What up nerds! It's ya author, Faye. Here for an Athena-centric fic because I'll be damned if my girl don't get any attention from Blizzard. Hold onto your pants; it's gunna be a ride.

Reaper's attack had changed everything.

The Recall was not Athena's idea. As Overwatch's AI, she had a duty to protect and serve her agents, and part of that duty included keeping them out of trouble. Disobeying the Petras Act was trouble. Going against the United Nations was trouble. The initiate the Recall was to pull her agents into a world they could no longer legally enter. It could cost them their freedoms, their lives… But despite her fears, Winston assured that merely sitting back and waiting for another attack was also asking for trouble—both for the two of them, and for their agents still spread across the world.

The AI did not have to like it, but she would admit that Winston had a point. At least if her agents were there, she could do her best to protect them. Repair and upgrade their security systems, work hand in hand with Torbjorn to get their self-defense systems back up and running… Yes, it would be much safer to have her agents there, with her, and not out in the wide world with no idea that Talon was after them.

So Athena accepted the Recall begrudgingly, and set about preparing the Watchpoint for her agents' return.

The first thing she did was quarantine and wipe the Reaper's virus. It had taken several hours, but eventually her diagnostics systems declared the Watchpoint's hard drive virus free, and her systems showed no trace of Talon's tampering. For all Reaper's intentions, his attack had left them none the worse for wear, and he had escaped with no useful information. Her programming and self-defense systems had saved them all, even the agents that Winston had insisted on recalling to their service.

Day after day passed since the Reaper's attack, and before long the week became two, and then a month. Her agents returned. First, Lena Oxton; Overwatch's poster girl, and one of the youngest people to ever join Overwatch. She seemed eager enough to be back. It wasn't long before the Watchpoint was filled with her laughter. Soon, Fareeha Amari followed, and then Genji Shimada. Their voices joined Lena's. Before long, more agents were steadily trickling in, until their numbers had reached ten. Not much, but far more than they had started.

Two months later, they were still growing strong. The Watchpoint was becoming the home they had all once known, and it didn't take long for new agents to join their ranks.

"We'll have to make a supply run soon," hummed the AI. Her cameras—the eyes and ears of her programming—stayed focus on the de-facto leader of Overwatch. "Between Reinhardt's insisting he get back into shape and Ms. Zhou's cooking for the entire team, we'll run out of supplies within four-point-seven days."

Winston grunted, rolling to lean in his chair. Her internal clock revealed it was nearly midnight; not the best time to be discussing supplies. Still, she pressed on, as was her job.

"It is either that, or we dip into the MREs in the storage room."

His disgusted sigh gave her the answer she needed. If Athena could smile, she would have grinned from ear to ear.

"I'll have Ms. Zhou and Dr. Ziegler create a shopping list. Would you like to make the supply run?"

"Let them do it," he replied, and glanced over at her portable screen. His lips curved subtly, a sign of the person he had once been, before the UN shattered it all. "And, please, ask them to stop by the book store while they're in Gibraltar. We could use the entertainment."

"Acknowledged. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment, Athena, thank you." This time, he rolled off his chair, onto his feet. She lowered the light to half brightness. "It's late. Try to get some rest, please."

"I make no promises, Winston." Humor colored her tone. She watched, warmth filling her programming, as he hopped from the catwalk to the floor below. Floor lights brightened, to light the way out of the laboratory. "It is a quarter to midnight. Do not stay up late rereading Hawking."

He paused, chuckled.

"No promises."

She turned the lights off behind him, ensured that he returned to his quarters without any trouble—and promptly pulled up Spider Solitaire.

A hundred games later, the game stopped responding, and then forcibly closed itself. The AI made a noise of confusion, but shrugged it off. Computer games weren't as finely programmed as she was. At best, she'd just have to reopen it. At worse, she'd have to restart her last game. She ended the program at its base, and then reopened it. The new game had yet to fully distribute its full deck when the program once more froze.

And in its place stared a large purple skull.