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Shadows of Stars

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It was still and silent. Luckily, as far as jail cells went, Overwatch’s need to always pursue righteousness, justice, and various other good-doer ideals had resulted in rather hospitable containment units. While the technology was older and the dust indicated years of inactivity, it was light years beyond the cheery comfort of Talon’s dark and barbaric facilities. The doctor here had stopped by to check her arm rather than give her a dose of memory altering drugs.

She hadn't seen Lena since they whisked her away off the transport.

From where she sat, Widowmaker inspected the seemingly open space before her. Three walls and one perfect doorway. What a tease. If she went barreling through it, the invisible force field would knock her back with a few volts. If that wasn’t overkill enough, her new captors had placed a guard outside her little room.

Every muscle in her body twitched to escape. The guard watching her was inconsequential. If she could somehow get out and kill her, escape, and ensure Lena was safe...

No. She would not kill her guard. Did she so easily revert back to the thoughts of an assassin, of a caged animal without the Brit around? Hints of guilt whispered against the walls of her ribcage. Lena would be disappointed with such thoughts. These were her people. She would want them to live.

A loud pop of bubble gum broke the silence.

Widowmaker slowly inhaled. She would try very hard not to kill her guard.

But, Dieu, was Lena safe and alive? Where was she?

“You eat flies?”

The woman in the cell glanced in the direction of the voice.

The guard sitting on a stool had leaned to peak through the doorway. Widowmaker lifted her chin as she inspected her; she was practically a child. And she was guarding one of the world’s greatest killers.

It was almost insulting.

The teenager repeated herself as if the other hadn’t heard her, “Do you eat flies? Like a real spider?”

Widowmaker inspected the handheld device in her hand that now hung casually in front of the doorway. A weapon? A control? She caught a glimpse of the screen flashing ‘PAUSED.’ The video game made her smirk.

“No,” she purred, “Just little girls.”

The other scoffed with a laugh, “Better than a locked up old hag,” and again disappeared out of view.

Hm. Perhaps she was a more worthy opponent than she anticipated.

The thought made her involuntarily shudder.

Not an opponent. Not an enemy. Not a target.

Lena.

“Is she alright?”

It escaped softly from her lips before she stop it.

“I’m just a little girl, how would I know?” was the grumbled response.

The jailcell occupant slouched further against the wall and closed her eyes. Did heartbeats always sting against one’s ribcage? Perhaps hers was still out of practice.

She murmured, “Please.”

There was a sigh, and soon the young woman’s head popped back around the corner to look at her.

“She’s fine.”

Relief flooded her veins. She suddenly felt tired.

Lena was alive. She was alright.

“Did you shoot her?”

Widowmaker simply stared at the face peering at her. Certainly she was jesting? But instead she wore an expression of nothing but genuine and almost morbid curiosity.

“No.”

The other snorted as she turned back to her game, “Then Lucio owes me money.”

 

*****

 

Tracer awoke with a start and immediately looked down at her body.

She wasn’t wearing it.

Where was it?

Was she still there?

Where? Where? When?

“It's right there.”

Her head whipped around to the deep voice beside her. The man’s arms were crossed as he leaned back casually in his chair beside her bed. His head tilted towards the chronal accelerator laying atop the nearby table.

She tried to steady her breathing, looking down at the glowing circle on her chest. Her fingers traced where the metal met skin and felt satisfied. With a nod to her companion, she reached over to the vest on the table, wincing slightly at the pain the flickered across her body with the movement.

“Where’s Widowmaker?”

“Secured,” was Soldier 76’s gruff reply.

“Where?” Tracer asked more firmly as she tightened the straps of the accelerator. When she was met with silence, she looked up with a frown.

“You better not have put her in one of those ruddy cells.”

“You drop down from the sky bleeding after missing for weeks with a Talon agent pointing a gun at us.”

“She’s not with Talon anymore.”

She was met with continued silence.

Tracer glared at the visor that blocked the man’s eyes. “Either she gets released or I’m bunking with her.”

“Be my guest,” he replied nonchalantly.

Her torso was already aching from sitting up. But not getting up would mean the senior agent had successfully called her on her bluff. And Tracer did not back down from a challenge. However, as she braced her arms on the gurney to begin the process, the automated doors of the medical wing thankfully opened.

Angela smiled warmly as she approached. “Look who’s awake.”

“Hi, Mum.”

Normally the nickname inspired a roll of the eyes, but the doctor seemed so pleased Tracer was now active, she couldn’t be bothered to chastise the young woman. Her soft hands assessed the young woman’s pulse points.

While she began her minor examination, the patient quipped, “Tell Sir Grumpy it’s bad manners to lock up people that save other people.”

The man beside them stated, “Even if she is not an active risk, Talon will surely come to claim their lost prize.”

“Deep breath, please,” the blonde smoothly requested, sliding a stethoscope to Tracer’s back.

Lena rolled her eyes but complied. The second the cold metal left her body, she turned again to Soldier 76.

“She’s not a thing to be won or fought over. She’s a bloody person.”

“They took that away from her.”

“She's gotten it back. Seen it with my own eyes.”

“That will not erase her past actions,” he leaned forward as his gruff voice deepened, “It will not bring back those she has taken from us.”

“I do not know the truth,” Angela interrupted calmly as she draped the stethoscope around her neck, “But I did see the look in her eyes when she pointed a gun at me as she protected her. I also saw an entire Talon squadron lying in her wake,” her gaze moved to the man in the chair and grew fierce, “She willingly surrendered herself in order to ensure Lena’s safety.”

He didn’t even flinch.

Tracer glanced between them as the two “old Overwatch” agents raged some type of silent battle. The grown-ups were talking.

Tracer could hear the faint buzz of the medical wing’s lights in the uncomfortable silence.

Suddenly, he stood up to leave. “I will have her released.”

“Wicked,” Tracer muttered in awe as the doors closed behind him, looking up at Angela,“How long was I out?”

“Three days. Anyone else would have needed much longer before they could sit up. Your accelerated healing is quite impressive,” she replied, glancing at a tablet with medical charts beside the bed.

“More like you’re a genius, Doc.”

“And you’re beyond reckless,” she shot back, donning a glare Tracer knew too well, “What were you thinking going up there like that?”

The patient shrugged, “Had to. Couldn’t let Overwatch down.”

Angela’s sharp gaze softened. Her chastising frown lessened as she reached forward to lay her hand gently on Tracer’s shoulder.

“I am so glad you’re alright.”

The Englishwoman’s hand met her friend’s and squeezed, causing both women to smile.

After a moment, Tracer quipped, “Wish I could say the same for the space station I left behind.”

With a nod, the doctor said, “Winston and the others will be expecting a debriefing shortly.”

“Whole lot of rubbish on that boat somebody didn't want us to find. Barely made it out.”

“How did she follow you?”

“Hopped on the ship. Didn't know ‘til we were bloody halfway there.”

The blonde nodded slowly, still staring quizzically at the other. Her eyebrow lifted in question.

“And?” she drawled.

Tracer sighed, “She's changed, Angie. Without Talon controlling her, she made a choice,” her hands gripped the edge of the gurney where she sat, “Know it sounds barmy. But I’d swear my life on it.”

Angela crossed her arms, fixing a hard gaze at the young woman in front of her. Ever the intellectual, Tracer knew she was puzzling something out. She also saw the flicker of concern and fear in her eyes.

“I suspect you are aware of the circumstances with which she left us. Circumstances I experienced first hand.”

“Well, yeah, reckon most people knew her, but-”

“No, Lena. We were family.”

Tracer opened her mouth to respond, but the medical bay doors whooshed open to reveal the very subject of their conversation.

“You are a complete and utter idiot,” Widowmaker spat, charging towards the woman sitting on the hospital bed. As she got closer, Tracer could see the fire in her amber eyes.

They had fallen from the cold, dead darkness of space set ablaze. Lena knew in that moment, as they locked eyes, as this burning star stood before her smoldering, as much as something had finally woken in Widowmaker, she too now felt her own spirit’s flame begin to flare.

“I know,” she replied with a small smile.

Anger melted into tears, and Widowmaker, in all her height, collapsed into Tracer’s shoulder where she sat on the elevated hospital bed. The younger woman bit her lip through the minor quakes of pain still wrecking her body, immediately wrapping her arms around the beauty now sobbing against her.

Gasps brushed her skin, a sobbing voice saying, “Never do that ever again.”

The Overwatch agent sighed as she spread her hands across a quivering back.

“Can’t make any promises, love.”

“So stupid.”

“Shhh, I know.”

As they embraced, looking over Widowmaker’s shoulder, Tracer saw someone else enter the room. D.Va leaned against the wall beside the entrance, crossing her arms.

Her eyes moved to the doctor, usually so poised and graceful, staring wide-eyed at the scene before her. Their eyes locked, and Angela’s mouth fell open, desperately wishing to produce a question, but shock had robbed her of her voice.

Tracer answered by simply holding the woman in her arms a little tighter.

“I got you.”

The stars had tied their fate together.