Life and Time

Chapter 4

"'I'm sorry sir." Tracer mumbled, looking at the ground.
"They were new recruits, Oxton! You see a problem, you get in there! My God, I knew it was a bad idea trying to put you anywhere near the field of leading." Soldier: 76 yelled, slamming his hands on the desk.
"Morrison, I tried! Okay? I tried. But you gave me a strict order and I followed it. So, yeah, I didn't intervene. It was a bad idea especially given she was there." Tracer yelled back, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"Who? Your maniacal girlfriend?" Soldier growled.
"Not that your boyfriend is any better!" Tracer snapped back.
The room was quiet. There wasn't even a single breath.
"He wasn't." The old man muttered.
"Huh?" Tracer asked, surprised that he wasn't kicking her out.
"Him...Gabriel... he wasn't mine. He never was or could be." He choked on Reaper's real name.
"I'm quite confused, sir. Were you not together? Like, in love?" Lena asked, cocking her head to the side.
Morrison let out a bitter chuckle.
"Well, I was at least. I could never read him; one second he was all over me and was about to kiss me and then the next he would disappear for days on end and come back with fresh hickies on his neck. Everytime he was about to kiss me, he would run off and be marked by someone else." This was no longer the tough, grough Commander Morrison turned vigilante. No, this person, this man in front of her, this was Jack Morrison, the farm boy from Illinois and who had a best friend and a broken heart.
"Then I had Vincent. He was fantastic; he wanted to get married. But I couldn't do it. Not when I was in love with someone else, not when I craved their brief words or nod of acknowledgement over that of the loving kisses of a good man. So eventually I broke it off with Vincent, telling it was because I had too much going on. He was good about it; I hurt him but he was such a good man... then Gabriel suddenly came back to me and asked if he could run a black ops. He tried to run away from me. It pushed me over the edge. I shut everyone except Ana out. Then, that day in the HQ... that day..." Jack's voice trailed off.
"Commander, I'm sorry." Tracer said gently, apologizing for more than just making him think back to the painful past and for being irresponsible on her assignment.
"Oxton, it's not you." Jack sighed. "Recently, I have been snappier than normal. I'm sorry, you don't deserve taking my shit. I got a note a few weeks ago and well... here. You read it."
He reached into his pocket and gently unfolded the note.
Tracer moved closer slowly and took the note from him.
My Dearest Jack,
No matter how far we are from each other, worlds, miles, sides. No matter, I will find you, Jack. I will find you.
Lo Sincerely,
There was no name under who signed it.
"It's his handwriting. It's Gabriel's handwriting. And I can't. I don't know what to feel, how to react. It has opened a wound I have worked so hard to close."
"Why are you telling me this?" Lena asked him. "Why not Ana?"
"Because she wouldn't understand it. Being miles apart, sides apart, lives apart from someone you love. You get it, I get it. And I trust you. I don't let just anybody head a mission or command agents."
"Yeah, I do." And she really did.
****
"I really don't wanna be here in a dress." Lena whined, pulling at Emily to let her go.
"Nope." She responded popping the 'p'.
There was a ball in France hosted by Gerard Lacroix in an attempt to lure out Talon agents. Commander Morrison had called all hands on deck so Tracer brought in Emily to maintain cover. And because Emily deserved an outing for dealing with Lena's childish bullshit.
"It's embarrassing!" Lena complained. "I can't move in it and I hate wearing heels!"
She hated the elegant blue dress that hugged her chest with a plunging neckline and long skirt. It limited her movements and was just pissing her off. The heels made it even worse; she almost fell down five times since she got out of the limo to the gates of the estate. She had to admit she looked rather good but that meant nothing if she would be less than adequate for the task.
Before leaving the compound, Commander Morrison and Commander Reyes had told them that Emily and her had to pretend to be a couple for the night.
^^^^^
"Look, if I have to put up with this All-American man, you can deal with a sweet British girl." Reyes said, punching Jack in the shoulder lightly and slinging his arm around the blond man, the hint of a smile on his face.
The paler man turned bright red and stumbled over his next words.
"So, yeah, um," he cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing,"Gabriel and myself will be posing as a couple and so will Ana and Reinhardt. Genji will be in the shadows outside and McCree will be posing as a bartender. Angela is on site in the crowd and well-hidden. Good luck out there and make progress." Morrison had managed to collect himself though his ears were still red.
Gabriel was trying not to laugh and Jack huffed as he pulled the slightly taller man behind him into a separate vehicle.
"Aw. They're so cute," Emily gushed, watching the two men go.
Tracer giggled. "Yes, they are, aren't they."
^^^^^
Emily looked stunning in her simple emerald green mermaid-style gown. She looked like a snack.
When Lena told her that, she laughed and opened the door to the mansion.
Tracer's breath was taken away. The chandeliers were gold with crystals catching the light and refracting it. The dancefloor was already swarming with the upper-class members of society and Overwatch agents alike. Lena felt self-conscious when she saw the other women in ball gowns that probably cost more than her salary for the past 4 years. Unlike the other women here, she was a soldier and a fighter. She wasn't completely dainty or demure. She was loud, boisterous and scarred from the battlefield. Instead of daintily painted nails, hers were chewed from thinking and worrying. Instead of soft palms, she had callouses from years of training and handling weaponry. She wasn't at all like the other women here and it was nerve wracking. SHe managed to stay in the building for the next few hours but eventually started feeling choked so she stepped out onto the battlement overlooking the gardens below before descending down the spiral staircase to the aforementioned location. She walked to a bench that was near a beautiful, glowing fountain and sat down, swinging her legs into a comfortable position and leaning her head on her hands.
"You came out here to get away as well, beau?" A sultry voice asked, softly from behind her.
Lena shot up and whipped out a gun, pointing it at the direction she heard the voice.
A woman stepped out from the rows of roses and flowers. She wore a stunning, simple dark purple gown. It was a 3/4 -sleeve of purple chiffon and a cinched waist emphasizing her hourglass figure. The gown swept on the ground and Lena's mouth watered when she took in the rest of the woman.
She had beautiful gold eyes that glimmered with mischief and mystery beyond just being illuminated by the gentle lights in the fountain. Her high cheekbones could cut diamonds and her full bottom lip was perfect for nibbling. Her long brown hair was pulled back into an artfully messy braid with what seemed like diamonds sprinkled into the strands. She had minimal makeup on and her naturally long lashes brushed her cheek as she slowly blinked.
"Chèri?" The woman asked in a concerned voice.
Tracer shook her head.
"Uh, yes! Hi, um , my name's Lena. Lena Oxton." Lena's face was flushed, she got caught checking out this hot lady.
The other woman laughed; it sounded like music, like the perfect note that one can never hit when trying to sing a song.
"Moi c'est Amelie. Amelie...Guillard." The woman responded.
"You're pretty... I mean, your name! Your name is pretty!" She wanted to punch herself.
"Why thank you, and you yourself are gorgeous." Amelie purred.
Tracer flushed.
"So, um, what are you doing out here?" Lena asked awkwardly.
Why the actual fuck could she not flirt?
"These things just aren't my cup of tea. You on the other hand, mon amour, are."
Amelie glided to the bench Tracer had just been sitting in and gestured to Lena to join her. She sat down nervously, leg bouncing. The stunning woman giggled at Tracer.
"Oi, whatcha laughin' at?" Lena asked defensively.
"You. You're adorable. So, are you one of the agents here to protect my husband?"
Lena froze. Oh shit. Was she flirting--no, scratch that--was Amelie flirting with her even though she was married to the person Tracer was supposed to be protecting tonight?
"You're Amelie Lacroix?" Lena asked, surprised.
Lena had been expecting more of a demure woman the picture perfect of innocence, angelic- looking with golden locks and wide blue eyes. She was not prepared for a flirtatious, brown haired woman with a great figure and mischievous golden eyes.
"In the flesh." The taller woman said with a sarcastic bow.
"They didn't place a security detail on you?" Tracer asked, tipping her head to the side and frowning.
"I requested they didn't. They tried. I escaped." Amelie rolled her eyes. "You're not going to rat me out, are you?"
"Um, no? I mean, yes, I mean..." Lena buried her face in her hands.
A gentle hand guided her head up. Golden eyes met brown ones.
"Please don't tell them. I hate it. Guns scare me. After my... after Ciel... Nevermind." Amelie shook her head.
"I guess so long as I'm here with you, you're safe." Tracer mused.
Amelie's face lit up.
"Thank you!" She threw her arms around the younger woman, leaving Lena blushing.
All of a sudden, Amelie shot up and pulled Lena with her.
"Let's go somewhere else." She whispered, glancing back over her shoulder at the small British woman she was dragging behind her.
*****
That had been a different time, a different place. Now, she was alone. Again.
Jack cleared his throat.
"Sorry, sir." She mumbled.
"Anyway, I have paperwork to get back to." He slumped down in his seat.
Tracer noticed that the papers on his desk were all upside down when he picked them up.
She bowed her head and walked out of the office.
******
"Again." Widow purred into the ear of a recruit.
He gulped.
"What are you waiting for?" she snarled, pulling away, golden eyes flashing.
"S-sorry ma'am." He said, bowing his head.
He turned and tried to launch himself across the building but missed the ledge to kick off and plummeted straight down off the roof. There was a scream and a crunch as his head smacked the rocks below.
The drill today was one she had to run because it was her area of expertise; jumping from building to building, timing with a grappling hook, and proceeding to shoot mid-fall and then recovering safely.
She forced herself to roll her eyes and huffed.
"Well, now you have an example of what not to do. So who's next?" She said darkly, full lips curling up at the edges to a mocking grin.
All the new agents-in-training shifted uncomfortably. She picked one at random.
"You." Amelie pointed to one of the men. "C'est à votre tour maintenant. Grab a hook and choose your rifle."
The man was skittish but followed Widowmaker's instruction.
"Now, do you know how to fire it?"
"Yeah. You pull the trigger and--"
"No." The other recruits laughed at him. Amelie almost felt bad in whatever capacity she could but she forced it down and sneered at him.
"Are you trying to be smart with me?" She snarled.
The man flinched.
"No ma'am. I'm just nervous. I hate--"
"No one asked for a monologue, Jeremy." One of the recruits called out.
The rest of them hooted with laughter. Jeremy's face was bright red but he stood his ground.
"Yes, I know the physics behind a grappling hook and how to use it." He replied, looking at the ground.
"Very well then. Show us what you've got." Widowmaker said, stepping backwards.
Jeremy gulped but walked over to the edge to scout out the drop and distance. He had a furrowed brow and stood there at least a minute.
"What are you waiting for, God to whisper in your ear the secrets of the universe or are you going to get a move on?" Widowmaker barked out.
Jeremy hurried to where he had been before, not looking at anyone or anything except his target. Amelie was impressed; that was one of the key things beginners forgot to do; keep your eyes on the prize. The man took off running and jumped the second his feet touched the ledge, springing off it and launching himself across the air. He turned and scoped in on the target 115 meters below and pulled the trigger before he shot his hook; it landed perfectly on the upper wall of the next building and he smoothly landed on the other roof. Widowmaker was impressed; never before had she seen any recruit nail it without being severly injured or dying in the process.
There was complete silence except for the wind howling, everyone was shocked that he scrawny looking recruit had not only achieved a smooth landing but also--Amelie peered over the edge--hitting two shot perfectly on the heart and head.
"Anyone here think they can do better than that?" Amelie asked, raising an eyebrow.
Suddenly, one of the burlier boys thrust his hand in the air.
"If that runt can do it, so can I." He said confidently.
Widow bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. One of the reasons beyond the fact that Jeremy definitely knew what he was doing was his body type; it was streamlined and light enough that there would be less forces acting on him that would slow down reaction time and prevent accurate landing.
"Be my guest," Amelie said, throwing out her arm to present the box of tricks.
"I think I will." The bulky man said with a smirk and he winked at her.
Without thinking, she swung and knocked him flat on his ass. He looked up at her with fear.
"To disrespect a senior agent here is punishable by death; I sincerely hope for your sake you never pull that on someone else." Then she broke his nose.
A cough in the distance caught her attention; she met eyes with Doomfist who was looking at her, calculating.
Shit. Oh well. She had intended to show mercy but it appeared that if she wanted to keep her life, she must punish the man accordingly. With a sigh, she hefted up the man and dragged him over to the edge.
"Sorry, agent." She murmured.
A well-placed kick to the center of the chest threw him off the roof. His screams were fading as he fell until a sickly satisfying crack sounded. Widowmaker turned to glance back to where she had seen Akande standing but saw nothing there. She mentally shook her head but forced herself not to reveal any inner thoughts. She stared blankly at the other recruits.
"So. Who's next?"
She spent the next hour annoyed as two of the recruits nearly hanged themselves with the string, another one missed and slammed into the side of the building, and two more missed and plunged to their deaths.
"Alright," Amelie spoke to the crowd, liquid amber eyes scanning the group. "Those of you who made it across, you are dismissed. Those of you that did not...Well, you stay here until you do." She cast a glare at the significant amount of men who had dozens of bruises who cowered under her gaze. They had learned over the course of the past few hours that Widowmaker was not a person to be crossed; she was the prized assassin and had no heart.
"Again." She purred, a sadistic grin gracing her face.
Maybe she could bury these new feelings under being more cruel. She had to give it a try. And try she did.
By the time she finished up, three more men were dead and another five were injured. She focused on the exasperation as opposed to the sadness and guilt she had begun to feel.
She could feel eyes on her the whole session but never caught anyone staring that was worthy of the natural fear she felt crawling up her back.
*****
"How is progress going?" A rich voice with an Irish accent asked, the sound of fabric shifting as the woman templed her fingers under her sharp chin.
"Very well, Doctor." Akande's voice boomed throughout the hollow chamber overlooking the practice range.
The massive Nigerian man turned with a sly smirk on his face. The red head responded with a curt curl of her lips.
"We shall let it be and watch her fall. And watch Overwatch fall alongside her."