Prisoner of Peace
An Overwatch Fan Fiction
By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson
The sequel to Prisoner of War
Amelie LaCroix / Widowmaker
"Se prendre un râteau" Amelie explained to McCree, and dragged in a lungful of smoke from one of his illicit handrolls. Tobacco wasn't quite illegal, but restrictions keep the trafficking mostly in the underground markets. Obviously the American cowboy still had ties to his past. "It means to get hit with rake. That feeling of being struck. When someone rejects you."
"Well, I wasn't rejecting you, Sugar Cube." McCree watched the smoke slowly escape her soft, violet blue lips in elegant wisps, "I was rejecting taking advantage of someone I had power over. It would have felt like rape to me. Can't say as it wasn't tempting, but there's some lines I can't cross, and that's one of them."
She handed the hand rolled cigarette back to the American with a sigh. She shifted in the oversized undershirt Reinhardt had donated to her wardrobe. On him it was an undershirt, on her, even belted with one of McCree's spare leather straps, it was a billowing monstrosity that she was pretending was a dress. She was still barefoot and she had no panties. Considering she was no longer strapped bare assed in a gurney, the French assassin would take what she could get.
"So even my shoes were shredded?" Amelie confirmed, kicking a bare foot just to feel the freedom of movement.
"What can I say, Sugar? You could have had anything on you. No point leading Talon to one of the few safe houses we can lay claim to. Shoes, clothes, purse, anything and everything, either chucked or chunked. You know the drill." McCree pulled on the cigarette, tasting smoke on the back of his tongue before continuing, "We'll set you up with something once we get back to the main HQ."
The former Talon agent turned to where Reinhardt was finishing loading the vehicles they were taking. Apparently the building they'd been staying was only a stop over before the Overwatch agents would rendez-vous with their greater number. More Overwatch agents. Just what she needed to complete her day.
Angela Ziegler, call sign Mercy, approached with her medical supplies in bundles. The golden blonde Swiss doctor watched the former Talon agent with a hint of concern. The past days had been intensely trying on all of them. The situation had changed from having taken Amelie LaCroix captive, as an enemy agent, to an almost complete turn around. Widowmaker was now on provisional liberty, under Angela's aegis as both a founding member of Overwatch, and current team leader of their little group.
"Non." Amelie replied, wrapping her arms around herself to keep the shirt's material closer to her skin. The tattooed sleeve on her right arm read "araignée du soir, cauchemar", "spider of the evening, nightmare" She rubbed a thumb over the words set in a shattered glass stylized web motif. She remembered sitting so patiently while the tattoo artist worked. Moira rubbing her elegant long fingers into her back to relax her as the work progressed, finding the perfect spots to make her arch into the Irish doctor's touch. Moira had her faults, but the touch of her hands had been…
"Amelie?" Angela's voice broke the sniper's drifting thoughts. "We're heading out now. Everything is packed and stored. You can ride with Reinhardt, I'll be with McCree. When we reach HQ, just let me do the talking. If you can… Until they are more used to you…"
"Make no sudden movements?" Amelie LaCroix's voice was dry, even, any irritation or unease hidden. "I understand Doctor Ziegler. I'm an unknown quantity, and I've killed people they either knew or have worked with. They are going to wait to see if I'm just a Trojan Horse after all. A bomb waiting to go off in their midst. I assure you, Angela, I will not be the one to instigate an incident."
The doctor's smile was sweet, but the uncertainty in her face belied assurances that the others in Overwatch would be as forgiving. Amelie wasn't so naive to think that it would be cupcakes and puppies when she emerged in Angela's wake. The other Overwatch agents were going to lose their shit. "Pour le meilleur ou pour le pire, mon ange. My die is cast. They will accept me or they will not."
"Don't be so glum, sugar plum." McCree drawled as he ground out his cigarette, "I'll be there, and I think Reinhardt is warming up to you a bit. Just be yourself and in time… Well, I'm sure some of them will come around."
Amelie LaCroix laughed as McCree continued his use of strange American endearments. His rogue manners aside, he lifted her spirits. She had thought it would be une situation délicate after his refusal of her offer of sexual favors for her freedom. Strangely it had not been the case. She knew Angela's actions of giving a Talon's assassin her freedom was due in part to McCree pleading her case. It was just as well he'd refused her. Besides, she could always kill him another day. Today, she would take his arm and let him squire her into the bear's den that was Overwatch Head Quarters.
Angela Ziegler - Mercy
Angela was having second thoughts. And thirds. What had seemed so much more possible hours ago now took on a more daunting task. Jack was going to kill her. Right there, on HQ grounds, Angela Ziegler was a dead woman walking. She'd countermanded his directives and taken it on her own recognizance to offer Widowmaker a provisional Overwatch Agent position. There was precedent with persons such as McCree, and Genji being brought into Overwatch to make amends for their own past crimes. But this was a major leap with Amelie, because there was so much blood on the ground, so many bodies buried. Widowmaker had been Talon's top assassin, with the kill count to match.
But the former Talon agent had chosen to let Angela help her. The medical doctor that she was could not let this opportunity pass by. The opportunity to heal the French woman and bring back the Amelie who had been stolen from them by Talon, it was worth the risk. And so far, no one was dead yet.