My first shot misses, but the second strikes her in the shoulder. She falls, out of sight and I rappel down towards the target. She's dangerous, my handlers tell me. Finish her quickly. Don't let her talk.

She's not there when I reach her. There's a small puddle of blood, but the target has moved. Something moves behind me and I turn, lifting my gun to end this.

"Hey luv, yer lookin' particularly murderous tonight."

Something in her voice makes me freeze, and in that split second she hits me.

There's that grinding in my head again. Like metal tearing at metal inside a turbine. My finger twitches on an invisible trigger and I want it to stop, I want it to stop. I want it to stop. I scream and I scream and I'm afraid. "Don't make me remember!" And like an onion they peel me apart.

Tears burn a path down my cheeks, my pulse deafens me. A face. Her face. That face looks down at me and I feel her hand on my arm.

I don't know how long I drift. The needles feel different. My skin itches. I jerk awake, firing a gun that's not actually in my hands. Tracer's smiling face greets me, her hand on mine to lower it. I'm in a white room. No restraints; it would be a simple matter to escape. Lena must have noticed the direction of my eyes, because she touches my chin.

"Now now, yer not a prisoner here. How do yer feel?"

How do I feel? I look her over again. I remember her flicking in and out of time. I remember men's faces, needles in my skull, scratching digging cutting. Grinding away my name, grinding away my memories.

Shoving her aside, I leap off the bed. Instruments clatter, tubing rips from my arms. I leap over a guard, covering his head with my hospital gown. Rolling back to my feet, I sprint down the hallway. My reflection stares back at me as I skid to a halt in front of a glass window.

"We had ta shave yer head," Lena says behind me. There's something apologetic in her tone as I take in my shaved head, the stitches in my scalp and the incisions in my stomach and chest. Her hand lands on my shoulder, but I barely feel it.

Salty streaks run down my cheeks and I turn back to her. My voice rattles in my chest. "Why am I crying?"

Her eyes crinkle up as she smiled. Her hand touches my cheek, flutters over my nose. A finger brushes my lips. "Cause yer feeling somethin' instead a nothing."

I'm broken, a shattered mirror and shadow of myself. No longer Widowmaker. Too broken to be Amelie. Lena puts a robe around my shoulders, but she doesn't guide me back to the hospital room. I stare at her back. The reflex to strike like a snake and eliminate Tracer, my last target, is overwhelming.

She glances at me over her shoulder. Wary. Like she could sense the direction my thoughts are going in. It's smart of her. I shrug one shoulder. "You can turn off the programming, but it is still always there."

Taking my hand, she strokes my knuckles with her finger. The sensation sends a charge down my spine, and I feel my heart beat. Still slow, still steady, but with a growing warmth I can't place. Lena looks at my hand curiously, then lifts it to her throat. Our eyes meet, and I squeeze instinctively.

"This what yer want?" She asks. I drop my arm and shake my head.

I don't know what I want. Trust again. To feel human again. To have hands that are for more than just killing. Lena looks at me, still wary, but something has changed in her eyes. I think I would respect her less if the wariness wasn't there. I look back at her, helplessly. "Why?" Why this, why me?

"Sometimes yer can't choose yer feelins. Sometimes they just strike you." She taps her harness, over her chest. "Like lightin' to the heart."

"You've lost your mind."

Lena smirks, stepping into my personal space. I don't hate it. I don't hate the way her hands run up my arms, I don't hate the way she leans in, standing on her toes or the way her lips feel on mine.

"I know yer can't get better just from this, Amelie. It's not gonna be easy. But we'll get yer through it an' yer don't gotta be alone."

For the second time in just a few minutes I feel tears on my face. "I'll hurt you."

"Probably."

"You don't have to take it."

"An' I won't. But I'm not gonna get mad at you for it."

I close my hand over my chest. "I don't know how to be Amelie any more."

She chuckles, and brushes at my cheeks. "Then I'll help yer find who you are now."

My eyes drop to her lips. "I want to feel warm again."

"Amelie."

Sighing, I close my eyes. "Fine. Kiss me."

Wrapping her hand around the back of my neck, Lena pulls my head back down."So demanding."