This suggestion was given to me by @harley-stuck-30 and it really suck with me.
I’ve always wondered what would happened if the people that loved Gabriel finally got him to come back to them.
WidowReaper Week: Day 5 — What’s In A Name
She can see it in
his eyes. The wistfulness filling his skin. It’s his one chance at becoming
anything close to what he was before. Away from this black hole of Talon and
back to the people and life that he used to have. To going home.
Overwatch forgives him. All those clean, heavenly people forgives him for his sins.
Dr. Ziegler promises to repair his body. The others only want him back home. They miss him. Tracer pleaded with him, calling him Gabriel.
Who is she to be envious?
They keep reconditioning her. It takes weeks before she remembers what touches she desires from her love. What scarce memories they have under the starlight and back alleyways. But that’s only a little time before they make her forget again.
Make her feel nothing again.
She is still the perfect killer. He has had multiple chances to get away from Talon, to be free from his own curse, but he stays. All because of her.
How can she make him suffer like this? He deserves this, he deserves this love and happiness. He deserves redemption.
But Overwatch can’t have her. She has done too much, her sins aren’t as easy to forgive. She can’t go anywhere else, and he refuses to leave her in the dark hospital rooms of Talon where they torture her time and time again.
She has done terrible, awful things, but she will not drag Gabriel into the abyss with her.
So it’s subtle. Little movements away and avoiding eye contact. He doesn’t react, perfectly controlled, but he knows something’s different. She doesn’t ask for his hand, or his kiss. No more silent midnights spent in each other’s rooms. Their touches are few and far in between, and she sees it already making him think. Making him look twice at her.
Her goals are usually to learn prey into her trap, just long enough to pull the trigger and finish the mission. This is the opposite. Piece by piece she’ll ignite their bridge, and he’ll be on the other side. Safe and sound. Happy.
And somehow, it’s so much harder.
He begs her to speak to him on missions where the only other presence is night air. Stiff and cold as her skin, she tells him to focus on the mission. Not even bothering to look at him, as if he’s a distraction.
His words are few and afar in between afterwards.
The day before they take her away again, the oblivious, lovely man removes his mask. To bear his skin and soul to her, but she only tells him to not look at her. She says it’s better to keep it on.
She’s almost glad for the reconditioning that night. Just to briefly forget that broken gaze from his dark eternal eyes.
“Amelie.” He whispers, begs, to her one night.
She only glances over at him. Weeks have gone by, and he’s already wearing thin when she’s withdrawn so far away from him.
“Please, talk to me.”
“What is there to talk about?” Her cold form holds still as she delivers another blow. “There is a mission we must complete.”
He doesn’t beg again.
Standing side by side is a new world of struggle, she strengthens her resolution. It’s keeping herself from touching him, from whispering ‘ma chérie’ into his throat. The sole comfort and reassurance she receives from his warm body pressing close to hers.
She can’t be weak. She lets the reconditioning take her heart.
Months have drained away what made either of them alive in this forsaken place. All because of her cold and calculated movements. Their bridge nearly destroyed.
“Amélie,” he whispers. The night feels cold with anticipation. Not numb and empty as she should be.
“That is not my name,” she cuts with her cold blade. Watching him withdraw farther away from her reach even though his body does not move.
This is how it should be.
“Then go.” She speaks, looking him dead in the eyes just to press the knife in deeper.
“Come with me.”
Why is he still here?
“Please…” His hand tries to reach for hers. “Amélie.”
Snapping her hand away, just as easy as snapping a bird’s wing, she doesn’t falter.
He needs to go, before it’s too late.
But he’s the only sunray in the dark.
She is the dark.
He needs to be happy.
“There is nothing here. There never was, Gabriel.” She twists the blade, ripping it farther in his smoke and pain filled body. All his suffering and revenge will be lifted with his return to Overwatch. He’ll live, and he’ll know joy, and he won’t suffer because of her damaged soul.
He’ll be free.
He steps back, away from her and away from Talon.
She lets him go home.
They recondition her once again. All the emotions gone and her strength returning. The cold emptiness filling her chest cavity is welcomed with open arms.
The pain of him is gone.
The joy of him is gone.
And Widowmaker let one man live.