A/N: If you like this, or are a fan of my work in general, consider commissioning me, or maybe backing my P-A-T-R-E-O-N? (All one word, ffn is dumb.) You can find all the info you'd need on my tumblr, chickengums.

Every dollar helps! I'm hoping to move cross-country by this time next year, and could really use whatever help I can get. (Gotta get somewhere where it's safe to be a lesbian, yo.)

To Lena's surprise, she never "met up" with Widowmaker on a battlefield again.

There were several months where they went without any contact, but each time she had a mission, a small part of her hoped to see her again.

But… it never happened. She tried not to let it get her down, telling herself that, when she wanted to be found, she'd find her again… but, as the months dragged on, she started wondering if Widowmaker ever would actually want to be found.

But, she'd never been the type to let things keep her down, so… she didn't.

She spent time on the pull, finding a few girls here and there.

Sure, usually it was just for a night, maybe a weekend, but it was fun.

Oddly enough, it was after one of said nights of fun that she found what she hadn't known she was looking for.

/

After the bird she'd spent the night making sing decided it was time for her to leave the nest, she wound up going for a little jog.

After all, she'd walked to the pub the night before, so it wasn't like she could just magic up a ride home, and she hadn't felt much like calling a taxi, so… she went jogging.

It always helped to clear her head, and it made everything feel much more vibrant, more clear.

Though, even months of jogging hadn't done much to clear her mind of Widowmaker.

She just didn't get it. Why was she so… why did every thought lead back to her?

Why couldn't she get the image of those lips out of her mind?

Why was it that, no matter who she spent the night with, she always heard her voice in her dreams?

Before she knew it, her light jog had turned into an anger-fueled sprint as she pushed her body to its limit.

/

At some point, long after her muscles had started to burn and her breath had turned ragged, she noticed it was raining.

She just ran harder, ignoring her body's pleas for her to stop.

/

At some point, after the afternoon shower has turned into a rainy night, she staggers through the door of some trashy fast food place, intent on getting three of the biggest, greasiest burger there and then directions back to her particular neck of the woods.

She's not quite sure when she'd crossed into parts of town she didn't recognize, but she knows the walk back is going to be a right bitch.

She's soaked, in incredible pain, and she realized twenty minutes ago when she finally broke out of her funk that she left her phone at… whatever her name was' house.

"Cherie?" A voice asks, strangely lacking it's usual sultriness, and she ignores it.

She's way too used to hearing it by now, there's no way it could even affect her.

There's a hand on her shoulder, and she turns, slowly, to see a face she'd seen in her dreams for months looking back at her, a small smile on plump, perfectly-painted, pursed purple lips.

"You know, chérie, you're a surprisingly hard woman to find… when you're not running through the city." She says, smiling a bit wider. "Now… would you like a ride home?"

"Lena." She manages, once the shock recedes a bit. "My name is Lena. Are we going to your place, or mine?"

Widowmaker shakes her head… and speaks.

"Amélie."

Lena smiles, and offers her arm to Amélie.

Amélie just rolls her eyes… but takes it, leading her out to the car… and to their future.