A week. You'd been at this for a week already, and you were no more than halfway done with the files Winston had tasked you with updating. Just how many friggin' files did he have in that box?! At least a dozen too many, in your opinion. You were honestly ready to throw in the towel, call it a day, a year even, and just quit. But, then, you couldn't do that, could you? It was either this or risk being tracked down by Arachnid, and that wouldn't be any fun.

Groaning, you tossed the current file to the ground, pulling at your already messy bangs. Your shoulders ached, your stomach grumbled, and your eyes begged to close, but you couldn't take a break, not until you got done with today's batch. That's what you'd told yourself, and you were determined to stick with it, even if that meant staying in your office for ten plus hours a day, six days a week. If it hadn't been for Lena, Lucio, and Hana checking in on you from time to time, or Winston's sporadically-timed meetings which he needed you to attend, you'd have gone crazy with cabin fever by now.

"Is everything alright, Miss Marsh?" came Athena's modulated and disembodied voice. "I have been monitoring your vital signs and have noticed various signs of anger or frustration. Would you like to talk about it? I have learned that humans sometimes feel better after talking out their complex emotions."

You chuckled and leaned back in your chair, covering your eyes with an arm. "No, no, I'm fine, Athena, thank you for asking. I'm just… A bit overwhelmed with all of this. There are so many files to update. I'm a week in and only halfway done…"

"I see. I could play some music, if you'd like. That might make it feel as if time is going faster," she offered, and you couldn't help but smile.

"That'd be wonderful, Athena, thank you." Within a second, soft music began playing through the room's speakers, and you smiled before picking up the file you'd tossed, and getting back to work. This was the last file, you told yourself, the last file before you investigated the strange, thick one you'd noticed earlier.

The files had been sorted in alphabetical order, only a few bearing the "deceased" stamp Winston had displayed a disliking for, which showed that you were not the first to go through these files. Though, judging by the amount of data missing from some of them, the last person to go through them had to have done so quite a few years ago. What was strange to you, however, was a file between "McCree, Jesse", and "Morrison, Jack" labeled "Morgan, Morrigan". You'd never heard of a "Morgan, Morrigan" before, which didn't really surprise you - you couldn't have full knowledge of every person who ever worked for Overwatch -, but the thing that piqued your interest most was that this one file in particular had multiple files in it, and the word "CLASSIFIED" printed in large, bright red letters across the front.

"Morrigan Morgan," you murmured, running your fingers over the name printed on the thick manila paper. The name had a strangely familiar ring to it, as if you'd known this person, heard their name called a thousand times before, yet couldn't recall a face, a voice, or a memory to associate with it. Opening the file revealed at least eight agent files, and opening these made your stomach turn. Even so, your curiosity got the better of you, and you persisted, reading each file carefully;

"Adams, Tazwell

Alias; Hunter

B.O.O; Durban, South America

Death - 12/01/20xx 23:05 pm. Tazwell Adams was shot dead in his own home. Guards remained unaware of the happenings within the home until the next morning. No signs of forced entry or struggle. No other casualties. Assailant unknown."

You recognised the man in the picture to be Hunter, one of the older, less popular Overwatch agents back when it was still in action. He didn't seem too much older than you when he died, in fact, his profile even showed him to be the same age as you were currently.

'I wonder why he was murdered…' you thought, sorting through the few pictures attached to the file. Adams seemed like a great guy, many of the pictures showed him helping out in those still-destitute areas of South Africa. 'Or why he's in Morrigan's file… Who is this Morrigan anyway?'

Setting aside Tazwell's file, you moved on to the next;

"al-Ghanem, Mumina

Alias; Masquerade

B.O.O; Palembang, Indonesia

Death - 12/05/20xx 15:18 pm. Mumina al-Ghanem was found locked inside her freezer, having frozen to death. All guards were found either incapacitated, with the worst showing signs of a major concussion, or dead. Signs of forced entry and a struggle were found. Total casualties - 6; Mumina al-Ghanem, Rose al-Ghanem (wife), and four guards. Assailant unknown."

You shivered at the image of the old woman's frozen body, almost feeling the cold yourself. She looked to be around Mrs. Amari's age, with children of her own in some of the photos after. It looked like all three of them had decided to work for Overwatch as well, though, not as active agents like their mother.

'Okay… so that's two agents on this Morrigan's list… I wonder what her goal was..' You quickly moved on to the next file;

"Egland, Nikolai

Alias; Wildfire

B.O.O; Oslo, Norway

Death - 12/10/20xx 17:30 pm. Nikolai Egland was found dead in his bathtub, along with a toaster taken from his kitchen. Guards reported hearing a commotion, followed by Nikolai's screams, but were unable to make it in time to apprehend the assailant. No signs of forced entry. Assailant unknown."

'How do they know it wasn't a suicide, though?' you thought, shuffling through the few pictures of Wildfire. He had been a popular agent back then, handsome, charming, fit, well-off, he practically had it all. But, you knew from experience that there could be a lot hidden behind a dazzling smile.

Frowning, you paused, beginning to organise the read profiles by order of the death date, something about this making the back of your neck tingle as it did when you felt something was off. 'All of these deaths… It can't be a serial killer, they always have an M.O.. I can't seem to see one here, other than the targets were all Overwatch agents… These files… they were in Morrigan's… Did she kill all of these people? They're all within the same month!'

"Karali, Calliope

Alias; Pandora

B.O.O; Athens, Greece

Death - 12/25/20xx 07:00 am. Calliope Karali and her immediate family were all found dead inside their house on Christmas morning, hours after a distress call had been sent out to the Overwatch HQ. Autopsy reports revealed cause of death to be extended exposure to deadly amounts of Cyanogen, though the house was free of the toxic gas upon arrival of agents Newmann (deceased, case unrelated) and Hawkins. All doors had been sealed shut from the outside, trapping the family in with the deadly toxin and ensuring their deaths. All guards were later found decapitated, their bodies heaped in a pile outside the house, with a trail melted through the snow to ensure the assailant's footprints could not be tracked. Total casualties - 14; Calliope Karali, Matthaios Karali (father), Eliana Karali (mother), Dora Karali (younger sister), and ten guards. Assailant unknown, suspected to be Morrigan Morgan."

Your heart squeezed in sorrow as you read this case, a certain pain washing over you that you couldn't really place. 'She was only sixteen… And to be killed in such an awful way…' Quickly, without even looking at the photos, you set the profile aside, opting to move onto the next before your emotions could overwhelm you.

"Kuroki, Urena

Alias; Impulse

B.O.O; Nagoya, Japan

Death - 12/30/20xx 13:50 pm. Urena Kuroki and her lover were found lounging on the living room couch, each with a bullet between the eyes. Assailant, Morrigan Morgan, AKA Black Wasp, identified via security cameras placed throughout the house, escaped and is now on the IWEDC. Heavy emphasis is to be placed on all forms of security concerning the living spaces of agents and their immediate family, and all agents are strongly encouraged to come live at the HQ until Morgan is caught and incarcerated."

"Athena, what is the IWEDC?" you asked, looking through the photos in the file.

"The IWEDC, otherwise known as the International Watchlist of Extremely Dangerous Criminals, is an international database on the world's most dangerous criminals at large. To date, there have never been more than four names on the list at a time."

'Jeez! That means that this Morrigan is scary dangerous...' Reading through the rest, you weren't really shocked by what you found after that; "Lefrancois, Ludovic - Malicious drowning; Pattyu, Anissa - Dragging death; Preece, Gwylan - Crushed between two hacked autonomous cars…" But, after those files, there was nothing, nothing except long-dried smeared ink suggesting someone put a fresh paper in there, then thought better about it.

Thoroughly concerned now, you finished sorting the files by death date and frowned. "Athena, search the database for a Morrigan Morgan," you instructed, turning towards your holoscreen as you spoke. You couldn't help it now; you had to know whether or not this person had been caught.

"Of course, Miss Marsh. Scanning… Found."

Your screen flickered as it slowly began pulling up the record, but, before you could begin to read any of it, it flashed and changed, denying you access. "Authorisation level 5" it read. You sighed in frustration, scratching your neck. 'I've been denied access? Well, I suppose I'm only supposed to be looking at agent's files, but… surely Winston would have known I'd find this, right? What-'

Your door slid open, startling you, and you only just managed to dismiss your screen in time for the commander himself to step in. "C-C-Commander!" you stuttered, giving him a nervous smile. "You-You-You startled me! What, uh, what can I do for-for you?"

He paused a second, as if analysing your behaviour, making you panic silently in your head, before he seemed to relax a bit. "I've come to fetch you. Did you already forget about your first training lesson?"

You fought back a sigh of relief, shaking your head as you stood and started furiously gathering up the files. "N-N-No sir! Of course not, sir! I-I just lost track of-of-of time and-"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Leave your stuff where it is, Soldier. No one's going to come in here and move it. Come with me, I'll lead you to the training room."

"Yes, sir."

He led you quickly down a few levels to the training room, tossing you a pair of clothes almost as soon as you came in behind him. "Go get changed. We don't want you ruining that pretty uniform Eugene had made for you."

You nodded, easily catching the bundle and scurrying into the locker room where he pointed. It was nice and clean, and you got changed quickly into the sweats and tank top. You felt a bit uncomfortable as you stepped out and went to stand on the mat, awkwardly looking around. Of course, you didn't make a fuss about it; you didn't want the Commander thinking that something like this unnerved you and it was only just a bit out of your comfort zone. You could handle this.

Crossing an arm over your chest, you attempted to hide yourself as you waited for your opponent to show up. You hoped he hadn't chosen anyone too overly fit, you were still mostly out of shape. Though you were a sucker for yoga, you had skipped leg day… and arm day, and cardio day, and all the days in between. So, while you had impeccable flexibility, your strength and endurance were a little more than somewhat lacking.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, Commander! Got a little caught up with everything, you know how it is," came a voice from the doorway, and you nearly melted where you stood.

The man was tall, statuesque, and drool-worthy. A playful, crooked smile, messy black hair, and a cheerful laugh was all it took for you to be rooted to the spot, staring. It was easy to tell he was way far out of your league. It didn't help that he was quickly stripping down to an undershirt and a pair of shorts as he approached the mat, letting you practically salivate as you watched his muscles shift. You could already feel the familiar anxiety building up in your chest.

"That's alright, Mr. Rose. We all seem to have busy schedules nowadays. Miss Marsh, this is Mr. Rose, until he's determined you're in enough shape and fighting form to be sparring with our agents, he'll be your sparring partner and your instructor. Mr. Rose, this is Miss Marsh. Treat her well, she's Winston's new assistant, we can't break her too quickly."

Mr. Rose turned to you, flashing a bright smile that made it hard to take your eyes off him, and held out a hand as he stepped onto the mat. "Ah, so this is the brilliant new assistant I've been hearing about for the past week! The name's Dean."

You stared at him, starstruck for a moment, before snapping to your senses and leaping forward, almost jabbing your nails into his palm as you went to shake his hand. "Bri-Bri-Briallen. It-It-It-It's nice to-to-to meet you, s-s-s-sir!"

Dean laughed, his warm hand enveloping yours as he shook it, making your skin tingle. "Are you always this formal with everyone?"

You blushed and looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Mr. Rose served as a Sergeant in the American Army for quite a long time. He has a lot of wisdom to pass onto you, Soldier. I suggest you learn what you can, while you can."

You nodded fervently, unable to look up at the man currently standing before you. 'If this Dean stays my instructor for longer than a few days, I think I'm actually going to die…'

Dean let out a breathy chuckle, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. "Don't worry too much, Miss Marsh," he said, drawing back a bit. "I'll be sure to go easy on you at first. So, why don't we start by seeing where you're at right now. Go on, hit me as hard as you can."

You started a bit, eyes wide as he stepped back and held his arms out. "Um… okay…" 'I can't hit him! I don't want to hurt him, I mean, I doubt I would hurt him, I'm such a marshmallow, but, still, I don't want to hurt him… But if I don't…' Furrowing your brow, you clenched your hand into a fist, stiffened up a bit, and punched him lamely in the chest.

His smile faltered a bit as he let out a sigh, shaking his head and dropping his arms. "Miss Marsh-"

Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire as you looked away, crossing your arms over your stomach. "I-I know I just… I don't-don't want to-to-to hurt you."

He chuckled, reaching forward to grab your hands. "You're not going to hurt me. Here," he tugged at your wrists and you let him pull your arms away from your body. You wouldn't have done this had you realised he was planning on pressing one hand flat against his chest and the other against his abdomen. "See? Like solid steel. I promise you aren't going to hurt me, and, if you somehow do, I'll be insanely impressed."

He was right. The muscles under your hands were incredibly firm, almost completely solid. It made your mouth water. You quickly dispersed those thoughts. 'I can't hurt him?' you found a buried, stubborn part of you aching to prove him wrong, which worked perfectly alongside the part of you that deeply wanted to impress him. Flexing your hands, you nodded and backed up, rearing back for the punch.

The cafeteria was a buzz with conversation when you walked in, much more than normal. Excitement rippled through the air, penetrating your tired shell and giving you a bit of energy as you made your way over to the table where Lena and Hana sat, tucked in a corner out of everyone's sight. It was the same table you'd been sitting at for the last two weeks, slowly getting into your routine which consisted of variations between work, training, and down time. The Morgan files had gone to the back of your mind recently, too focused with trying to get into shape as fast and as well as you could, but they still popped up from time to time.

Lena perked up when she caught sight of you, beaming and gesturing excitedly towards you. "Bri, Bri! Hurry up! Your Shepherd's Pie is going to get cold!"

You chuckled and kicked your slow lumber up a notch, your stomach eagerly awaiting the food that you could already smell. "Alright, alright, Lena! Cool your jets! Not everyone can be as fast as you, you know," you teased, sliding in beside her. "What's with all the excitement today, anyway? I could swear that this place is louder than it normally is."

"What, you haven't heard?" Hana asked, looking up in surprise.

"Well, obviously not. Care to fill me in?"

"The company's hosting the annual Halloween party next month. It's basically a guys ask the girls."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's what everyone's excited about?"

"Yeah, "guys ask girls" can only apply to straight people," Lean snickered, taking a bite of her own Shepherd's Pie. "I thought it would sound better if it was "bottoms ask tops", but Winston quickly shot that one down."

You snorted, almost choking on your drink as laughter bubbled up in your chest. "Le-Lena!" you cried at the same time that Hana groaned and facepalmed.

"What? It's true! Anyway, what everyone's really excited for is to see which special agent brings what person to the party. They already have betting started."

"Wait, they bet over this?" you asked, shocked.

Hana chortled. "You bet they do! You think fandoms are the only people who ship? I can guarantee at least two pairings are going to be big in the betting roster this year; Reinhardt and Anna, Brigitte and I, and Jesse and Hanzo. I have my money on Jesse going stag again this year."

"I'm surprised Jesse and Hanzo are still that big in the bets. How many years has Hanzo refused to go? I swear, he's such a stick in the mud, I really don't know what Jesse sees in him," Lena admitted, letting out a sad sigh.

'So, wait, does that mean Jesse and this Hanzo are a couple? Or does that just mean Jesse's got it bad for him?' you thought, drowning out the chatter of the other two girls at the table. 'Anyway, I'm probably not going to go. Parties aren't really my scene, too many people, too much noise. I'll probably just end up spending my time down at the shelter…'

"Ah, Miss Marsh, there you are!"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked up to meet familiar green eyes looking down at you, sparkling with a grin.

"Oh, OH! Uh, D-Dean! I, uh, I didn't-didn't expect to-to-to see you here! What-what a surprise!" you stuttered, trying hard not to drop anything in your lap as your hands desperately sought for something to do in the midst of your nerves. "It's, it's nice to see you again, you know, after yesterday, and the day before that, every day, for the past two weeks." You heard Lena attempt to stifle a snicker behind you and you quickly retaliated with a sharp pinch on her arm, out of Dean's sight. Clearing your throat, you attempted a relatively normal smile. "What, uh, what can I do you for- do, do for you?"

Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head a bit. "Nothing much. I've just been trying to get a hold of you for the past half an hour to remind you that our training session is going to be in a different hall today."

"Really, I don't remember…" you quickly looked down at your com and, sure enough, there were five missed calls from him. Embarrassed, you flushed and laughed awkwardly. "In-Indeed you have. I must have, I don't know, had it on silent or something- Not that I'm trying to avoid you! Not at all, I just, sometimes it's easier to, you know, do my work without, without any distractions. But-But yes, I remember." Lena trembled beside you, obviously trying to hold in her laughter, and you swore you were going to hurt her if she said anything.

"Good! I'll see you there in about half an hour, then!" Dean said, giving a small dip of his head in acknowledgement of the two others at the table before making his way out of the cafeteria.

As soon as he was out of earshot, both girls at the table burst out in laughter, and you groaned, hitting your head on the table, almost getting your hair in the food. "I'm hopeless," you groaned, repeatedly, and lightly, tapping your forehead against the table.

"Oh, Bri, luv, you're not hopeless," Lena giggled, trying to fight it back as she patted your shoulder. "That was… Well, quite frankly that was quite adorable."

"And obvious," Hana added, shaking her head. "Why don't you just ask him out on a date?"

"Because he's my instructor!" you wailed, looking miserably up at her. "And if he says no or the date doesn't go well, I still have to deal with him on a daily basis! Just think about how awkward that would be, Hana. I'd never be able to leave my room again!"

"I doubt it would be that bad," Lena started.

You glared up at her.

"Or, maybe it would be. Look, the point is, you won't know until you try. And, sooner or later, he's going to find someone else. You've gotta shoot your shot when you can, Briallen!"

Your shoulder slammed into the mat. Hard. Pain ripped through your arm and you stifled the cry that tried to escape your lips. Weakness wasn't an option. The weight of your opponent pressed into your spine, grinding your hips painfully into the mat, fire racing through your upper back as your arms were pinned roughly behind you. You struggled under your opponent, desperately trying to rip your good arm out of their grasp and free yourself.

"Come on, pussy," they growled, grinding their sharp hips into your lower back, making you groan in pain. "Tap out. You can't be the favourite forever, and you know you can't beat me."

You bucked and twisted furiously, a surge of anger rushing through you at their words. You weren't going to admit defeat. Not to them. With one last, aggressive twist, you managed to get a leg bent beneath you. Pushing up with all your might, you knocked their weight askew, allowing you to rip your arms from their grasp and completely push yourself up, sending them tumbling to the ground.

Though your left arm felt weak and heavy you knew you had no time to spare. If you wasted even a second they would strike again and you wouldn't stand a chance. Thankfully, it wasn't your right arm they had injured.

"Would you like to tap out now, Miss Marsh?" Dean asked, adjusting his grip on your wrists so he was holding them just tight enough to keep you pinned on your back. His weight rested gently on your hips, not enough to hurt, but, again, enough to keep you pinned.

Sweat dripped down the side of your face as you tugged uselessly at your arms; Dean was fast and, while he had promised not to hurt you too early on in your training, he hadn't promised mercy.

"No," you responded, giving up on your current strategy and pausing to take a rest. Already it was obvious that you wouldn't be good at fighting fair; though you were getting quicker, you were small and not very strong, which meant you'd have to rely on your wits instead of brawn when it came to melee.

You'd found it strange that off the sparring mat he made you so flustered, gave you all kinds of butterflies and flutterbies and what have you, but, the moment you two stepped onto the mat, it was like you were a different person. No longer did his mere presence make you stutter like a kid in primary school, no longer were your palms sweaty, knees weak, and your tongue tied, but you were focused, determined, and almost like a normal socially functioning human being. You could hold entire conversations with him while you sparred, could discuss politics if you felt like it, and then the moment you were done, you went right back to being slightly solidified jello; wiggly enough to mess up your words, but solid enough to know you were fucking it all up.

"No, let me work it out." 'I need a way to get him off of me that doesn't include ripping my arms out of their sockets… I could fake him out… Get him to climb off me and then turn the tables on him…' You held back a grin as you committed to the act, and threw your head to the side to face the doorway, eyes wide. "C-Commander!"

Dean's head shot up in surprise and you immediately seized the opportunity to catch him off guard. Grinning, you pushed up through your legs, twisting your back to swing a leg up to catch his waist, using the momentum to roll him onto his back and pinning him in place.

Castleton green eyes blinked up at you. You smirked down at them. Your noses almost brushed as you grabbed his wrists, holding them above his head in the same fashion he'd held yours.

"Oh, that was very sneaky, Miss Marsh," he laughed, surprised and obviously restraining himself as he "fought" back. There was no way in hell you were strong enough to hold him down. "Very sneaky and unfair."

You laughed as well, struggling to hold his wrists down as he playfully wiggled around. "Hey! Stay still and let me pin you for once!"

He raised his head just a bit, nearly bumping his nose against yours. "Oh? And what if I don't?"

"Then I'll make you!" you responded, shifting your weight forward to hold his hands down better.

"I'd like to see you try, pipsqueak!"

"Pipsqueak?!" Your voice cracked in a squeak as you echoed his teasing insult, and you giggled at it with him. "Oh, you're in for it now, jerkwad!"

"Jerkwad? That's not a nice name to call your date, now, is it?"

You froze, confused. "What?"

"Briallen, would you do me the honour of being my date to the Halloween party?" he asked.

You were dumbstruck and quickly losing any confidence the sparring mat had given you today. Did he really just ask you to be his date? Did that qualify as asking you out? Obviously your answer would be yes, right? It had to be yes, how could you turn this down, but would it?

As you were busy mulling these thoughts over in your head, Dean was busy with getting his revenge. Before you could blink twice, you found your back hitting the mat again, a soft "whuff" leaving your lips as he pinned you back on the mat. "Nice try, Miss Marsh," he chuckled, leaning forward, breath brushing your ear, "but if you're going to play dirty, I am as well." With that, he hauled himself off of you, tousling his hair. "I think that's enough for today. Go ahead and towel off."

You sat up, cheeks aflame and pride hurt. He really just used your obvious attraction to him like that. What a dick move! He-

"And I would appreciate an answer soon."

Wait, what? You blinked, furry ebbing. "Pardon?"

He turned back to face you already beginning to towel off the sweat that coated his skin. He was grinning, almost boyishly. "What, did you think I didn't mean it when I asked you to be my date? Come one, Briallen, you should know me at least a little better than that!" He chuckled when you sat there, dumbstruck and staring at him. "So?"

You jumped, your brain suddenly kicking into high gear and the embarrassment seeping in again. "Y-Yes, of course! I-I'd like-love to come with you!"

"Great! Just tell me what you're going as, and I'll dress to match."

You were about to ask what he meant when the doors to the training room slid open and the Commander walked in, breaking the atmosphere. "Mr. Rose, how's she coming along?" he asked, walking up to stand beside the mat as Dean tossed you a towel.

"She's progressing at an extraordinary rate, sir. She managed to get me pinned to the mat this time, while also learning the importance of not letting her guard down," he responded, smirking over at you, making you smile.

The Commander nodded. "Good, good."

You pushed yourself up, keen to get off the sweat-soaked matt, but with a slight limp; one of your knees had hit the mat pretty hard when Dean had knocked you to the ground earlier and, while it thankfully wasn't broken or shattered, it was a bit swollen and pulsed with heat. You were used to small aches and pains, however, after having worked hours at a time at your desk for a couple weeks, and getting beat up on the mat, be it by Dean or one of the other agents-in-training, so it didn't bother you too much.

"Get an icepack on that, Soldier," the Commander said gruffly, crossing his arms as he caught sight of your limp.

"Yes, sir," you responded almost immediately, quickly wiping yourself down and slipping on a jacket as the AC kicked on, chilling your skin. You did as you were told, grabbing one of the adhesive, moldable ice packs and sticking it on your knee.

"I'll have McCree grab a biotic emitter for the ride downtown, we don't want you looking like you just got beat up when you arrive."

"Ride, sir?" you asked, cocking your head a bit as you furrowed your eyebrows. You weren't aware of any meetings today, especially not one that was a Triple O (Out Of Office, as Winston liked to call it). You were almost one hundred percent sure that there weren't any meetings for the rest of the day, and you checked and updated your calendar regularly. "I was unaware there were any meetings today."

"Yes, well, it is a spur of the moment kind of thing. One of our negotiators fell ill and we need a step in. Winston seems to think you could use the experience," he turned his head, meeting your gaze with powder blue eyes; he'd long since stopped wearing his visor around you, after the time you caught him with it off and lost your shit. You were chill with it now, of course. "That is, of course, if you don't object to it."

Your eyes widened and you quickly shook your head. "Of course not, sir!"

He smiled and nodded. "Good. Then I'll need you fresh-faced and properly dressed in an hour. This beneficiary is very formal and we want to make a good impression. You'll be leaving around 1400 hours."

You nodded, quickly downing at least half of your water bottle before standing. "Yes, sir, of course."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Marsh," Dean said, tossing his towel over his shoulder and giving you a wink. "Good luck at that meeting."

You blushed a bit, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "Y-Yeah, thanks."

"Miss Marsh, if you would please, I do have something I'd like to discuss with you," said the Commander, letting his arms drop. "I'll come with you so I don't waste any of your time."

Frowning a bit, you nodded and scurried after the old soldier as he turned to leave, clutching your water bottle tightly in one hand.

"A couple of weeks ago, I found a rather interesting set of files on your desk," he started after a couple seconds of agonising silence, walking next to you down the hall. His voice was calm, non-accusatory, but the topic still gave you chills; you'd been hoping no one found out about those. "Where did you get them?"

"I-I-In the box of-of-of files Winston gave me to update the first week," you answered truthfully, swallowing nervously. You could already tell where this was going; you were going to get told off for trying to access files outside of your rank. For the past couple weeks, when you weren't preoccupied with your work, training, or friends, you were doing everything in your power to learn everything you could about this Morrigan Morgan. You hadn't found much due to your current level of clearance, but still, you felt like you were close to something, and there was just something about this person that you couldn't ignore; you couldn't get them out of your head, couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu, couldn't help but want to know as much about them as you could.

The Commander hummed softly, glancing at you through the corner of his eye before looking ahead again, clasping his hands behind his back. "Tell me, Miss Marsh, what did you think of the contents of the files?"

"U-Um, well, I, uh, I think whoever this Morgan person is, they're dangerous, like, really scarily dangerous. But… I think, no, sorry, I know there's more to the story than what I've read so far," you said, rubbing your arm. "Some of those files hinted at the possibility of them having had… associates of some kind, perhaps even a whole organisation backing them."

He nodded, turning the corner with you. "That's true, she did, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is the fact that you should not have access to any of those files. I want you to forget everything you've read and drop the subject, Miss Marsh."

'She? So Morgan's a girl…' You started a bit as he said this, unwilling to actually give up the case; you felt as if you'd been getting close to something, some of that information just didn't sit right with you, as if something was off or missing. It felt too important and you couldn't just let it go, not when you felt as if you were getting so close, but, you held your tongue and nodded, swallowing a bit. "Yes-Yes, sir, of-of-of course, sir."

"You do understand that there will be repercussions if you don't?" he turned his gaze back on you, his eyes seeming to say 'I don't want to punish you, but I will if I have to.'

You nodded again, though in your head, you'd already resolved to do the exact opposite. Something had to be going on, something big, especially if the Commander was telling you to drop your investigation, if you could even call it that. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll leave you to it then, Soldier. You know where to meet them?"

"Yes, sir. In the car park, ground floor."

He nodded with a grunt and turned off down another hallway, leaving you to walk to your room by yourself.

Lena's smile was bright as she greeted you in the car park, calling your name excitedly. She was dressed in an adorable suit and you could see the handle of a handgun poking discreetly out from the waistband of her pants. "Well, well, well, there she is! How'd training go?" she asked, grinning smugly.

"Um, well. Dean asked me to be his date to the party," you admitted, giving her a sheepish smile.

Her eyes went wide and she let her crossed arms drop. "No way."

You chuckled. "Would I lie about that? He said something about what I was going as, is this a costume party?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "Well, duh! It's a Halloween party, Briallen! What else would it be? But that's so bloody amazing that he asked you out! You really struck out, luv!"

"So, Dean Rose asked you to be his date?" came the familiar Southern drawl from the door to the car park, followed quickly by the familiar crooked smile and the smell of cigars and whisky as McCree approached you two. "It's a shame, but I suppose a pretty lady such as yourself was bound to get snatched up sooner or later," he teased with a wink, chuckling as you blushed. "Just let me know if he doesn't treat you right, I'll be tannin' his hide faster than you can say 'draw'."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad, whatever you say."

He shot you a playfully wounded look. "Aww, now, I'm hurt. Y'could at least say 'daddy' instead."

"Nope! That conversation's over! Let's get in the car and get to the meeting, yeah?" Lena cut in, shaking her head quickly and pushing you towards the car. "We don't want to be late."