tagged by: @turbo-toast You are now the reason Iâve opened up Tumblr for the first time in literal months.
author name: ParadoxMage
where you post: AO3
most popular one-shot: Uhhh... Wow I havenât looked at that in forever. First Kiss, this dumb little bit of adorableness for Emily/Lena from Overwatch that got prompted by some post or another. Apparently people like cute stuff!
most popular multi-chapter story: Midnight Messages, easily. Was my longest story of all time for a long time, before the sequel finally overtook it. It took me a long time and Iâm so incredibly happy that it was received so warmly.
favorite story you wrote: Hmm... Hard question. First one that comes to mind is a fic I wrote called Armistice which I wrote for the WidowTracer servers Secret Santa as a gift for TheRealG. It was a pure and simple 5K fic, and it just felt really good to write and I loved the whole process of creating it. Might be that one.
story you were nervous to post: Probably my first one. I donât think Iâll link it because I was a significantly worse writer then and I try not to dwell on what I did or didnât do, but the first step is always the hardest. It went ok though, seeing as Iâm still around now, nearly three years later.
how do you pick your titles: Uhhhhh. Iâll let you know when I figure it out. Usually I just stare at the page until I think of something I donât hate.
do you outline: For long stuff YES. Otherwise my brain would explode. For one-offs I often just go stream of consciousness if theyâre short.
how many of your stories are complete: 33. In the early days I mostly wrote one-offs that were only a few hundred words long. I accrued a decently sized library of fics that way.
in-progress: 3. Midnight Revelations, the sequel to Midnight Messages, Midnight Extras, which is side stories from that series, Lifeblood, a fic which I keep meaning to continue but havenât yet (whoops).
coming soon: I update Midnight Revelations every other Saturday, so thatâs coming. Other than that I donât have much in the way of plans unless inspiration smacks me one like Maxwellâs silver hammer.
do you accept prompts: Absolutely! If anyone wants to give them to me. No promises Iâll finish them though... Iâve been terrifyingly busy lately.
upcoming story youâre the most excited for: Iâve been working on Midnight Revelations for the better part of a year and change and weâre starting to get into some interesting territory. Iâm having a lot of fun with it. >:)
tag five fanfic authors to answer these questions: Uhh.. I donât know if I know that many on here, I donât use Tumblr that much. @mizuaoiâ, @for-general-madnessâ, @redcap3â, @budgiebumâ I guess. Well, this was certainly fun. Now to never use Tumblr again.
She spends the rest of that day and the following one in the medical ward.
It is nice, almost.
Angela runs many tests, drawing blood and checking her lungs and a hundred other things, but that is not of import. Needles cannot hold any fear for her, so the tests are simply a thing to be done quickly and efficiently.
The uncomfortable part is Angela, though she is in some way also a great comfort. It has been a long time since she was able to hold a simple conversation with someone without watching every word and taking care not to let herself slip. Her conversations with Lena have been almost entirely over text. It is nice to be able to just talk to a person as though she is human too.
But she can feel an undercurrent of⊠something, beneath it. The way Angela looks at her. Itâs some strange combination of shock, joy, and, just maybe, guilt.
She finally addresses it on the morning of her second day in the medical wing, while Angela is taking her blood pressure.
Angela keeps her eyes down. âWhen they found you after all that time, they obviously wanted to have you examined. A physical and psychological evaluation. Who do you think they had review your condition?â
This post is going to rushed but Iâm still shaking and itâs hard to type but I NEED people to know this
My mom just took my dog to the vet
She(my dog) was(still is?) having a seizure
Last month we took my dog to the vet and they told us she had developed diabetes, they told us it was caused by the food she was eating, purina beneful.
They told us that there have been many many many reports of Beneful has been causing diabetes, seizures, and even death in dogs.
We had no idea
We immediately switched her food and put her on a special diet plan for her diabetes, unfortunately the effects were already permeate.
Today at 11:20 my mom woke me up crying, I helped her carry my dog to the car (while she was still having a seizure) and watched her drive away red faced and still crying.
Please please PLEASE if you are feeding your pets Purina beneful PLEASE switch their food ASAP
Beneful is poising dogs and I donât want anyone else to experience what I just did
Also if you could please help me signal boost this so everyone can know
reblog even if you donât own a dog or even if youâre not âa dog personâ because I canât even imagine how horribly depressed I would be if this happened to my dog
itâs actually evil that ppl wanna say that they support bi women but then as soon as a bi woman is dating a man & she wants to talk about her attraction sheâs shut down in lgbt spaces bc no one wants to hear about het relationships. if you shut down bi ppl discussing their attraction to the opposite gender then you are not an ally to bi ppl & you never were
except bi people can be in m/f relationships and pushing them out of the community is dangerous since thatâs when bi people experience the most abuse
âi am a monument to all your sinsâ is such a fucking raw line for a villain itâs amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos
âA world without forgiveness is a world without compromise and a world without compromises is a world without life, for even a simple-minded beast may forgive itâs transgressors to share a watering hole in the middle of a droughtâ- A meme I made at 2am before deciding to quit my last job
Summary: Doomfist holds debrief with his special ops agents. Later, in secret, Sombra warns Widowmaker that Talon intends to recondition Lena. Widowmaker insists she has a debt to repay - Despite the odds, they canât let Lena become another victim of Talon.
(to get around tumblrâs nonsense, a link to the chapter will be posted in my first reblog of this post)
Need a break? Check in at the Tavern for as long as you need!
Itâs a habit tracker and to-do list⊠As a video game!
And hereâs the best part - ITS FREE!
I have gotten so much better at getting things done because when I do I get to check in and get a reward right then! It really works for my ADHD brain so, so much better than just a regular ol checklist and I just really recommend checking it out!
Hey guys. Another 2 weeks, another chapter, as promised. Iâm gonna start sticking these under the cut so you donât have to scroll too long. Enjoy!
She comes back to herself slowly at first, the first thing to enter her hazy mind the dull realization that she cannot remember where she is or how she got there. Once the true meaning of that thought registers she bolts into full consciousness, throwing herself from the unfamiliar bed and settling into a ready combat stance in a way that is far too practiced.
Those eyes are watching her, incredibly steady for someone who was just thrown to the ground by what would appear to all observers to be an enemy operative about to make a kill.
Angela looks at her warily. âDonât you remember?â
She thinks back. What did the doctor say? She had passed out in the meeting room?
What had they been asking her about this time?
It comes to her after a moment. Known Talon operatives. They had shown her Sombra, Reaper, Doomfist, andâŠ
âThe doctor,â she says, and Angelaâs expression is all the confirmation she needs.
âIâm not certain precisely what happened.â says Angela. âIt could have been something in the modifications Talon performed on your mind and body, or it couldâve been an anxiety attack, or maybe something else entirely. What happened from your perspective?â
âIt was just⊠cold. I felt frozen. My body went numb and my mind felt disconnected. Everything seemed to be happening far away.â She shivers at the thought. That sensation was all too like what it was to be reconditioned. Cold, devoid of thought and emotion, left without will.
âWill I be returned to my cell now?â she asks.
Angela shakes her head. âNot yet anyway. Iâve requested time to run some tests, assess your condition more fully. I have most of the notes on the Widowmaker project we recovered from the raid, but a lot of the data is incomplete. My guess is that the main body of information was stored on the head doctors personal computer. She was always paranoid about someone stealing her research.â
The way she says that, commenting on Talonâs surgeon and making definitive statements on the nature of her character. It rings with a deep hurt, and a familiarity.
Open up this stupid blog after a few days to check up on things and Iâve got nearly 30 notes on my latest fic, Armistice. That hasnât happened... well, ever, if Iâm honest.
Iâm a mess of pure happiness right now. Thank you all. This is the way to ring in the New Year.
Hello all! Merry (Late) Christmas! (I know it's the 28th, but I'm Jewish. I routinely forget about Christmas. It happens.)
This was written as part of the Widowtracer Discord's secret santa as a gift to TheRealG, of Fish. Merry Christmas ya dork! Hope you enjoy!
The title is a reference to a real event known as the Christmas Armistice, or the Christmas Truce, that happened in World War 1. Basically, in 1914, a bunch of different parts of the Western Front all had a ceasefire, and people from both sides came and went and celebrated the day. I'm not much of a history nerd, but I know at least that much and it came back to me while I was thinking about what to write. This was the result. Itâs pretty long so the rest is under the cut. Hope everyone enjoys.
Lena was pulled out of the smoking wreck of her kitchen by the phone ringing. She snagged it with one hand while she grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink with the other, aiming the nozzle at the flickering flames currently erupting from the open oven, discharging a heavy blast of CO2 as she answered the phone.
ââLo?â
âHello Lena,â replied a familiar voice.
âWinston! How ya doin bud? I was going to head over to the Watchpoint in about 15 minutes.â
She fired another blast from the extinguisher, finally dowsing the flames fully. The charred wreck of what was supposed to have been a christmas cake lay still smoking inside, reminding her of the gorillaâs various warnings that she shouldnât try and bake anything.
âAlright, maybe 20 minutes. I had a bit of a mishap.â
âYou didnât try to cook again did you?â There was a sigh in the gorillas voice. âLena, weâve been over this. Your pension isnât enough to cover replacing your kitchen every time you try to reheat something in the oven.â
âOi!â Lena replied indignantly, but the rest of whatever objection she might have formed disappeared as she inhaled a breath of smoke and burst into a coughing fit.
âAlright, maybe you have a point,â she managed to wheeze out a moment later.
Winston let out a chuckle, though it died out a moment later. âYour magical ability to burn everything you touch isnât why I called you. Somethingâs come up.â
Lena dropped the charred remains of the cake into the sink. âWhatâs going on? Bad news?â
âVery,â replied Winston. âIâm afraid our Christmas plans will have to be put on hold, at least temporarily.â
âWell shit.â
âI agree. But this is more important.â
âWhatâs happened?â Lena asked, already moving to her bedroom to grab the rest of her kit.
âThereâs been a break in. An old Overwatch base on the edge of London triggered an alert, which Athena picked up. It would appear that someone is snooping through our graveyard.â
Lena stopped midway through buckling on her accelerator. âHold on. Edge of London. There isnât an Overwatch base there. I woulda known about one so close to home. Nearest one is you, right?â
âIt would appear not,â Winston replied. âFrom what I can tell it was entirely off the books. A research station. Run by Blackwatch.â
Lena let out a low growl. âOf course it was them. Slimy bastards. What were they doing in there then?â
âThe simple truth is that I donât know. Whatever data they had was kept on site. We didnât even have a record of its existence until we caught their alert.â
A realization hit her. âThen how did whoeverâs robbinâ the place know to go there?â she asked, already dreading the answer.
âI donât know, but thatâs a good question to ask them when you get there. Iâm sending you the coordinates. Good luck.â
âThanks love. And Iâm sorry that this had to happen on Christmas.â
There was a pause, then a sigh. âSo am I.â
Wiston ended the call. Lena was already heading for the door.
                            â â â
She stopped a street away from the address Winston had given her and parked her bike, going the rest of the way on foot.
From the outside the building looked like nothing more than an abandoned warehouse. Broken windows, grafiti, the works. Youâd pass it by without a second glance. The illusion broke about two steps through the door, which from the inside was revealed to be several inches thick, titanium, and secured by three bolts each the size of her arm. All of them were severed, and the door hung slightly open.
She moved forward slowly, cautiously. Faint tracks in the dust told her that the unknown invaders were an unknown invader, and that the two of them were the first to be here in quite some time.
As she moved forward she came across signs of struggle. A broken sentry turret mounted near the ceiling was letting loose small bursts of sparks. A single hole had shattered its lens and buried itself in the things mechanical heart. In the next corridor the same sight greeted her. And the next. Each dispatched with a single shot of unerring accuracy.
A cold feeling stole over her, though she wasnât sure why.
She kept following the footprints. Every once in a while they deviated into a room off the main hallway, but always they came back out and continued in the same direction. Whatever they wanted, they hadnât found it yet.
Sound echoed down the hallway to her. Something slammed, there was the rustle of pages, then a thud, like a book dropped on the floor. The sounds of a search. She kept going, anticipation coiling in her belly. She flicked her pistols out of the vambraces on her arms and into her hands.
Ready.
There was a room at the end of the hallway, bigger than the others. Lenaâd been in enough Overwatch bases to know the main control room when she saw it. The room was stocked with file cabinets, multiple desks with computers resting ready on them, and a central monitor in the middle of the room. The large screen was on, a progress bar displayed.
Data Transfer in Progress:
54% Complete
And rifling through one of the file cabinets was the thief themself. Herself.
Lena recognized her immediately. Blue skin, absurd getup, long hair up in a ponytail. Her eyes fell on the rifle laying on one of the desks near the cabinet being searched. She remembered that gun. Very well indeed.
She let out a whistle. Immediately, Widowmaker turned and grabbed for her gun, visor coming down over her eyes and beginning to glow red. Lena gave her a cheerful wave. The rifle came up, pointing at her.
By then however Lena was on the other side of the room, a flash of blue lighting up her passage. Pistols already ready, she let loose a quick burst of pulse rounds, unsurprised when the enemy sniper rolled out of the way and came up in a shooting position, gun in ranged configuration.
Lena closed the gap, working to take away her opponents greatest ally, distance. At range the sniper might prevail, but close up was where she herself worked best.
Widowmaker seemed to anticipate the move though, immediately reconfiguring her gun into its SMG form, letting fly a spray of bullets to block her approach. Lena blinked behind a desk for cover. As she did, the enemy turned and sprinted back down the hallway theyâd both entered through.
âHey, thatâs no fair!â Lena cried after the retreating form, in hot pursuit a moment later.
Widowmakerâs footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a moment later Lenaâs own joined the crowd of reverberations.
The other woman heard.
Widowmaker turned, firing a bluish object down the hall toward her, and Lena only remembered about her venom mines a moment too late.
The mine burst, spraying the unique toxic fog contained within, forcing Lena to her knees with coughing and choking. Through her streaming eyes she could see Widowmaker stopping for a moment to watch. She was smiling. Then she turned away and began to run towards the exit once again.
She wouldnât be laughing for long, Lena thought. She pushed on that place in her mind that triggered her rewind, but as she did, something gleamed in the corner of her eye.
âLook out!â she cried as the rewind brought her back to the moment before the mine had exploded, on her feet and still mid stride. Her voice weren;ât filled with exhilaration though. She was afraid.
Apparently Widowmaker heard the difference in tone, and she turned to look at her formerly downed foe. Which was why the last remaining sentry guns first shot took her in the side of the head. The second caught her in her side and the third took her in the same place. There was no fourth, because by then her gun had snapped up into position and that final sentry was disabled, now with a single hole in its lens like all the rest.
Widowmaker gave a grim smile, then began to run to the exit again. It was only a few steps later when her left leg hitched, twisted⊠and gave out. She reached down to her side. Lena could see the blood her fingers came away covered in.
She approached the woman on the floor. Slowly now. The need for haste had gone.
âAre you alright?â she asked. She wasnât even sure why she was asking, but the words were out before she had even thought to say them.
Widowmakerâs head twisted around violently to gauge the distance between them. The side of her visor was shattered. Lena could see a sharp cheekbone, and a golden eye glaring out at her. Then she whipped her head back around and began to lurch across the floor to where she had dropped her gun.
Lena didnât even have to think. Without consciously deciding to do it she had blinked past the wounded woman and grabbed her rifle, throwing it down the hallway towards the still open door which beckoned a return to the normal everyday world of a London Christmas.
Lena stared at the opening for a second. Debating.
Then she turned to look back down the hall.
Widowmaker was struggling to get to her feet a few yards away, one hand pressed against her side. The purple of her suit was dripping red, and it leaked between her blue fingers in a steady flow.
âAre you alright?â Lena asked again.
Widowmaker did not reply. Using the wall, she tried to pull herself upright, but once again her leg twisted out from beneath her and she fell back to the ground, a small cry escaping her lips.
The sound was soft, barely a whisper. It was not something one might expect to hear from the worldâs most feared sniper.
Lena, cursing her own foolishness, slowly began to move closer.
âHow bad are you hit?â she asked.
This time Widowmakerâs gaze snapped up to meet hers, one eye still hidden behind the red glow of her masks optics, the other gleaming sharp and gold from within the shattered part of her mask.
âShoot me yourself and finish the job, or leave if your delicate sensibilities wonât allow you to kill me,â Widowmaker snarled.
Lena ignored her. She took another step closer.
âHow bad are you hit?â she asked again, keeping her voice low and calm.
âDid you not hear what I said? Kill me or leave. If you do neither than I will kill you instead.â
Lena couldnât help herself. She laughed. It was cold, no real humor in the sound.
âLove, youâre clearly hit pretty bad. Youâre out of weapons, youâre probably gonna bleed out pretty soon, and if I had to guess Iâd say your comms are out from the shot that blew your helmet to smithereens. Youâve got no help coming either Iâd guess, or you wouldnât have a problem with me sticking around and having your reinforcements kill me when they show up.
âSo are you gonna let me take a look or not?â
Lena felt that Widowmaker wanted very much to appear gobsmacked, but wasnât willing to be deprived of the decorum.
âThat was⊠surprisingly clever,â she said after a while.
Lena smiled. It was sharp. âWell I didnât get into Overwatch by being an idiot did I? Now are we done with the formalities? Or do we need to snipe at each other a bit more?â
âIâm weighing my options,â replied Widowmaker. But even still, the next time Lena moved forward, Widowmaker didnât try and stop her.
When Lena was within arms reach of her that changed though. Her right arm flew out without warning and caught Lena a strong blow to the side of her face. In the instant the distraction gave her Widowmaker made a break for the door.
She got another ten steps, maybe eleven, before she crumpled to the ground again.
Holding her now tender jaw, Lena slowly covered the distance between them again and crouched on the ground a few feet away from Widowmakerâs prone form.
âWell that solved a whole lot didnât it,â she said from her spot on the ground. Widowmaker didnât deign to reply. âYou gonna do that again?â she asked.
âI make no promises,â Widowmaker said, speaking to the floor in front of her rather than to the other woman. Lena sighed, then got back up and moved next to the fallen Talon agent.
Slowly, moving as though she was handling a live bomb, Lena prodded at the area around the wounds, peeling back the tatters of Widowmakerâs jumpsuit to inspect the entry points. Some part of her was interested to see that Widowmakerâs blood wasnât quite red. It was just slightly more purple than a normal personâs, like the red blood cells werenât as present in her veins.
âOh dear,â she said. She touched the skin around the area. Widowmaker let out a hiss of pain, but was otherwise silent.
âThis is really, really not good,â Lena said, mostly to herself.
âI had gathered. It does tend to be a bad thing when one is shot,â Widowmaker replied dryly while still avoiding looking at her apparent helper.
âHush you,â Lena replied absently, her attention still on the wounds. The two shots were several inches apart, one taking her in the hip and the other in her side. Probing further, she could feel both slugs still buried in her skin. She did her best to ignore Widowmakerâs muted expressions of pain as she did so. Right now those slugs were helping keep the wounds from bleeding too much, but without medical attention it wouldnât matter either way.
Lena rose suddenly. âRight then. You. Up. Now,â she said.
âWhat?â asked Widowmaker, in surprise as much as anything else.
âYouâve got two slugs in you, and they ainât coming out. If those stay in itâs not only gonna hurt like hell, but youâre gonna eventually bleed out. You need help, now. And since I think weâre both beyond the fallacy that thereâs help coming for you, that leaves me. So. Up. We need to go.â
âGo? Go where?â asked the sniper, finally turning to face her. Lena once again found it disconcerting to look at her face, one eye covered red, one revealed gold.
âMy place. Iâve got a few of Mercyâs portable medkits stocked up in case of emergency. I think this definitely counts.â
Widowmaker sneered. âI am not allowing you to take me anywhere.â
Lena sighed in exasperation. âLook, youâre gonna die here unless you let me help. No oneâs cominâ for you, and even if they were, they wouldnât make it here before you bled out. I canât exactly bring one of the worldâs most wanted into urgent care, I know you wonât let me take you to some of my friends whoâd be able to fix you up much better than I ever could, so that leaves me taking you with me and patching you up as best I can. So are you gonna suck it up and come quietly or not?â
The sniper remained where she was on the ground. âIâm weighing my options.â
âAlright, thatâs it. Up. Now.â
With a bit of difficulty, Lena managed to get the sniper to throw an arm over her shoulder. Then it was just a matter of getting them upright and shambling out the door.
Lena blinked at the brightness of the snow frosted outside. God, sheâd forgotten that for the rest of the world it was Christmas. The street was covered in lights, and she took a moment to admire the scene. That moment was shattered by the sniper hanging off of her like a sack of groceries.
âWhy have we stopped?â she asked, pain making her voice tight.
Lena got them moving again, heading down the street to where sheâd parked her bike. âJust admiring the scenery. It is Christmas after all.â
Widowmaker gave a derisive snort, then fell silent.
âJust out of curiosity, you ever ridden a motorbike before?â Lena asked, hoping her tone sounded conversational.
Widowmaker lifted her head, and her eyes fell on Lenaâs preferred method of transportation. âYou have got to be kidding,â she said.
âHey, itâs this or walk, and the Row ainât exactly close. You shouldâve picked a better place to rob,â Lena shot back.
Situating the two of them took a minute, but once Widowmaker was in place things were fine. The death grip she kept on Lena the whole ride made sure that there was no chance of her falling off.
A very tense 20 minutes passed, but they arrived at Lenaâs flat without incident.
âAlright, weâre here. You done trying to crack my ribs or can I get off?â Lena asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.
Widowmaker withdrew her hands quickly, as though she wanted to pretend that she hadnât been hanging on to the other woman for dear life moments before.
Lena stood next to her so that Widowmaker could swing an arm back over her shoulder, then she helped her down onto the pavement. Widowmaker let out a quiet grunt when her feet hit the ground, but was otherwise silent.
âThis way,â Lena said, and led them up the few steps to the door to her apartment building. They crossed the lobby quickly and headed for the elevator. As they stood waiting to reach her floor, Lena could feel Widowmaker leaning on her more and more heavily.
A minute later they were on the fourth floor, and the two walked down the hallway to Lenaâs flat without any trouble, entering quietly without being seen by any curious neighbors.
âAlright, right over here,â Lena said, leading the now semiconscious woman over to her couch. She lowered Widowmaker down slowly, doing her best not to jar her injured left side as she did. Widowmaker, for her part, nearly fell onto the couch, and seemed to have no major inclination to shift once sheâd attained a stable position.
Lena took once glance at the sniper and immediately rushed to the bathroom, where she kept a few of the nanobot packs that had saved her life and others on more than one occasions. If Widowmaker was this bad off, then time was of the essence.
Lena returned carrying not only the medkit, but a more run of the mill first aid kit and a pair of tweezers. Widowmaker was in the exact same position sheâd left her in. Lena took that as a bad sign.
âHey, you still awake?â she asked as she sat down next to the couch and began to pull out the things sheâd need.
âHey!â she said louder, and when that got no reply she started shaking the other womanâs shoulder vigorously. A faint groan greeted her actions.
âAlright, good. Least you ainât dead yet. I need to pull the bullets outta you before the kitâll do much good. Iâve got a shot of anesthetic for that bit. Itâll pinch, just hold still.
âNo!â
A hand seized her arm, the grip so tight that it hurt.
âDo not numb me,â said Widowmaker, suddenly wide awake. Her eyes were wide and sharp⊠and terrified. âDo not,â she said again, squeezing Lenaâs arm as she did so.
âI wonât. Promise,â Lena replied, keeping her eyes and voice steady, while inside she wondered.
Widowmaker held her grip for another moment, then released her. Lena rubbed at her wrist. There were fingerprints on her skin.
âAlright. No anesthetic. Sure. Iâve got a topical numbing agent here. Should I use that or would you rather we do without?â Lena asked.
Widowmaker considered for a moment, then there was the tiniest acquiescing nod. âVery well. But nothing more.â
âAbsolutely,â Lena replied, trying to inject her voice with calm.
She worked in silence for a moment, applying the numbing gel to the site of both wounds. She could feel Widowmaker tensing her muscles beneath her hands, as though trying to resist the chemicals effects. Lena gave the cream 15 minutes to set in before she moved in with the tweezers.
âAlright, this is gonna hurt. Be ready,â she said. She felt Widowmaker pulling her muscles taught in preparation. Then Lena made her move.
2 minutes later there were two metal slugs laying on the floor next to her and she was pressing the medkit into Widowmakerâs side, feeling some small amount of relaxation flow into the tense body beneath as the nanobots began to go to work.
âWell, thatâs all I can do for now,â Lena said, standing up and dusting off her hands in a theatrical manner.
âYou shouldnât have even done this,â Widowmaker replied.
âA simple thank you wouldâve done just fine too love,â Lena shot back, then headed for the kitchen to wash up. âYou want a cup of tea? Breaking into secret bases, being shot at, having minor surgery performed on you, it must be pretty thirsty work.â
She received no reply.
Shrugging to herself, she finished washing her hands and set the kettle to boil on her still slightly charred stove.
Waiting for the water to finish heating up, she ducked back into the living room for a moment to examine her unexpected guest, and was a bit surprised by what she saw.
Widowmaker was staring raptly at the little tree sheâd set up in one corner of the room.
It wasnât much, wasnât even a real tree. Sheâd bought it at the supermarket on an impulse two weeks before and had been genuinely surprised with how nice itâd been to decorate it. She hadnât had a Christmas tree since⊠God, since before Overwatch fell. Itâd been nice to think back to those times. They hadnât been simple, not by any means, but theyâd been happy.
Widowmaker seemed transfixed by it. Her golden eyes reflected the few strings of lights Lena had wrapped around it, and it was only then that Lena realized the sniper had removed her fractured helmet and placed it on the floor next to her. Without it her face looked more open. Softer.
Or maybe that was just because of the tree.
Lena snuck back around the corner into the kitchen, the expression on the sniperâs face occupying her mind.
Because she barely looked like the woman she had fought on a rooftop overlooking the Row while Mondatta lay dead in the street.
She looked new.
As soon as the kettle whistled, Lena pulled it off the stove and poured water into two mugs, throwing a mint tea bag into each and carrying them with her back into the living room. By the time she got there Widowmakerâs attention was off the tree and onto her. But she wondered.
âHere you go,â she said, handing one of the mugs to her surprise guest. âYou didnât say whether you wanted or not so I just made one for you. Itâs mint. Figured that would be a pretty safe bet.â
âMerci,â replied the sniper. She took a tentative sip. Apparently, finding it to her liking, she took another drink a moment later.
âIt would appear you cannot burn tea then,â said the sniper. Lena could practically feel her smiling behind her mug.
âOi! Whatâs that supposed to mean?â Lena asked indignantly.
âIt means I see a rather large amount of scorching in your kitchen. So unless an arsonist was at work in there, I would guess that you burned something. Rather impressively too.â
âShut up,â Lena replied, but there was no heat in the words. Somehow, it didnât feel like a real insult. More like banter, the easy raport shared by friends, even though that wasnât even remotely close to what they were.
Lena took a sip of her tea. âThat packâs gonna take a bit to work,â she said as a way of testing the waters.
âOr youâre stuck with me,â Lena fired back, a smile of her own already in place. âYou mind if I ask a question while weâre waiting then?â
Widowmaker shrugged, but made no other reply. Lena forged ahead.
âWhyâd you pick today? Iâm not gonna ask what you were trying to steal, figure youâd never tell me that so why waste the time. But whyâd you try and steal whatever it was today? I mean, itâs Christmas! Donât evil criminal organizations give holiday leave?â
Widowmakerâs smile faded. âNo,â she said. âThey do not give holiday leave.â The next part came out quieter. âAt least not to me.â
She continued at a more normal volume. âI was instructed to carry out this mission on todayâs date specifically because of its significance. Talon believed that any major opposition would either be tied up in their celebrations or be off balance and complacent because of the general spirit of the day. They thought it would make the job that much easier. They did not count on you.â
Lena gave a rough smile. âYeah well, I didnât have much in the way of plans. Meant to visit one person later on but this interrupted. Otherwise it was just me.â
Widowmakerâs brow furrowed. âNo visiting family? Or friends?â
âDonât have much left of either if Iâm honest. Lost my parents during the last days of the Crisis. Bounced around in foster homes till I was 16. Then I lied about my age and joined the RAF.â
The sniper arched an eyebrow. âA very daring feat for a teenager.â
Lena shrugged. âIt was the only thing I had left in my life. Iâd dreamed of flying forever. Home was shit, school was shit, only thing I had left to hang onto was that dream. And I got it.â She smiled nostalgically. âThe RAF was some of the best years of my life. It was the first time I felt like I had a real family. Then I got called into Overwatch. Everything changed after that.â
âThe Slipstream,â Widowmaker said. Lenaâs head jerked upright.
âOh, so you lot know about that then. Iâd wondered.â She sighed. âYeah. The Slipstream. Iâd⊠really rather not talk about that.â
Widowmaker made no comment. After a moment, Lena continued.
âAfter that, well, I was in Overwatch. They were my family. Then that got torn apart too. Weâre scattered all over now, those of us who arenât dead. I havenât seen most of âem in a long time. I miss them.â
Lena remained silent, staring at the ground, lost in her memories. âBut yeah. Not much in the way of family or friends. Just me.â
Widowmaker said nothing. Merely watched her. Lena was glad that the sniper hadnât tried to say she was sorry. It always came out sounding so fake when people did that.
âWhat about you?â Lena asked. âYou have any plans before this? Anyone to go visit?â
She could swear she felt the temperature in the room drop 10 degrees at the question. The former⊠well maybe not peace, but at least passivity, shattered. Lena could see it in Widowmakerâs face. Could see the walls going up.
âForget I asked. Sorry,â Lena said. She wasnât here to force information out of the sniper, and from that reaction it wasnât just a sore subject, it was an open wound.
âHey, you were wondering about the kitchen right?â Lena asked, hoping to switch the conversation to something less painful. âWell, this isnât the first time Iâve burnt the hell out of it. Iâve been informed by just about everyone Iâve ever known that when I try and cook something the first thing they do is call the fire department. Itâs not my fault I swear! It just sorta⊠happens.â
âWhat were you trying to make this time?â asked Widowmaker. There was a smile quirking at her lip, though she appeared to be doing her best to control it from blooming into a full grin. She was failing.
âA Christmas cake. I saw this fantastic recipe online and I just had to give it a shot.â Lena rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. âTurns out that shot was taken with a flare gun.â
Widowmaker let out a small chuckle. Lena gasped. âI didnât think you had a sense of humor!â
âI have one, but it only shows when there is something funny. That would explain why none of your jokes or comments have ever worked.â
âOi!â Lena cried, and gave her a light swat on the shoulder. Widowmaker took another sip of her tea, still smiling.
Silence fell, and the two enjoyed it, drinking tea in comfortable quiet.
Eventually though, it was Widowmaker who broke it. Her face was hard, sharp, all drawn lines and flat planes. Less of a face, more a picture. A wall. Perfectly composed, perfectly false. She appeared to have come to a decision.
âTo answer your question, I am alone,â she said, her voice a quiet monotone. âNo family left. No friends. I visit my husbandâs grave every year. That is all. There is nothing left for me.â
There was silence.
âIâm sorry,â Lena said, and she hoped to god that Widowmaker could tell how much she meant it. The sniper gave no sign of hearing her, merely remained still and silent, her face made up and unchanging.
Statuesque.
âWhyâd you tell me?â Lena asked a moment later. âYou didnât need to yâknow. Why bother?â
Widowmaker shrugged. âI donât know.â
Her voice dropped lower. âMaybe because nobody has ever bothered to ask.â
Without knowing what she was going to say, Lena opened her mouth to reply. She was saved from finding out what words would have come out by a quiet chime from the medkit. The nanobots had finished.
Lena peeled back the patch in silence, examining the now unbroken blue skin beneath it.
âRight, looks like youâre all healed up.â Lena tried for a smile, but there was something false in it. She really shouldâve been happy to be getting rid of the sniper. Having a wanted criminal sheâd shot at and been shot at by in return on multiple occasions sitting on her couch really shouldnât have been something she was enjoying⊠but she had been.
She was sad to see her go.
Widowmaker reached a hand down to rub at the spots on her body that her torn suit laid bare. She nodded as her hands felt the smooth skin, as though content with what she was feeling.
âThank you,â she said, turning her eyes, those lovely golden eyes, to meet Lenaâs.
She mightâve been fooling herself, but Lena thought there was some melancholy in those eyes.
But that was probably wishful thinking.
Had to be.
âI guess thereâs no reason for you to stick around then,â Lena said, turning her eyes off of those hypnotic golden irises.
âI suppose not,â replied Widowmaker.
Neither made any attempt to move.
âTheyâll probably realize youâre gone right?â Lena asked, looking for something, anything, to force her to do what she knew needed to be done.
Widowmaker nodded.
Neither moved.
At long last, Lena stood. âIâll walk you to the lobby, ok?â she asked.
Widowmaker smirked. âI suppose itâs the least you can do.â
âYeah, after I saved your sorry ass.â
The sniper scoffed. âI wouldâve been fine.â
Lena laughed. âYeah, sure. Just keep telling yourself that love.â
The two retraced their steps.
Down the hall.
Into the elevator.
Down to the empty lobby.
To the doorway.
And then they stopped.
âWell thenâŠâ Lena said. She wasnât sure what she was saying, or why. All she knew was that she wanted to extend the moment.
âI have a question, before we part ways,â Widowmaker said.
âShoot.â
âWhy didnât you leave me?â she asked. Her eyes stared unflinchingly into Lenaâs. âYou could have. No one would have known. It would be one less enemy to fight, and no one could blame you. So why didnât you?â
Lena thought. Then realized she already knew the answer. âTruth be told, leaving you there never even crossed my mind. Guess you were right. My moral code wouldnât allow it.â
She tried for a smile. She wasnât sure what it ended up looking like.
Widowmaker returned it all the same.
Still smiling, Widowmaker pointed up at the top of the doorway they stood under. Lenaâs eyes had enough time to observe a small burst of white and green pinned to the frame, before a pair of cool blue lips met hers and all rational thought ceased as the other woman followed the laws of mistletoe.
An eternity later they parted. Lena opened eyes that she hadnât realized sheâd closed, examining the cold blue face as though sheâd never seen it before.
âWhy?â she asked.
Widowmaker shrugged. âPayment? You did save my life.â
âWonât catch me complaining,â Lena replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Lena stood in the cold and watched her retreating form, and when she could no longer see her she remained watching the space where the sniper had been. Only when her fingers began to gently numb at the tips did she finally return inside and go back to her apartment.
She could still feel those cool blue lips on her own.
And Widowmaker, as she walked back to the old base to retrieve her rife, could still feel Lenaâs warm mouth on her own.
âWe have some questions about certain personnel you may have encountered in the course of your time in Talon. If you donât mind, we have some images to show you and weâd like you to tell us anything you know about the persons involved.â
âVery well,â she says. In truth, she is glad of the change. In the last few days Overwatch has examined much of her past, having her recollect things sheâd rather keep buried. Something as simple as looking at a few pictures is a welcome relief.
Winston swipes a hand across a datapad lying on the table in front of him, and a face appears
âOf course,â she replies. âHer name, or at least the name she goes by, is Sombra. If she ever had another then she chose not to share it with me.â
After a moment, a question seems to occur to him, and he reaffixes his gaze on her.
âDo you think sheâd work with us?â he asks, and the question takes her so off guard that she thinks she probably looks like Winston did only a moment before.
So the question remains. Would Sombra work with Overwatch?
âHonestly? I do not know,â she says. âSombra is, and always has been, her own person. I think the only way any of us would ever know would be to ask her. Either sheâd laugh in your face or take you up on it.â
âOr quite possible both, knowing her,â she thinks, and smiles a little.
âHmm. Very well. Thank you.â Winston makes another motion on his datapad and a new face appears. This one is also familiar, but for worse reasons most assuredly.
âThat is Reaper,â she says quietly, staring at the haze of black smoke billowing from the thick coat and from behind the owl-ish mask. There are not many things in life that scare her, but he is one of them.
âYes,â says Winston. âIt is. Can you tell us anything more?â
Winston doesnât appear to have noticed the soldiers comments, preoccupied with what she has told him of her experience with Reaper. He doesnât appear particularly happy with her answers, or lack thereof, but he moves on without comment. Another swipe, and a new face appears.
It is familiar as well. Unpleasantly so.
âAkande Ogundimu,â she says. âDoomfist.â
Winston looks rather resigned, as though he was expecting that answer.
Her mind flashes back. A meeting room with a shadowed figure examining her, assessing her, ordering her to be taken away. Looking into a pair of eyes that gleamed not with simple malice, but something much more terrifying. Intelligence. He was a maniac who believed his goals just, and was smart enough to achieve any task he set his mind to, with just enough cruelty to use any means necessary.
She has met him twice. It was enough.
Akande Ogundimu terrifies her.
She tells Winston so, adding in anything she can remember about him, his position in Talon, absolutely anything. When she is finished he seems pleased by the information. He examines her closely, as though trying to read her mind.
âAkande Ogundimu escaped from a maximum security installation run by Helix Security two weeks ago. We have had no news of his whereabouts since.â
Her blood freezes. She has met people so horrible that they almost cease to be human, but Doomfist is one of the worst. He is strong enough to take what he wants and smart enough to use it to the destruction of all who stand in his way.
âMerde,â she says quietly. She isnât sure if Winston heard, but she thinks heâd be inclined to agree regardless. After all, he fought the man, hand to hand. Winston knew exactly what Doomfist was like.
âIâm guessing you didnât know about this,â Winston says.
She nods weakly. âIf I had knownâŠâ
âI would have been terrified and that is all. There is nothing I could have done,â she thinks.
The thought dies unsaid, and an uneasy silence fills the room.
âItâs her,â she says, voice barely clearing a whisper, and the words bring cold silence from the rest of the room.
âYou know her?â
It is the doctor now, and there is an edge to her voice, something that is a next-door neighbor to fear and nearly lifts the blonde woman from her seat with the strength of it.
âHow do you know her?â she asks. âHow?â
She can feel herself shaking, tremors running through her in unceasing waves. âSheâs the doctor,â she says, and her lips are starting to numb with cold. Her teeth chatter. When did the room become freezing?
âShe is the one who did this to me.â
If uproar had an inverse, this would be it. The room fills with a silence full of unspoken shouting and cries of outrage that are all too silent.
She notices all this in the background of her mind. The majority of her is too busy focusing on the cold leaking into her limbs, stealing the feeling from her fingers.
Then her hands.
Then her arms.
Then her legs.
She feels herself collapse, but itâs far away, kept distant by the cold filling her up, cutting her off from sensation and emotion.
She hears shouting now, feels the ghosts of hands lifting her, as the cold creeps up her torso, past her neck, and into her mind.
