Tracer

It was a faint light, but a light all the same. It always brought her back. Back to reality. Back to life. Back in time. Back to a human being. It was her soul manifested; at least, it may as well have been. Thus, when the spunky Brit's eyes cracked open and she saw the familiar pale hue of her chronal accelerator resting on a nearby chair, a sense of comfort could be found.

She felt around the other side of the bed and noticed her heart sink. Emily hadn't stayed the night. She had work early the next day and didn't like disturbing Lena if she could help it no matter how much her girlfriend attempted to convince her otherwise.

The room felt bigger, despite the apartment being somewhat small and nestled away amongst hundreds of others in King's Row. Tracer rolled over and stared at the pastel ceiling, brushing some messy, brunette locks of hair from her wondering eyes. The restlessness always hit her hard at night. She could just barely make out some noise in the streets of her old stomping grounds. Was it another fight? Was it just a passionate conversation? Was it a pair of drunks?

Should she gear up and put a stop to it? No. She shouldn't. No matter how desperately she wanted to, Overwatch was disbanded for a reason…even if that reason made little sense to an idealist like Lena Oxton. Acting under the banner of Overwatch was literally against the law now, and every time Lena reminded herself of that, the pit in her stomach threatened to consume her.

It was nights like this one that she needed Emily more than ever. Overwatch gave her life such purpose and meaning. Now, she was forced to keep her head low and only work seldom as something of a freelance everyman. She couldn't live off her savings forever, and if she and Emily were to get serious, Tracer needed to pull her weight in the relationship as well.

It was tough.

Tracer had a taste of what it felt like to be – almost quite truthfully – a hero. She participated in the act of shutting down the various God Programs that wreaked havoc in the Omnic War. Not only that, but she had saved so many people because of Overwatch's heroism. Why did it all have to fall apart? And why did this same dialogue run through Lena's brain even years after the fact? It felt like yesterday, but that was hardly the case.

Tracer turned again and huffed, reaching for her phone and preparing herself to send Emily a text. Such a simple act would be enough to calm her spirit some.

It's then that she saw it. A message from a dear, dear friend. Her savior. She owed him her life. It was as simple as that. Tracer sat up, pulling at her yellow short shorts and fixing her loose, white t-shirt. She blew at her troublesome hair and felt her consciousness snap awake as she tapped to open the attachment.

Winston began speaking, and as his speech went on, Tracer's pulse quickened, her breaths coming out in hisses of anticipation. This sort of night had happened so often Tracer wondered if she was dreaming. An ending with Winston contacting her had never occurred. The excited girl pinched herself as images of devastation across the globe flickered over her phone. Crazed omnics. Terrorist attacks. Suffering children and a screaming mother. The last one hit Lena hard. Goosebumps pervaded her body as she stood up, her legs buzzing as if remembering what she was capable of on the battlefield.

The message ended, and Tracer hit the call button immediately. The gruff, intelligent voice of the most incredible primate in the world answered.

"Hmm? T-Tracer? You're up?"

'I'm in, that's what I am.' Tracer heard herself speaking in the middle of the night, and she continued to fight against the idea this was all a dream. She didn't want to wake up.

"…Are you certain? We would be operating against the government, with no support whatsoever. It's not like it was. It wouldn't be safe. We would officially be criminals. A normal life wouldn't be possible in the foreseeable future."

This gave Lena some pause. She could only think of Emily. That was her only restriction. As much as she tried to hide it, she and Emily were somewhat known in King's Row. Lena's infamy proceeded her. She wasn't outwardly hated, fortunately, but there was some level of hesitation by a few because of her previous status as an Overwatch agent.

Still…

'I know. I understand, Winston.' She thought she did, but then Tracer pictured her girlfriend's gorgeous red hair and her charming smile. She thought of the hot chocolate they would indulge in together and the long talks into the night. Was she truly willing to risk all that for a potentially hopeless endeavour?

'Can I ask a question though?' Tracer's voice softened, and that in and of itself was a rare occurrence.

"Go ahead."

'Is something really happening?'

It was purposely vague, but Lena knew Winston was more than capable of picking up on her meaning. He growled into the phone, a sigh she recognized all too well.

"…Yes. Without a doubt. It's the second coming, of that I am certain. Except this time, I suspect Talon will be even more active than ever before. I see the signs, but the U.N. refuses to acknowledge it just yet. By the time they do, it will be far too late."

'Those images you sent…they were all recent?'

"Too recent."

Tracer closed her eyes and pushed her free hand through her hair. She didn't have a choice. She was one of the few select individuals capable of fighting beyond the scope of a normal human's capabilities.

'Emily…'

"Yes. It would mean leaving her for a time. You may be able to visit on the rare occasion, but I can't make any promises. If Overwatch was accepted as an official group, that would be one thing, but…"

'She might be in danger because of me. If the U.N. decides to play dirty, she could be used against us.'

"Precisely. I can, perhaps, manage to use an agent to act as an undercover bodyguard, but I can make no further promises."

'Right. Right.' Tracer rubbed her forehead. 'Oi. This is tough. I'm definitely in. I am. I have to be. But…'

"Lena…" Winston spoke sympathetically. "I foolishly sent this message late. I…had technical difficulties. It's sometimes more problematic to consider things clearly in the middle of the night. Think on it. Contact me tomorrow or even the day after."

'Every hour I hesitate more innocent people are in danger. I can't be selfish.'

"You're human, Tracer. I understand if you decide against it. I…I don't expect a positive reception to my plea."

'Winston…' Tracer sat back down and rubbed her eyes. She glanced to her chronal accelerator and back to the empty space in her bed. She nodded to herself, and steadied her tone. 'Okay. I'll get back to you tomorrow.'

"Good. Rest well, Lena."

'You too, big guy.'

"Thank-you for calling me."

'Heh. No problem. It was nice to hear your voice again.'

"Same. Um…back at you. I, well, yes. You know what I mean."

'Heheh! Bye, Winston.'

Silence. Tracer's phone returned to the home screen, where a shot of her and Emily tortured her. Tracer was kissing Emily on the cheek, and her slightly sheepish girlfriend was blushing so hard her adorable freckles were nearly hidden.

'Oh, boy. This is not going to be easy…'

But Tracer knew what she had to do, and come the next day, she would make the harsh decision that would shape the rest of her life for better or for worse.