Heat filled her lungs as she breathed in the ash filled air. Her ears had gone deaf, her accelerator's lights were out and her feet were burning in pain. She was running, running endlessly as the walls came tumbling down on her. The huge building that once was a factory for prostheses was burning down, collapsing and Tracer in the midst of it. With a weak smile she was counting how often she had escaped death by now. 11... 12...WAHOOO, close one. 13! ... How big is this bloody factory?! And a jump. Left. Right. Right. It didn't seem to end. The light of her time device flickering again. Soon she could use her time jump again. Shoot! The Brit rolling to the side as a breaking pillar almost hit her. Now, that was close! she grinned to herself as she kept on running towards an exit, not far away. One step after another. Careful not to stumble due to the numb limbs of hers. Daylight breaking through the ceiling as the exit drew closer. Daylight?

A heavy blow to her back took her breath away. Blue waves of light teleporting her to the streets, away from the collapsing factory grounds. Her body crashing against a lamp post. Her sight was blurry, heat waves, emitting from the explosions in front of her, stroking her skin. She was panting for air, unable to satisfy the request for oxygen, her back aching, as her mind went blank and her sight turned black.

"Huagh!" Her body sprung up, her lungs grasping for air. She immediately regretted the sudden movement as pain ran through her limbs, chest and finally struck her brain, shooting her back down on the ground, that felt unexpectedly soft. Her body frozen, fearing another rush of pain, her eyes darted through the room.

It was a regular apartment. A TV, table, chairs, a clock and a lot of pretty old fashioned furniture. Yes, it was regular indeed. Except for the broken glasses scattered on the ground below a broken window.

"Errr...aa.." she coughed, resulting in another painful sting in her chest "Ugh! ... Bloody hell, that HURTS!" she shouted surprisingly loud. Embarrassed she cleared her throat. "Well, err... Hello~? ... Anybody here~? ... I can't move anyway, so you are save to come out~!" Her eyes wandering from one side of the room to the other. "I promise, I won't bite... apropos, I could really use some bite, I'm starving."

Silence. Tracer groaned in surrender, throwing her head back on the couch, her eyes closed, when a sweet bun was put in her open mouth. She opened her eyes in surprise, mumbling "thanmkhs, luff!" when she tilted her head to see her savior.

Her body froze, the bun falling out of her mouth as soon as she recognized the long, slender legs dressed in that incredibly tight armor, highlighting the feminine curves, and the unique blue tinted skin that the cloth were generously revealing, as well as the long black ponytail, swaying as she walked passed her.

Mouth open, the Brit didn't dare to breath. What was she doing here?
The French turned around sitting down on the armchair in front of her, gracefully putting one leg over the other. Golden eyes staring down at her.

"That's better..." her accent sounded visibly. One arm reached over to the brunette's face, grabbing the bun beside it. After tearing off a piece of it, she put it back into her rival's mouth.

It was an awkward moment. Getting fed by the most dangerous assassin Talon could muster, peacefully resting in an unknown apartment. She had already been confused after their recent encounters but this was the least she had expected their next meeting would be like.

When the last piece of bun had disappeared into her mouth, the sniper leant back intensely staring at her again.

"Er... I'm.. A bit thirsty... now?" The wounded Brit said carefully.

To her surprise the woman stood up, elegantly walking towards the fridge that was placed in the back of the room. She returned with a glass of milk, in it a blue straw. The Brit looked up at her in disbelief as the French sat down beside her and hold it in front of her face.

"That's... quiet obliging..." she said while raising her head, trying to catch the straw with her lips. She drank it in one go and put her head back as soon as she had finished. Breathing heavily she closed her eyes. The pain wasn't too bad but interminable.

"How do I get off this... Thing." Widowmaker asked after a while, eyeing at her accelerator.

"I prefer it to stay where it is." the Brit laughed weakly.

"fille stupide, just tell me how to get it off ou voulez-vous mourir, imbécile." she said more demanding.

"That just sounded like you were insulting me really badly." she grinned cheekily.

Not amused the tall woman pulled out a knife threateningly placing it on top of the glowing machine that kept her anchored in time.

"Tell me how to remove or I'll just try..." she reprimanded her.

Swallowing nervously, unable to fight or run, she carefully raised one of her hands in defeat.

"Wou wou! Carefully. I didn't know you were so eager to strip me down." Lena chuckled lightly, trying to conceal her nervousness.

"Well, I prefer not to take it off entirely, just as I said, but you are mostly referring to the armor, right?" She said while slowly opening the tricky fastener.

...

After a while the harness that kept her device from harm and the part of it that made it possible to control her own time flow were removed. Left was the core that was essential for her to stay in the current time dimension, the actual anchor. It was just a small piece of glowing something integrated in her ribcage. She didn't know the science behind it, she was no scientist after all, but she never left a save place like this. She only ever took its armor off when she was sleeping somewhere safe or wanted to take a shower. Anxious to get lost in time again, fear dictated her life. Only this machine could bring her peace. And now it's fragile core was exposed.

Regardless she felt strangely comfortable and safe. If she wanted her dead she would've killed her long ago. In fact she had spared her life twice now.

"So... What'cha lookin' at?"

The French carefully removed the leather jacket, leaving her in her pants and a sports bra. A slight grin formed on her purple lips.

"An annoyance..." her fingertips trailing across the tomboy's bare arms. "tant de taches de rousseur..." she whispered to herself, then started caressing her stomach, exploring the ups and downs of her abs, the skin tingling from her touch. At some points she raised the pressure, resulting in a weak groan on the part of the younger woman and a squinting of her eyes. The assassin watched her reactions intensely, visibly amused by it. Playfully she circled across the exposed skin, sending pleasant shivers through Lena's body.

Despite the perturbing pain and the inability to move freely she enjoyed the strangely intimate moment. She knew she was her enemy and she knew that this was not a good time to relax but what else could she do? Her life was in the sniper's hands and she didn't seem to intend to harm her. Actually she was taking care of her pretty... attentive.

Suddenly the grip on her left arm tightened and broke her bones. A silent scream left her lips, obviously too surprised by the sudden pain. Then fingers pressed under her ribcage and another sound of cracking bones followed. This time she did scream audibly

"AHH! For Christ's sake, what are you doi- aaAh! -ing."

"What did you think I was taking your cloth off for...?" She raised an eyebrow, pleasure hidden in her eyes.

"Je ne sais pas où elle est. L'ensemble du bâtiment est écrasé.Elle est probablement mort... Oui... Oui... Understood, I'll be there in three."

Widowmaker's voice didn't give away what she was talking about, the same emotionless tone, just talking business. Lena recognized the furniture as her overly sensitive eyes scanned her surroundings once more. She was still in that utterly ordinary apartment and the sniper was still with her. Why did she lose consciousness a second time? How many hours had passed? Or maybe days? And why the hell did that blue woman bring her here in the first place?

"Bonjour, Chérie." Her train of thoughts came to an end when the Widow addressed her with that nickname once again.

"Er... Heya!" Lena replied, still confused by the situation she found herself in.

"Good. You can talk. And obviously move." Her kidnapper raised an eyebrow at the Brit's attempt to sit up, which worked out pretty well, surprisingly. She was patched up by the assassin, again. She even dressed her in some flannel shirt. Her stomach was hurting and one of her arms was fixed to her chest, laying in a noose. Huh, broken, eh? Suddenly images rushed through her head, a painful sounding crack as she remembered the events that had taken place before.

"Oi! You broke my bones!" The words shot out violently, causing Tracer to cringe due to the pain it caused.

"Oui. It was my pleasure." Her french opponent answered flatly while putting a bunch of tools and supplies in a small bag.

"Yeah, I could see that... I s'ppose you had another intention aside from the entertainment it brought you?" The short girl raised her eyebrows in anticipation. But the sniper didn't reply immediately, busy with tidying up the place.

Lena watched her every move, elegantly walking through the apartment, carefully removing every fingerprint she might have left. Just now she noticed the bucket full of bloodstained towels and bandages. She really fixed her up, didn't she? She was really saving her incautious butt. She remembered now. The explosion, the crumbling ceiling and the pain when something had hit her. But she couldn't remember how she had come here or why Talon's most successful agent was with her. There were still so many unanswered questions yet she knew something for sure. Whatever the reason, the assassin didn't want to see her dead. Or at least she didn't want her dying from anything else except her own bullet. That was what she had said a few weeks ago. She, Widowmaker, 97 registered eliminations, 95 of them died from a bullet straight through their head. She, who had engaged in a violent dance of bullets every time they had an encounter. She, who was now swinging her hip in front of the Brit in that ridiculous skintight armor, leaving not much to the imagination. Somehow she ended up staring at the curves of the French beauty and, wow, she really had a nice body and that silk like hair, so long it extended to her shapely behind, and those legs, not to mention the fine jaw line and murderous, cold, golden eyes...

Tracer blinked in surprise when said eyes stared down at her, obviously knowing where her own had wandered off to in the last two minutes.

"We have to go" the sniper explained, noticing the slight blush on the smaller girl's cheeks but ignoring it.

Lena felt the heat shooting in her face. Shoot, you gay trash, she is a murderer!

"O-okay, luv. Where do we go?"

"Somewhere else. If you do anything stupid I will strangle you with your own guts and feed your intestines to some stray dogs, compris?"

That was a rather unpleasant thought but she didn't intend to do anything, so she was safe, wasn't she? What could she do in her condition anyway? Therefore she nodded, swallowing down the anxiety.

Widowmaker picked up the bag and Tracer's harness and left, just to return shortly after to pick up the wounded girl.

"H-hey, I can walk myself!"

She couldn't, but somehow she felt uncomfortable being carried bridal style to the car that was parked outside. The sniper's touch had felt warm when they met the last times, outside, in rainy, cool London, but here the weather was warm and pleasant and the blue skin suddenly felt cold, so cold it send shivers through Lena's body. Her head was becoming heavy though and giving up her inner struggle, she leaned it on her carrier's shoulder. She was exhausted.

What she didn't know was, how her warm breath against the cool skin felt and how much the assassin struggled to ignore her slightly quickened heartbeat that originated from the tingling hair caressing the French's neck.

The door closed and Lena fell fast asleep as the engine started and the car took them to an unknown place.