Chapter Text
Widowmaker looked up at the beep and slide of the door, followed by the gentle clatter of tableware.
"Oh, um... Sorry, love. Were you sleeping? Didn't realise." Lena Oxton. Great. "Just thought I'd bring you some breakfast, bet you're starving!" Widowmaker watched the girl place a tray on an old steel table. It carried a hot breakfast of scrambled eggs and slightly overdone toast - likely made from bread too stale for anything else - accompanied by a tall glass of orange juice and another of what looked like water; in case she didn't want the juice, Widowmaker supposed.
She's too thoughtful.
"Make that yourself?" Widowmaker asked, not bothering to sit up from lying on the couch.
"Yes, actually. The eggs were supposed to be fried, but, um... you can see how that turned out." Tracer giggled that bright, irritating giggle, settling on the threadbare armchair opposite. Widowmaker frowned.
"I'm not hungry."
"Oh... Well, that's okay! You should still try to eat something, though. Or at least have a drink."
Widowmaker furrowed her brow, studying Tracer's features silently for several moments. She seemed a little uncomfortable, her expression filled with concern. "It's just... you haven't eaten for days," Lena continued before Widowmaker could continue her train of thought. "You keep telling us you don't need to eat much, but you're not on those drugs anymore. Athena's told us your blood sugar levels are low, and-"
"Why do you care?"
Lena paused, blinking. "... Sorry?"
"Are you deaf? Why do you care? Am I not supposed to be the bad guy? Wouldn't it make your job easier if you simply left me to rot in here?"
It's not often Lena Oxton goes quiet, but that seemed to have done the trick. She stared at the other woman, lips slightly parted, and Widowmaker noticed something genuine in her eyes, and she couldn't help but somewhat bitterly admire (and envy) it.
After a few silent moments, Lena closed her mouth and looked away, shrugging with a light laugh. "Amélie wasn't a bad guy..."
"But I'm not Amélie anymore, chérie."
"You're not Widowmaker anymore either, love." Now it was Widowmaker's turn to be caught off-guard.
After another short pause, Widowmaker sat up, tucking her unkempt hair behind her ears. She picked up the glass of water, sniffed it, and took a cautious sip. Tracer's expression brightened.
"It's not spiked or anything, don't worry. That'd be kinda pointless." She giggled once more, and whilst rolling her eyes Widowmaker wondered how she could possibly keep such a peppy outlook on life.