#amesyeuxrien

They’re in the heat of battle when the melody starts its cruel song. It starts quiet. It always starts quiet. Almost...Beautiful, like when he first heard it. Piano keys, wafting notes. Something he might enjoy listening to, if in the right mood....

But like a cancer it grows.

Like a wave in a great black ocean it crescendos and swallows him whole. Over the bullets, over the explosion. It screams in his head and all he can do is scream back. He barely registers falling to his knees, barely registers the blood on his fingers as he claws at his ears.

“Get up.”

Like a bullet through the skull it cuts through the noise, leaves him gasping. The bullets have returned, as have the explosions. He’s on the ground, when did he get on the ground?

“Did you hear me? Get. Up.”

He does. Shaking hands and shaking knees, slowly, he stands. Wide golden eyes catch his own. It would almost be comical, the way they then fell into an annoyed expression. Sadly, he was not aware enough to find it funny at the moment.

“You are uninjured?”

He’s silent for what feels like an eternity before he realizes that she had asked the question.

“I am.”

“Then keep fighting. Survive this battle and you survive the day, oui?”

He stares. He doesn’t want to survive this. Does he? Perhaps the melody would stop if he would.

“And if I don’t want to survive?”

The words come out before he can stop them, and her reaction is nearly as involuntary. Those eyes widen once more, before pulling him behind cover, a miracle he hadn’t been shot.

“You must. If you do not survive…. They will force you to.”

He didn’t know what she meant by theat. Who were they? Force him to? He didn’t like that idea.

“Alright…”

She gave a quick and curt nod.

“And stay with me. We’re exposed right here.”

Yes, he…He was going to protect her…

That was his job.

_____________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t until months later that he was able to repay her.

Doctor O’Deorain had added something to his suit since then. A little something to quiet the music when it got too loud, she had chirped.

He roamed often now. No destination in mind, no thoughts in his head. Just the music and his own footsteps. His eyes would glaze over as he stared at the ground and walked. Slow steps, like sleepwalking. Not daydreaming, that implied that this was something pleasant. No, these were nightmares.

The hallways were cold. They were always cold. It made him rub his arms and shiver. And they echoed like nothing he’d ever heard before. Every step amplified.

Which is why he was so surprised to see her shoes pass him.

He actually jolted as she did so. Even in heels The Widowmaker moved like a spider. Silent. She could have killed him right then and there and he never would have realized he was dead. He shuddered to think of it. There was a reason why she was the best assassin here.

He watched her back. Her shoulders hunched; fists clenched. She was scared.

And once again he couldn’t stop the words before they came out.

“Are...Are you alright?”

She stopped, and he swore that he heard a sob. He walked closer, slow steps.

“Miss…? Are you-“

And the spider pounced.

No.

She was no spider; she was just a woman. And right now, she had thrown herself into his arms. He could barely decipher her apologies and pleas between tears as she broke down.  He exhaled in a sharp action, not realizing that he had been holding his breathe since she had grabbed a hold of him. His own arms lowered, slowly coming around to hold her in an awkward hug.

He glanced around. The hallway was empty except for the two of them. He guided her into one of the empty rooms and helped her sit. The moment he joined her, she was there, crying into his shoulder once more. He learned many things, just from listening. He learned about Gerard. He learned about Amélie . He learned she used to be a ballerina. He learned she used to be her own person. His eye twitched as he listened. There was an awful snake of feeling coiling in his gut. The protector in him rearing it’s head in anger.

HecouldkillthemHecouldkillthemHecouldkillthemHecouldkillthemHecouldkillthem

“I can’t go on anymore like this,” she murmured and oh, her voice sounded so small, so broken, and he felt it.

“Survive this battle and survive the day, yes?” He said. Parroting her own words back to her. She looked at him dumbstruck and then smiled, sadly.

“Oui….Merci…Are……Are you going to report me now, doctor?”

Report her? To whom? Was she in trouble? Would she be?

“No,” He assured, face softening. “No this will stay between us.”

There was a look of relief on her face that shouldn’t have been there at such a statement. What did they do to her?

“Are you alright on your own?”

“Oui. Thank you again.”

“Of course.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Their little acts of rebellion were bound to get noticed.

The music was loud again. Despite Doctor O’Deorain’s device, it had come back. It always would, he knew.

When he had called her name, her true name she hadn’t responded, only turning around to the call of Widowmaker. They had done something to her, something bad. They had taken Amélie away again, AGAIN.

Reconditioning, O’Deorain had said when he asked. She had to visit her doctors every so often to tighten her leash, so to speak. He had stormed out of her office, set on finding her, when the good doctor had rushed out and grabbed his arm. She cooed that it was inevitable. Good for the goals of Talon. Taken his weakening resolve and manipulated it. He didn’t struggle as she took his hand, saying her sweet words and promising to quiet the music again. He had one more lucid thought as she fiddled with the device at his neck.