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Widowmaker was used to being alone. For years, she’d been alone, only scientists and her victims for company. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good, either. Just like almost everything else in her life, it was a comfortable and familiar numbness, punctuated by brief explosions of life when she finished a good job.
The aloneness in Overwatch was different, though. She knew she was being watched all the time, ever since she’d been captured. She wasn’t a fool. While Talon had always had its eyes on her, they were what could be described by the layman as benign - at least to her. Overwatch had an oppressive air to it, an all-consuming sense of judgement. It was no secret, the things she had done, but that didn’t change the pricks of irritation she felt knowing she was being watched and evaluated the entire day. And on top of that, she had nothing to do; no pointless violence to enact, not even on herself; no visor to toy with; no rifle to optimise.
And to top it all off, her hands and feet were cuffed to the table and floor, respectively. She wasn’t freed until it was time to eat or sleep, and even then respite seemed brief. It reminded her of conditioning with Talon - though at least that had had a purpose.
Widowmaker suspected they were just doing this to piss her off.
She looked around the room, but there wasn’t much to look at. It was a small, white room, with reinforced walls and one simple (clearly double-sided) mirror on the left wall. Then there was the table Widowmaker was constantly forced to sit at, with two chairs, one on either side, and, obviously, herself. A very interesting room, all in all.
Widowmaker was pondering the intricacies of the cracks in the pure white wall when the door handle jiggles. There’s the sound of a soft curse word (or maybe something foreign) from the other side and then the jingling of keys, and finally the door opens. Widowmaker is about to say it’s much too early for food to be brought in when a vaguely familiar face appears instead.
What had her name been? She was round all over, with deep brown hair and eyes. She dressed like it was the arctic, complete with gloves and a fluffy hood. And her glasses were comically skewed ever-so-slightly, just enough to be irritating to Widowmaker. She wants to lean over the table and fix them.
And then snap the stranger’s neck before making a daring escape.
The stranger - who was getting more familiar by the second - clears her throat and walks over to the other chair at the table. She’s carrying files, and looks harried, so many hairs out of place. Widowmaker wants to smooth them out, before taking the pin from her head and -
Well, one gets the idea.
“Mrs. Amélie Lacroix,” says the stranger, and Widowmaker deducts internal points from her Will Have Mercy On Once I’m Free From This Ridiculous Chair chart. “You have been charged with 78 counts of murder with intent -”
“By whom?”
“- countless charges of breaking and entering, 85 counts of aggravated -”
“I said, by whom?”
“- assault, and I will answer your questions once I am done reading your hefty chart, Mrs. Lacroix.” She’s shaking. “If you would just let me f-”
“Why should I? It’s all stuff I did. Wow, amazing. Lock me up, I’m a menace! Oh, wait.”
“-inish, I could inform you about your possible execution.”
Ohhhhhh.
“Ohhhhh,” says Widowmaker, smiling despite herself. “So they’re going to kill me, is that it?”
“That depends.” Now the stranger is tight-lipped, glaring at her file, refusing to acknowledge her at all. “The….the higher ups - they want to offer you a deal. Me, I’m against it. You’re - You’re a real -” She struggles for words now, and the way her face scrunches up with fury finally lets Widowmaker place who she is.
The scientist who’d gone ice skating with Gérard and her . The stranger had worked on climate change or something, and babbled excitedly all the time - what had her name been? God, it was on the tip of Widowmaker’s tongue -
“But it isn’t my decision. They think you’re valuable.” She lays the files down on the table now. Widowmaker narrows her eyes at them. She wonders if there are pictures inside, or if it’s just text. Either way, she wants to relive her exploits.
“I am valuable,” Widowmaker responds, turning her attention back to the scientist. “You don’t think so? You have my resumé right there. Go ahead, look.”
“I have.”
“Look again. Take them in.”
“I won’t.”
“Too squeamish?”
“No.” The woman clenches her fists. “How dare you insinuate I’m not just disgusted by who you are, what you do -” She breathes in deep, lets it out again. “Gérard would be ashamed.”
Widowmaker opens her mouth to respond, but then there’s a stabbing pain in her head and she’s in the ice skating rink, hello Ms. Zhou how are you I’m good thank you we should get started wow you’re good at this and so beautiful too Mercy tells me you work on climate change that’s so interesting you must be proud to be involved in something so important oh me haha no I’m just here to support Gérard of course I have a job but it’s nothing like you two thank you Mei that’s sweet of you.
“Mei,” Widowmaker breathes, eyes still unfocused. “Mei-Ling Zhou. Level two target. Take out at leisure. No rush, no rush. But we want her gone, get rid of her. Yes, I will. Thank you, Widowmaker. You’re doing well here.”
When Widowmaker finally wakes up, Mei is staring at her in confusion. Widowmaker knows it’s only been a few seconds because she doesn’t hurt from struggling against her bindings. Every time this has happened before she’s shaken and clattered and bruised herself. This time, she’s just digging her nails into her palms. So she laughs a little, unclenches her fists, stretches her fingers.
“Is something wrong?”
“Does that happen often?”
“Does what happen?” Widowmaker cocks her head, as if nothing at all has occurred and there is no reason for the baffled expression Mei is giving her.
“You stared into space and muttered about skating and then - whatever that last thing was.” Mei furrows her brow. “Talon wants me dead?”
“Talon wants everyone dead. Don’t feel special.”
Mei seems to think about it for a second, before putting her hands on her lap and staring at them.
“So if I let you out, you’d kill me?”
“Of course.”
Mei thinks about it for a second before reaching under the desk. There’s a beep, followed by the click of her restraints going back into the chair.
She’s free.
She’s free .
Widowmaker grins, or maybe just bares her teeth, and stands up. Mei watches her, making no move to hinder her progress, even going so far as to slide the files off to the side to keep them out of Widowmaker’s way. Widowmaker hops onto the table so she sits with her legs dangling, then stretches them, arching her back and letting the satisfaction of liberty sink into her bones. She had been here too long, that simply moving could give her such joy.
“And, without further ado,” Widowmaker purrs, shifting so she sits with her legs on either side of Mei. She’s not letting this one get away, that’s for sure. Leaning forward, she wraps her hands around Mei’s neck. Mei still makes no move to stop her, staring at her with a strange look in her eyes.
“No fight at all? How boring,” Widowmaker sighs. She starts to apply pressure, gentle at first, there’ll be time for rough later-
“What would Gérard think of you right now?” Mei asks.
The room is cold.
“I think he’d be disappointed,” Mei continues. “I think he’d know the Amélie he knew would never do this to him. To anyone. To me. I’m a friend. Remember, Amélie? I’m a friend.”
“You-”
“Do you remember how much you loved him?” She cuts Widowmaker off, now looking determined.
“How dare -”
“Do you remember how much he loved you ?”
Ma chérie pourquoi tu me tue je n’ai fait rien ma chérie si’l-te-plaît je t’aime je t’aime j-
“ Putain !” Widowmaker cries, clutching her forehead. Blinding white pain. She’s staring into the sun, the sun is exploding behind her eyes. No, no, no. She’s so close to being able to leave, she has Mei right here , this cannot happen again, this won’t happen again -
She forces herself to take a deep breath, but it makes another stab of pain hit her right in the forehead. Despite herself, she lets go of Mei’s neck entirely to claw uselessly at her eyelids, to make it stop.
“I knew Amélie was in there somewhere.” Mei sounds smug, taking Widowmaker’s wrists gently and pulling them away from her face. “I knew it.”
“I’ll kill you ,” Widowmaker hisses, struggling against Mei’s grip and moving to kick her in the face. Mei dodges, just barely, and hits out with her elbow to knock Widowmaker’s leg away. She jerks Widowmaker forward, bringing their faces close.
Widowmaker is sweating. Her hair clings to her face, and her ponytail feels hot against the back of her neck. She feels warm, warmth she didn’t remember and didn’t miss, the heat of anger burning its way through her body and exploding out in violence. But Mei is like ice, holding her back, melting away her fury.
She isn’t mad anymore.
She’s tired.
“I’ll kill you,” she repeats anyway, looking Mei directly in the eyes. Mei stares back evenly, before nodding.
“You’ll kill me,” she agrees. “But not today.”
“You didn’t raise a fist,” Widowmaker says, wonderingly. “You held me back. Why would you hold me back? I’ll have your head.”
“I don’t want you to hurt, Amélie.”
“It’s Widowmaker. ”
“Did you choose that name? Because you made yourself a widow?”
“I am not a widow. I do not grieve for him.”
Mei tightens her grip. “The rest of us do.”
“Fuck you,” Widowmaker replies.
Mei makes that face again, the one Widowmaker can’t place. Then she says, “You’re still beautiful, but it’s not attractive anymore.”
Widowmaker raises her eyebrows and wonders if Mei would be able to dodge a second attempt at a kick. If she did it enough, she could kill Mei right here. But curiosity wins out.
“You were attracted to me?” Widowmaker smiles despite herself. “Oh là là. I was a married woman, you know.”
“I know,” says Mei, turning red. “But that’s not what I meant, I meant - I meant you’re nasty now, it’s poisoned -”
“You’re cute,” says Widowmaker. She hates herself for meaning it. This is a tactic to leave. That’s all it’ll ever be.
Mei turns an even brighter shade of red and glares. “I did not mean to start - I know what you’re doing! And I’m not interested anyway, so-”
“Shut up,” Widowmaker interrupts.
And then she kisses Mei.
They’re both cold to the touch, but Widowmaker finds it comfortable. More comfortable than kissing someone else would’ve been. She relaxes into it when Mei makes an embarrassed squeaky noise and loosens her grip on Widowmaker’s hands. Widowmaker reaches out to touch her neck again, to strangle her to death, but despite herself her hands wander higher, feeling Mei’s soft cheeks, admiring how gentle she feels. Widowmaker hates her, hates her so much , she feels hot and cold and electric all at once and she hates Mei with every single cell in her body. She’ll kill her, she’ll have her head - but not yet.
Mei pushes her back, after a few seconds, surprisingly rough. She’s redder than a tomato, and she huffs angrily.
“You - you can’t just do that.” Mei puts her hands on Widowmaker’s to pry them off. “You can’t ! You’re so - God, what is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you? You kissed back,” Widowmaker counters. “If you ask me, that’s stranger.”
“How is it stranger? I - I cannot believe you! I didn’t even finish reading your charges before you dragged me into whatever this is!”
“Whatever this is? Chouchou, it was a kiss,” Widowmaker says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be overdramatic.”
“Don’t - don’t be under dramatic!” Mei puffs up her cheeks and grips Widowmaker’s hands hard.
“That isn’t a word,” Widowmaker replies.
“I’m - someone else can talk to you. Get back into your chair. I hate this assignment. I hate bullies. I hate - I hate you .” Mei spits it out, like she’s never told someone that before. Widowmaker laughs.
“Chouchou, am I your first? If I am, it’s okay. I didn’t expect someone so childish as you-”
“Do not patronise me!” Mei rips Widowmaker’s hands away from her face and stands up, still red. “I’m leaving. I won’t come back.”
“Yes you will.”
“No I won’t.”
“You will.”
“Won’t!”
“Will.”
“ Won’t - this is silly,” Mei interrupts herself. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she grabs the files. “I’m not letting you keep these.”
“Alright. Fine.”
“You’re right. It is fine.”
“I agreed with you.”
“That’s good. Because I’m right.” Mei straightens out the files, huffs, brushes her hair behind her ear. “You’re wrong.”
“Sure.”
“Stop agreeing with me!” Mei snaps.
“Am I supposed to be contrary? I’m a good prisoner, no?” Widowmaker is grinning now. She’s not even disappointed she didn’t get to hurt somebody.
“Yes! I mean, no. Yes? Just - just stop it!” Mei turns around abruptly, marching to the exit. “I’ll send Jack to deal with you, I don’t even care!”
“I think you do,” Widowmaker croons after her, earning a disgusted noise. It occurs to her she could leave now, duck out with Mei. But something tells her if she did it, she wouldn’t see her again.
So she stays put.
She’ll kill Mei. She’ll make her bleed, she’ll ruin her life and then tear it to pieces. She’ll do all those cruel things, and more.
But not today.