When Brigitte is awoken the next morning it's to see Dr. Ziegler waiting at the foot of her bed. She has good news; she's releasing Brigitte from the med bay today. Evidently Brigitte has shown enough improvement that the good doctor no longer fears a sudden relapse of her symptoms. Angela clears her to light duty only, with a sworn promise from Brigitte that she won't do any heavy lifting or strenuous exercise for at least two weeks.
"I will be returning to Switzerland for a few days to finish up some things," she tells Brigitte, handing her a bag with her clothes and toiletries neatly packed inside, "I will give you my personal number; please do not hesitate to call me if you experience any new or worsening symptoms."
Brigitte is given an empty room near the front end of the hall, opposite Lúcio's. For the first time she gets to see the inside of an agent's personal quarters...if it can be called that. They're more like dormitories, the way they're packed so close together.
A quick test of the bed reveals a need for a mattress cover and more pillows. Maybe even one for the ceiling; she takes one look at the proximity of the bunk to the stone overhead and predicts that she's going to bang her had at least once. Maybe she ought to un-loft it until her brain heals…
She makes a mental note to give Reinhardt her updated list of things. Personally she would love to go into town and pick it all out herself, but somehow she thinks that a girl with a black eye is the sort of thing that would get noticed.
Later that day her father sends along instructions for getting his defense system back online, as well as a schematic of their locations. She spends the rest of the day working on it; first to restore it and then doing general maintenance on each of them. The ones outside require special attention, having rusted in the salty air.
Over the next few days she learns the layout of the Watchpoint; exploring each nook and cranny. She is interested in the gym (it has a decent array of weightlifting equipment), but more interested in the three practice ranges. Those are something she needs to use, but as she has promised, she won't do anything strenuous.
On the third day after departing, Angela returns with the rest of her medical equipment in tow. The fourth day after Brigitte's release from the med bay, she is eating breakfast with the rest of the agents (minus Winston) when Angela arrives late to breakfast. The doctor has in tow with her someone who Brigitte has never seen, yet who is instantly unmistakeable.
Genji Shimada.
Stories of the cybernetically-enhanced ninja agent of Overwatch were numerous, and fantastic. Having never seen him in action, Brigitte didn't know how many of the things Reinhardt has told her are true (can he really parry a hundred bullets with nothing but his sword?) but he certainly looks every inch a deadly warrior, all sleek metal and sharp edges. His enhancements are nothing like her father's-Genji's are sculpted, almost organic in appearance in places; still more man-like than machine. He's talking to Dr. Ziegler in a low voice when they enter the mess hall, but the conversation stops when all attention turns towards them.
"Good morning, everyone," Angela waves at the sleep-tousled agents and gestures to Genji, who steps forward. "Room for two more?"
Genji inclines his head towards them all, bowing slightly at the waist. "Greetings," he murmurs, hands clasped in front of him. His voice, Brigitte notices, is even, soft, but with a curious metallic timbre. Reinhardt and Lena both jumped up from the table to greet their old comrade. Bombastic Lena, laughing and exclaiming her welcome excitedly wraps him in a hug, while Reinhardt reaches out to grasp his hand firmly and then pats him on the back so hard that Genji's feet scrape a little on the floor.
"Genji!" Reinhardt booms, "This is Brigitte-she is my squire, and Torbjörn's daughter. She has been maintaining my armor these past few years, as well as designing her own!" He sweeps a hand out, indicating that Brigitte should come forward.
Brigitte does, unsure of how she should greet him. She settles for offering her hand, just as Reinhardt had done and he shakes it. His fingers, though metal, feel warm.
"Hello, Brigitte," he says, releasing her hand. "I am Genji Shimada. It is good to meet any friend of Reinhardt's."
She can't see his eyes through the visor covering his face, but she thinks his gaze holds a little longer than normal. Probably the bruising. It's faded a lot, but is still a nasty, mottled green. "Um, thanks!" she replies, self-conscious, "it's nice to meet you too."
"And this is Lúcio!" Lena chirps, skipping back to the table and placing her hands on the DJ's shoulders. "He's our newest recruit - he's got some really cool tech, and our own Dr. Ziegler has taken him under her wing to teach!"
"Lenaaa you're embarrassing me!" Lúcio mock-whines, and ducks his head away. He stands from the table and Genji comes over to shake his hand as well. "Uh, hey. Nice to meet you."
"And you as well." Genji acknowledges, taking a seat with them while Angela goes to load up her plate. "If Dr. Ziegler has taken you as her pupil, I am sure you will become an excellent healer."
Lúciorubs a hand on the back of his neck, embarrassed by the compliment. "Man, I hope so! I'll do my best."
The cyborg does not eat, merely sits with them while they finish their meal, occasionally joining in the conversation until the last scraps of food are being scraped from their plates. Then Lena asks, "So, how have you been getting on Genji? Been up to anything in the last couple years?"
"These last few years I have been many places," Genji says, sounding faintly amused, "I spent some time in the mountains under the tutelage of my master, who guided me to seek greater understanding of myself. Through him, I was able to seek out my brother and reconcile with him."
"Wow, that's great Genji!" Lena gushes, though Brigitte notices that Angela's expression has become politely interested at best; a strangely plastic expression that doesn't meet her eyes.
"I think it very likely that he will come in search of me. Please, do not be alarmed if a stranger appears on your doorstep in the upcoming weeks." He bows his head, as if asking forgiveness.
"You didn't bring him with you?" The words are out of her mouth before Brigitte can stop them. She would have thought such a reconciliation would warrant, well...actual closeness. It sounds as though Genji's brother is hunting him down!
"No. I'm afraid our reconciliation has been some time in coming. He was surprised to see me, and as such has had to make some difficult choices. He and I were both raised as assassins, he, more strictly than I - he finds it easier to observe before making a decision. Thus, he follows me." Genji raises his head, tilting his visor to look towards one of the high windows. "I cannot stay here long. I came only to acknowledge the call and pledge my aid. I must journey back to my master; I wish for him to join our cause. I believe he would be of great assistance."
"Aw, you only just got here!" Lena's disappointment is palpable.
Genji tilts his head to her, contrite. "My apologies. I will endeavour to return quickly with him."
After breakfast Genji and Angela part ways from them, and Brigitte does not see the cyborg again that day. She does however receive word from her father - he is returning to the Watchpoint in four days time, bringing his caravan of equipment. When she hears this she begs him to detour Reinhardt's castle on the way; she desperately wants to get ahold of her tecra-magnesium so she can resume work on her new shield. This leads to an awkward conversation - he's suspicious as to how she managed to forget such a vital piece of equipment, so she has to come up with an excuse quickly. Her excuse? That Reinhardt had distracted her by busting one of the propulsors on his rocket hammer in the process of loading it. It works, but it leaves her with the dilemma that she still has to tell him the truth; there will be no hiding it when he arrives.
That evening Dr. Ziegler brings her to the med bay to have her staples removed. The wound has progressed well into healing-even more quickly than the doctor had expected. The flesh has healed around the base of the staples, so Angela has to tug quite firmly to pull them out. One apology and a sore scalp later, Brigitte is free.
The next week Brigitte starts creeping off to the bluffs early in the morning before breakfast. She wants to do some light training, but is afraid that if she uses the practice ranges or the weight room that she'll be stopped by a well-meaning Reinhardt or Angela.
It's quite nice out there; the cool breeze coming off the ocean, the warmth of the sun as it slowly creeps over the horizon and the cries if the seabirds as they take to the sky is meditative. She's able to move through exercise forms and clear her mind at the same time.
One morning as she looks over the cliffs she thinks she spots a flash of gold, but it disappears before she can track it.
Brigitte finds that she isn't being as sneaky as she had hoped when she slinks down late to breakfast one morning, a little out of breath. She had gotten distracted watching a distant tanker sailing by which had forced her to test the integrity of her lungs with a run back. Normally she'd wait a few minutes before entering the hall to regain her breath and her normal color, but she's too hungry for that today. She catches Reinhardt eyeing her suspiciously over their food, but ignores it. It's only when she's the last one washing her dishes that he corners her.
"Shildlein, have you been...exercising?" he blurts the accusation out at her, disapproval evident in his tone. Really, he acts like he's caught her destroying his armor.
"Yep!" she says, acknowledging her guilt easily. She isn't ashamed of it, and Dr. Ziegler hasn't expressly said 'no exercise.' "Why?"
"You know you're supposed to be resting!" he growls, crossing his arms. He's trying to look all big and disapproving blocking the door but she knows how to shatter that illusion instantly.
"Angela said I could resume light duty. She didn't say I have to take to my bed until my bruises heal!" she gets close enough that he can't avoid it when she reaches out to poke him sharply in his side, a known ticklish spot. His posture breaks down as he flinches away from the touch. "Besides, I'm not doing any heavy lifting. Just forms." she says the last bit gloomily; she can't wait until she's cleared to weight lift and spar again. The more weights she lifts, the more she can eat! She passes through the now-unblocked door and looks back over her shoulder. "Promise. Come out to the cliffside tomorrow morning at six and you'll see."
That's how Reinhardt ends up joining her in the mornings. They resume sparring-though it is much slower, gentler, and well away from the bluffs. Without the padding each strike must be pulled to avoid injury, and Reinhardt is going easy on her. He's hesitant to grab, throw or hit and it's obvious why. Aside from taking care regarding her injuries, she catches him sometimes with his guard down. Usually when he thinks she isn't looking, the expression in his face is one of quiet melancholy. Like it hurts him to look at her.
Gradually as her bruises fade so too does that look.
Her father's return is what she's been greatly anticipating. The day of his arrival she can scarcely stop herself from waiting around all day in the hangar, where the hidden entrance from the road is. She eventually gives up on trying to avoid the hangar and resigns herself to tidying the area up, dusting and organizing shelves, then even sweeps the massive place out. It's nearing eleven when she hears a rumbling that grows louder and louder, until out of the tunnel-like entrance comes an enormous red trailer.
The trailer circles in the huge hangar before parking squarely in the middle, and even before the engine is cut and the door is thrown open she is running towards it.
"Papa!" As soon as he exits the vehicle he's wrapped up in a bear hug. She knows now that he's here she can't disguise her injuries any more, but her happiness at having him here eclipses that.
"Been awhile since I've seen ya, hasn't it?" he grunts, but the tone of his voice is pleased. "Did ya manage to get the turrets up and runni - what happened to your face?!" As they break from their embrace he finally takes a good look at her and almost shouts in alarm. The bruises are faded greenish-yellow now, but still apparent. At least he can't see the scab still marring her scalp.
"That's kind of a long story," she says, embarrassed. They are currently the only ones in the garage, so maybe it's best that she tell him before the others show up. "Well, about a two weeks after the recall Reinhardt received a letter-"
She pares the story down to it's essentials; the request, the omnic relics, the firefight and the flight back.
"Dr. Ziegler said I had a fracture and a bleed in my skull but she didn't need to operate. My last scan showed the blood is all gone now though and my fracture is pretty much healed, I'm almost totally back to normal!" she finishes, trying to end on a good note.
Her father has stood mostly silent through her recollection of the events, but she can see his face getting redder and redder behind his beard.
"And ye didn't think about tellin' me this before now?!" he exclaims, waving his arms in exasperation, "You could've died! I knew traipsing all over the countryside was dangerous, your mother and I shoulda never allowed it! Why she'd never forgive me if you'd have-"
"Papa!" she yells over him, interrupting him before his ranting can gather steam, "I am an adult! I made my choice! I knew what could happen when I decided to be Reinhardt's squire and I've accepted the risks!" Now she's getting deja Vu; this whole argument sounds exactly like what she told Reinhardt before. Unfortunately her father isn't as easy to pacify as he was.
"Reinhardt!" he roars, bursting back into a fit of pique. "Where is that old fool?! What was he doin' while you were gettin' shot?! Isn't bein' a big shield his specialty? Why I ought ta-"
"PAPA!" she tries again to shout him down, "It wasn't his fault either! It wasn't anyone's fault except the people trying to kill us! Winston thinks-"
Evidently their heated reunion has attracted attention. There is the sound of a door opening and as they both turn to look Winston, followed by Lena and Reinhardt amble through.
"Torbjörn!" Lena's delighted cry echoes around the hangar like the peal of bells. She speeds across the room in a blue blur and throws her arms around him, shattering the argument when he reflexively catches her up in a hug. The force of the embrace swings them around so that Lena ends up facing Brigitte, and over his shoulder she tips her a wink. "I'm so glad you're finally back!"
Winston lopes up to them, reaches out to pat Torbjörn hesitantly on the shoulder.
"Is, uh, everything okay?" he asks.
Surrounded by his friends, her father's ire is effectively dampened.
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, returning Lena's embrace with slightly more enthusiasm, "just having a little talk with my daughter." He releases Lena and turns to face Brigitte, pointing a finger at her. "We'll finish this discussion later."
"Need any help moving stuff?" Lena asks, and Torbjörn accepts, directing them to the back of the trailer where they form a line to load up his equipment on dollies and carts.
The afternoon is spent moving his tools and machinery into the workshop, where he orders them around with the efficiency of a general directing his troops. Once everything is in its proper place he takes Brigitte with him to inspect each turret, gruffly acknowledging her proficiency when he can find nothing wrong with her handiwork. Each weapon registers on Athena's network, coupling seamlessly with her drones to provide complete coverage over the Watchpoint.
One thing her father does show her that she wasn't aware of is the bot system in the training ranges-aside from pre-programmable attack patterns and customizable parts, the training bots are remarkably resilient, yet simple.
"Well they'd have to be, or I'd spend more time fixin' em than workin' on anything else!" Torbjörn grouses. He shows her the assembly lines where used bots are methodically taken apart, each piece is tuned up or replaced, and then reassembled. He shows her the program's simple algorithms for creating training simulations.
"Winston's got a more advanced version of this." He says, exiting the program. "He's the brains behind our practice missions, after all. Got a knack for code that I just don't got."
They return to his workshop briefly before dinner where Brigitte picks out the tools she'll need to knock hers and Reinhardt's armor back into shape. The abrupt flight from Andreas's farm meant that she hadn't been able to collect any of the tools from the castle, beyond the simple ones Reinhardt had retrieved from the caravan. Their armor had been languishing so far in disrepair; something that had vexed her endlessly. She had been half-tempted to beg Lena to fly them to their castle, but feared the misappropriation of resources. Well, tomorrow she would get everything back into tip-top shape!
They join the team for dinner, and Brigitte tries to drag out the meal as long as she can. She knows from the side-eyes her father is giving her that he's going to drag her away for another little 'talk' as soon as it's over.
Unfortunately, she's right.
"You two, with me." He says, tapping both she and Reinhardt on the back as they carry their plates into the kitchen. They follow him away from the others, outside past one of the storehouses and onto the grassy rim of the cliffside. She notes a turret within easy view of where he stops.
"Alright then," he says, turning to them, "I've heard your story," he points to Brigitte, "Now I want to hear it from you," he points a metal finger at Reinhardt. "What happened on that farm?"
Reinhardt launches into the story and Brigitte listens interestedly. She's already heard it when she listened in on their meeting but this time she tries to fill in the gaps of her memory with what he's saying. It's only a little illuminating; Reinhardt hadn't witnessed the part where she was injured after all.
By the time Reinhardt is done talking, her father is rubbing his furrowed forehead as though fending off a headache.
"And somehow, neither one of ya thought about telling me this?" he grouses, though it lacks the intensity it had before.
"Ehh...no," Reinhardt answers, sheepish, "I wanted to speak with you about it when you arrived. Everything was a bit hectic, when we got here you see..." he trails off, looking at Brigitte and leaving no doubt as to the reason behind the jumbled arrival. She leaps in to take some of the blame too.
"And I told Reinhardt not to tell you what happened," she says, "so it's not his fault you didn't know about me. I just didn't want you or mom to worry."
"Still woulda been nice to know!" Torbjörn argues, "I mean, you'da wanted to know if it was me or yer mother that was hurt, wouldn't ya?"
She has to acknowledge that. "Yeah…" There's nothing can be done now though except ask for forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Papa." Brigitte gives him the puppy eyes, willing him to soften. This time, it works. He accepts a hug from her.
In the tight embrace he mutters. "I'm glad you're okay, Brigitte."
"I'm glad too," she admits. "Dr. Ziegler has taken real good care of me. I'm healing way faster than she expected." The embrace breaks apart, and as they step away her father casts a longer, harder glance over her face, taking in the bruising again.
"Well, I trust Angela to do her job well. She's patched us all up more times than I can count." he acknowledges, and then dismisses the matter entirely to switch to a new subject.
"Alright then. You're sure those were Bastion 45 Siege Automatons?"
All in all, Brigitte thinks she's ended up getting off remarkably light. Either her father has gotten softer in the months its been since she'd last seen him, or the mention of Angela has allowed him a measure of trust regarding her recovery. Maybe both. She had known that in the years since Overwatch was disbanded that he had dark suspicions surrounding the organization, in no small part due to Reinhardt's unceremonious dismissal. He has always trusted Dr. Ziegler though. Perhaps that's what saving someone's life does - forges an unbreakable bond of closeness between them.
They spend time talking over the events at the farm as night falls, bouncing ideas off of each other. It's interesting to watch this happen between Reinhardt and her father; each time it does it reinforces why they are such great friends. Reinhardt is the idea man, posing increasingly grandiose hypotheses that Torbjörn either knocks down or refines, creating a branching network of possibilities, none of which are particularly good. They are all in agreement that this theft, coupled with the omnium activity in Russia bodes ill for the future. Torbjörn thinks it may have something to do with the assassination of Tekkhartha Mondatta; the year anniversary of his death is around the same time that the omnium restarted, after all.
It's all pretty wild to think about. By the time she goes to bed Brigitte's head is abuzz with different ideas. What does it all mean though? That was one question none of them had been able to find a suitable answer for. She fears that the answer may come too late for them to do anything but scramble to react.
In the ensuing weeks Brigitte accomplishes a great deal. Both hers and Reinhardt's armor is restored to its former glory, and since her father had been so kind as to pick up her molds and equipment she has begun the final refining of her new, lighter shield. Winston has started running simulations with the bots now that they have enough people to form a team. She is forced to watch from the sidelines, having not been cleared from light duty by Dr. Ziegler yet. Sometimes she watches the sims, marvelling at the ease at which the team assembles. Even Lucio, who has never run a sim or fought on a team like this before takes to it like a duck to water.
"It's a lot like playing football, really," he confesses one day when they sit down to lunch, "knowing where everyone on the team is, being able to cover them, mount an offense. Except instead of scoring goals, you're shooting 'bots."
The main problem with the team currently is that, while they're doing quite well in the defensive and medical departments, they lack a lot of the offensive firepower they know they'll need to take on the omnium. A partial solution to this arrives a few days after the two-month mark since the recall.
They are preparing dinner in the mess hall, Brigitte helping Reinhardt to pat ground beef into patties when they hear the distinct sound of Winston's heavy gait coming down the hall, accompanied by a curious jangling sound. Lena and Angela abandon their setting of the table, and Brigitte looks around at the sudden exclamations of delight.
There's a man accompanying Winston, dressed in the strangest garb she's ever seen. He's wearing a brown hat tipped low over his face, shielding his eyes. His pants are the same dusty earth color as his hat, though it appears as though he's wearing riding chaps over them. There's the glint of a bronze chest plate from beneath the bright red garment he has wrapped about his shoulders. It looks like he's got a prosthetic arm just like Papa has, though his prosthetic only extends to his elbow. Heavy belts criss-cross at his hips, and there's the thick outline of a gun holster at his waist, cradled in the shadows his red cape creates. Above all it's the golden shine of his enormous belt buckle and the jingling spurs that tell her who he is-this must be Jesse McCree.
"Jesse!" Angela trills, delighted as she flits to him and is welcomed into an embrace.
"Angela!" Brigitte can hear the thick, foreign drawl in his voice as he speaks for the first time. "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes." He sweeps the hat from his head with a free hand, tucking it under his arm.
"McCree!" Lena wedges herself into the hug under his other arm, and Brigitte can hear the metallic clink of her chronal accelerator as it impacts his chest plate from the force of her hug. "You've still got your hat!"
"Accourse I do! Never leave home without it."
Reinhardt abandons the meat to greet his comrade with the rest of them, and Brigitte joins him in washing her hands off at the sink before flanking the small crowd that has formed near the mess hall doors.
"Been a dog's age since I seen you lot!" McCree says as he releases the women from his grasp and reaches out to shake both Torbjörn and Reinhardt's hands. "How ya been?"
"Jesse, my friend! You are looking tanner than ever!" Reinhardt exclaims as he releases the gunman from his grip and pats him heartily on the back.
"Yeah, it's that Albuquerque sun. It'll turn ya brown as a nut." McCree laughs, inspecting his tanned forearm. Though he has been distracted by the familiar faces of his former teammates, Brigitte watches the gunslinger's eyes rove curiously over her and Lúcio, who stand half-hidden in the back.
"Ah, but I am being rude!" Reinhardt realizes that he hasn't properly introduced them. "Jesse, this is Brigitte Lindholm, my squire!"
"And my daughter." Torbjörn interjects.
"Brigitte, this is Jesse McCree. Our own personal cowboy!"
"Howdy, darlin'." McCree reaches out to shake her hand. Without the hat shielding his face she can see him fully now. Everything about him looks...wild. From the shaggy fringes of his hair to the long scruff of his beard, he's all untamed, rough edges; a man toeing the line of bestial. Despite this his brown eyes are kind. He even smells warm, like a burned-out fire. She's been so busy inspecting him that she hasn't let go of the handshake yet.
"Alright, that's about enough of that," her father cuts in, and Jesse releases her hand.
Lena speeds around them to stand next to Lúcio.
"And this is Lúcio! He's our newest member, all the way from Brazil. He's becoming a dab hand at doctoring, I gotta say," she smiles, nudging Lúcio as he reaches out to shake the cowboy's hand too.
"Medic, huh?" McCree says, rubbing his prosthetic arm thoughtfully, "gotta say, even with our guardian angel here we could always use more."
"Perhaps you are just a magnet for trouble." Angela retorts, leading him towards the table and plunking a stack of dishes in his hands.
"That's what mi madre always said!" McCree jokes, and everyone drifts back into their roles as dinner gets underway. Jesse seems to be familiar with the evening routine, even though it's been years since the team has been back together. He sets the table without complaint, even offering to take over Brigitte's role as patty-former in the assembly line, which she declines.
The topic of conversation over dinner naturally turns to what the cowboy has been up to in his time off, to which his answer is vague at best.
"Had some business to take care of in Mexico, then met up with some old friends in Arizona," he drawls, "then o'course I took a little detour through the Rocky Mountains. Wanted to see for myself what Helix had done to the old Watchpoint Grand Mesa. Don't look like we'll be gettin' that one back. Winston had me do some scoutin' of the abandoned eco-points in the midwest to see if we could use any of 'em, and then I hopped a few freighters to come back here."
"Wow! It sounds like you've been really busy!" Lena remarks over her burger, "Feels like I've just been layin' about, compared to you!"
McCree laughs, a warm, hearty sound. "Naw. It was a lot of travelin' sure but I didn't do much of anything. Kinda expected it would take me a few months before I came back, but Helix had a bigger hold over the Mesa than I expected, and I didn't have to clear any varmints out of those ol' eco-points. Kinda disappointin', really. But at least we still got a few places we can use in America."
"Thanks for doing that, Jesse," Winston says from the end of the table where he is scooping peanut butter from a jar onto a banana. This is the first meal he's ever joined them for - Brigitte can see now why he prefers not to. The seats simply aren't meant for him to sit on, so he has to crouch at the table's end. "Getting those ecopoints online means Athena can start gathering data. Once she can get some drones in the air we'll be able to have more eyes all over the country."
"Mmm, yeah. You can never get enough data," McCree remarks absentmindedly, looking around the table as though he's missing someone, "speaking of Athena, are she and Echo catching up? I ain't seen her at all yet."
"Echo?" Winston pauses, mid-bite at the name, "Echo is back online too?" His sentiment is repeated by Lena and Angela, both looking interested at the mention of their former colleague.
"Uh, yeah," McCree lowers his own burger at Winston's confusion, "she was one o' the reasons I was in Arizona. Told her Overwatch was comin' back together and that she should come here. She didn't come?"
"Well….no," Winston admits, "I'll have Athena look and see if she can contact her though."
Echo. That is a name Brigitte has heard before, though infrequently. She was an omnic shell, styled very differently from the automatons seen today. Reinhardt had mentioned her infrequently, stating only that her abilities had been 'formidable'. Perhaps when she returned to Overwatch Brigitte would get to see those abilities for herself.
The next few days Winston really kicks the simulations into gear. Now that the team is more rounded out, they work even more efficiently, churning through bots at a speed that wows Brigitte. McCree is quite the sharpshooter, and the number of bot eliminations increases by nearly a third now that he's here. Brigitte can't wait until she's cleared to join; she's already strategizing how her strengths will add to the group. It's possible she could cover the more mobile heroes like Lúcio and McCree to take up different angles of attack…
A week passes, and everyone seems to have fallen into a routine. She and Reinhardt are the earliest risers, but they do early-morning conditioning and stretching before joining the rest of the team for breakfast. McCree's presence for the meal is spotty; sometimes he joins them, other times Brigitte can spot him near the bluffs down by the shuttle launchpad, leaning on the metal guardrails and puffing smoke from some kind of cigar.
The late mornings are spent in the workshop, either helping her father on a project or working on her own. Occasionally she forces herself to go for a run, just to keep her heart healthy. Lena joins her sometimes, only to run giggling circles around her in a blue blur. Lunch is a more disorganized affair, reminiscent of hers and Reinhardt's lunches back at the castle. Brigitte takes some time to watch the news and relax, or else head to Lúcio's room to listen to him experiment with his music; she and he have become fast friends in the aftermath of her injury.
The battle sims are run in the late afternoon, just before dinner. Winston sometimes lets Brigitte take control of them when he wants the team to practice responding to completely unpredictable motions. Thankfully the bots shoot only light projectiles or else she'd be quite uncomfortable sending them after her friends.
Dinner is a far grander affair. While it is primarily Reinhart who cooks, they all take turns assisting with the preparation of ingredients, setting the table and washing dishes. More often than not Brigitte ends up as his personal assistant, being more familiar with his methods than any of the others.
After dinner everyone is free to do what they like, but regularly Lena, Lúcio, Brigitte and Reinhardt gather in the rec room for a movie, rotating who gets to pick. If they're still feeling energetic after the meal they take their activities outside, enjoying the evening air.
One memorable night Lúcio tries to teach them all street hockey, inviting everyone to try on a spare pair of rollerblades he has. Brigitte declines, though they do look tempting. She's never skated in any capacity before, but with her injury scarcely two months behind her she thinks now is probably not the best time to try. Instead she and and anyone else who wants to join take up spare brooms and run up and down the road, trying to swat a tennis ball into makeshift goals.
All in all, life at Watchpoint Gibraltar is good. If it weren't for the simulations, she could almost forget about the possible intervention in Russia.
Then, one Friday night Winston holds an impromptu meeting over dinner.
"I've received correspondence from Mei-Ling Zhou climatologist at ecopoint Antarctica," he says, tapping his holopad. It's interesting news; Brigitte had thought that all the Watchpoints and ecopoints outside of theirs and the ones in America McCree had managed to get online were defunct.
"They're still there?" Angela asks, frowning, "I thought everyone abandoned it when the storm hit."
"The team wasn't able to. By the time they realized the storm wasn't showing any signs of stopping, they were critically low on supplies and had to enter cryostasis."
Angela gasps in response, though Brigitte doesn't know why.
"But that is so dangerous! The technology behind re-thawing is completely unreliable!"
The express on Winston's face is grim. "Yes. That's why she was the only survivor."
The news ripples through them, sending up a flurry of distressed murmurs. Brigitte isn't aware of how many people were stationed at that ecopoint, but she want to think about how devastating it would be to wake up and find all her friends dead.
"For nine years she was asleep. Mei says she re-thawed a few weeks ago, but power to the ecopoint was disrupted by winter storms. She was trying to transmit the data her team had gathered, but the backup power ran out and she had to rig up a new com link to get out her reply." Winston rubs his chin thoughtfully. "It's quite ingenious, how she did it. Anyway, when she re-established connection she got my message and decided to answer the call."
Brigitte thinks she can see a sparkle in Winston's eyes behind his lenses. He clearly admires Mei.
"She's on her way from Antarctica now. I've asked her to make a few stops on the way here, like I asked McCree and she agreed. I can't say for certain how long it will take for her to arrive, but we will eventually have one more member!"
They celebrate the news by cracking open some drinks and sharing them around the table. Brigitte, slightly tipsy gets more than she bargains for later that night when she asks Winston what Mei researches.
"Well, the climatologists there have been monitoring the changing weather patterns for years. She and her colleagues have been using climate-manipulation technology to preserve at-risk ecosystems, as well as study the increasing weather instability. They were posted in Antarctica to monitor an atmospheric anomaly that may correlate with -"
Winston rapidly outstrips Brigitte's limited knowledge of the subject, but she attempts to understand, nodding along while she watches the others start a 2-on-2 game of street hockey out of the corner of her eye.
The sky is purpling by the time he finishes speaking, and Brigitte's head feels stuffed, unable to parse through all the information he's imparted on her. All she can do is tell him how interesting Mei's research sounds before excusing herself, citing a headache.
That night she lays in bed, idly perusing the net to wind down. On a whim, she searches Mei-Ling Zhou and finds a few hits. Most are old articles, citing Mei as an authority on one subject or another, but one is not. She clicks it to find the headline:
"RESEARCH TEAM ASSEMBLED FOR LANDMARK EXHIBITION"
Beneath the headline, a picture. Six people, dressed in what looks like polar gear stand together in front of a bright red transport helicopter. They're crowded together for the picture, some with arms around each other while others kneel. They're all smiling. The photo's caption reads:
Scientists MacReady, Arrhenius, Zhou, Opara, Adams and Torres prepare for takeoff!
As Brigitte looks into each smiling face she fixes on Mei. The scientist's face is heart-shaped, framed with a dark swoop of bangs, her mouth open as if in laughter. She has her arm slung around the shoulders of the woman, Arrhenius next to her and she's giving a peace sign with the other hand. She looks so excited, happy to be part of her team. They all look so happy.
None of them could have known what would happen. It must have been terrible, to be surrounded by the everyday bustle of work and friends one day, and be completely alone the next. Not to mention the shock of finding yourself nine years into the future. How had Mei managed alone? She must be an incredible woman to survive that.
Brigitte tries to imagine waking up tomorrow and finding the Watchpoint empty. Her mind shuts the thought off, too terrible to even consider. The loss of her new friends, her father, and Reinhardt.
The thought haunts her as she falls asleep.