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Rain poured from gutters in slow, heavy drops, onto the crumbling asphalt. The glow of various neon signs seeped around the alleyway walls. Sombra kept her hood low as she dragged Sigma deeper into the alley’s shadows, her grip tight around his wrist.
“Hurry up,” She spoke in a hushed tone
Sigma stepped alongside her, making sure not to step into any puddles. His head lolled, eyes wandering the walls of graffiti stained brick like they were telling him something only he could hear.
“You need to focus, viejito. Come on—” She glanced over her shoulder. No Talon agents yet. Good. “We’re almost there.”
Almost. If the cowboy showed.
Sombra wasn’t afraid, she didn’t do fear, but she was out of options. Getting Sigma out had taken weeks of planning, months of watching Talon twist him up tighter and tighter until even she couldn’t pretend she didn’t see the damage. The experiments. The restraints. The way he’d flinch when someone walked behind him too fast.
She couldn’t stomach it anymore.
And Sigma… he wouldn’t leave without her.
The ridiculous, sweet old man.
Then a figure emerged from the shadows, the warm light from his cigarette painted the ridges of his face amber.
“Well, ain’t this a sight,” Cassidy drawled.
Sombra shot him a thin smile. “Miss me, vaquero?”
“Not even a little darlin’.”
She shoved Sigma gently forward. “We– He needs help.”
Cassidy eyed the scientist with a long, slow look. Sigma stared upward attempting to read the stars above that were covered in a thick layer of city smog.
Cassidy sighed, flicking his cigarette into a puddle. “You sure about this? Overwatch ain’t exactly open-door these days.”
Sombra crossed her arms. “You can get us there.”
“Wasn’t a question if I could. Gettin’ ya in, is the easy part.” He met her gaze, serious underneath the charm. “It’s whether they’ll let ya stay once yer there.”
Sombra didn’t flinch, but her fingers curled tight. “I don’t care about me. I care about him. If they want me gone that's fine, but don’t kick him out!”
Sigma drifted forward, turning toward Cassidy with unfocused eyes. “Do you hear it?” he murmured, almost dreamlike. “The rhythm of the city… like a great, trembling symphony…”
Cassidy blinked slowly then nodded. “Yeah, sure big man. Come on you two.”
Cassidy stepped out first, checking the street with a practiced sweep of his gaze. Sombra followed, dragging Sigma with her, boots splashing into the grimy puddle. The moment they crossed the threshold, sirens wailed somewhere far off.
Cassidy kept a steady pace, coat dripping with rain, metal hand held loose but ready. Sombra stuck close behind him, guiding Sigma whenever he drifted too far. By the time the lights of Overwatch’s base appeared, Sigma’s humming had become quiet, only a tremor under his breath.
A massive outline stepped forward through the light fog, fur bristling against the damp air. Winston adjusted his glasses, scanning them with a mix of caution and disbelief.
“Cassidy?” Winston asked. “Why are you escorting—” His sentence was stopped
Sombra lifted her hands slowly. “We’re not with Talon anymore Winston.”
Winston let out a hearty laugh as a second figure approached.
“Sorry if I find that hard to believe Sombra.” Sojourn, spoke lowly. Her walk was rigid and controlled. “You’re bold showing your face here.”
“Desperate,” Sombra corrected. “There’s a difference amiga.”
Before Sojourn could answer, Sigma began turning slowly in place, mumbling something about gravitation forces beyond our control.
Winston whispered “He’s not lucid.”
“He wasn’t before Talon,” Sombra snapped. “They made him ten times worse. This is the safest place for him.”
A new voice cut through the tension. “What’s going on out here?”
Mercy hurried down the ramp from the command building, staff half-raised, eyes wide as she took in the scene. Rain beaded on her wings, the soft gold light of her Caduceus casting a glow across her face. Her expression shifted from concern to heartbreak the moment she saw him fully.
“Oh… Siebren,” she whispered.
Sigma blinked slowly at the sound of her voice like someone waking from a dream. His drifting steadied. His eyes, usually distant and glassy, sharpened in tiny flickers of recognition. “Hello Doctor Ziegler, are we still meeting for lunch?”
Mercy froze mid-step. The rain between them felt suddenly colder.
“That was…” She swallowed gently, voice soft. “Siebren, that was years and years ago.”
His brow furrowed, not in confusion exactly, but in the stunned realization of time misaligned. He wasn’t there, he was here. Standing in the cold rain outside of an Overwatch base.
Mercy offered a small smile, heartbreak tucked neatly behind it. “But we did have a lovely talk.”
Sigma relaxed slightly, relieved. “Yes, I remember now.” His voice warmed with fondness, gentle, misplaced, achingly sincere. “It was… birds, wasn’t it? Birds… and music.”
Mercy nodded, stepping closer so he wouldn’t have to stand in the cold any longer. She gently pulled him into the overhang away from the rain. The group followed slowly behind postures and tension softer.
Mercy touched Sigma’s forearm, steady and warm. “Siebren… you’re safe now. You’re here. We’re going to help you.”
He blinked again—slow, weary—his voice trembling at the edges. “Yes… yes, I can hear it.”
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Tracer wandered the dim corridors of the Watchpoint, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, footsteps echoing in the silence. The overhead lights were lowered to night-cycle, soft blues, muted whites, shadows that stretched just a little too long.
Normally, this kind of quiet soothed her. And normally, the tinnitus-soft ringing in her ears was nothing unusual. Just some leftover distortion from the chronal disassociation, the constant push and pull of time knotted around her atoms. She’d had the noise for years. Learned to live with it. Learned to treat it like the electrical hum of the base. It’s always there, but ultimately ignorable.
But tonight… tonight it was different.
At first she thought she was just tired. The static sharpened, then faded, then pulsed once, like a finger tapping the inside of her skull. She winced, rubbing the side of her head. But the sound began to morph, into a constantly shifting but coherent melody. Warped and rattled, but unmistakable, there was definitely a melody underneath all the hum and fuzzy distortion.
Tracer stopped walking. Her breath hitched. “Oh bloody hell… not this again.”
She leaned against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. Normally she could quiet it. Breathe. Play music. Push it down until it fell back into the background like always. She blinked rapidly, hand pressing to her chest as if she could steady her pulse through sheer willpower. The chronal accelerator hummed faintly under her palm, steady, normal, and yet the sound beneath it wasn’t.
Tracer forced herself upright, breath shaky. “Okay. Okay, Luv. Just walk. Just… walk it off. Let’s get some sleep, yeah? That’s probably it… just some needed sleep… yeah.”
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Tracer woke to sunlight cutting across her room in thin, sharp bands, too bright, too white. She blinked a few times, trying to shake off the heaviness behind her eyes. The melody was still there.
No longer the warped, needle-thin ringing from the night before. It was the coherent unmistakable melody, now no longer hidden by the cosmic buzz.
Soft. Delicate. Every time she moved her head, it shifted slightly. Like it was following her skull rather than her ears. She stretched, rolled her shoulders, tried to get her breathing even. The melody didn’t get louder. But it didn’t fade either. Just… lingered with a foreboding feeling.
Tracer shoved on her jacket and zipped it halfway, slapping her cheeks lightly. “Right then. Soldier on. Coffee’ll fix it. Or a jog. Or... anything…”
By the time she stepped out into the hallway, her smile was fixed and bright, the way everyone expected. A little cracked at the edges, maybe, but passable. And if she walked a bit too quickly well. No one commented.
She found Lúcio in the main hub, tinkering with one of his speakers. Music pulsed softly from it, a warm, buoyant rhythm that usually lifted her mood instantly.
“Oi, Lúcio!” she called, waving as she jogged down the short flight of steps. “Got a minute?”
He beamed. “Hey, Tracer! You’re up early.”
“Y’know me. Always zippin’ about.” She tried to laugh it off. Tried not to look like she was desperate for whatever sound he was making. “Got any new tracks? Been dying to hear what you’ve been working on.”
Lúcio perked up immediately, eyes lighting with that spark he always got when someone asked about his music. “Actually, yeah! I’ve been mixing a new set for Hana’s charity stream next week. Wanna hear a preview?”
Tracer nodded quickly “Love to!”
He tapped his holo-controls and the volume lifted, bass rolling warm through her ribs. Tracer exhaled slow, relieved. The melody in her head didn’t vanish, but it shrank back, quieter under the overwhelming brightness of Lúcio’s sound. She closed her eyes for half a second, letting the beat wash over her.
“That good, huh?” Lúcio laughed. “Didn’t think it’d be that relaxing.”
Tracer grinned up at him, leaning against the railing. “You kidding? Your music’s always top-notch. Could listen all day!”
From the far side of the room, footsteps echoed softly before the figures appeared. It was Cassidy walking beside Sigma at an easy, steady pace. Not rushing him. Not crowding him. Just staying close enough that if the scientist drifted too far one way or the other, he could guide him back with a light touch to the arm.
“Alright now, big fella,” Cassidy was saying, voice low and warm. “Figure it’s good for you to see the place in daylight. Get used to the halls, meet some friendly faces. Nothin’ to it.”
Sigma nodded, though his gaze wandered up along the ceiling lights as if he saw constellations there instead of LEDs.
As they approached the central hub, faint music spilled into the hallway. Lúcio’s rhythmic, bright melodies drifting through the open doorway like sunlight in sound. Cassidy paused, tipping his hat back a notch.
“Well I’ll be,” he murmured. “Sounds like Lúcio’s workin’ on somethin’ new.”
Sigma didn’t answer, but something in his posture softened, drifting just a little closer to the door, drawn by the sound.
Cassidy clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Alright then. Let’s say hello.” He led Sigma inside.
“That music…” Sigma said softly, voice drifting across the room. “Could the volume be increased?”
Lucio turned around, “Yeah! You're a fan of my tunes?” He turned the dial up and the base resonated deeper within them.
“Of course,” he murmured, a trembling smile forming. “It is delightfully…” His voice softened, trailing into something hushed and quiet.
“…distracting.” By the time the last word left his mouth, he wasn’t really there anymore. His gaze drifted upward to the LED’s again.
“Heya, Siebren?” Cassidy murmured, stepping close giving the older man a firm squeeze on the forearm.
Sigma didn’t blink.
Tracer’s chest tightened. Something about the stillness felt wrong. Not frightening, just empty. Like he had become a hollow vessel in front of them.
Cassidy reached out and wrapped a steady hand around Sigma’s forearm. Not gripping. Guiding. “Hey. Big man.” His voice dropped, warm and coaxing. “You’re alright.”
Then Sigma inhaled, a sharp, jerking breath like he’d been underwater. His eyes fluttered, refocusing, dragging themselves from some terrible distance back into the room.
“I…” Sigma whispered, voice trembling. “Yes. I’m… back. My apologies. I may drift.”
Cassidy exhaled in relief, patting his shoulder. “That’s alright. Long as you come back.”
And right then, the moment Sigma rejoined himself— Tracer’s melody changed.
It wasn’t louder. It wasn’t softer. In it’s discombobulated cohesion it made an error. An unmistakable error. It was as if a pianist had skipped a measure. If you had never heard the song the pianist played you wouldn't have known. But she knew.
She breathed in, teeth clenching.
Lúcio turned toward her, concern flickering. “Lena? Everything good?”
She forced a smile so bright it almost hurt. “Yeah! Just… just tired. Been a long night, y’know how it is.” Tracer’s smile stayed plastered on her face. “Well!” she chirped, voice too high, too cheery. I—I should, um—go grab a refill! Of coffee! Running on fumes, y’know?”
Nobody stopped her. Tracer kept her pace even until she turned the corner. Then she bolted. Running and zipping blindly across the tile, one hand braced against the wall, breath shaking. She nearly stumbled into the lift, slammed the button, and didn’t breathe again until the doors shut between her and the rest of the base.
Only then did she whisper, “Bloody hell… what’s happening to me?”
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Tracer avoided him. It wasn’t intentional at first, it wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was… self-preservation. A tugging instinct that told her being near Sigma made the melody shift in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Like placing two tuning forks too close to each other.
So she kept busy. Ran patrols alone. Reorganized supply closets that didn’t need reorganizing. Sparred with the training bots until her wrists ached. Volunteered for every minor errand no one wanted.
Whenever she heard his humming drifting from down a hall, she made an excuse to turn the opposite way. The melody stayed faint when she wasn’t near him, barely more than a whisper. Manageable.
But sometimes the world felt… off. Off in tiny, insidious ways.
She’d blink, and for half a second the hallway lights looked like distant stars. She’d recall, and she could still feel the vibrating in her bones with the same resonance of the melody. She dropped things. Misjudged her aim during target practice.
Then forgot things, even short stretches of time, gone. That’s what really scared her.
Emily noticed first.
Tracer came home late, slumping against the door frame with the weight of someone twice her size. Emily set down her mug immediately.
“Lena… you’re white as a sheet!”
Tracer blinked, forcing a grin. “Long night!”
“You said that yesterday.” Emily stepped closer, eyes soft and searching. “And the day before.” Emily gently took her hand, thumb brushing across her knuckles. “What’s going on Lena?”
Tracer swallowed. The melody hummed in her skull, thin and trembling.
She squeezed Emily’s fingers back, too tightly. “Nothing,” she whispered. “It’s nothing.”
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Surprisingly time helped. Not much, but enough that Tracer found her footing again. The melody never left, not really, but it softened into something muted and manageable, woven into the background of her thoughts like a thread she’d learned not to pull. Some days she didn’t notice it at all.
Most importantly, she talked to Emily. Not the whole truth, not the cosmic wrongness of it, not the shifting lights or the skipped measures or the way Sigma’s presence made her skin prickle, but enough. Enough that Emily knew something. Enough that she checked in, held her at night, reminded her she didn’t have to pretend to be invincible. And little by little, Tracer felt better.
Until she didn’t.
It happened on a Tuesday, one of those quiet, nothing-special days where she woke up feeling almost normal. She jogged with Lúcio in the morning, helped Winston calibrate a new training bot, reorganized the medbay cabinets for Mercy.
And then—
She stood in the kitchen, staring at an unopened protein bar in her hand. Her heart hammered. She had no idea how she got there. She glanced at the clock on the wall. No idea what she’d done for the last three hours.
She set the protein bar down with shaking hands and pressed her palms to her eyes, fighting the rising panic. Minutes, she could handle the minute lapses. Those were just a blink. But hours?
Tracer forced herself back onto a schedule, desperate to feel routine again. Morning drills. Supply check. Patrol.
The melody hummed faintly, quieter than yesterday. Not gone but whispering, waiting. Like it was waiting before the grand crescendo came crashing it.
She didn’t like that thought.
She was heading down the west hall toward the hangar when she heard delicate footsteps behind her.
She turned. Sigma stood alone in the corridor. He tilted his head as though listening to something far away. And he smiled, not a threatening smile, just a soft smile from a broken man.
“You were lost to time…” Sigma asked, approaching her slowly. “Tell me: do you hear it, too?”
Tracer froze. Her pulse spiked. Her breath hitched. But she still forced a laugh, “Well. I- uh, got a bit of a ring in my ears, I guess?”
Sigma drifted closer, expression soft, almost tender. “Can’t you make it out?”
Tracer’s throat closed.
“The faintest…” Sigma’s voice dropped low, “maddening melody?”
Her vision flickered. Lights shimmered like distant stars. She took a step back. Then another…
“Uh… we should really stay focused,” she managed, voice cracking and giving out a weak chuckle.
But Sigma wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was in his own little world. His gaze lifted toward the ceiling as if the metal beams above them were dusty clouds and the flickering lights were twinkling stars in the sky.
He wasn’t with her. He was listening.
Listening to the thing that threaded through both of them.
The thing Tracer had tried to outrun…
It pressed against her skull now, the melody inside her began to rise, now ready for its crescendo. A rising, spiraling swell, as if some unseen orchestra found its conductor. It built rapidly, vibrating through her teeth, her bones, the marrow in her arms.
The hallway lights smeared into streaks of white, gold, then deep cosmic blues. The tiles beneath her boots rippled like water. Her heartbeat fell out of sync with itself, skipping and stuttering to match the rising, impossible melody.
The crescendo hit its final unwavering unmistakable note. The melody reached a peak so sharp it carved itself through her mind like a blade, and then, all at once—
silence…