Chapter 10 Rewind

 Lena Oxton's Point Of View 2 Years Ago

Lena's thumb tapped an anxious staccato against her thigh as she watched the Omnic surgeons work. She winced involuntarily as they extracted a tangle of wires from the back of Amelie's skull, followed by a long, wicked-looking needle coated in some unknown viscous substance from the base of her brain.

Raising a hand, Lena rubbed at the deepening bags under her eyes, seeking solace in the cold sterility of the recovery room's harsh lighting and antiseptic smells. Anywhere but the haunting images seared into her memory from that night in Russia.

"Mom—I mean, Angela—she said you could use some company."

Hana's voice shattered the tense silence, startling Lena from her trance-like reverie. She turned to find the young former mech pilot gingerly lowering herself into the visitor's chair, face contorted in a grimace as she jostled her injured arm.

"Really ought to get that thing looked at, love," Lena nodded toward the IV line snaking into Hana's forearm.

"I'm fine," Hana brushed it off with an unconvincing wave of her hand. "Just...needed to get out of that hospital bed, y'know? Too much lying around drives me stir-crazy."

"by the way Angela'll have a heart attack if you call her that again," Lena quipped, adjusting the IV line as Hana winced. The hospital had been closed to the public hours ago, but the two former Overwatch agents kept their solitary vigil.

Lena over their prisoner, Amelie. And Hana...well, Lena wasn't quite sure why the younger woman insisted on staying.

"So why are you really here?" Hana asked, dark eyes searching Lena's face as she settled into the creaky plastic chair. "Just watching over the prisoner," Lena replied curtly, her gaze sliding back to the blue-skinned woman's motionless form.

Hana frowned but said nothing, clearly perceiving there were deeper currents at play. An uneasy silence stretched between them, broken only by the whirring fans and mechanical arms of the Omnic surgeons.

"Pharah told me you haven't slept since Russia," Hana ventured after a moment. Lena stiffened ever so slightly at the mention of the mission.

"Don't want to talk about it," she deflected with a dismissive shake of her head. "I always get a bit wound up after jobs like that, you know how it is."

But they both knew this time was different. Hana worried, her hands in her lap, squeezing them together tightly.

"Is this...because of what happened to 76?" she asked hesitantly.

The name made Lena flinch as if struck. "His name was Jack," she ground out, leather gloves creaking as her fists clenched.

Hana bobbed her head in apology. "We're all just...torn up about losing him. But he went out a hero, Lena. You know that's how he would have wanted to go."

Lena's hands dropped heavily to her sides, the bone-deep weariness crashing over her in waves.

"I can't believe Reinhardt killed him," Hana said, voice barely above a whisper as she shook her head slowly. "It just doesn't make sense."

Lena's jaw clenched hard enough to grind enamel. "I couldn't believe it either," she lied through gritted teeth.

"No, you don't understand," Hana insisted. "I can't wrap my head around Reinhardt killing Jack Morrison of all people. He would never hurt one of his own, let alone his oldest friend and brother-in-arms."

A tremulous sigh slipped from Lena's lips.

"Who knows what really happened out there," Lena murmured, turning away from Hana. Her gaze fell upon the inert form of the former Widowmaker as the Omnic surgeon finished their grisly work.

  Brian Wiser's Point Of View

A streak of warmth rolled down Brian's face. His expression contorted in surprise as a sharp pain shot through the nerves in his cheek. He raised a hand to clutch at the stinging area, then lowered it slowly to stare at the dark red stain on his palm with wide eyes.

His eyes started to mist over as painful tears pooled up. His jaw clenched before the first teardrop began flowing down. Anger crept into his features.

"Do you think you're the only one who's been forced to do things they regret?"

Brian's fist tightened before dropping back to his side. "I never wanted to see you again. I hated seeing that war go on. I watched families being ripped apart. I remember scavenging for scraps on the streets I grew up on, using sharpened poles to move soldiers' corpses out of the way. Because of you, I had to abandon my own home."

He stepped towards Amelie, blood now covering the left side of his shirt collar. "For years, all I wanted was to hurt you. And then I saw you on TV as the face of reformed prisoners. I just wanted to see you pay."

His voice grew quieter. "But then you spoke. I saw the fear in your eyes. The guilt over everything you did. I saw the same pain, the same anger that I felt towards your existence. Except yours was turned inward, against yourself. It dwarfed anything I could dish out."

Brian placed his hands on Amelie's shoulders, eyes wet . "I meant what I said before. I can't stand knowing the hatred I felt towards you was nothing compared to what you had to live with alone. I don't know you, and you don't know me. But you've obviously tried to change. I don't want you blaming yourself anymore for things you couldn't control. Even if we never see each other again, even if I'm just some raving lunatic, I want you to let go of that past. So why don't you?"

Amelie's features softened, the sincerity in Brian's words seeming to get through to her. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Brian shook his head. "Don't be. I told you I never needed your apology."

Amelie sighed, closing her eyes briefly before pulling a small handkerchief out from somewhere on her outfit. "Merde. You're bleeding," she said, grabbing Brian's wrist and half-dragging the taller man along as she led them out of the ballroom.

They moved quickly down the hallway, Amelie's heels clicking on the tiled floor as she guided Brian elsewhere. Her brow was furrowed in determination as she kept a firm grip on his wrist, the pristine handkerchief clutched in her other hand.

Amelie didn't speak again until they reached a more secluded area, like a quiet sitting room or parlor. Only then did she release Brian's wrist and motion a hand for him to sit.

"Hold still," she said briskly, using the handkerchief to dab at the wound on his face. Her movements were efficient but gentle as she worked to dab the blood up from the small cut.

An awkward silence fell between them, the only sounds being Brian's occasionally hissed breaths and wincing when Amelie's ministrations pulled at the torn skin. After a moment, she broke the quiet.

"You're right, what's done is done," she said evenly, not meeting his eyes. "I can't change the past. But I am trying to..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. "You understand."

Brian nodded slowly, still not making eye contact with Amelie as his brow furrowed in thought. He stared out the pane glass window, his eyes focused on some distant light outside.

"I liked the play," he stated simply. Amelie hummed in acknowledgment.

"Merci," she said quietly, gripping his face gently to keep applying pressure with the cloth, though he tried to pull away from her sensitive touch.

"You mentioned you could see right through me," Amelie stated, prompting Brian to raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I didn't mean to be creepy or anything," he replied.

Amelie shook her head. "It's perception. It's a skill." She lowered the handkerchief, allowing Brian to relax and turn away from her on the bench.

"People think it's creepy. People watching and all that," Amelie mused, her eyes darting towards a painting on the wall as an awkward silence settled in the room.

"People are interesting animals. They are complicated, multifaceted and unyielding," she said distantly, her gaze fixed on something unseen.

After a moment, Amelie spoke again, her voice quieter. "When I first began rehabilitation...Miss Hollings - Chloe - was there frequently. Asking me questions and reading books to me while I recovered."

She noticed Brian's eyes lingering on her left arm, her palm squeezing her knee unconsciously.

"It's fake, isn't it?" he asked carefully. Amelie stiffened before giving a small nod of confirmation.

Silence washed over them once more, the tension thick in the quiet room. Finally, Brian's lip quirked upwards in a hint of a smile as he turned back to Amelie.

"I'm sorry for being awkward. I didn't mean to offend you earlier." he said.

"It is nothing," Amelie replied evenly, though her body language remained somewhat guarded.

Brian seemed to be mulling over whether to speak further or not. After a moment, he parted his lips hesitantly. "Miss Lacroix..."

"Amelie," she corrected gently.

He paused, placing his hands on his knees. "Amelie, can I ask...is this your goal?"

She tilted her head slightly, a crease forming between her brows. "What do you mean?"

Brian took a deep breath before clarifying. "After everything...how did you find what you wanted to do? With your life, I mean."

Amelie was silent for a long moment, considering his question carefully. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.

"I would not say I have found my 'goal', no." Amelie shook her head slowly. "What I pursued before was an illusion. A manipulated, artificial purpose."

Her jaw clenched momentarily before she forced herself to relax. "Now, I am trying to rediscover my true self, not the identity they crafted for me."

Amelie's eyes unfocused slightly as she became pensive. "Certain days, memories of my past life feel hazy and faded. Yet other times, they shine vividly - the warmth, the contentment. c'est comme si je baignais dans la nostalgie" Refocusing on Brian, she asked, "Does this make sense to you?"

Brian nodded. "I don't understand French, but that sounded nice. As for my original question though..."

A rueful smile tugged at Amelie's lips. "For now, my purpose is simply to heal, to atone however I can. And perhaps, eventually, to be at peace."

Brian nodded slowly, his hand resting on his cheek as his thumb moved in circles over the wound. "Do you ever feel peaceful?" he asked hesitantly.

"When I dance," Amelie responded after a brief pause.

Brian sighed. "I never learned how to dance," he admitted, not meeting her eyes.

"So why come to the dance?" Amelie asked, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Chloe asked me to, and I can't tell her no," Brian stated bluntly, prompting an almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of Amelie's mouth.

"Ah yes, it is a talent she possesses," Amelie mused. "However..."

She rose fluidly to her feet, kicking off her thin heels and stretching out her legs beneath the frilly skirt of her dress. "Do you want me to teach you?"

Brian's eyes widened in surprise. "You'd teach me?"

"My grandfather always said a young man should know how to dance," Amelie stated simply. "Now get up."

There was a firmness to her tone that compelled Brian to push himself up to stand as well. Amelie stepped towards him, placing her hands on his forearms and guiding the proper placement as he awkwardly hugged an invisible partner.

"Watch your foot placement," she warned, immediately drawing Brian's full attention.

Amelie demonstrated a swaying motion, shifting her weight from side to side. Brian mirrored her movements, but as soon as he tried to step, his foot moved over the other and he lost his balance, tumbling to the tiled floor with a thump.

Amelie looked down at him with an apathetic expression, letting out a small sigh. She extended a hand and pulled Brian back up to his feet. This time she placed his hand firmly on her waist and met his gaze with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Step on my feet and I will slap you again," she stated with no trace of humor in her voice. Brian swallowed thickly, the cut on his cheek seeming to throb.

  Lena Oxton's Point Of View

Lena tuned out the technical conversation between Angela and the German biologist, their medical jargon going right over her head. Instead, her brown eyes scanned the opulent ballroom, searching for Angela's other guest.

Her gaze landed on Hana, looking positively ethereal in a light pink dress with puffy, transparent sleeves that made the young woman resemble a fairy from ancient myth. Hana deftly evaded the swaying dancers, slithering and sliding between partygoers as she made a beeline for the banquet table.

Lena shot Hana a warning look as the starcraft pro eyed the towering champagne pyramid with an awed expression. The golden, sparkling liquid cascaded down layers and layers of gleaming crystal flutes.

"Hana..." Lena spoke in a cautionary tone. The shorter girl puffed out her cheeks defiantly before accepting a small glass from a tuxedo-clad attendant who greeted Lena with a polite bow.

"Careful love, never know when there might be a camera crew around," Lena warned in a lighter, more chipper voice. Hana nodded seriously.

"Just a taste," she insisted.

Lena watched with bated breath as Hana took a delicate sip from the fancy champagne flute. The girl's expression morphed comically from delight to utter disgust as the dry, bitter liquid hit her tongue.

"Don't spit it out, just drink it!" Lena hissed under her breath.

Hana grimaced but obediently swallowed the champagne thickly. She let out a quiet groan before placing the glass back on the table and immediately grabbing a frosted cookie to gnaw on indignantly.

Lena sighed and shook her head in amusement before her gaze was drawn across the room by a familiar face. Her eyes widened as she spotted Brian, anger etched across his features, standing face-to-face with Amelie. The former Talon operative had one hand pressed to Brian's cheek.

Lena's brow furrowed as Amelie suddenly grabbed Brian's forearm and half-dragged, half-tossed him through a wooden door into what seemed to be a side room, the door swinging shut behind them.

 Lena Oxton's Point Of View 1 Year Ago

Lena gripped the railing of their apartment balcony, knuckles whitening from the force as she stared sightlessly out across the rooftops. A solitary light blinked in the distance, but her gaze was unfocused, turned inward to the tempest of emotions roiling within.

"It's just not right, Lena!"

Emily's indignant voice shattered the brittle silence. Lena turned to find her girlfriend silhouetted in the bedroom doorway, fiery hair haloed by the warm light, hands planted defiantly on her hips.

"It wasn't my call to make," Lena replied, struggling to keep her tone even and measured. "Angela's the one who signed off on Amelie's conditional release, said she believes the therapy is working. If a doctor I trust that much vouches for her, I have to put faith in the process."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly as haunting memories threatened to resurface. "Besides, they've removed that bloody mind-control device now. Once the full psych evaluation is completed and any lingering effects have cleared her system, we'll know for certain whether..."

Lena's voice trailed off, her hand unconsciously rising to rub over her breastbone where the searing sting of Widowmaker's neurotoxin had once burned through her body. Even now, the ghost of that anguish made her breath catch in her throat.

"She's still a dangerous psychopath, Lena," Emily insisted, voice rising alongside the desperation crackling beneath. "If anyone else had been the one calling the shots, she'd be locked up at best, executed at worst!"

Lena's head whipped around, a spark of anger flashing through her despite her efforts at restraint. "well you don't get to make that call," she bit out.

Emily's eyes went wide, backpedaling slightly in the face of Lena's uncharacteristic harshness. "And she does?" she shot back, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the Overwatch facility where Amelie was no doubt being evaluated. "I've seen the news - the bodies they keep uncovering, the man-made atrocities! How many mass graves and bomb caches do they have to find before that woman faces real justice for her crimes?"

A muscle twitched in Lena's jaw as she fought for composure. "So that's it then? We just execute her without a fair hearing based on the court of public opinion?"

She stepped forward, shoulders squared as if bracing against Emily's verbal onslaught. "Amelie fought for the wrong side, just like I did according to most of the world's governments. If they'd won the war, I'd be the one on trial for fighting against their 'righteous' cause. There is no black and white anymore."

Emily shook her head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn tilt Lena knew alltoo well. "That's utter rubbish, and you know it. You've never been anything like that...that remorseless murderer! Talon razed entire cities, slaughtered civilians by the thousands - how can you possibly try to justify Lacroix getting a free pass for that level of—"

"She has a right to due process!" Lena's raised voice cracked like a whip through the thickening tension. "To have her say about what happened, to explain whether she was even in control of her actions!"

The words rushed out in a torrent, Lena's normally unflappable control finally fraying. "Angela said she's responding well to therapy, that the more time that passes, the stronger her lucidity becomes. The Amelie I knew would never... She deserves a chance to make amends, to step back into the light after Talon's conditioning ruined her."

For a long moment, Emily was silent and still, arms crossed as her eyes bored into Lena with naked emotion. When she finally spoke, her voice was tight but softer.

"And did he get that same chance...to step back into the light?"

The simple question detonated like a flashbang in the center of Lena's chest. Her face contorted, anger and bone-deep fatigue warring as the ever-present guilt reared its grotesque head once more.

Distantly, she registered Emily's alarmed backpedaling, desperate pleas for her to stop as she stormed past. But the words were gibberish, white noise drowned out by the thunderous pounding of her heartbeat.

The door slammed behind her with a soul-shaking finality, leaving Lena alone in the silent hallway. Trembling hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as she struggled to draw breath, to dispel the phantoms nipping at her heels.

 The Modern day

Lena's fingertips trailed along the hem of her tangerine gown, lifting the gossamer fabric from the polished marble tiles as she strode quickly down the hall. A crimson droplet, glistening like a ruby, caught her eye – a stark contrast against the pristine white tile floor.

Her gaze swept the deserted hallway, ensuring no prying eyes lingered nearby before her fingers danced along the neckline of her dress lowering it and exposing her bra and glowing harness. the shimmering chronal accelerator brace adorning her slender chest.

 In an instant, Lena's form blurred, bathed in an ethereal azure glow as her molecules thrummed with energy. As swiftly as it began, the vibration stilled, leaving her poised and focused. With a featherlight touch, she traced the scarlet bead, The droplet's azure glow pulsed faintly as it hovered in the air, tracing an ethereal path down the deserted hallway. Lena's heels clicked softly against the polished tile as she followed the shimmering trail, the flowing lines of her orange dress gathered up to avoid dragging.

Reaching the ornate door at the end of the corridor, she paused as the liquid bead shattered against the solid wood like a tiny comet. A thin line of golden light leaked out from beneath, confirming her suspicion that someone - or something - lay within.

Lena's grip tightened around the handle as she pulled it open a fraction, just enough to peek inside. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, body tensing instinctively as she strained to detect any voices or sounds of movement over the eerie silence..

Lena felt the tension in her shoulders release as she peered through the cracked door, allowing herself a soft exhale. There was no threat awaiting her after all, just Brian and Amelie enjoying a private dance together in the dimly lit room.

She watched them sway gently to the unheard melody for a few moments, an unreadable expression flickering across her features. Amelie's head rested against Brian's shoulder, her blue skin and dark hair melding with his crisp blue suit in the soft golden light.

Whatever tender moment they were sharing, it was clear Lena's presence would only intrude. With a faint frown Lena eased the door closed with a featherlight touch, sealing away the vision of Amelie and Brian swaying together in their tender embrace. A melancholic ache blossomed in her chest as she turned away from the intimate scene, stiletto heels whispering against the floor.

Her fingertips drifted unconsciously to the azure gemstone nestled between her collarbones. Its soft pulsations echoed the cadence of her heartbeat as Lena traced the hairline fractures webbing outward - a constant reminder of all she had endured. All she had lost.

Trailing droplets of ethereal blue marked her path down the shadowed corridor, remnants of the ghostly trail evaporating like ephemeral memories. The distant sounds of laughter and music reached Lena's ears, alto and tenor voices intermingling in discordant harmonies. Part of her longed to join the ceaseless whirl of the grand gala once more. But another part recoiled at the thought of submerging herself in that sea of bodies and feigned happiness so soon after witnessing her ex and her friend dancing like lovers.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as Lena emerged into the kaleidoscope of colors and movement. Instinctively, her gaze scanned the crowd for any sign of Angela's sunshine tresses or Hana's vivid pink attire amidst the swirling dancers. Yet her two closest friends remained curiously absent, at least for now. A fleeting tendril of gratitude unfurled within her - Lena wasn't certain she could face them while this storm of conflicting emotions still churned inside.

Chewing her lower lip, Lena allowed the ebb and flow of the festivities to sweep her back into the bustling current. Plastering on a bright smile, she endeavored to immerse herself in the party once more. Yet the specter of Amelie's azure form intertwined with Brian's lingered, stoking an uncharitable ember of doubt to smolder in the pit of her stomach.

Why did he care so much for her who tried to kill him? "maybe hes blackmailing her. what would he even want?" Disturbing visions of a broken-hearted Amelie flitted through Lena's mind, swiftly banished by pungent memories of sweat-slicked, tangled sheets and the addictive scent of the other woman's skin.

Shaking her head minutely, Lena willed away the intrusive memories. She smoothed her features into an easy grin once more and rejoined the revelry, determined to focus on the situation later.