"Lena, please... For me?" Winston pleaded, offering her a toothy grin. As he realized her expression lacked any kind of amusement, it quickly faded back into a resigned frown. "He didn't respond to the recall, and he could be in danger if Reaper managed to extract his position from Athena's systems!"
Tracer sighed, blowing an errant strand of hair off her face. "But, does it have to be me? I mean... I don't know if I'd exactly be the one he'd want to see after all this time..."
Winston nodded. "Lena, there's nobody I'd rather have by my side running into danger. Besides, it's probably just a broken communicator! If that's the case, then we both know you'd stand the best chance of convincing him to come back to Overwatch!" Noticing that Tracer still seemed to be deliberating, he placed his hand on her upper arm, trying to grip her tiny shoulder as best he could. "You know he doesn't blame you for what happened..."
"What? Ha ha! No, no, that's not it! Wasn't even... thinking about it..." Tracer trailed off, seeing in Winston's eyes that her lie had failed before it began.
"Look, if you don't want to go, I won't force you. But you know how he felt about you. If he'll come back for anyone, it's you." Winston released her shoulder, giving her his best reassuring smile. It was odd to see Lena hesitate about anything, but he had to admit that her trepidation about seeing their old teammate was somewhat justified. He did feel a small twinge of guilt about using Lena to manipulate his emotions, but the reformed Overwatch was the safest place for their old members, now that Talon was trying to hunt them down.
"Oh, alright! I'll come!" With a flash of light, Tracer disappeared from her standing position, reappearing as a comfortable weight on Winston's shoulder. "So, where we headed, big guy?"
Winston smiled, pushing the guilt to the back of his mind as he walked over to a command console, pulling up a large world map.
"His last recorded position was here, in the Northeastern U.S." He pointed to the United States, resting his finger directly on the border between it and Canada. "When Overwatch disbanded, he went rural, a small town that hasn't changed much in the last few years. I'd say we start there. I've got the address, and we can be there by tomorrow afternoon!"
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Tracer zipped off his shoulder, teleporting several meters away. "If I drive, we can be there in time to watch the sun rise!"
"Oh boy... I'm not going to need a barf bag, am I?" Winston joked, eliciting an indignant gasp from his partner.
"Well, after a comment like that, I'll ensure it!" Tracer winked, vanishing in a flash of light towards the runway. Suddenly, Winston felt much less certain of his ability to keep his peanut butter in his stomach on the trip.
Chaos. Panic. Anarchy. But that wasn't anything out of the ordinary on the battlefield, and for Lena Oxton, it was just another day on the job: doing rights and righting wrongs. Talon had attacked their Gibraltar base of operations, a gusty (and stupid) move on their part.
Tracer grinned, feeling the hum of her chronal accelerator against her chest as she built up the energy she needed for her next maneuver. She bounded forward, flickering forward in time to land just behind a Talon grunt, bashing her gun against the back of their head, knocking them out cold. Before they had even hit the ground, she had repeated the attack twice more, leaving two more unconscious bodies in her wake. Not missing a beat, she took off running while her accelerator recharged, opening fire with her pulse pistols to eliminate more enemy agents with ease. The sound of bullets whizzing past her only made her heart beat harder, rushing the blood through her veins to keep her mind buzzing, planning out another blink every few seconds to stop any enemies from getting a bead on her. As soon as she would land, she would already have planned out her next three movements.
"Rubber and glue, boys!" a voice called out in the distance, making her smile. Looking in the direction of the sound, she could see another one of their agents rushing across the battlefield, weaving his way through the oncoming gunfire. The figure was dressed in a tight black bodysuit, with gray armor plating around his most vital areas and joints and glowing violet lines down along his limbs. His head was uncovered, except for a pair of dark blue sunglasses. Some of the bullets looked as though they were hitting him, but simply ricocheted off, more often than not hitting other enemy soldiers. After a few seconds, he had reached the same area as her. Making a jump in his direction, she landed behind him, opening fire on the soldiers closing in behind him.
"Watch your back, Rebound!"
"Heh, right back at ya, Tracer!"
She could hear the sound of more ricochets behind her, proving that he was guarding her just as much as she was him. Between the two of them standing back to back, the soldiers around them fell like dominoes. She felt the heat and buzz of a bullet passing by her head and into the back of Rebound's, only for the soldier to drop, a smoking hole in his own helmet.
"Hit the deck, Trace!" he shouted. Lena could already feel his body beginning to give off heat in waves, and she quickly made herself scarce, zipping as far as she could away to safety, gaining the best vantage point she could on a catwalk above. Looking back at the scene below, she saw the violet lines on Rebound's body glow blindingly bright before bursting into purple flame. Running forward, he began to tear through the enemy lines, using his bare hands to launch them backward, resulting in more broken bones than she cared to throw an estimate towards. The rest panicked, opening full fire on the new threat, only to find their own bullets sent back to them, quickly ending the fight. The few remaining soldiers turned tail, fleeing from the scene and leaving the area clear of assailants. Rebound moved back to the center, the flames finally dying out again, leaving even the original violet glow faint and flickering. His whole body was showing signs of exhaustion after the feat, his shoulders slumped and his knees bent weakly, as if they were struggling to hold up his own body weight. Looking up, he waved to her, signaling an all-clear.
"Sure that wasn't a bit excessive, love?" Tracer called out, dropping from her vantage point and blinking forward, stopping the fall from hurting her. "You've GOT to tell Winston and I how you do that some time!"
"Heh, guess I just have a guardian angel..." Rebound reached up, removing his glasses and craning his neck. "Ugh... I'm definitely going to feel most of those bullets in the morning... Especially this one!" He rubbed his hand along the back of his head, returning it with a red stain of blood. "If that had been anybody else, that head shot would have been the end of your teammate, you know!"
"Oooh, might wanna have Mercy take a look at that, Ree!" Tracer cringed at the blood, knowing exactly which bullet it had been. "Sorry about that, one slipped by me! At least you got the sucker back!" She clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him forward in his weakened state.
He rolled his eyes, straightening his posture and stretching, pressing his own palms into his lower back with a chorus of pops and cracks.
"So... after all this is done... Are you going to be busy tonight, Lena?" He asked, stretching his arms over his head.
Tracer tried to hide her cringe, turning away from him. It wasn't that Rebound wasn't a nice guy, or anything, she just didn't feel THAT way towards him. They were great on the battlefield, but she just didn't connect much with him off of it. Other agents tended to get out and socialize, interact with one another like family. Rebound was still a new recruit, and he had attached to her from the moment he joined, not even trying to make any other friends. He was great backup, but sometimes she would get a little uncomfortable with how much he gravitated towards her.
"I mean, I know that new movie's coming out... That one you wanted to see, with the all-omnic cast? And maybe we could grab... dinner?" He seemed to be quickly losing his confidence as she looked away.
"Jay, I'm sorry, but I'm still not looking for a relationship, okay? Let's get going, this attack isn't over, yet!"
"Okay, okay! I just thought, you know, you might've changed your mind! Never hurts to ask, right?" He tried to play off the awkwardness with a laugh, but it only served to make them both more uncomfortable.
"Anyway, I think I've caught my breath," he muttered, looking down at the faintly glowing lines on his outfit. "I'll need another minute or two before I start reflecting again, but I can get on the move well enough."
"Alright, I'll go on ahead! Try to keep-"
She saw the flash of light in the distance, but it didn't register until it was too late. She felt a heavy force strike her from the side, shoving her violently away and into the ground. The fall left her dazed for only a moment, but it was enough for the truth to make itself clear. It was then that she finally heard the low-toned whiz of a high-caliber bullet and the pop of a broken sound barrier.
Sniper. The light had been a muzzle flash.
She had to move before they could get another shot. She didn't even bother getting up on her own, zipping forward in the direction the bullet had come from and hitting the ground running. She gave it everything that she had, moving in a zig-zag pattern from one flash to the next to avoid making herself an easy target again. The world washed by in a haze, her eyes fixated on her goal. Finally, feeling her accelerator beginning to give the telltale whine of a dying power charge, she reached down to her waist, retrieving a pulse grenade and activating it. She gave her attack one more flash, this time propelling her up into the air, and she hurled it with all her strength onto the roof of the nearby building. Her explosive payload unleashed, she used the remaining energy left in the chronal accelerator to pull herself back along her own timeline, retreating back to her point of origin and landing on her feet as the explosion rocked the building, now far away again. The sniper was either gone or dead.
"Phew! That was a close one! Glad you got such good reflexes, Rebound, or I'd be-" Her banter came to a screeching halt.
Rebound was laying on the ground, his head tilted to the side in a pool of his own blood. A smoking ricochet mark in the concrete sat to his left by his head, as well as his sunglasses, the left lens totally shattered.
"NO! Nononononono! Ree!" Tracer rushed over, afraid to touch him at first for fear of his injury worsening. After a moment of examination, she picked up his head in one hand, cradling it and keeping him out of the puddle of blood. Raising her other wrist to her mouth, she activated her communicator.
"Agent down! I repeat, agent DOWN! We need healing! PLEASE! We need HEALING!"
"Lena?"
"Huh?" Tracer snapped out of her trance, back at the wheel of their jump jet. Winston had reached around her seat, tapping her on the shoulder.
"Are you alright? You're gripping the controls like you're trying to break them..." He pointed to her hands. Looking down, she realized that she was holding them so tightly, her bones were straining and aching under the pressure. The jet was pushing the engines to their limits, traveling as fast as she could make it. Shocked at her own actions, she released her grip completely, hovering her hands above for a moment before quickly taking back control with a much more appropriate grip.
"Heh, sure! Just been thinkin' a little too hard! Nothing to worry about, love!" She chuckled, trying to laugh off the situation. It had been a while since she'd been on "autopilot," so to speak, but getting caught up in her own memories had done the trick.
Winston didn't seem to be comfortable with her answer, but he didn't say anything, resting back in his seat.
"Well, according to my GPS, we should be getting close. If we hurry, we may be able to check his last location before the sun comes up! That would certainly be easier than trying to explain two known criminals walking around in broad daylight..."
Tracer nodded, looking out over the land below them: long, lush forests, periodically punctuated by a lake or an open field. Even in the moonlight, it was beautiful, like she had flown herself into a painting. It was a nice reminder of why the bird's-eye view had always been one of her favorite things about flying.
It didn't take them long to find a clearing to land the jump jet, and they took off from there, following Winston's GPS as the moon dipped below the horizon, leaving them under the cover of only the early morning twilight. They quickly came across the town he had mentioned, and Tracer couldn't help noticing that Winston had been right: buildings of brick and mortar that looked decades old, houses that looked as if they'd had no change to their architecture in at least 50 years, barely any holographic tech aside from what was provided by the local government, like stoplights and other traffic regulation, and a few flashy signs above the few local shops and restaurants that could afford them. Trees hemmed in the town from every side, as if it had to fight simply to keep back the very forest it had been carved from. With the sun not even peeking out over the horizon, only a few early birds were awake and already in their cars on their way to work.
Thankfully, they were able to avoid the more busy streets on their way to their destination, taking dirt-paved back roads to a small house on the outskirts of the town. Looking over to her traveling companion, Winston gave her a nod, walking to the side of the house and out of sight as she approached the door. Taking a deep breath, Tracer rapped her knuckles against the door.
"Um, hello?" Is anybody home?"
There was a short pause of silence, then a click and a rattle as the knob turned from the inside. The door opened to reveal an omnic standing inside. Unlike Zenyatta and many of the omnics she had met in King's Row, Tracer noticed that this omnic seemed to have most of its parts covered by a smooth, white outer shell, protecting it from the elements and giving it a smooth, curved look. It had a small slot where the mouth would have been on a human and two glowing blue eyes. Its outer casing was shaped to narrow towards the waist, then spread out again, similarly to a human woman, ending in a single leg-like appendage with two wide treads touching the ground. A small Overwatch emblem sat on her shoulder, almost out of place on the smooth white surface.
"Hello!" a friendly feminine voice chimed as the eyes brightened and two small pieces slid into place beneath the eyes, mimicking a smile. "It has been some time since our last meeting, Miss Oxton! I am very pleased to see you!"
"Lethe?" Winston's voice called out as he stepped back around the corner of the house. "Is that you, Lethe?"
"Indeed, Winston!" Lethe quickly identified the source of the voice, turning to lean out of the door and face him. "You look healthy, if not a little hefty! Have you been maintaining your gene therapy properly?"
Winston nodded, chuckling. "I'll admit, I've let myself go a bit since the glory days! It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Indeed." With a soft whir of motors and servos, she turned back to Tracer. "So, may I ask to what I owe the pleasure of your unexpected company?"
Tracer and Winston glanced at one another, somewhat sheepish.
"Well, to make a long story short, Talon's back at it," Tracer confessed. "They're trying to bump off all of Overwatch's old members. They might even be trying to escalate tensions into a whole new Omnic Crisis!"
"So... We're getting the old gang back together. The safest thing is for us not to be alone, and we're going to go and stop whatever it is Talon's planning." Winston stepped up behind her.
Lethe recoiled slightly, as if shocked, then mimicked a sigh.
"I would surmise that this means that you are looking for Jason?"
They both nodded.
"Come in."
Following their hostess, Tracer stepped into the house. It was a tight fit for Winston, but he made it through the door, as well. The inside of the house had the same rustic coziness as the rest of the town, painted in warm hues and with plenty of wooden furniture.
"I must warn you, I would consider Jason Faust far from capable of combat. His condition has only worsened since you last saw him. If I had to make a hypothesis as to why, I would blame his lack of visitors following Overwatch's dismantlement."
"Wait, you mean nobody's come to see him?" Tracer felt a twinge of guilt. "Nobody?" She hadn't been over since Overwatch fell apart simply because she didn't have a means to make the transatlantic trip, but she knew there were more of their old members who had retired from service in America. It seemed absurd that none of them would come to see their old teammate.
"Not entirely, but visitors certainly became less frequent." If she didn't know better, Tracer would have said there was an accusatory edge in the omnic's voice. "Doctor Zeigler still makes the time to visit twice a year for check-ups, and Jesse Mccree comes by now and then. Whenever he takes Jason out of the house, however, they both come back reeking of alcohol. While I cannot approve as his healthcare provider, I do enjoy hearing Jason's laughter when they're together." She came to a stop, pausing beneath a door frame that looked as if it led to the main living room. Moving in place, she turned around to face them again. Her eyes were narrowed in the greatest show of aggression her static face could muster.
"If you're here to ask him to engage in combat alongside you, I am not afraid to inform the authorities about your illegal Overwatch activity. He cannot fight. I can and I will drive you both back through that door. We all know that he would quickly lose all recollection that this ever happened."
Tracer and Winston glanced at each other worriedly.
"Is he really that bad? I know Mercy said it would get worse as he got older, but-"
"Yes." Lethe turned around again, moving into the room ahead without another word.
"Jason, you have visitors! They're your old teammates from your time on Overwatch! Tracer and Winston are here!"
"Winston..." Tracer whispered, "We can't ask him to fight! Not if his condition got that much worse!"
"Let's just see how he's doing and decide for ourselves." Winston sighed and adjusted his glasses.
Tracer nodded, trying to trust her friend.
"Trace? Winston?"
Looking back to the doorway, Tracer found herself staring down her old friend, but not the one she remembered. His padded suit had been replaced by a loose button-down shirt and dark sweatpants. His hair was a total rat's nest, obviously several weeks overdue for a trim, and his face had a light dusting of dark stubble. Most noticeably, a jagged scar crossed over his left eye, which had lost all of its color. She tried not to stare at the grotesque scarring, but it took so much effort, it felt as apparent as her staring, anyway. She couldn't tell if the intense judgement she was feeling was from her own conscience, or that unblinking eye.
"Guys! It's so good to see you!" With a gleeful grin, he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Tracer and pulling her tightly against him. After only a second of the unexpected embrace, he was gone again, moving on to clap Winston enthusiastically on the shoulder.
"Man, you guys would not BELIEVE how BORING it is being on medical leave! You lucky suckers get to stay out and on the move, and I'm stuck sitting around all day!" He laughed, tugging on Winston's arm and leading them into the living room. His living room was as simple as the rest of the house. A couch along the far wall, a reclining chair in the center of the room pointed towards a large holo-screen. The latest news report was playing, hosted by a human-omnic duo reporting on an omnic attack in Russia. Tracer couldn't help noticing small notes scattered around the room, stuck to the walls and tables. Some of them were hand-scrawled, others were written in a neat cursive that obviously belonged to Lethe. At the distance, however, she couldn't read them. "Come on, I'll put a kettle on, we can have some wake-up tea! A mint blend always hits the... spot..." His voice trailed off as he stepped through the doorway to the kitchen. His smile turned downwards and his face fell into a confused expression. After a few seconds, Lethe followed in behind them, rolling her way to a cabinet and pulling out a large traditional metal kettle.
"You came in here to make tea for your guests, Jason."
"Guests?" Turning around, his face lit up with joy once again, as if seeing them for the first time. "Tracer! Winston! It's so good to see you two!" he cheered, once again hugging each of them enthusiastically. After a moment, he ran over, taking the kettle out of Lethe's hands.
"I can do it! Come on, Lethe, I'm ugly, not totally helpless!" He chuckled as he walked to the sink and ran the kettle under the tap.
"Scar tissue is not necessarily ugly, Jason. You should maintain your self-esteem."
"Ah, you know I'm joking!" He laughed, placing the kettle on the stove. He stopped and looked down at it, as if to turn it on.
Again, that look of confusion.
He looked up again, glancing at one of the notes above the stove. His smile returned, and the slowly began pushing buttons on the readout, referencing the note every few seconds until the stove top began to glow with heat.
"I vas able to heal ze eye and most of the damage to his skull, but the concussive damage to his frontal lobe may be beyond repair."
Mercy's voice ran through Tracer's mind, a memory that suddenly had much more relevance.
"It may have been better if he had simply allowed ze bullet to pass through."
"So, where were we?" He asked, pulling a small chair up to a small table. "Is Morrison still tanning everybody's hide about weapon accuracy?" He laughed. "The poor guy needs computer-assisted aiming, and then he has the nerve to talk to the rest of us about wasting ammunition!"
Tracer forced a smile. Morrison had been killed in an explosion at Overwatch's Swiss base before they had even disbanded.
"Oh, you know him! Always gotta be the hero! He stole a bunch of the action in the last fight, I was bored out of my skull!" She tried to make her laughter convincing as she grabbed a chair of her own. Winston simply sat on the floor, maintaining the closest thing he could to eye-level conversation.
"What about the rest of the old gang? I've hardly heard from them! It's like I was banished, not on vacation!"
"Oh, you know... Everybody's always just focused on what Omnium we're going after next! Reinhardt's still giving the old spiel, and Genji's still trying to get everyone to just relax!"
"Ha! Like that time that he and Mercy locked everybody out of the weapons lockers so we'd all actually talk to each other off the shooting range?"
This time, Tracer actually laughed genuinely. She had almost forgotten that.
"Oh, Morrison tried so hard to punish her! But she just blew him off!"
Jason started laughing, as well. "'I am NOT part of your army, Morrison!' she kept saying! Oh, that was the BEST! He got SO mad, but he couldn't do anything because she was part of the medical team!"
Even Winston was beginning to chuckle softly, his huge body bouncing up and down with the laughter.
"He got her back, though! Her staff was locked into 'damage boost' for a week after that! She was FURIOUS!"
Tracer burst out laughing uncontrollably, remembering the sight of the angelic doctor running around with a distinctly demonic glare of wrath.
Lethe approached them from the side, setting down teacups and placing a full plate of toasted biscuits in the center.
"Oh! Lethe, did you make tea? You're so thoughtful!"
"Thank you, Jason." She smiled, the lights inside her glowed brighter for a moment before she rolled away again, turning off the stove and returning with the kettle and three tea bags. She quietly placed the bags in their cups and poured the boiling water over them.
Tracer's laughter quickly died away.
"So, Jason..." Winston spoke quietly. "I forget, what was the last mission you went on with us?"
"Huh? Wow, have I been on leave that long? I just was helping you guys over at Gibraltar!"
"Right! Right! Sorry, I've been working so much on Athena's systems, I lost track of time..." He motioned for Tracer to follow him as he stood up. "You think you could excuse us for a moment?"
"Yeah, go ahead!" He grinned, giving them a small wave as Lethe placed a jar of jam to accompany the biscuits, which he eagerly snatched and began to munch upon.
In the living room, Winston sighed, looking down before looking Tracer in the eye.
"I'm sorry, Lena. If I had known he had gotten this bad, I wouldn't have even considered bringing you with me. He obviously can't help us fight."
"No, but we're still bringin' him back with us, right? I mean, we can't just leave him..." Her voice trailed off as Winston avoided eye contact. "Winston, you're joking right? We can't just leave him here, he'd be a prime target for Talon! Reaper could walk right in and-"
"Lena, right now, he's keeping a low profile, he's in a remote location, and he has Lethe to screen his visitors. I don't think that he would be any safer with us than he would be right here."
"But-"
Tracer was cut off my Winston's oversized hand on her shoulder.
"I know. And I wish we could take responsibility for him, as well. But right now, we have more problems that we can't get him involved with. I tracked him down because I thought he could help us, not the other way around." He took a deep breath. "Angela's made some really big leaps in meditech since his injury. Maybe when this new crisis is over she can help him, provided we're not all in prison..."
Tracer looked back towards the kitchen, seeing Jason happily spreading jam across his third biscuit.
"Excuse me..." Lethe spoke up quietly from behind Winston. "But I would recommend returning if you don't want your third greeting today."
Lena and Winston looked at one another, and he gave her a reassuring pat on the back as they walked back into the kitchen.
Seeing them returning, Jason quickly finished his biscuit and washed it down with a long sip of his tea.
"So, let's get down to business, huh, you two?" He quietly crossed his arms in front of him and stared Tracer straight in the eyes, forcing her to try to repress another cringe at the sight of his scarred eye. "I'm guessing you're here for a reason, right?"
"Wh-What?"
"I'm not stupid, Trace. Come on. You guys are here to get me back, right? End my medical leave?" He chuckled, lightly striking his chest with his fist. "I've got the old suit waiting in my top drawer. If you guys need Rebound back, I'm ready. I don't care what the doctors say!"
"You want... to get back out into the fight?" Winston asked, trying to hide the disbelief in his voice.
"Well, yeah! There's lots of people out there that need protecting!" He glanced over at Lethe, who was busy over the stove. "A lot of omnics that need their names cleared. So... Can I pack my bags?" For a moment, Tracer could see the old troublemaker she knew glint behind his intact eye.
Lethe turned ever so slightly to look at them, as if giving them a warning.
"Well, Jason... We... have something to tell you." Winston spoke slowly and deliberately.
Lethe turned to face them completely.
"We've been speaking with Doctor Zeigler and... she says that you're going to have to stay on leave for a couple more weeks. She has some new treatments she wants to try to make sure your eye doesn't deteriorate!"
Tracer nodded, quickly catching on to his lead. "That's right! You'll be back up and at 'em in no time! But we don't want that pretty little eye of yours rottin' in your skull, first! So, just take it easy, okay?"
The glint in his eyes faded as quickly as it had come as his expression fell back to quiet resignation.
"Well, alright... Doctor's orders, I guess..." A halfhearted chuckle slipped out between his lips. "And she's certainly not someone I want angry at ME! I'll leave that for Morrison!"
Tracer faked a laugh for him, and a thought crossed her mind. One that she knew wouldn't leave until she acted on it.
"So, Jay... Have you got any plans for this Saturday?"
"Huh? I-I don't know... My schedule's usually pretty clear... Um, Lethe? Anything?"
The omnic shook her head.
"Well, how about this?" Lena smiled. "It's not going to be a date, but... how about I come by for dinner?"
Jason blinked in disbelief. "Y-You mean it? I mean, you don't have to pity me or anything..."
"Oh, come on! You saved my life! Least I could do is sit down and share a meal with you, right?" she rose up out of her chair and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Just like old times! We can sit and talk about Morrison and Reyes and Doc Zeigler, and I'll tell you about all the Talon-beating fun you're missing out on!" She choked back the lump forming in her throat at his incredulous expression. "Sound good, love?"
"Y-yeah! Sounds amazing!" He quickly began searching around the table for something, but his search turned up fruitless until Lethe appeared beside him, a small compartment in her arm opening to reveal a pen and pad of sticky notes. With a quick nod of appreciation, he grabbed the two and scrawled a note onto the top.
DINNER WITH LENA SATURDAY
"Do you like burgers? I can make burgers!"
She could feel her eyes burning, but refused to let the tears escape into view.
"Yeah. Yeah, a good old American hamburger sounds lovely."
Nodding, Jason tore off the top note and began scribbling on the ones underneath.
NEED BURGER INGREDIENTS
COOK BURGERS SATURDAY
He chuckled nervously as Lethe picked up the notes and rolled away with them, obviously to put them somewhere in plain sight.
"Sorry... Ever since the accident, I've been so bored, I can barely remember what day of the week it is! So I just jot down little reminders now and then! Mercy got me into the habit..."
Winston rose from his sitting position, stretching his legs. "That definitely sounds like Angela's advice. Well, I suppose that we should get going! Everyone's going to be expecting us back soon! Right, Lena?"
Tracer nodded, though she did regret how short their visit was.
"Oh! Well, let me walk you two out!" Jason jumped out of his seat, shaking the table.
It didn't take long to make it back to the front door. As they stepped outside, they could see that the sun had risen during their time inside, lighting the whole down to the point of midday. The morning had already passed them by together.
"Well... Guess this is goodbye until Saturday, huh?" He said sheepishly, pulling her into one last hug.
"Heh, just until Saturday. I'll see you then!"
Winston was the recipient of a hug, this time, as well, and an enthusiastic punch in the shoulder.
"Take care of both of you, okay, big guy? Watch her back while I'm gone!"
Winston laughed, nodding. "I'm pretty certain she can take care of both of us, but you've got it!"
Before he could vanish back into the house, Lena leaned down, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He froze, staring at her with a completely dumbfounded look. The shock gave her a chance to giggle.
"What.. what was that for?" he asked quietly, gingerly touching his cheek.
"I never did thank you for saving my life out there!" She winked, stepping down off of the porch. "It's the least you deserve for taking a bullet for me!"
"Th-thanks..." he whispered. "I mean, you don't owe me-"
"Just, if you need anything..." She held her hand up beside her face, holding out her thumb and pinkie to mimic a phone. "Call."
He nodded, repeating her gesture. "See you Saturday, then!" He called as he retreated back into the house.
"See ya!"
Finally, the two were left back with Lethe at the door.
"So, should I expect your return on Saturday? Or were you trying to give him something to look forward to for the rest of his life?"
"No, I'll be back!" Tracer grinned. "And I think you two will be getting more visitors from now on..."
"Any kind of repetitive travel is dangerous, considering Overwatch's illegal status..." Winston said quietly to himself. "But, memory or no memory, Jason is a part of our family. It wasn't right of us to just pass him over to you like that when we disbanded. We'll definitely be keeping in touch in the future."
Lethe nodded. "Then I'll have to go and get more tea. Thank you, though... That's probably the happiest I've seen him in some time..." The bottoms of her eyes rose up in another expression of happiness. "I know that he will forget everything later, but those brief moments of joy have to be worth something. I'm sorry I was so suspicious of you two."
"No, you were right! We were here to try to recruit him... But you were also right about his state of mind." Winston shook his head in disappointment. "Anterograde amnesia is a horrible thing... Do you have any data on how it's progressed over time? He wasn't nearly this bad when Mercy discharged him!"
"I've been making my own observations, yes. And I will do so for as long as I can. I do fear he might even forget me, one day..." She looked worriedly back towards the house. "However, there is nothing I can do with regards to that day. I merely work for keep him well taken care of in the present."
"I'll be in touch, then. I'm certain we can do something to help."
"Thank you, Winston. I'll look forward to it." With a small wave, she followed him back into the house.
Both of them remained silent for the walk back to the jump jet. There was a lot to think about and a little to say.
As they both clambered into their seats and Tracer warmed up the engines, they finally broke the silence.
"So, you're coming back on Saturday?"
"Yup!"
"Alone?"
"This Saturday? Yes. The Saturdays after that?" A troublemaker's grin fell into its proper place on her face. "If I'm going to have to deal with American cooking, so is EVERYONE ELSE!"