So, after much bureaucracy and a passive-aggressive reminder to Overwatch's board that the last thing the financially-strapped organization needed was a lawsuit from the damaged pilot, Winston and Mercy were granted access to Overwatch's most prestigious doctors and scientists to help them help Lena.

For several weeks, various esteemed thinkers were introduced to Tracer. Experts on time, space, and physics were called in; psychologists, neurologists, and doctors of all kinds would speak to her, taking mystified notes; even ophthalmologists and otolaryngologists investigated Lena's self-reported dulled vision and muffled hearing. Her continued (though gradually lessening) confusion and her non-solid state, however, meant all of these brilliant scientists could get barely farther in their studies of the girl than Mercy and Winston had themselves.

One morning, though, when Mercy entered the lab as dejected as she'd been the day before, she was shocked out of her pre-coffee stupor by the gorilla dancing excitedly at his whiteboard.

"I called him!"

Angela looked around in confusion, "Called who?"

"There's this physicist," Winston said, "I'm a big fan. He's from The Netherlands. He doesn't work for Overwatch but yesterday Morrison gave me permission to contact him about Lena. You see, I was thinking about Lena's case the other night, you know how we can't really help medically until we can fix her physically. So I was doing calculations—surely it's all got to do with time. Then I realized—What has the power to bend time?"

There was a pause, and Mercy felt briefly stupid. Then she mentally berated herself when the answer seemed obvious: "Gravity?"

"Gravity!"

Mercy nodded slowly, "So this physicist…"

"Is the number one expert in his field. Gravity. The situation is quite complex, obviously. But I really think he can help us. Help Lena. He's coming today. Should be here within the hour."

Angela chuckled, "Calm down, Dr. Winston. You are acting like a fanboy."

Winston scrambled to make his office presentable, and Mercy began her day by looking over her notes. It was, indeed, less than an hour later that there was a gentle knock at the door, "Excuse me," an accented voice said, "I am here for a Dr. Winston."

Winston nearly jumped out of his fur as he went to the door, "Angela," he said, opening it, "I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Siebren de Kuiper."

-x-

Winston and Dr. de Kupier chatted for several hours about science that Mercy could only vaguely understand before the gorilla invited him to briefly meet Lena and observe the phenomenon of her ghostly form in person.

"You can talk to her," said Angela, "but please be patient. She's had to speak with a lot of doctors lately; I think she prefers a friend."

Sigma nodded, peering into the chamber and seeing Tracer, who was sitting cross-legged, rocking back and forth on the floor and lost in her own thoughts.

"Lena!" said Winston, "This is Dr. Siebren de Kuiper. He specializes in gravity. I think he can help us make you, erm, solid again."

"Brilliant!" said Lena, bouncing up to greet them, "Can I eat food again, then? I'm dying for some chips."

"I will see what I can do," said Dr. de Kuiper, "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Oxton. I've heard about you—you are very brave. I can't imagine going through what you've gone through."

Lena's gaze shifted to Siebren, and her goofy smile turned into a confused frown, "Sigma."

He cocked his head, "Excuse me?"

Tracer approached the glass of the chamber, aiming to rest her hand on it but collapsing to the floor when it phased through. She backed away again until she was fully inside the room. "You hear it too, don't you? After what happened to you."

He, too, backed away slowly, glancing at Winston and then back at the patient, "Hear what, my dear?"

Tracer's gaze turned hopeless, her heart filling with loneliness, "I don't know. Nevermind."

"I'm sorry," said Mercy as she entered the chamber to try and comfort Lena however she could manage, "I am sure Winston informed you, Dr. de Kuiper, that on top of her physical condition Lena is also suffering from delusions. Actually, that's why it is so important that we have you here—once we can interact with her physically, we might be able to figure out what's wrong. And how to fix it."

It was all Dr. de Kuiper needed, seeing Lena fall through the glass and onto the floor, and he and Winston were able to jointly develop theories related to Tracer's condition. They realized that the few objects that Lena could touch, such as the floor and the building's wall, were those surfaces that had been in a particular location for the longest amount of time (parts of the building, Winston noted, were at least a century old). The amount of resistance an object gave her would only decrease as objects became less permanent, her body phasing through other people or new items.

This, they theorized, had to do with Lena being scattered physically through multiple instances of time. And so Dr. de Kuiper came up with an idea that would use gravity, which was one of the few forces with the ability to bend time itself, to pull her body into the present.

The scientists began working to modify the chamber to incorporate Siebren's theoretical device, but after two weeks of work Dr. de Kuiper was reluctant to inform Winston that he was shortly to travel to space to study a black hole, and that he needed to return home to prepare.

"Good luck, Dr. Winston," said Siebren on his final day at Gibraltar. He turned to Lena, who was playing with strands of her short hair, humming to herself, "Good luck, Lena."

Lena stopped humming and looked at him hopefully.

"No, keep singing," Siebren said, "It's a nice tune. I like it."

She smiled softly at him—had she been singing? She was filled with dread for his departure. She was sure it was just because she was losing a new friend.

"Keep in touch," said Lena, pushing the dread away, "Can you send letters from space?"

So Siebren went away, but he left Winston with enough to finish building the gravitational device that would help pull Lena into the here and now.

So, when that day came that all the math added up perfectly and all the pieces fit together, Winston fit the new device onto the chamber and the team prepared to power it up.

"Now Lena," said Winston, "Don't be afraid. We've tested this on scraps from the Slipstream we were able to locate. Once I pull this lever, your body should become solid and you should regain your senses."

"Chips?" asked Tracer.

"Sure," Winston said, "We can get you some chips."

"Well, let's get to it already!" Lena said, bouncing on her heels.

"Lena, settle down," said Angela, "I want you to take deep breaths. This might shock your system. Your body hasn't 'existed' for months."

"I know. It's worth it, though. Chips! And hugs. I'm ready."

"You should lie down for this, Lena," Mercy offered.

"I'm more comfortable standing, Ange," said Tracer, "I'm too excited!"

"Okay. Deep breaths," said Angela, "I can't be in there will you while we activate the device. Tell us when you're ready."

"Ready!" said Tracer, almost immediately. And Winston pulled the great lever, though the only indication that he did was a brief sucking sound.

The ground beneath Lena's feet suddenly felt wrong, and the air felt too heavy to breath. The whirring of computers and the tick of the clock were deafening in her ears, and the dim light burned her eyes. Her knees buckled when her returning muscles felt weak.

"Lena," said Mercy, teetering on her feet until Winston gave her the nod that it was okay to enter the chamber.

"Ohh," moaned Tracer as Mercy quickly approached her, "Prolly shoulda laid down."

"Hey, Lena, can you hear me?" Mercy asked.

Tracer winced at that, which was answer enough for Angela.

"What is it? Too loud?"

Lena nodded, tears forming in her eyes, moving to cover her ears.

Ever so cautiously, Mercy moved to touch Lena. She put a hand on her shoulder, gentle as ever, but pulled it away when Lena flinched in pain.

"Winston," said Mercy, "can you lower the lights in here? I think it's hurting her eyes. And turn off anything you can that's making noise. She's overstimulated."

Winston did as he was told, opting not to speak for fear that his booming voice would hurt Lena more.

The lights went down and some of the machines stopped buzzing, though the tick of the clock and the whirring of the chamber itself remained, "Is that better, Lena?" Mercy asked. "Try opening your eyes."

And, when she did, Tracer found that even in the darkness colors were brighter and more vivid than she'd ever remembered them being. She looked at Angela's face—edges seemed sharper, and she felt like a veil had been lifted from her senses.

She could smell the metal in the air, Winston's bananas. Angela's flowery perfume stung her throat like poison.

Her body ached, and chills ran up and down it like they were running a marathon. She shivered, the metal floor on her bare feet for the first time seeming unbearably cold. Even so, her skin seemed to burn. Hypersensitive, even her own fingertips digging into her palms felt like they were irritating a wound.

When Mercy had touched her, her nerve endings lit up like fireworks. Intense, terrifying, but beautiful—like, well, fireworks. Human touch. It was foreign, but so familiar. She was scared that it hurt.

"Lena?" Mercy asked, and Tracer blinked back into reality, wondering how long she'd escaped to her thoughts, "Lena, can I touch you?"

Tracer bit her lip in fear, but before she could answer pain shot through her head and she doubled over, "Oh, bollocks."

Mercy sent caution to the wind, then, and kneeled before Lena without hesitation. She placed a medical kit beside her and grabbed Lena's head gently in her hands, apologetic but not deterred when Tracer winced again and tried to pull away, "I'm sorry, Lena. Let me see your head." She felt around her head gingerly, finding the tender spot where she must have hit it so many months ago.

"Is she okay?" Winston asked, frowning when Tracer groaned at his voice.

"She's overstimulated and she's got injuries from the crash," Mercy said, "You did your job beautifully, Dr. Winston. It's time for me to do mine."

Mercy began to reach for her medical supplies, but was stopped by a hand on her arm. She turned to see Lena, eyes wide in awe. Lena looked from her own hand to Angela's eyes, amazed at her own ability to to feel another person's skin, and let out a pained, "Thank you…"

And then she passed out.

Soon a bed was wheeled into the chamber and Mercy went to work caring for Lena's wounds.

"Clearly these haven't healed." Mercy said later when Lena was awake and any immediate danger had passed, "Do you think they will now that she is tangible, Dr. Winston?"

Winston cleared his throat, "Theoretically, yes."

"Ow," Tracer said as Mercy cleaned a wound behind her hair, "This isn't making me love feeling again."

"Sorry, Lena," Mercy said, "Do you remember hitting your head?"

"Doc, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Oh yeah, nothing. When can I get some food?"

Angela sighed, "Winston, can you grab her something from the commissary?"

"Chips, please!" sang Lena.

Winston chuckled, "I'm a scientist! Not a butler. But fine. Anything for you, Lena." And with that he left.

"How hungry are you, Lena? Does it feel like you haven't eaten in months?" asked Mercy.

"Normal hungry," Tracer said, "Like I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Mercy nodded thoughtfully, "How are your senses?"

"Still too bright," Lena admitted, "Still too loud. Skin still burns." She smiled lightly, "But better."

"How else are you feeling?" Mercy said as she bandaged Lena's head.

"Little dizzy," said Tracer, "It's cold."

Mercy frowned—they'd turned up the heat for Tracer, and the doctor was sweating through her coat.

Glancing at the monitors they'd hooked up to the now-solid Tracer, Mercy's frown deepened.

"What?" Tracer asked, noticing the look.

"Nothing," said Angela, "Your vitals aren't exactly normal. I suppose that's to be expected."

It was true; her body temperature was cold and her heartbeat was irregular. Her blood pressure was low and several numbers didn't seem to add up.

Angela shined a light into Tracer's eyes and had her follow her finger. "Your concussion is minor. And you don't need stitches. Say 'ahh'," she said, sticking a tongue depressor into Tracer's mouth.

She had Tracer hold out her arm and Mercy started taking as many vials of blood as she thought the girl could handle, hoping to run as many tests as she could think of.

"Okay. Dizzy, dizzy," Tracer said, and Mercy immediately capped off the last vial and removed the tube from Tracer's arm.

"I think I stuck enough needles in you today, anyway." Mercy chuckled, "Thank you for being so patient."

"Where'd Winston go? I never got my gorilla hug."

Mercy felt a familiar dread again, "He left just a few minutes ago. He's getting you food, don't you remember?"

"No, I already ate. He got the wrong kind of chips."

Mercy rubbed Lena's back soothingly, "Winston hasn't come back yet, Lena."

Lena felt insane, but all she said was: "Oh,"

Tracer flinched away from Mercy's soothing hand, started rocking and humming. She was playing with the blankets on the bed, picking loose strings out of them.

Mercy did not know what to say, for with all of their progress these moments of confusion were still far too common. All she could hope was that, now that Lena was tangible, brain scans and medical tests could bring them to an explanation and, hopefully, a solution.

It was then that Winston returned, and he frowned seeing Lena no longer happily gabbing with the doctor and instead humming anxiously to herself. He carried a tray of beef, mashed potatoes, and three bags of potato chips.

"Winston!" Mercy said as he passed the tray to her to take into the chamber to Lena.

"What?"

"Winston, these are crisps. Not chips. She meant french fries."

"Oh. Sorry. I can go-"

"No, it's fine. It's not that. It's just… something she said." Mercy took the tray and brought it to her patient, "Here, Lena."

Lena stared at the food long and hard, clenching her fists, tears forming in her eyes, feeling insanity creep into her mind. Hadn't this happened before?

Winston panicked, "What's wrong? Is this about the chips? What happened while I was gone?"

Silently, Lena took the tray and started eating, unable to help the blissful smile that overtook her taste at the flavor that to anyone else would be mediocre at best.

Mercy smiled back, leaving the chamber to the next room, where Winston followed her.

"What was that about?" said the Gorilla, "I'm sorry about the fries."

"It's nothing," Mercy said, "Winston, we've solved one issue. But we still have another, bigger one on our hands."