even more so when every cell in her body was anticipating the rush of a good kill. It didn’t matter if she had been perched for half an hour or days. Hunger, thirst, cold and exhaustion could not touch her. So she waited, with patience and anticipation.
“Que onda?”
If Widow wasn’t as well-trained as she was, her surprise would have made her pull the trigger of her sniper rifle at the sudden noise. But one didn’t become an assassin without growing used to surprises, and one didn’t spend time around Sombra without almost expecting them. Still, she shot Sombra a sharp look for breaking her concentration.
“Don’t worry, the target’s been delayed,” Sombra said, waving a hand airly. “He won’t be here for another hour.”
It wasn’t the kind of thing Sombra would lie about, but if there was anything predictable about Sombra, it was her ability to be entirely unpredictable. Before Widow could decide whether she trusted Sombra’s word or not, the comms crackled to life.
“Target delayed by an hour,” Reaper growled. “Stand by, I’ll let you know when he’s here.”
“See?” Sombra said, an air of innocence around her. “I would never lie to you, mi araña.”
Widow snorted. “Sure,” she said, her sarcasm making Sombra grin. She rested the sniper rifle on the floor and sat on the concrete. She wouldn’t have minded staying focused for an hour as they waited on the target - the thoughtless peace of waiting to kill was far easier than sitting with a pretty girl who made her question everything she thought she knew. But Sombra was interesting and funny and never pushed too hard, and Widow didn’t mind suffering through the strange feeling in her stomach to sit with the hacker.
Sombra lay down on her back, watching the sky silently. After a moment, Widow tilted her head up too, eyes resting on the stars. The sky was not as clear as it was at Château Guillard, polluted with the smog and dirt of the city, but the smattering of visible stars were a pleasant sight nonetheless.
“Why are you here?” Widow asked, her tone not as harsh as her words. Sombra had her own orders to follow for this mission, and it would be easier for her to stay on the ground, prepared. It wasn’t like she was incapable of entertaining herself - one of Sombra’s favourite hobbies was becoming invisible and snooping on people’s conversations and phones. Widow found it hard to believe that she was more interesting than getting strangers’ metaphorical dirty laundry.
Sombra didn’t seem offended. “Can’t a girl chill with her friend once in a while?” Sombra had a habit of Widow that. Her ‘friend’ . It wasn’t entirely clear if it was mocking or not. Sombra always spoke with a teasing lilt in her voice, and it made differentiating her jokes and heartfelt statements difficult. Sombra always did love being as confusing as possible - it was clear that being an enigma was one of Sombra’s safeguards against vulnerability, but it only ever seemed to make Widow more interested in her. She wondered if Sombra would ever let her see her, utterly, without walls or facades. She hoped so. Sombra was far lovelier than she gave herself credit for. Widow tended to avoid dwelling on it, largely because it meant dwelling on the strange, tight feeling in her chest, and that wasn’t something she was planning on confronting any time soon.
“Besides, I put my translocator down, I’ll be there in less than a second if I need to be,” Sombra said, before turning over onto her side, propping her head up with an arm. She grinned, salacious. “Hey, you want some gossip?”
“Who is it about?” Widow asked. Sombra had her fingers in the dealings of hundreds of important figures around the world, but Widow didn’t care enough about most of them to be interested in whatever gossip Sombra had dug up about them.
“Our darling Akande.”
Widow raised an eyebrow, curious despite herself. Akande was still somewhat new to Talon, and had rose through the ranks so rapidly that it felt like he had appeared out of nowhere. Widow didn’t dislike him - he was interesting, talented and had begun to treat her as something approaching a friend instead of a coworker. But Akande still largely kept to himself, and there wasn’t much Widow knew about the man’s personal life. Not that his efforts to remain mysterious would matter to Sombra - she had a knack for finding even the most buried secrets.
“I’m listening.”
“You know how he went on that bodyguard trip with the Shimada family?” Widow nodded, vaguely aware of the mission. “Well, he brought back a boy-toy.”
Huh. That wasn’t what Widow was expecting. Akande always seemed like the type to not let romantic interests hinder his business pursuits. Still, Akande getting a boyfriend wasn’t exactly the most scandalous of stories. Sombra was withholding something, and the eager grin sitting on her face only confirmed her suspicions.
“That’s not all, is it?”
“Nope,” Sombra said, popping the ‘p’ enthusiastically. Her excitement was unbearably endearing, and Widow realised that she cared less about Akande’s so called ‘boy-toy’ and more about the fact that Sombra was sitting here, willingly sharing the information with her. “His boy-toy is the heir he was supposed to be protecting! He helped him fake his death and brought him to Talon!”
“That doesn’t sound much like Akande,” Widow murmured. The man was sensible, and his recruitment strategies were not usually so… unconventional. The heir of a prominent family would bring unwanted attention to Talon if found, and bring light to dealings that were best left in shadows.
“Ay, love can do funny things to people,” Sombra shrugged. “A little overrated, if you ask me.”
Widow didn’t respond, turning her eyes to the sky once again. Sombra’s words lingered in her mind, repeating endlessly like echoes in a empty cavern. Love was not a topic she thought about often, and she wasn’t sure it was something she was capable of experiencing anyway. Strong emotions did not often come to her, outside of her work as an assassin. She tried to imagine herself falling in love, perhaps with someone lower in the Talon hierarchy, or a regular civilian. The fantasy seemed strange and uncomfortably unrealistic. She doubted there were many people who could hold her interest long enough to enter a relationship with her.
Well, besides Sombra.
Not that she wanted to date Sombra. She was a coworker, if an overly friendly one, and romantic entanglements would only complicate things when they inevitably went awry. And besides, Widow wasn’t particularly attracted to her. She was pretty, certainly, with her soft skin, exasperating smirk, and eyes that always sparkled knowingly. She had a lovely body too, all soft curves and defined muscles.
Widow frowned at the sky. Perhaps she was attracted to Sombra. Still, that didn’t mean she wanted a relationship with her. Widow was a singular person, preferred being alone over company, no matter if that company always managed to pull a smile out of her. Her occasional daydreams were irrelevant - some things were meant to remain fantasies.
Sombra flicked her finger against Widow’s shoulder, a fond gesture that Widow had come to grow used to. “What you thinking about, araña?”
“Nothing in particular,” Widow responded. “Can you name the constellations?”
Sombra turned to the sky again, squinting. “Hm… not really. I mean, it’s pretty hard to see the stars here anyway, but I never really got into astrology. Can you?”
“No,” Widow admitted. “I think that might be Orion’s belt though.” She pointed at three stars in an almost-straight line. She could almost imagine the stars around them connecting to create the figure of a man, although she couldn’t be sure if she was imagining it.
“Maybe,” Sombra conceded. “It’s so strange to think that all those stars are bigger than the sun. They look tiny.”
Widow hummed. She supposed there was a metaphor to be made about that, but she found that she didn’t care enough to think of one. Instead, she turned to watch Sombra stare at the sky. She looked serene, far too serene for someone who could be called to the ground any second. Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, and, for a second, she wasn’t a world renowned hacker that could bring any organisation to heel; she was just a girl enjoying the night sky.
“I’ve been thinking of blackmailing Akande’s boy-toy,” Sombra said suddenly. Widow snorted - it was virtually impossible to forget who they truly were for more than a moment.
“And what would you achieve from that?”
“Entertainment,” Sombra replied, grinning. “And hopefully some dirty little secrets I can lord over Akande.”
“A dangerous game,” Widow warned, but Sombra waved her concerns away.
“I love danger almost as much as I love games,” Sombra announced, the pride in her voice almost as endearing as the way she turned to look at Widow, eyes shining so bright that Widow almost couldn’t bear to look. She turned away, fixing her gaze on the stars once more.
“You’re ridiculous,” Widow said, but her smile betrayed the fondness in her words.
They fell into a comfortable silence again. Sombra was humming an unfamiliar tune under her breath, and her foot tapped to a soundless beat. Soon, Reyes would call Sombra down and she would disappear to wherever she had placed her translocator, and Widow would resume her position at the edge of the roof, sniper rifle ready to take yet another life. But for now, Widow could hear people talking miles below them, could hear the distant sound of music, the hum of vehicles, and, most importantly, whatever song Sombra was humming.
“What are you singing?” Widow asked finally,
“If you’re open to music recs, you should have told me a while ago,” Sombra said, grinning. “I’ve got a whole playlist I’ve been meaning to hook you onto.” Widow smiled. Sombra’s music taste was… eccentric, to say the least. She showed little differentiation between generic pop, hard metal and dozens of other genres she stumbled upon and added to her ever diversifying albums. “It’s called ‘Learn’.”
Widow hesitated, then asked before she could think better, “Will you sing it for me?”
For all of Widow’s trepidation, Sombra did not seem bothered by her request. She cleared her throat (a theatrical gesture rather than practical, but Sombra had always had a proclivity for drama) and began.
“But don’t worry, we can’t hurry,” Sombra sang. Her voice wasn’t particularly musical, but she didn’t appear self-conscious about it. “It’s gonna take some time to unravel this state of mind.”
Widow turned away from Sombra’s face, gentle and open as she sang, and instead looked at Sombra’s hand. It was tantalizingly close, and Widow, further emboldened by Sombra’s lack of surprise at her desire to hear her sing, pictured herself entwining their hands together. Her fingers twitched, unnoticed by the woman next to her, who continued to sing gently.
“After everything we say, all we do is hesitate…”
Widow reached out, finally, to brush her pinky against Sombra’s. The woman startled, glancing at Widow before quickly averting her gaze. She cleared her throat, clearly out of genuine need this time, before continuing the song.
“To learn to love each other.”
Her voice trailed off. The song felt fitting. How ironic that Sombra would sing about learning to love, as though it wasn’t Widow who felt as though she was exercising disused, long-forgotten muscles for the first time. She wondered if Sombra resonated with the lyrics of the song, or if she had been drawn to it solely for its gently melody. An airplane flew overhead, and the rumble of the engines seemed to make the concrete vibrate.
“Hey, Widow,” Sombra said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. She pulled her pinky finger away from Widow’s and, before she could mourn the loss, entwined their hands together. Sombra’s skin was always warm, although it could have just been Widow’s lack of warm circulation. “Do you think that people can learn to love?”
Widow didn’t respond immediately, her attention focused solely on the warmth of Sombra’s hand as the woman rubbed circles with her thumb on blue skin.
“I think I’m learning to love you,” Widow confessed. Her words were so quiet that they were almost swallowed by the sounds of city nightlife.
Sombra turned, lying now on her side instead of her back. Widow saw the same fear and hope that reverberated in her heart reflected in the brown woman’s eyes.
“I think I’m halfway there already,” Sombra said. The growing trepidation in Widow’s heart gave way to a sudden, all-consuming fondness.
The stars looked down on the two figures, dispassionate, as though the two women hadn’t bared their souls for the first time in years.