Chapter 2:

A squirrel scurried across the wooden floor, an acorn stuffed in its mouth. It paused, only for a moment, and then continued to run.

Hot on the squirrel's heels, the Scout zoomed down the hall after the rodent, chiding, "You can't run forever! I'll getcha eventually! You gon' learn today!"

The squirrel leaped into a crate beside the Medic's doorway, and Scout slowed to a stop and dropped to his knees, panting while grinning into the crate's peephole. "Aw, done already? Come on, Lil' buddy,"

As Scout peered into the crate, he overheard some conversation from within the next room. He glanced up, listening, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I'd like to get it out of this base as soon as possible," Medic was saying. "We do not need it for the enemy, I have no use for it, and I have concerns over Scout getting into it,"

Scout pouted inwardly. He wasn't a dumb child! Nevertheless, he continued to listen.

"Where does it go, then?" Spy responded. "Do you want me to throw it away?"

"No!" Medic nearly barked. "No...let me think. It needs to be in safe hands, where it cannot be misused,"

Dylan awoke with a start, his eyes twitching as a bright flashlight assaulted them. He made an undignified squawk and tried to get away.

"Oh, no!" a feminine voice above him gasped. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. Don't panic, you're all right,"

She laid his hand on his shoulder, and Dylan's eyes finally adjusted. A beautiful blonde woman leaned over him, her eyes scanning him silently as she removed her hand.

"How are you feeling?" she sat beside him on the cot, smiling at him. "You're lucky they found you in time- you could have ended up with a nasty heat stroke,"

Dylan swallowed, trying to sit up, his mind reeling. "Wait...found me? Where was I?"

"Out in the desert, near that abandoned base," she explained. "I have the belongings you were found with. The people who found you said you were looking for someone?"

"Oh," Dylan tried to remember. "I was?" Weird. The last thing he remembered was leaving the bus stop...

The woman looked at him sympathetically. "You don't remember anything?"

"Well..." he thought about it. "I tried to get on the bus, I had a bus pass, but the driver was sayin' the pass was expired, so I got off. After that, I don't remember,"

"I see," the woman reached down to a cooler beside her feet, pulling out bottled water. "Here, you need to stay hydrated,"

Dylan gratefully sipped at the water, and he finally noticed where he was. He thought he was at a hospital, but it appeared to be a small nurse's office, like at a school. The woman tending to him wasn't even really dressed like a doctor: she had on only a blouse over a pair of yoga pants.

"Hey, uh," Dylan cleared his throat. "Where am I?"

The woman took a breath, looking nervous all of the sudden. "You're in...you're in Overwatch's current base sight. I'm the doctor here, Angela Ziegler, but you may call me Mercy,"

Dylan thought this over. "Wait a minute- Overwatch? Didn't that, like, stop being a thing?"

Mercy wrung her hands, not making eye contact. "It's...complicated, and it's not a concern of yours. Here," she opened a door beside her, revealing a small bathroom. "How about you take a quick shower, and then I can send you on your way, hmm?"

"Sure," he was still very confused by all of this, but what was the use in arguing? Besides, his skin was still sticky with sweat, and a cold shower sounded nice.

It wasn't until he was undressed and standing under the steady stream of water that a realization struck him. What time was it? He turned the water off, pushing back the shower curtain and squinting at a clock on the edge of the sink. It read 4:45.

"God damn it!" he cursed at himself. "Dad's gonna kill me,"

A few minutes later, he'd put his clothes back on and stepped out of the bathroom, seeing that Mercy had laid all the belongings he'd come with on the bed. Mercy herself stood by the bed, a slip of paper clutched in her hand.

"Here," she handed the slip to Dylan when he approached. "A bus pass with the correct date, so you can get home,"

Dylan felt himself cringe on the inside. Yes, home: where his father would no doubt tear him to shreds for missing a job interview. Nevertheless, he took the pass. "Thanks. What's the way out of here?"

Mercy pointed to the door behind her. "Through there, into the lobby, and then you should see the front doors. Take care!"

The lobby echoed back Dylan's footsteps as he walked through it, pausing at the foot of a winding staircase for a brief moment. He could hear some faint music playing on the floor above, and he swore he could hear some people talking. He wondered what it was like to work here, or what they were even doing.

As he stepped out of the building, he was just about to take out his phone to access his GPS when a voice to the right of him changed everything.

"There he is!"

Dylan turned his head in confusion, only to have a man he'd never seen before run right up to him and tackle him. Dylan yelped, squirming and trying to push the stranger off. "What the Hell!? Who are you!?"

Two more people, a young woman and a young man, both ran into the scene and pried the attacker off.

"Junkrat, what is wrong with you!?" she grabbed him by the shoulders and whirled him around to look at her. "You scared him!"

Dylan sat up, gasping, scrambling to escape when the other man knelt beside him and helped him up. "Are you okay?" the other man wanted to know. "I'm sorry, he's just excited,"

"Jesus Christ," Dylan wheezed under his breath, struggling to his feet. "What was that!?"

Junkrat looked rather indignant. "Why, listen here, boyo- I saved your life out there! How's 'bout you show me show respect?"

Dylan paused, his brows furrowing. "Wait, you were the one who found me?"

"One of the two, he means. You really have Tracer to thank," the girl corrected, reaching out and shaking Dylan's hand. "I'm Hana,"

"Hi-" Upon seeing her face, he figured out who she was. "Hey! I know you!"

Hana just smiled knowingly, tilting her head to the side. "Do you?"

"Yeah! You-you're that streamer girl- DVa!" he dug through his shoulder bag, retrieving a small notebook. "Would ya mind...?"

"Not at all!" Hana grinned, pulling out a pen and scribbling down her signature. As she whisked the pen back into her pocket, she gestured to the other young man. "This is Lucio,"

Lucio exchanged a handshake with Dylan as well, asking again, "Are you okay? They were saying you had a heat stroke!"

"Well, I didn't! Look at me," Dylan outstretched his arms, waving them. "I'm alive, ain't I?"

"Yeah, you're alive!" Junkrat popped back in. "Hadn't been for me, you'd be roasting in your own piss!"

Hana wrinkled her nose. "Oh, will you stop that? Tracer said you thought he was dead!"

This was the second time that name had been mentioned, and Dylan had to ask, "Who's Tracer?"

"She's one of our teammates," Hana responded. "And she saved your sorry butt from heat stroke! She's not here right now, though- she's out training,"

Junkrat nudged Lucio with his arm, and when he had his attention, he showed him the photograph. Lucio took the picture, holding it up and squinting at Dylan. "You're right, Jamison," he remarked. "They really do look alike!"

Dylan looked over, confused. "Huh?"

"Ooh!" Hana seemed excited all of the sudden. "Let me see!" Lucio passed the picture to Hana, who stared down at it and then back at Dylan. "You wanna see?"

"Sure...?" Dylan took the photo in his hands, and he felt himself jump. "That-that's me! Except...it isn't! Who is this?"

"The Scout, from the base where we found ya!" Junkrat waved his hands in excitement. "He's been dead for a long time, o'course, but-"

Lucio cut in, rather excited. "We think you could be him!"

Dylan paused, feeling seriously confused. "Wait, what?"

"Come on," Hana took his arm, leading him to some furniture nearby where she motioned for him to sit in a chair. "This is gonna take a lot of explaining, but this is too weird to be a coincidence,"

Once the four of them were gathered around, Hana began. "We have this...theory, that in a past life, you were this guy," she held up the picture of the Scout again. "Now, this guy knew another guy at the same base who knew something very important,"

Dylan crossed his arms, thinking this over. "...and what was that?"

"The cure for Black Flu!" Junkrat chimed in, looking ecstatic.

"What!?" Dylan's eyes widened. "Black Flu? You mean, that thing on the news that no one will shut up about?"

"Yeah," Lucio nodded. "But we found something that said it might be a poison and not an illness,"

This only made Dylan feel more confused, so he tried to go over what he'd heard. "So...you think that, in a past life, I was a dude who knew another dude who knew the cure for the flu, but it wasn't the flu at all, and it was a poison, and now people are being poisoned? And, somehow, I can do something about this?"

"Uh...yeah?" Hana tried to smile and cleared her throat. "It sounds crazy, I know, but..." she pushed the photograph towards Dylan. "Have you ever considered it?"

Dylan was about to say how ridiculous all of this was and just walk away, ready to face the wrath of his father, but as he looked at the photo again, a strange feeling stirred within him. In the picture, the Scout posed with a squirrel in his hands, and Dylan suddenly remembered what he had dreamt before Mercy had woken him up. There was a fluttering in his chest, and it was one he couldn't ignore.

"It's not so crazy, I guess," he straightened up, brushing his hair back. "I mean, I've heard a ton of stories about past lives, and they sound real,"

"Oh, yeah!" Junkrat piped up. "Tell ya what: I knew a chick back in Junkertown, was terrified of birds her whole life and had no clue why! She went to a healer, and turns out she had her eyes pecked out in her past life!"

Lucio made an audible noise of disgust. "Ew, why'd you have to say that?"

Dylan stared back down at the photo, and he wondered, "But how will I remember everything, or at least what's important?"

A silence fell over them. Both Lucio and Hana looked to Junkrat, who was just as stumped as them. It was clear he hadn't thought this far.

"Ah-ha!" Lucio exclaimed after a few seconds. "I know! We can take him to Zenyatta. I've heard him talk about reincarnation before,"

"No way!" Junkrat snapped. "No way we're taking him to that self-righteous hunk of metal!"

Hana looked offended. "Rat, why do you hate Zenyatta so much? He's literally never done anything to you!" she huffed and turned back to Dylan. "I can take you to him. He'll probably know what to do,"

A few minutes later, Hana led Dylan through the hills behind the building, where Dylan stopped for a moment to look back.

"What is this place, anyway?" he wanted to know. "The doctor said it was a base,"

"Yeah, pretty much," Hana shrugged. "It's more like a big office, but there are also apartments. We've been living here for the past few months, just so we can take care of something,"

"Take care of what?"

Hana started to say something but thought better of herself. "That's, uh, something I don't think I'm allowed to tell you," she tugged on his arm. "This way,"

She led him to what appeared to be a small shed, decorated in old glass bottles and various lawn ornaments. "Zenyatta's been staying here for now," Hana explained as she knocked on the door. "Hey! You in?"

"Wait right there!" a voice called from within. There was a clicking sound, and the door swung open. An omnic stood before them, and he cheerfully greeted Hana. "Hello, Hana. How are you today?"

"I'm fine today," she responded, and she gestured to Dylan. "This is the guy Tracer and Junkrat found in the desert earlier today. Remember?"

Zenyatta turned his attention to Dylan, watching him curiously. "Ah, yes. And are you feeling better?"

"Uh," Dylan tried to speak. He was from an area where omnics weren't common, so he'd never been this close to one before. "Yeah, I'm better,"

"Good," Zenyatta opened the door wider, motioning for his guests to come in. "Tell me- what brings you here?"

Dylan removed the picture from his pocket, taking a breath. "Well, this is gonna sound kinda weird..."

Both Hana and Dylan explained the situation to Zenyatta, who just listened silently, never making a comment or asking a question. Once they'd finished, Zenyatta folded his metallic hands across his lap and thought for a few seconds.

"Hana," he spoke. "I'm going to need you to step outside for a while. I'll need to be alone with Dylan, here,"

Hana and Dylan exchanged a brief glance as Hana stood up, making her way to the door. Once the door had been closed, Zenyatta laid out a long yoga mat.

"Lay down," he commanded, pointing to the mat.

Dylan hesitated, then obeyed. He lay on his back as Zenyatta laid a cloth over his eyes, blocking out his vision.

This worried Dylan greatly. "Y-you ain't gonna put something nasty in my mouth, are ya?"

"No!" Zenyatta seemed almost offended that he would ask such a thing. "Relax, everything's fine,"

Dylan tried to loosen his body, but he still felt tense. "I-I can't,"

"Yes, you can," Dylan jumped as he felt Zenyatta touching his shoulders and squeezing them. "Take a deep breath- that should help you,"

It really did seem to help, and Dylan soon felt his muscles softening. He heard Zenyatta's voice right above him. "Good. Now, clear your mind of any distractions, and we'll begin,"

Dylan's vision was complete blackness as Zenyatta's voice cut through the air. "Your mind will travel to your past life. What do you see?"

A building appeared in the darkness, and it was the old base. Yet, it was new, and it felt so familiar. "T-the base. No!" Dylan corrected himself. "The fort,"

"Go inside," Zenyatta commanded gently. "What's there?"

His heart pounding, Dylan stepped in through an open garage door, scanning the scenery. "Machines, and some weapons,"

"Keep going,"

Dylan continued to walk around, stepping through a hallway and stopping by something hanging on the wall. "There's...there's a mirror,"

"Look at yourself," Zenyatta's voice cut back in. "Look at your reflection and tell me who you are,"

Dylan turned towards the mirror, his hands shaking as he stared at his own face. He looked the same, only he wore a baseball cap and a red shirt with a tag hanging around his slender neck. He tried to speak, but he couldn't seem to force any words out. Finally, he squeaked out one word: "Scout!"

Instantly, the floor below him seemed to swallow him, and he fell into blackness. His dream, the one from earlier, continued.

"No...let me think. It needs to be in safe hands, where it cannot be misused,"

The squirrel chattered within the crate, and Scout scooped him up in his hands while listening.

"I know!" Medic exclaimed finally. "Mail it to the CDC's headquarters. They can safely dispose of it there,"

"Fair enough," Spy cleared his throat, and the sound of his lighter clicked. He was lighting another cigarette. "What should I tell them?"

Medic rummaged around in his desk, answering, "I have a note here you can deliver with the samples. It explains what this chemical is and what it does. All you must do is mail it to the CDC. Understood?"

"Sounds easy," Spy stood up, accepting the box of samples. "I'll return shortly,"

"Danke," Medic muttered as Spy left the room.

Spy had the box of samples clutched in his hands when he noticed Scout standing there. He nearly dropped the box. "Augh! How dare you startle me, you idiot!"

"Not my fault!" Scout chirped right back.

Everything went black again. His consciousness returned, and he slowly pulled the dark cloth away from his eyes, sitting up.

Zenyatta sat across from him, his legs folded. "Well? Did you see what you were hoping to see?"

"Y-yeah..." his thoughts washed over him, and he felt a smile come to his face. "Yeah! Oh, my God, this is great!" he couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around Zenyatta. "Thanks a ton!"

Zenyatta couldn't help but chuckle. "Why, you're welcome, Dylan,"

"Dylan?" the boy scoffed. "I don't wanna be called that anymore! From now on, the name's Scout,"