"Stop looking at me like that." Tracer had been staring at her with a tired look on her face for the past five minutes, and it was starting to bother Widowmaker a little more that that woman's shenanigans usually do. "Why are you even here?"

Tracer though about that for a second, seemingly trying to find the right words. "I'm here because you don't like me being here, luv," she responded with a slight smirk. "And you're cute when you're annoyed."

Tracer was… aggravating. She was always there, no matter where in this damn world Widowmaker was. At the moment, she was on a rooftop on the outskirts of Venice, and her target was sitting peacefully in a coffee shop, completely oblivious to his impending doom. Widow turned to look back at Tracer, glaring at her. "Chérie, I'd appreciate it if you could let me do my job without distracting me." To be honest, she wasn't really surprised by the fact that she hadn't even bothered to try and kill her yet, but nonetheless, it still bothered her. She was the Widowmaker, creation of Talon, and most likely the best sniper in the world. She could kill anyone with a single bullet to the head from vast distances away, and she was highly trained in close combat as well.

But even with all this training, all this expertise, she had never been able to land a single shot on this woman.

In fact, she had only managed to injure her by leading her into a trap, and she had effectively gotten out of that, due to her time-controlling abilities.

"Luv, do ya really think I'm gonna sit 'ere and let ya kill someone?" she asked, straightening out from her slumped over position on the ledge of the balcony. Widow could have ran over and pushed the brit clear over the side of the building, ending this game once and for all (although Widow still doubted that, once again due to time-travel), but, to her surprise, she never did. She just sat there, listening to her speak. Tracer walked over, and sat right beside her.

"I'm just gonna sit 'ere, if ya don't mind," she playfully said, crossing her legs and resting her chin on the palm of her hand. Widow didn't think she would move even if she asked her.

"Fine, two can play this game," she thought. She had only failed a mission once that month, so another one wouldn't hurt. Her target probably didn't deserve his fate anyway. If she remembered correctly, he was some CEO of a medical center. Why Talon wanted someone so trivial dead, she would never know.

Widow set her gun aside, resting it on the floor of the balcony. Tracer had left her annoying little pulse pistols over on the table in the corner, so Widow didn't see a reason to have her rifle too close.

"Why do you keep following me?" she questioned her. "I've been busy enough with everything Talon is making me do, so I don't really appreciate you getting in my way." Even with how annoying she was, Widow had to admit, it was nice to have at least somewhat of a change for once. Her life was rather monotonous, considering that she kills people for a living.

Tracer looked at her, brown eyes meeting yellow, and sighed. "Let's just say ya remind me of someone." She stated sadly. "Someone from years back, no-one special really." For once, Tracer seemed to be completely out of her seemingly endless supply of energy.

"If this woman wasn't special, why do you bother to follow me everywhere I go?" Widow wasn't sure how she would remind Tracer of anyone. By comparison to most people, she was a very violent person. "If violent was a good enough term," she thought, somewhat amused.

"Well, to be completely honest, I didn't think I'd get this far," Tracer chuckled, nervously fiddling with a loose string in her jacket. "Widow, if ya don't mind me asking, what's your real name? 'Widowmaker' can't be your actual name, luv," Tracer asked, becoming more and more nervous by the second.

Widow froze. It had been a very long time since someone had asked her what her real name was. She wasn't sure if she was able to remember.

"… um, my name is...," she sputtered out. 'God dammit Widow, it's your name. It shouldn't be that hard to remember,' she thought. She looked at the woman sitting across from her, particularly the freckles on scattered around her cheeks and jaw line. It brought an aching familiarity to her chest. Suddenly, as if she had known it all along, a name managed to work it's way into her mind, making it's entrance loud and noticeable by giving her a slight headache. "Ah, right. My name is Amélie," she finally responded.

Tracer, who had been nearly shaking purely due to nervousness, looked as though she had stopped breathing. The shaking stopped, and the look on her face brought, much to Widow's surprise, a warm feeling to her chest. It felt different from the feeling she got when she flawlessly ended someone's life.

After a moment, she began breathing again, and began to look as though she was about to cry. "Yeah uh… I… figured that. Those eyes are no different from back then," Tracer said, almost on the verge of tears.

Widow was confused. "What do you mean by 'back then?'" she questioned. She wasn't sure why she was asking her all these questions, and not just trying to kill her, but she continued. Tracer was always energetic, so seeing her like this, all… drained, was quite the sight. "I do not understand how my eyes could mean anything."

"I… I.." was all she could stutter out before a choked sob escaped her lips. With the tears now freely flowing, she was having a hard time containing herself. "Oh my god Amélie, what did they do to you?" She took her goggles off, letting them hang loosely around her neck. Widow wasn't sure what to do. This feeling in her chest was… different. So much different than how she feels when she ends a life. It felt like a small flame, a candle perhaps, dwarfed by the mountain of ice within her, yet slowly melting it away.

Widow sat uncomfortably, waiting for Tracer to calm down. She watched as her sobs slowly came to a withering halt, and her breathing steadied. She looked at Widow, giving her a small smile. "Sorry about that luv, I'm sure you've no idea what I'm rambling on about," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I don't normally get all teary-eyed like that."

Widow, unable to speak after seeing Tracer like that, sat there staring at the other woman. All of her features, whether it was the piercings in her left ear, or the subtlety of all her freckles, seemed so familiar. Her mind felt like a dam that was about to explode, releasing her deepest memories. Widow had known for quite some time that Talon had done this to her, taking her emotions, memories and free will away, and claiming her as their personal weapon. She had never held a grudge against them for it either, because she had never remembered what her life was like before.

All she had from the past was her name (which she had only just now remembered), her French, and the faint memory of her hands clenched tightly around a neck, squeezing the life away from someone.

She often had nightmares, the majority of them pertaining to the rather violent death of the unknown person. The others were… odd, to say the least. They included menacing lights, hovering above her, as she felt as though she was floating, yet unable to think. She never understood them, so she rarely questioned them. When she did, however, she didn't get far.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she looked back up at the woman across from her, attempting to form an answer to give. "It is okay, I didn't mind it," she lied. Of course it had bothered her. She had no idea as to how she should go about dealing with this situation. She wasn't even sure when Tracer was trying to go with this conversation. "Although, I will admit chérie, I felt rather uncomfortable with seeing you like that. You are always so energetic, so to see you the complete opposite felt..." she struggled to find the words to explain her thoughts.

Seeing her in deep in though, Tracer waved her hand in front of Widow's face, attempting to get her attention. "Luv? Um, how did it feel?" she asked, with a hint of desperation in her tone.

Startled at suddenly seeing a gloved hand in front of her face, she looked up at Tracer, finding a questioning look on her face. "… oh, um.. I'm sorry, what?" she asked, not hearing what she had said.

"How did it feel? Seein' me all down in the dumps?" she asked once more, clearly desperate for an answer.

Widow wasn't quite sure how to respond. She didn't even know what this feeling was, much less how to explain it. "It feels… different, yet familiar at the same time," she managed to put together. "I have so many memories from the past, but I can never fully access them. The ones that do manage to slip my mind confuse me, so I find no point in them. It's all very bothering."

The assassin wasn't sure why she was being so open with the time-controlling brit, but she didn't really care at the moment. She felt as though she was finally making some progress on her past life, and no matter how small said progress may be, anything helps. For the past five years she had been forced to kill people, and brainwashed into doing so against her own will. She had only ever wanted to know about who she really was, and if this woman, of all the people, was able to help her, then she would gladly accept her help.

She just wasn't sure as to how to go about asking her.

"T-Tracer, I know I've tried to kill you and all, but puis-je vous demander une faveur?" she nervously asked, not knowing what her response would be.

Tracer looked at her with a questioning look. "Um, sorry luv, but I don't speak French," she giggled. "Damn, shouldn't have went with Spanish in High School," she added under her breath.

Widow, just now realizing what had happened, slightly smirked. "Ah, sorry. Bad habit chérie," she quickly added. "Can I ask you a favor?"