Patient: Morgan Shea, Middle name withheld or unknown, Alias: Scrappup. Approximately eight years of age. Date of birth unknown. Location of birth is an unknown city or town in Australia. Sex: Female. Weight: 25.8 kg. Height: 128. 2 cm. Child is of African/Australian nationality. Both parents are deceased. Legal guardian(s) are Jamison Fawkes and Mako Rutledge. Both have forfeited the child to Overwatch for extensive medical treatment. Monthly payments are to be collected to pay for the child's surgery, room, and board.

Doctor Angela Ziegler reread the information typed in light blue text on the blue holotablet she was holding in her right hand. The familiar of Watchpoint Gibraltar's infirmary surrounded her. The place over time strangely brought comfort to Angela. It was like her second home while it brought stress to other. Perhaps it was because medicine was both work and hobby. Healing the sick and injured was her entire life. It was who she was.

She crossed her left leg over her right leg and she shifted her body in the chair she sat in. The doctor sat close by one of the clean infirmary beds, the first one in the row of beds. Her eyes pulled away from the holotablet and held them on the bed in front of her. It was occupied by a person, a sleeping child to be exact. The blanket was pulled up to the child's chest, her arms rested on her sides, and several pillows angled her head in a 180 degree angle. Her chest rose and fell with each steady breath she took. Tubes connected the IV bags were attached to the child's arm, supplying her with much needed water and nutrients.

This was her newest patient whose information she was reading. The child was barely conscious when she first met her, fighting her hardest to stay alive. The doctor diagnosed her with advanced radiation poisoning and had to perform surgery to replace the child's damaged organs. It was a long and grueling process, replacing one of her kidneys, parts of her liver, sections of her stomach and intestines with synthetic materials. In the end, Angela was successful with the operation.

Angela only came to the infirmary to check Morgan's vitals for the night yet found herself reviewing Morgan's file again. She knew of the situation in Australia was bad, but she couldn't imagine the severity of it all. The child sleeping peacefully in her bed was an innocent byproduct of the event. Though Angela was used to seeing victims of wars on a daily basis, the sight of children caught in the middle of conflict made her heart ache.

Morgan's file was small compared to files of other patients she had in the past. Quite a bit of information was withheld or omitted completely due to Mister Fawkes' lack of knowledge of the child. How could he not know a child's personal information when she was in his care for more than a year? Angela shook her head in disapproval. Mister Fawkes appeared to not be able to keep his thoughts in order when he spoke to her.

The child has been known to show feral tendencies, according to Mister Fawkes. One sentence said. Her missing left leg was caused by an accidental explosion by Mister Fawkes himself. He made it very apparent that it was simply an accident. Improved prosthetics is in consideration for the child.

Angela returned her sight on the child, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. If that was so, she would have to conduct a mental evaluation test along with a routine physical and blood work.

The file went on to list Morgan's interests and dislikes since Mister Fawkes insisted that she should write them down. Angela skimmed over the information, tucking another hair strand from out of her face. The time she spent on Morgan's surgery without assistance went well into the wee hours of the night. Tiredness began to creep up on the doctor. Her eyes started to become heavy and her muscles screamed for the sweet embrace of her bed. She felt herself start to slip underneath the blanket of sleep.

"Angela?"

A woman's voice tore her from the clutches of her exhaustion and the doctor forced her eyes open. It was Lena. She was standing at the end of the child's bed. While the younger woman's body faced her, she couldn't tell if she was looking at her due to the infirmary's emergency lights. The shadows on Lena's face made her appear more menacing than she actually was.

"Lena?" Angela said, caught off guard at the sudden appearance of her friend and fellow colleague. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be asleep?" She sat up straight in her seat.

Lena chuckled, "I should be asking the same question to you, love. You should be asleep too. With all that work you've done today, I woulda wanted to pass out where I stood if I was in your shoes."

"I'm just checking Morgan's vitals," the doctor replied as she closed the tablet and placed the small, USB driver sized object in the pocket of her lab coat. "You can never be too careful. I don't want something to happen due to an error on my part."

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"

How could she not be? Though she was certainly confident of her medical skills, Morgan's sized and the radiation poisoning complicated things. Her body might not be able to heal properly or her body may reject their synthetic organs. There was always a one percent chance of error or failure she had to account for. A small chance for her tiny body to suddenly stop working.

Angela sighed. Lena was right, she was overthinking the whole situation. The chair squeaked a little as she got to her feet and tucked Morgan in. She remembered fondly of her own mother tucking her in bed when she was a little girl.

Lena linked her arm around the doctor's, pulling her away from the sleeping child's bed. "Come on, Angela." Lena whined playfully. "She'll be fine, I promise. Let me make you some tea to calm your nerves."

Angela tried to object but she knew Lena was persistent. She looked back at Morgan as she was dragged out of the infirmary. The doctor maintained eye contact with the child through the window in the door until she was pulled away.

Green was the grass moving like waves in the warm breeze. Blue was the endless sky above the world. White were the fluffy clouds that slowly drifted by. You closed your eyes and fell backwards into the grass with a laugh. Opening your eyes, you stared up at the sky and watched the clouds go by. Everything was at peace, the way it should be. You wondered where Rat and Hog were at. They would like seeing the beautiful view.

A shadow casted over you and a woman giggled, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

You sat up and looked behind you. You gasped as you realized who it was. It was your mother, alive and smiling! Joy overflowed from your body and you leapt into her open arms, nuzzling your face against hers. Oh, how you missed her so much. Her smile, her smell, her touch; all of it you missed dearly. "Ma!" You cried out happily. "Ma, Ma!"

"Your father set us up a lovely picnic," She told you as she sat you on your two feet. Surprisingly, you still had your left leg. As if you never met Rat in the first place. "Come on, sweetie!" Ma shouted and ran off ahead.

You galloped after her. Your mother's white sundress fluttered behind her and she used a hand to keep her sunhat on her head as she climbed up a hill. At the top of the hill, there was a large tree rooted to the ground and your father sat beneath it. He gave you and your mother a friendly wave.

"There you two lovely ladies are!" He said and motioned at the grass in front of him. "I already have everything set up and ready for us!" Before your father, on a white blanket, was a meal fit for a family of three. There were sandwiches, cakes, and many kinds of fruit. All of it were set on clean, white plates and fancy checkered pattern napkins. It all looked very tasty. "Well, don't just stand there," Your father said. "Come on, sit down, and dig in!"

With a nod, you took a seat in front of your father and crossed your legs. Your mother folded her legs to the side and occupied the space to your left. Immediately, your little hands grabbed for a slice of strawberry cheesecake and crammed it into your open mouth. Its taste was deliciously sweet; it had been a long time since you had anything that sweet.

Your mother laughed and she wiped away the bit of cake from the corner of your mouth with her thumb. You grinned up at her and she caressed the side of your face with her hand. Her almond shaped blue eyes looked down upon you, full of warmth and adoration.

"It's time to wake up, sweetheart." Ma said but her mouth moved slower than the words coming out and echoed, "Wake up, Morgan. It's time to wake up."

Wake up? You didn't understand what Ma was saying. Suddenly, the ground beneath you disappeared into a black hole, slowly sucking you into its darkness. Wind whipped through your hair as you scrambled to hold onto the blanket. Your parents seemed farther away now, unaffected by the hole pulling you in.

"Ma! Pa!" You shouted and clutched the fabric tight in your hands.

"It's time to wake up. You need to wake up." Both of your parents chanted.

The blanket tore from the weight and you fell, swallowed up by the hole. "Wake up, Morgan. It's time to wake up…" You heard Ma and Pa tell you from the darkness. "You need to wake up…"

Blood pressure was normal, body temperature was normal, and her pulse was fine. Morning came to Watchpoint Gibraltar. Sunlight peeked through the white curtains of the infirmary's open windows. They waved in the gentle summer breeze, carrying the scent of salt from the nearby seaside. Angela slept well through the night and was relieved that Morgan made through the night also when she arrived to the infirmary. Now that the margin of error was basically nonexistent and she had nothing to worry about anymore. She could breathe a bit easier now.

Angela checked Morgan's vitals for today, tapping away at the tablet she held in her hands. She removed her eyes off the data and looked down at the still sleeping child. The anesthesia would be wearing off soon, it was a matter of time. She prepared tests for when Morgan awakened; nothing too difficult, just some routine check-ups. The doctor changed the IV bags hanging from the metal stands by the bedside with new, fuller clear bags.

A twitch at the corner of Angela's eye made her stop what she was doing and put her full, undivided attention on Morgan. Her little fingers on her left hand curled ever so slightly, gripping the blanket that covered her body. A tiny moan passed through her dry lips and she stirred in her bed. Angela stood by patiently in silence, putting her tablet away and folding her hands on top of one another. The child's eyelids fluttered before they cracked open and focused on the ceiling above.

"Good morning, Morgan." Angela greeted in her friendliest voice. "Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?"

She did not answer her question. Her head turned and her blue eyes stared at her, confusion and tiredness still visible in them. She scrunched up her face and muttered, "Ma?" under her breath.

Angela frowned and replied, "No dear, I am not your mother…" The child's word caused her heart to ache once more. She recalled Mister Fawkes discussing the tragic event of the death of Morgan's parents. Gang violence, he said. She heard that Morgan had to resort to cannibalizing her own father for survival. It was something a child never ever should have to deal or suffer through. The doctor had to approach this with caution. "My name is Doctor Angela Ziegler." She said. "You are at Watchpoint Gibraltar in Overwatch's care."

"Ma," The child repeated, reaching out for the doctor as she tried to get out of the bed. "Mama, Ma, Ma…"

"You can't get up just yet," said Angela, trying to push her back down in the bed. "You have to stay in bed for now."

But Morgan was much stronger than she appeared. She began to thrash about against the bed and the doctor's hands. The child started to scream, her shrill shrieks vibrated in Angela's ears as she attempted to restrain Morgan. Even though she was just a child, Morgan was fighting back fiercely. She needed help.

"I could use some assistance!" Angela shouted to the open infirmary door. She prayed that someone, anyone, could hear her.

Thankfully, someone did hear her plead. It was Reinhardt. The massive man stood in the doorway with a puzzled look on his face. "Angela?" he asked. His good eye stared at the situation before him.

Before Reinhardt could ask what the problem was, Angela ordered in the heat of it all, "Hold her down for me!" and ran off to get something that would calm the child. In a white box on a table nearby, she took out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. The syringe's needle poked the vial's top and she pulled back on the stopper, filling the syringe with a specific amount of the liquid.

Reinhardt held Morgan down by her shoulders. He had no trouble with keeping her still unlike Angela did, as the child kicked her legs and attempted to flail her arms. Angela didn't want to resort to sedatives but she had no choice. The needle punctured the IV tube and she pushed down on the stopper. The sedative trickled down the clear tube, disappearing into Morgan's arm. It had an immediate effect on the child, causing her to become relax and sink into the bed. Reinhardt released the child's shoulders slowly, still holding out his hands just in case of sudden movement.

"Ma…" Morgan mumbled and reached out a hand to Doctor Angela before fading away back to sleep again.

Angela could only sigh loudly as the ordeal soon was over. She discarded the syringe into the orange biohazard waste bin and returned to the man's side. "Thank you for your help, Reinhardt. I did not expect her to be that strong."

"It was nothing, Angela," Reinhardt commented as he rested a large hand on her back. "I couldn't let you struggle by yourself! This child could have overpowered you! How did this happen?"

"She woke up as normal," the doctor explained. "But she thought I was her deceased mother and that is when things got out of hand."

"That is a saddening predicament…" Reinhardt said in a whisper, looking down at the girl. He straightened himself out and said in his usual, booming voice, "Let me know if you need anything else, Angela!" then left the room.

She was by her lonesome again, alone with the sleeping child. Angela smoothed the blankets out and tucked Morgan in as she did last night. The chair nearby the bed welcomed her, inviting her over. With a brush of her skirt under her thighs, she took a seat. Her eyes wandered to an object by her heeled foot. It was an old bag, stashed in the large space under the girl's bed. The bag belonged to Morgan; her personal effects left by Mister Fawkes and Mister Rutledge. She couldn't help but to feel…curious as to what was in the bag. Her fingers clasped the zipper, pulled it back, and folded the flap out of the way.

What piqued her interest out of all the items in the bag was a red book. She took it out but it wasn't a book as she presumed, but a photo album. The cover that surrounded the album was made up of red leather, dotted with dirt and scratches. Her hand brushed across the surface and she looked back at Morgan. It wasn't right to go snooping in other people's belongings but Angela wanted a better understanding of Morgan. A better grasp of her backstory and how she functioned.

Angela opened the album. The plastic inside of it crinkled from the movement.

The first photo in the album was of a woman lying in bed, drenched in sweat with a baby cradled in her arms. Welcome to the world, baby Morgan, said the caption on the bottom of the photo. Next to it was another picture of the woman and the child. The woman was cleaned up in the picture, smiling bright at the person holding the camera. The doctor saw how Morgan could have confused her for her late mother. The resemblance was a bit uncanny except for the cluster of freckles going across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

A flip of the page and more photos awaited for her. There were many pictures of young Morgan that filled the pages. At least she knew that the child's parents loved her so much to document everything she did. A particular picture of Morgan and her parents made Angela smile. Her mother and father stood together as they held Morgan between them. In little Morgan's hands was a potted plant blooming with a large white flower. The flower was so big that it blocked most of Morgan's face. First Non-Irradiated Plant; the caption said. Made her wonder what they were planning. Mister Fawkes never mentioned what they did for a living. Perhaps she could ask Morgan at a later date.

The next page had only one thing under the plastic covering: a handwritten note. It was written in cursive penmanship, more than likely written by her mother. It read:

My dearest Morgan,

By the time you're old enough to find and read this note, your father and I may not be here anymore. Some bad people don't like what we do. It's okay, dear. That's how life is, sometimes. If it comes to that, your father and I want you to leave the country by any means. The world is a big and beautiful place, Morgan. I want you to see it for all its worth. New places and different people; I want you to see everything. I know you can do it. Your father and I are proud of you no matter what kind of person you become. We love you so much. Keep us in your heart and be kind to others.

Angela looked up at the young girl. It was a good choice that she was in the hands of Overwatch. The organization did open up new paths for anyone with to join and work for a good cause. She would help this child see what the world had in store, even though she knew there would be many challenges ahead of her. Her parents' last wish would be fulfilled if Angela had anything to say about it. The doctor was determined.

The photo album returned to its place in the bag, the bag zipped shut, and pushed back in place under the bed.

She would try again with social interaction when Morgan awakened later. Angela hoped things would go more smoothly the next time.