"No way!" Gibson leaned in close to his camera as you flopped back onto your bed, letting your wet hair fall in strands around your shoulders. "There is no way in hell that OVERWATCH asked you to be an assistant for them!"

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to look at your laptop monitor. Gibson's face took up the entire screen, as he was close enough to his camera that you could practically see up his nostrils. "Gib, stop inhaling your webcam and listen to me. You can't tell the triplets, okay? I know Caelen and how "supportive" she can be, the moment she finds out, she's going to be posting this everywhere and then the second fall of Overwatch will be all because of me, and I can't have that on my conscience."

Gibson sat back, adjusting his glasses. In a lot of ways, he resembled the friendly gorilla you'd met only a few hours earlier; same rounded oblong face, same curious amber eyes (though Gibson's eyes were more of a hazel-green combination), same ear-to-ear grin, same joviality, just… they were way too similar for it to not be an overused fanfiction cliche. Though, with all these similarities, the chubby 5'1" Brit felt the more real out of the two, and real was what you needed right now. Gibson had been your tether ever since the day he'd invited you to join himself and the triplets for pizza and B-movies during your first year in England. Always quick with advice and willing to offer a helping hand, he'd been your best friend since you'd met him, and talking with him always cleared your mind.

"I still can't believe it. You met the Jesse McCree? What was it like? What did he say? What did he smell like?" His eyes were still glittering excitedly, his body nearly dancing in his chair. "And what about Dr. Ziegler? What was she like? Did it hurt at all? How does that biotic emitter work?"

Sighing, you covered your eyes with an arm, turning away from the screen. "Gib, I'm not answering any of your questions until you give me your word that you won't tell the triplets."

"Alright, alright, you have my word! Now, tell me everything about your encounter with the beautiful Swiss angel!"

"God, Gib, you are such a fanboy. There isn't much to say about it, I mean, it felt pretty normal, like she'd done it hundreds of times. Of course, I was an awkward mess, I could hardly get out the words "thank you" without stumbling over my own tongue." You closed your eyes and dropped your arm, thinking back over the past couple hours. After Angela had finished stitching you up and you'd accepted the job offer, Winston had said his goodbyes, the doctor had given you a couple biotic emitters (thick little disk things that glowed with a soft golden light once you turned it on), and you'd been shuffled home. The ride was silent, the man, who had been one of the people working on reports, glancing over at you a few times and opening his mouth, but failing to say anything. That had been fine with you, you still had so much to process.

Euripides had been happy to see you home, even if you were slightly bloody and tired, and in serious need of a shower. He'd rubbed up against your legs and purred loudly as he followed you around the house, begging for pets whenever he could.

The shower you'd taken to clean the blood and everything off of your body gave you some time to think about everything that had happened and to analyse exactly how you felt about it. You were… surprisingly excited; it wasn't everyday that a normal city girl got to take down a bad guy, get so close to a hot superhero, or meet their idol all within the span of a couple hours. Not only that, but Winston had asked you to join, specifically asked. Overwatch wanted you as an assistant, and you were over the moon about it. So over the moon that you'd needed to get it off your chest, and Gibson, being the most reliable out of your friends, was the first and only person that came to mind.

"Hellooo! Earth to Bee! Did you space out on me or has your piece-of-shite laptop finally died? I keep telling you that you need to upgrade!" Gibson snapped you out of your quiet dive into your thoughts a while later, chuckling when you jerked up.

"Shut up, asshat," you scowled, sitting up and glaring at your webcam. "Sure, she may be a bit slow and, yeah, maybe her graphics aren't that great, but Cherry still works just fine for me. I don't need to upgrade to those stupid semi-holographic laptops they have now." Your nose wrinkled at both the idea and the price. It cost a lot to be completely tech-chic. Glancing at the time, you realised you and Gibson had talked for hours and you needed to eat something more substantial than cake. Not to mention your show was scheduled to come on in the next half an hour.

"Look, Gib, I gotta go. Thanks for listening to me and promising not to tell anyone. Especially since this might be the last time I get to speak openly with you," you sighed, offering him a sad smile. "I'll talk to you soon if I don't have to disappear. See ya later, Gibs."

You closed the laptop lid before letting him say goodbye, something about the whole situation particularly sorrowful for you. This job, working for Overwatch, could possibly cost you everything you'd come to love in the five known years of your life. Would it be worth it? Could you go through with this? You looked down to Piddie who had taken a nap by your feet, and, suddenly, you knew.

Yes, you would be able to do this. Because Overwatch was created for the sole purpose of making the world a better place. You'd be helping them save lives, so many lives that were worth so much more than your own. If doing that meant losing your friends, so be it. Yeah, it may hurt, but, in the end, people out there were hurting a lot more than you.

It took a week for Winston to give you another call, this time to let you know your application had gone through and that he'd be sending some people with moving trucks to help you get all your stuff moved over to the compound. In the meantime, you'd already paid your landlord in advance and begun packing up all of your belongings. All there was to do now was to finish off the bit of food left in your pantry and move all of the boxes and furniture out of the apartment. Then, the next step of your life could really begin.

You stood in the living room, holding Piddie in your arms as you surveyed the landscape around you; where once sat your old movie collection now sat a pile of cardboard boxes, each labeled according to their contents. Your wall decorations were gone, as was your favourite hanging basket chair, each having been tucked away in a box of their own. The place seemed desolate and barren, making your heart ache. You'd only been in this apartment for three years, but it was still your home. You could tell the story of every stain on the floor, every nick in the wall. Every spot in this apartment held memories for you, and now you were leaving it all behind.

'It's for the greater good, though, Bri, remember that,' you thought, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, trying to block out the pain. Almost as soon as you opened your eyes again, there was a knock at the door - the all too familiar shave and a haircut - and you knew the company you'd been expecting had arrived.

"Try to stay out of the way, Piddie," you said, setting the cat down and going to quickly answer the door. You couldn't help but smile when a pair of familiar, jovial hazel eyes met yours.

"Well, howdy there, missy," he chuckled, tipping back his hat to see you better. "Didn't expect to see you here. You come here often?"

His dorky smile and wink made you giggle and you pulled away from the door, letting him and his companion in. "I should hope so, I live here after all," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Come in, I, uh, I don't have much to eat if you want something, but, I can make some tea, if you'd like."

"McCree, move your ass and let me in! I vant to see ze new recruit! Ah! Zere she is!" Strong arms wrapped around your small frame and pulled you off the ground, cracking your back. The scent of chocolate and metal invaded your nostrils as the woman pulled you into her chest and gave you a light squeeze before setting you down again. "It hard to believe such tiny little zing is kausing such kommotion back at headquarters. Tell me, small child, how often do you visit gym?"

You stumbled as the woman placed you on your feet, a little disoriented and taking a second to get your bearings back. The Russian woman who stood in your doorway was nearly three times your size in muscle and at least a foot taller than you, an imposing figure which made you feel quite inferior just being in her presence. If it weren't for the large grin on her face or the friendly twinkle in her eyes, you would probably be peeing your pants in fear.

"I, uh, what?" you managed, taking an unconscious step back. "N-Not very often. I n-never really had a need to, I, um, I'm not a very active person…"

The woman raised an eyebrow and her smile grew a bit as she cocked her head. "No need to? Nonsense! Zere is alvays reason to visit gym. Exercise, boredom, vorking out your anger or frustration! Alvays reason! How much kan you lift?"

"Um, I-I don't know, maybe… Maybe, I don't know, fifty pounds?" You rubbed your arm, looking away. 'She must be really into personal fitness… I never really saw the appeal of a gym; all those people staring at me, judging me… No thanks.'

"Fifty pounds is good start. Ve kan get you up to one hundred in no time if ve start tonight. I kannot vait to see vat you kan do, small child," she said in response, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

"Alright, I think you spooked her enough, Zarya," McCree chuckled, scratching his chin and placing a hand on the woman's arm. "Miss Marsh ain't gonna need no fancy weight training or the like. She's gonna be working at a desk with the monkey. Come on, let's get to work so we can get her settled in asap." He offered you a smile as Zarya pulled away with a grunt, going to pick up one of the boxes.

"Thank you," you whispered, smiling a bit in relief as you rubbed your arm again.

"It ain't no trouble. I know how intimidatin' she can be sometimes. She means well, even if she comes on a bit strong," he said, chuckling a bit. "By the way, you look pretty with your hair down like that. You should wear it down more often."

You blushed and immediately shoved a strand behind your ear, looking away. "Would y-either of you like some tea or something to drink?"

Zarya's head poked out from behind the box she was carrying towards the door, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Do you have vodka?"

"Ah, no, sorry. I'm not a big drinker," you said, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers.

Her face fell a bit and she sighed, "Vater is fine," before walking out the door to take the box to the van.

McCree laughed and shook his head. "Just some water for me too, darlin'. Thank you."

You nodded and scurried off to the kitchen where you had plastic cups to use instead of glass as it'd all been packed away. By the time you came back with the two cups of water, both agents were gone, as were some of your boxes. They worked quickly.

Sighing, you set the cups down on the counter where they could see them, and made your way over to the sliding balcony door. The glass was cold where it pressed against your skin, your body heat fogging it up a bit. The view from up here had always been gorgeous, a perfect view of Nursery Row Park, whose leaves glowed a pretty amber this time of year.

'I'm going to miss this view…' you thought, placing the pads of your fingers on the cool glass. You couldn't open the door - one of the rollers at the bottom had gotten wedged your first year here and you just never had it fixed -, and even if you could, you wouldn't. It had gotten chillier since you went out for that interview, and right now, you were wearing nothing but a sunflower-print t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Not the kind of outfit you'd like to be wearing out on the balcony.

Looking down, you caught sight of McCree lifting a box into the van, and you bit your lip, your chest aching a bit. 'I feel so useless… I want to help, but I feel like I would just get in the way…'

"Ah, who is zis little fellow?" Came Zarya's gasp from the door as she stepped back into the apartment. She strode up quickly to the box Euripides had settled on, beaming when he didn't scurry away, and bent down to pet him. "And where is your tail, malen'kiy voin?"

You chuckled, a little surprised to see the gentleness with which the large Russian stroked your cat. "His name is Euripides, and he's my roomate. I've had him ever since he was a kitten."

"His fur very soft and beautiful. Perfect kompanion for one who not very active." Her smile grew larger as he started purring loudly, rubbing his face against her fingers. "Does he hunt?"

You shook your head with a soft laugh, turning to press your back against the glass. "No. He's a lazy asshole. It's hard to get him to move sometimes when I vacuum."

Zarya laughed, scratching Piddie's chin. "He vill enjoy life in kompound, zen. Plenty of place to take nice, varm naps." Her green gaze suddenly turned to you as she cocked her head. You couldn't identify the look in them, just a bit too far out of your social knowledge, but you thought you could detect a bit of curious laughter in their depths. "You talk so easily about him, much easier zan you talk about yourself. Konfidence looks good on you."

You blushed, jumping away from the door as if it had shocked you. "I-I, um-"

"Nearly halfway there," McCree mused, striding into the living room and lighting a cigar. "This'll be over faster than I thought."

You flinched at the sight of the cigar's smoke, panic flaring in your chest. 'Ms. Sheppard has a strict no smoking policy…' "Um, M-McCree, if you could, I mean, I-I don't mean to be rude, but, um, but… But you-you can't, um-"

"McCree." Zarya stood up and made her way over to him within a second, startling both you and the cowboy. She grasped the lit cigar between her thumb and forefinger, extinguishing the flame, and tugged it out from between his lips. "Did you ask if Marsh vas komfortable wiz zis?"

His eyes widened and he looked over at you. "U-Uh, no, I-"

"Ve are guest in her home. Don't be rude," the Russian said, tossing the cigar into the trash.

"I-It's not that I have a problem with it," you murmured, rubbing your arm as you tilted your head to hide behind your bangs. "Ms… Ms. Sheppard just has a strict no smoking policy… She doesn't want her walls or, or her ceilings ruined."

McCree smiled a bit and nodded, his brows furrowed. "Of course. My apologies. I didn't know."

The rest of the task went smoothly and soon Zarya was helping McCree move the couch, the last piece of furniture, out toward one of the trucks, leaving you standing alone in the living room. You studied the quiet emptiness around you, suddenly feeling tearful and nostalgic.

'That was where I tried my first shot of tequila. Gibson said I looked about ready to throw up the moment it touched my tongue.' The memory brought a sad smile to your lips and a whisper of a chuckle escaped your throat. 'And that… that was where the triplets and I had our first sleepover. Until that night, I would've never guessed that Sylvia was ace… That's where I tripped over Piddie and spilt tea on the carpet. I never could get that stain out, no matter how hard I tried… And there…' Your gaze drifted around the barren landscape, brimming with tears as you recollected the three years of memories this place held for you. You were leaving everything behind, had to; you sure as hell didn't want to be hunted down by Arachnid. Even McCree had warned you about them, and you trusted him with everything you could right now. If you couldn't trust Overwatch, who could you trust? Well, the one thing you knew for sure was that you were going to miss this place.

"Everything alright in here, darlin'?" McCree asked, coming up behind you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "We're ready to head out whenever you are."

You sniffed, quickly wiping away your tears and nodding. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just… saying goodbye. It, uh, it isn't easy leaving everything behind, you know?"

He smiled sadly, squeezing your shoulder where he held it. "Yeah, I know. Do you need a couple minutes?"

"No." You shook your head, pulling out of his grip as you bent down to scoop Euripides up into your arms. "No, I'm fine. You said you guys were ready to go?"

McCree nodded.

"Then, let's go. Don't want to keep the boss waiting."

Zarya insisted you ride with her, a strange request seeing as she didn't quite know you very well yet, but you humoured her, partly because she scared you a bit. She seemed thrilled when you agreed and looked almost a moment away from throwing you into the truck before you'd have a chance to scramble in yourself. Luckily, though, she didn't, and you were spared the bruises that would have come from such an occasion.

The ride was silent for a while - maybe ten minutes or so - before she turned on the radio. She fiddled with it for a couple seconds until she settled on a station dedicated to old classic rock from before you were born.

'"Here Comes the Sun"?' you thought, smiling a bit as you watched the city pass by your window. 'How fitting.' Relaxing, you quietly hummed along, petting Piddie's head. It wasn't until near the end of the song when you passed under a bridge that you caught Zarya's reflection in the window; she was glancing over at you, a huge grin on her face. Blushing, you immediately shut up and avoided meeting her gaze.

She chuckled. "So, you are fan of Beatles?"

You ran your fingers through your bangs, embarrassed to be caught. "Uh, yeah. Love the Beatles. Cla-Classic rock as a whole, really. The, um, Americans had some-some really good bands."

She grunted in response, still grinning, and went quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again. "You have lovely voice, sing often?"

Your blush deepened and you hesitated; you really kept your singing to yourself, and only really sang in front of others when you were drunk enough not to care. You didn't like sharing it with others, too afraid of what they might say, and too ashamed of it, especially after your ex had told you to "Stop even trying. You sound like a dying cat.".

"I, um," you bit your lip and shook your head. "N-No, not really…"

"Vell, zen I am honoured to hear it," she responded, glancing over at you before looking back out at the road.

You shook your head, fiddling with your fingers. "Don't be… there really isn't-"

"Ooh! Zis great song!" she exclaimed, turning the radio up and smiling broadly. "You show us everyzing you've got/ You keep on dancing and ze room gets hot/ You drive us vild, ve'll drive you crazy!"

You held back a chuckle, listening as she sang heartily along, her voice cheery and powerful. It was clear she was no professional singer, but she still sounded good, and it made you think; why shouldn't you sing in front of others? Zarya had already said she thought you had a pretty voice, why not sing again? There was no harm in it.

Drawing in a bit of courage, you waited quietly until the next verse and joined in, softly at first, but letting your voice grow as you sank into the music. "You keep on saying you'll be mine for a while/ You're lookin' fancy, and I like your style/ You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy!"

Zarya beamed, laughing. "Da! Zat's it, myshka!"

You two finished the song together, and by the end, you were smiling and laughing. Your throat was dry, but it was well worth it to break out of your shell for a little while.

The larger Russian woman reached over and clapped you on the back, nearly knocking you over. "I like you, myshka. You are good voman."