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As Widowmaker hung precariously upside down from a building, Tracer grinned with both her eyes and teeth bright before going near the other woman. She remained in place and unmoving until she felt the British girl's hands on both her cheeks, lips approaching her own and leaving a chaste, gentle kiss. The angle was a bit awkward, she supposed, but she could still feel Lena's smile through it.
"I've always wanted to do that," Lena said afterwards.
Widowmaker's head tilted in question and Tracer giggled. "Y'know, a scene in one of those old Spiderman films. They're pretty darn great," she paused. "We should watch 'em movies sometime."
With a flick of her wrist, she swung effortlessly and placed her feet back on the ground. She held warm hands against her own and suddenly she could no longer remember a time when such warmth was so foreign to her. Another kiss. "That would be lovely, ma chérie."
//
They were both in the sea, and if the water wasn't so damned cold, Lena would be downright warm and red from the sight of her. Beneath the water, she could faintly see things from the glow of the Chronal Accelerator. With that lithe back and that intricate tattoo, she could barely hold back a sigh. (She prides herself for not being distracted by Widowmaker's outfits, but she lets her eyes wander just for this moment.)
"Are you alright?" The sniper asked, effectively breaking her from her own thoughts.
She bobbed steadily on the water thanks to the floater they were both holding and nodded in answer. "Yeah, love."
"Good." Widowmaker grabbed a square device from her pocket. "Perhaps if you're done being distracted you can help me think of how to get back to shore."
Lena sputtered in embarrassment and Widowmaker waved a hand. "I do not mind. You are welcome to do so," she smirked, and Lena could barely maintain her hold on the floating device.
///
Something about flowers always gave Widowmaker a headache. And so when she was given a small bouquet of bright, blue forget-me-nots by the brunette, she had a throbbing in her temple that persisted for a while.
"Are you alright, love?" Concern dripped heavily from her voice and the sniper could only set down the bouquet gently to her side.
Memories. It triggered memories from the past—a past she was to forget and to no longer remember. She was not stupid. She tried to remember what she could when she could, but Talon did something. Truth be told, Talon did a lot of things to her for her to be the agent that she is today.
But she remembers fragments. Performances and grace, the very same grace that persists in her being until now, and is perhaps one of the remaining remnants of her old life. She remembers flowers after dances, and a man that gave her bouquets because he knew how much she loved them so.
For some reason, she still does, even if it stings her mind whenever she tries to remember. That is why she no longer bothers to retrieve those memories; even if in the back of her mind she thinks of how pretty the petals are of the flowers she passes by, or how the carnation looks incredibly lovely upon blooming. She gives up pushing for clues of her life before Talon.
And so when Tracer gave her the bouquet, the pain in her head returned and she tried to push away the thoughts quickly.
A glass of water finds its way into her hands quickly and she gulps it down as fast as she could. A hand soothingly palms against her back and she feels the pain subsiding.
"Repurcussions of that Talon engineering, I reckon?"
A sigh. "Most likely," she replied, finger circling her temple to remove the remaining pain. She had tried cutting back on her regular medication and slowly let go so her body wouldn't experience sudden loss from the dependence. It was alright most days, but days like these sent her mind into complete disarray.
Tracer kissed her on her head, wrapping her arms against her shoulders and murmuring words of encouragement.
She finds herself at the brunette's apartment later, realizing that she had fallen asleep. At her side is a note that said the woman would be back after she had finished her groceries. On the bedside table lies little trinkets and the bouquet of flowers, still as pretty as they were in the moment that Lena gave it to her.
As Widomaker lies against foreign sheets, she could only think of how much it smelled like her. Perhaps staying in bed a little longer wouldn't hurt.
////
Lena wasn't expecting anyone tonight.
Her night consisted of binge watching movies of a certain Hasselhoff adamantly lent by Reinhardt. His enthusiasm overwhelmed even her at the time and she had decided to humor the old man by borrowing some in his collection.
She had the television turned on and take out ready when she heard shuffling outside her window. Her eyebrows scrunched up and she looked over to the side. She lifted her legs from the couch and walked over to the side, surprised to find a small collection of flowers pinned at her windowsill.
They were wonderful, and she could only think of one person who would give her such a thing and could reach the high window.
The two had a rather long discussion in their previous meeting, and she could only assume that this was a peace offering from the woman.
"Are you still out there?" Still no reply. "Hello?" Lena tried again.
The streets were silent, save for the crickets and the occasional flickering of the lamp across the street.
Lena knew she was out there, but if she didn't want to come out in her own volition, then she wouldn't force the Talon agent to do so.
She grabbed a paper and scribbled a 'Thank You' on the sheet before taping it firmly by her window and putting back the curtains in their place.
That night, things proceeded to go according to plan and she fell asleep on the couch. She woke up with her neck at a bad angle and feet still placed unceremoniously at the living room table. Her back ached and she stretched, hearing the satisfying pops and went to the windows to bring in some light in the still dark apartment.
The paper was gone, she observed.
/////
This was probably a terrible idea. As another bottle fell from the minishelf and onto the floor, Lena bent over but not without accidentally bumping into the sniper's side, sending her to the wall.
"Mon Dieu, would it hurt to be more careful?"
"Oops. Sorry 'bout that."
As she held the bottle (shampoo apparently) she squeezed out enough onto the palm of her hand and ran it through jet black hair. Lena massaged her scalp, grinning when she heard a pleased hum from the other woman.
"Keep your eyes closed, 'kay?" She made the water from the showerhead run more and rinsed away until she saw no more bubbles. Absentmindedly, she kept playing with the strands even when she was finished, at peace with how pristine the normally stoic woman looked. She turned it off and smiled.
"Do me, now," she said reaching for the bottle again. "I usually just put a teeny tiny amount because—," she paused, suddenly flustered when Widowmaker left kisses against her neck and towards her chest. "What're you doing, love?"
Widowmaker was slightly hunched because of the difference in their heights, but she managed to look back at her, eyes playful and hands resting on her waist. "I thought you said for me to do you," she said smugly. "Of course, I could always stop," her tone was serious and she eyed her for hesitation.
Her short hair swung a bit as she shook her head a little bit too much. "Keep going," she said, a tad breathless.
Widowmaker kept constant eye contact and Lena's knees buckled slightly at the sight of the other woman leaving gentle kisses and traversing down her body. Hands press firmly at her hip bones, and she lets out a groan, hips pushing more against her fingers. Widowmaker moved her hands to the middle, grinning because she knows it wasn't because of the water from the shower.
"I'll make sure to clean you up," she said and shifted one of Lena's legs to her shoulder.
The morning after, she sees her neighbor, a kind and old woman that occasionally baked and gave her cookies, grinning at her, and Lena could only shuffle away quickly to get breakfast for the sniper and herself.
//////
Widowmaker loved sleeping with her. Not even the activity where she did things that left Lena grasping at sheets and threading fingers in her hair (but she thoroughly enjoyed that as well). She loved just being with her. Her warmth was wonderful, and a stark contrast to her own. She enjoyed counting the freckles on her shoulders and back until she fell asleep. Everything about it sets her at ease.
However, it gets difficult.
Hiding isn't easy and she knows that one day she won't be able to throw Talon in a loop anymore. This time, they were in a small motel at Nepal and she had a mission to attend to a few days from now.
With the gentle rise and fall of Lena's heartbeat, she holds her body closer and rests her forehead against the freckled back.
The woman knows not to call her by her old name. She is no longer Amélie, and she is no longer a trophy wife of the man named Gérard. Although he is gone now, Widowmaker knew that Amélie loved him dearly. But Widowmaker is not her. At least, she thinks she isn't and will never be once more.
Lena remained positive enough for the both of them, still, and always argued that the people at Overwatch would find a way—the very same people that diagnosed her upon her return from Talon's abduction as a negative and returned her back to her husband. She murdered him in cold blood, and she didn't wish to do the same to Lena.
Her grip must have tightened as the brunette wiggled and laced their fingers together.
"Are you alright, love?"
She exhales. "Oui."
Lena rolled over and disentangled their limbs, pulling her up and throwing her some clothes. "Come on," she said, and began pulling a thick sweater over her shirt. "I saw this nice ice cream place and I know it's not gelato but I guess you might still like it?"
Her heartbeat quickened (something that became a normal occurrence whenever she was with her) and she wrapped her arms around the thin waist. She peppered kisses on her face and Lena giggled, holding her hand against her own and pulling her out of their room.
///////
"You're so beautiful," Lena said.
Here in the sheets, she was not an Overwatch agent but a woman in love. Lena. And she rather liked the way the French woman would utter her name in soft repetition.
Her fingers trailed along Widowmaker's side, tracing the ink that was stark against her skin. It was cold, but Lena was somehow accustomed to the temperature. Although she knew very well that not all of the woman was completely cold. (She blushed, then, remembering what had happened the night before, and what had continued to do so when morning came.)
The sniper was silent, front pressed against the bed and spine bare save for the sheets lazily covering her until the small of her back.
"How long can we keep doing this?" Her accented voice was slightly muffled from the pillow, and Lena paused in her movements. "They will eventually find out, and I doubt if your friends would take to me as kindly as you have."
They've had infrequent fights and sometimes lengthy discussions about the future. The spy had wanted to settle down far away: buy a house and live a normal albeit hidden life. She should have known Lena—no, Tracer—would want to continue to protect people as long as her body could.
Lena's mouth was shut. She didn't want to ruin things just after it had gotten better. "I don't know," she said, moving her hand against her unruly hair. Her eyes closed tightly. At the end of the day, the woman in bed with her was still a killer. She was still tethered to the very people that had changed her and made her into a merciless assassin.
Black suddenly covered blue, and through bleary, misty eyes she could see Widowmaker donning her usual attire.
"Don't leave." Her voice cracked and she felt numb. It was one thing for the woman to always leave before she woke up, but it somehow hurt more seeing her get up and distance herself from her once more.
She barely saw the tattooed arm wiping away at her own blue cheeks before the window closed soundly with a thud.
Lena doesn't sleep that night, a part of her hoping that Widowmaker would return.
She doesn't.
////////
The next time Lena sees her, she is Tracer and her heart stops at the familiar sight of the sniper at one of the higher rooftops. She blinks and jumps, heartbeat thundering in her ears.
There were countless of sleepless nights, nights where alcohol became her friend and Angela had to set her straight before she went to a path of continued self destruction. It took days—months—before she could function as well as she could.
She tiptoes quietly before blinking towards the sniper. "What'cha looking at?" It was really her. Tracer hadn't seen her for months and had nearly given up the thought of ever seeing her again. But here she was, looking incredibly at home with the Widow's kiss pressed against her cheek, and eyes focused at the scope. That was, of course, what the sight had looked like before the agent had stood up in alarm, the automatic rifle firing at Tracer's feet.
"Jeez, love, that's a rather enthusiastic greeting," Tracer said, dodging the bullets as effortlessly as she had the first time they engaged in battle. "I guess you missed me," she winked playfully before placing back her pistols.
Widowmaker's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" She sneered before aiming the rifle once more.
Lena's heart sunk, stumbling back slightly before blinking away the immediate tears that pooled in her eyes. She had to run away. She couldn't handle confronting her like this. Those damn bastards, she thinks. Not again.
She didn't know what to feel. Her heart ached, but a huge part of her was in relief since she was still alive. Talon could have very well just killed the assassin if they pleased. She took in a large breath of the fresh night air before blinking towards Widowmaker and kicking the Widow's Kiss from her grasp. Time seemed to slow as Tracer sees the Chronal Accelerator's light against her face. She remembered moments in alleyways and rooftops, late night rendezvous and early morning meetings. Lena could barely stop herself from kissing those familiar lips, but she couldn't. It wasn't right.
She blinked backwards and it felt only like yesterday, seeing the agent's frustrated and puzzled face. "Maybe you'll just have to remember." And after racking her brain as much as she could with the words, she manages to let out an "Au revoir, ma chérie."
Widowmaker's eye twitched and Lena hoped it was enough to at least trigger back some memories.
She ran back quickly to her team thinking yeah, she can probably make Widowmaker recognize her.
She won't let the chance pass again.