Winston, Overwatch's most esteemed theoretical physicist and its only lunar representative, had been rather excited for the "theoretical" in his job description to become "practical," but now he wished he had not worked on the Slipstream project at all. Of course, had the project been entirely under his supervision, none of this would have happened, he was sure, but Overwatch's scientific community was large and full of conflicting opinions. And even larger were its strategic combat and weapons departments, which rushed the Slipstream's completion and scheduled the test flight for earlier than Winston would have liked.

He worked tirelessly to find the girl who piloted the Slipstream. Tracer, as she became known in the RAF, and as the world surely would have known her one day when she became the greatest pilot it had ever seen. Or Lena, as Winston knew her.

As he explained to her the technology she would be testing, Ms. Oxton seemed less than attentive. But her bright smile won Winston over, and they became fast friends in the months Lena spent on the Overwatch base in Gibraltar, training and undergoing medical tests and background checks and interviews and training and training and training. It seemed unnecessary, Winston thought. He had seen her records—joined the Royal Air Force at 17, completed training and at 19 was deployed to Italy to help quell a small uprising of some bots from an Omnium in Sicily. After five months based in Naples, she returned to the UK with seventeen confirmed kills. Of course Overwatch had heard about this hotshot pilot and wanted her to test their fighter. Surely it seemed to her like an opportunity. It was a death sentence.

He grunted in frustration, his efforts leading him to more dead ends.

"Dr. Winston?"

The gorilla jumped a little in his seat, for he rarely had visitors, "Commander Reyes. What can I do for you?"

"I didn't want to be the one to deliver this news," Commander Gabriel Reyes started, "You know how there has been Talon activity in France,"

"Erm, I suppose…—"

"Well, you see, Blackwatch is requesting further funding to take them down. You understand—before it becomes something bigger than we can handle."

"Alright. Commander, I really don't see—"

"Funding that Overwatch doesn't have. You heard how one of our investors at Volskaya pulled out?"

"I suppose. I'm not watching the news much these days—"

"Doctor, we are re-allocating resources from the Slipstream project. Unless you make progress in the next two weeks, you will be cut off." He paused, "I'm sorry, Winston."

"And Jack is okay with this? This girl is MIA and it is our fault!"

"Jack doesn't like it," Reyes said, "but an organization like ours has to make sacrifices every day. For the greater good."

"The greater good. It's all because of you and Lacroix that this even happened in the first place! Blackwatch demanded we push the deadline up, so that you all could use the technology as soon as possible to fight your petty terrorists. If my team hadn't been rushed, Miss Oxton would still be here."

"Dr. Winston, the girl was in the military. She was an active soldier before we hired her. She knew there was a risk of death. I am sure she accepted that before she went down. It's time for you to accept it too."

"There is no evidence that she is dead."

Reyes sighed, "Two weeks, Dr. Winston."

As the commander shut the door behind him, Winston roared and slammed his fists on his desk.

-x-

"I don't understand," Winston muttered later before a large monitor in his lab, "I've scanned the entire flight path and its surroundings inch by inch for any sign of spatial anomalies. Heck, I've scanned for this stuff all over the planet—I've used every one of Overwatch's satellites. If she is not here, then something must be! Whatever happened to her—she can't be gone ! Wherever she is, she would have to have left behind some sort of… residue. Energy . And yet there's nothing ! I've scanned for teleportation markers; spatial inconsistencies; dark matter ! Nothing. It doesn't make sense!"

"Winston," said Mercy quietly from the doorway, "Are you talking to yourself?"

"Huh?" Winston cleared his throat, "No! Of course not. I'm talking to Athena."

"You should get some sleep. It's nearly two o'clock in the morning."

"I can't. Did Reyes tell you? They will shut down the program in two weeks if we don't make any progress. 12 days now."

"I wish I could help, Dr. Winston. Metaphysics aren't exactly my expertise."

"I don't need your help, Angela. I know I can do it. I just need more time !"

There was a silence as Winston seethed and clenched his fists. But then his fingers relaxed and his eyes widened.

"Dr. Winston?" Mercy asked, caution in her voice.

"Oh my god," Winston said.

"Winston, what?"

"Time!" Winston began typing frantically, "Athena—let me see the schematics for the Slipstream's Teleportation Engine."

"Winston, tell me what's going on," Mercy said, growing agitated.

"The Slipstream, as you know, was meant to teleport," Winston explained as he wrote out equations on a chalkboard, "Now, to travel through space, you see, one must also travel through time. Like how it takes time to walk from one side of a room to another." He stepped back from his equations and examined them, before erasing bits and starting over, "Now, to bend space, allowing the plane and the pilot to teleport, we also had to bend time . I don't know why I didn't think of it—I was so concerned with where Lena had gone, I didn't think to wonder when !"

"So… Winston, what does this mean?" Mercy asked.

"I have been searching for various types of spatial disturbances, and never once came across any remnants of the Slipstream or Ms. Oxton. I didn't think to search for chronal disruptions! If I modify the scanning technology I've been using to detect disruptions in space to instead detect disruptions in time, maybe I can find something."

"How long do you think it will take?" Mercy asked, herself excited.

"Two days to modify the scanners. Another to conduct the search."

"And then what…?"

A pause again.

Winston cleared his throat, "Let's find her first."

So Winston modified the scanners. And with caffeine provided by the good doctor herself (she was rather unhappy to give it up, and certainly suggested that the gorilla get some rest, though she hadn't herself), he did not sleep and thus his work only took a day and a half. He spent a third and fourth day hypothesizing, and then the fifth and sixth building a chamber that he hoped would be able to contain the energy of someone otherwise absent from this timeline.

And then it was time to conduct the search.

"You see," Winston explained to Mercy, scientists bustling about the lab the morning of that day, "I had originally searched the flight-test sight with a drone equipped with sensors to detect tears in the fabric of space. Now, I've modified the sensors—well, replaced them completely, I suppose—to detect chronal—time-related, that is—anomalies instead. Using the same sorts of calculations that we used to create the Slipstream jet itself." Winston took a deep breath, "So I've sent the drone back to the test sight. If we don't find it—the plane, I mean—and Lena there, then we may have to conduct a planet-wide search using satellites. That may take longer…"

"What can I do to help you, Dr. Winston?" Angela asked with a hand on his back.

"If we find her—well, I've already created a system that should be able to lock onto her, well, her presence, regardless of whether or not she is in our timeline, and anchor her weakly to our plane. You see, there's a sort of… an energy signature, if you will, that—"

"Winston?" said Mercy.

"Yes, Angela?"

"Your team knows this, yes? Tell me the details later. For now, every second that we spend not looking for her may mean she is in pain. Just tell me what I can do."

"Yes well, you are here because... Well, if we find her… if she is… well, I don't know if she is injured, we don't know where she's been. If the plane crashed outside of our timeline. What any of this has done to her. Someone with your… medical expertise will be essential." He paused and looked at a screen, "The drone has just arrived at the site. See how the screen is all blue? That means the drone is not sensing any chronal anomalies."

He flew the drone past the runway and over the water. Mercy prepared for hours of slow searching, but it only took a few minutes before they found something, just below the spot the jet had gone down.

"There!" Winston said as the drone approached an orange blob, vaguely plane-shaped, resting under the water, "It works! That must be the Slipstream. It is bursting with chronal energy, must be existing somewhere between timestreams. Perhaps if we can recover it…-"

"Winston."

"Ah, yes. Right. Lena may still be inside the jet. Remember what I said about the signatures? Well, if I have the scanner ignore the signatures of the Slipstream and its components…"

He pressed some buttons, and the shape of the Slipstream disappeared, leaving just blue.

"Nothing's there," said Angela.

"Perhaps she exited the jet. Or she ejected. She must be somewhere…" He hit those buttons again, and the shape of the Slipstream returned.

"Keep looking." Mercy said.

So he did. He drove the drone across the water, occasionally diving underneath but deeming it unnecessary as the drone could pick up chronal signatures at the bottom of the ocean.

For hours they searched, and they were beginning to lose hope. It grew late, and many of Winston's scientists went home.

"Okay—we may have to try using the satellites. They will be less accurate, but if she teleported—"

"Winston! What's that?" Angela pointed to the edge of the screen, where the tiniest bit of orange just poked into the field of view.

Winston moved the drone closer and, sure enough, what they saw was this: a ball of orange, curled on the beach as waves crashed around it against the shore.

Their hearts raced.

"It could be a… a piece of equipment from the plane." Winston said. He turned off the scanner and the form disappeared from their view. He turned it back on and there it remained.

"There's only one way to find out, right?" Mercy said, "Now what?"

"Now…" Winston typed furiously, "I can lock onto the signature, and pull it in here. Whatever it is." He pointed absently to the hastily constructed chamber behind him. Then he looked Mercy in the eyes, "Listen. If it is her… well, she's been trapped between timelines for 6 months. Maybe longer for her. We don't know… Well, prepare for the worst."

Dr. Winston walked over to the chamber and pulled a lever. The orange figure disappeared from the screen—but nothing else seemed to change.

Winston held up a tablet to the chamber, and through its screen one could now see the orange form on the hard floor.

"She's here," Mercy breathed.

"Okay, Dr. Ziegler," Winston said, "Be ready."