Note: Thank you everyone who left feedback and support. We have decided to continue this story, though updates probably won't be very frequent, as we're still primarily wrapping up our other in-progress story at the moment. If you want more sooner, tell us. We won't know unless you tell us. So, tell us. Do it. Do it now. Also, read and enjoy.

"Okay, Lena. Open up and say, 'Ahh.'"

Lena followed the doctor's orders precisely. She stuck out her tongue, and Angela examined the back of her throat with her penlight. She had already shone the light into her eyes, and forced her to track it with her gaze like a dog learning tricks. Despite having received countless physicals throughout her youth, Lena still had no idea what were the purposes of any of the tests that the doctor regularly performed. Still, out of habit, she did not object to any of them. Instead, she sat impatiently on the medical bed, her legs dangling freely off the side, feeling almost naked in nothing but a T-shirt, loose sweatpants, and the adorable pink slippers that she bought at a garage sale two weeks before she entered flight academy. A freshly repaired chronal accelerator hugged her torso tightly, buzzing and humming as it worked to keep her attached to the present.

Angela seemed satisfied with her results. She followed with more standard tests: She measured Lena's heartrate with a stethoscope, recorded her reflexes, and logged her grip strength, all of which provided standard, plain results.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any immediate symptoms," Angela said, her voice cold and calculating. "If it's alright with you, though, I would prefer it if we took an MRI scan, just to be safe."

Lena nodded in silence. She had barely spoken since she had returned. Angela took out a blood pressure monitor, and wrapped it around the pilot's arm. As she began to squeeze, her voice softened.

"I was really worried about you."

"Hmm?" Lena said, perking up slightly.

"When we at the tower," Angela explained. "I saw you get shot, and then you disappeared, and for a moment, I actually thought that you…" She paused, and let out a pained sigh. "It was really scary for a few days there. I'm just… I'm glad that you're okay, Lena. I can't imagine what it would be like if you were gone."

Lena did not how to respond. Angela's blonde hair fell loosely on her shoulders, and there were thick, dark bags under her blue eyes. It was a face marked with concern, yet it was not what Lena saw. Instead, Lena saw the same face, steeped in darkness, emotionless in its depravity, ready to take a life, and she froze, paralyzed by its visage. Angela placed a warm hand on her shoulder, and she instinctively recoiled at its touch. Angela backed away in surprise, as Lena, realizing what she had done, turned her gaze in shame.

"Sorry," she quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's fine," Angela said with an understanding smile. "I get it; you've been through a lot these past few days. You're probably a bit… what's the word? Jumpy."

"I don't like being jumpy," Lena groaned. "I mean, I do like it, but not like this. When I'm happier, you know? Maybe 'bouncy' is a better term."

"I follow," Angela smirked. She unattached the device from Lena's arm, and studied the results. Her blood pressure was higher than average, but within the speedster's normal range. Concluded with her tests, Dr. Ziegler packed up her instruments, pleased at her findings. "Look, I know I'm not a psychiatrist, but if you ever need someone to talk to about what you're going through, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Angela," Lena said, trying her best to sound sincere. Before the medic could leave, Winston entered the medical bay, holding a laptop underneath his arm, and a stuffed paper bag in his hand.

"How's our patient doing, doctor?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, she seems to be rather healthy," Angela said optimistically. "Her physical turned in nothing out of the ordinary. She'll need to rest, but I don't see any sings of shock. I want to run her through some more scans, however, just to be safe. I doubt I'll find anything, but you know how these things can be."

"Do whatever you find necessary, Dr. Ziegler. You have my full confidence."

"Excellent," Angela smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot! I did find one notable change. Lena, it seems that being trapped outside of time caused your spine to decompress. Earth's gravity should correct that after a month or two, but until then, you'll be three centimeters taller than normal. I hope that doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Are you kidding? Now I can finally go on all those rollercoasters!" Lena joked halfheartedly.

If she was attempting to fool them into thinking she was alright, she knew she failed. But, whether out of sympathy or pity, Angela laughed along, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. She waved goodbye, and left the pilot and the ape alone together. As soon as the door closed, Winston rushed to Lena's side, deeply concerned.

"Are you really okay?" he asked. Lena shakily nodded.

"Just a bit stunned, is all."

"You're not in any pain?"

"Not that I can tell."

"Good to hear," he said, stern and focused on the task at hand. "Now, do you want to tell me more about that vision you had?"

Lena shuddered. At once, the images flooded back into the forefront of her mind. She could vividly picture every detail of the lifeless bodies, the smell of ash and char, the screaming echoing throughout the city streets. The memory stung more and more with each passing second, until she had to force her eyes shut and lie down on the bed.

"It's alright, Lena. We don't have to talk about it," Winston assured her.

"No, we should," Lena said, defeated. "You deserve to know."

"What specifically did you see?" he asked, adjusting his glasses. "You mentioned an explosion, right?"

"I think there was an explosion, but I'm not sure," Lena admitted. "I only saw the aftermath. I was in London, and there was this massive crater in the center of an intersection. I saw your bodies: you, Genji, Mei, Jesse… all of you, dead in the middle of the road."

"Were we on a mission?"

"I think so. You had all your equipment on. Except for-"

Lena paused, and took a deep breath. Her leg fell off the bed, causing her slipper to flop onto the floor. Winston picked it up by the tips of his massive fingers, and delicately placed it back onto her bare foot.

"Go on," Winston said, taking numerous mental notes.

"Fareeha was still alive," Lena explained, her voice trembling as she recalled the horrific events. "She tried to crawl away and get help, but then…" Lena shivered. "…then Mercy shot her in the head."

Winston glanced up in shock. "Angela? Are you sure?"

"It was her," Lena said solemnly. "She was dressed like she was a fugitive. She walked right up to Fareeha, pulled out a gun, said she was sorry, and then… bang."

"That doesn't make any sense," Winston muttered to himself, deep in thought. "Angela is a pacifist. The whole reason she left Overwatch was because she didn't support her inventions being used for harm."

"I know what I saw. Angela kills us. I don't know why—I wish I knew why—but she does."

Winston began to frantically pace around the room, deeply analyzing the information. "This is not good. This is not good at all."

"But it's okay though, right, Winston?" Lena asked. "I mean, we can fix it, can't we? Now we know what happens, so we can prevent it."

"No, that's… that's not possible," he said dismissively.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked, confused. "Of course, it's possible. Now that we know Angela is the problem, we can stop her from turning against us. Besides, all you have to do is not go to London, and you'll be fine. We can save Overwatch."

"Overwatch cannot be saved, Lena," Winston said, heartbroken. "If you saw the death of Overwatch, then it means it has not been saved. And it will not be saved."

Lena was dumbfounded. She sat up on the bed, and threw her arms up into the air. "What are you talking about? I could talk to Angela right now, and she'll—"

"No, Lena," Winston said forcibly, silencing the young woman. "It does not matter what you tell Mercy about the future. Any act you take would only put us further on the course of our own demise."

"Can you please just explain what you're goin' on about?" Lena asked desperately.

Winston sighed. "Okay. Imagine, if you would, that time was like a book. We can only perceive time one way: moving forward. We read the book left-to-right, moving from one moment to the next like turning pages. When you travel across time, like you are able to do with your chronal accelerator, you are flipping back-and-forth among pages at will, choosing where you want to go next. However, no matter what page you turn to, or how far you go, the actual text on the pages never changes. Time does not change. You cannot change the future… it is impossible."

Lena shook her head. "No way. There is no way that you can know that for certain. You have to be wrong."

"Calm down," said Winston. "We need to approach this logically."

"Calm down?" Lena asked, shooting off the bed and jabbing her index finger into Winston's nose. "You just told me that everyone is going to die, and we can't do anything to stop it. That isn't calming, Winston. How can I be calm when you're basically telling me that I should give up?"

"I'm not telling you to give up," Winston tried to explain, but Lena sharply cut him off.

"It sure sounds like you're giving up," Lena said accusingly. "After all the work you did brining Overwatch back together, you plan on laying down the second you think something isn't going your way. That's not the Winston I know. Do you want everyone to die? Do you want Angela to end up like Amélie?"

"Lena, might I make a suggestion?"

"What?" Lena protested. "What could you possibly suggest that would make any of this better?"

Winston said nothing. He merely reached into the paper bag, and removed its contents, holding it outward in the palm of his hand. Lena pursed her lips, and placed her hands on her hips. In Winston's outstretched palm was a pleasantly large jar of peanut butter. Crunchy peanut butter. Delicious peanut butter.

"Winston, what is that?" Lena asked incredulously.

"Crunchy peanut butter," Winston replied.

"I can see that," Lena stated. "Why are showing me this?"

"Because you technically haven't eaten in three days," Winston stated in return, "and that might make you a bit irritable."

"Do you have a spoon?"

"Would you use the spoon?"

"Touché."

Lena snatched the jar of peanut butter out of Winston's hand, and planted herself firmly on her mattress. She hastily removed the lid before dipping three fingers and scooping the wonderful, godly substance into her mouth. It wasn't until she swallowed her first mouthful that she realized just how hungry she was. She immediately felt soothed, and the anxieties that beset her faded away. Naturally, it helped that she was consuming chunky peanut butter, the most perfect invention ever created by mankind. She continued to dig in, three fingers at a time, swinging her slipper-clad feet back and forth as Winston attempted to explain himself once again.

"Now, we need to think logically about this," he said, stroking his chin. "Theoretically, time cannot be altered. That means that even if we identified what caused Angela to turn against us, assuming she did, we would be powerless to stop it."

"Mmhmm," Lena moaned through a mouthful of crunchy peanut butter.

"We have no reason to believe that doing anything will stop your vision from coming true," Winston theorized. "But, it is possible that we are missing vital information. How much of the future would you say you saw? Ten, fifteen seconds at most? The most important thing we can do right now is try to get a clearer picture of the future, and what might be the cause of it."

"And maybe change the future in the process," Lena added.

"That's not possible," Winston reminded her.

"It used to be impossible for apes to talk, too," Lena reminded him.

Winston smirked. "Touché."

Lena placed the half-eaten jar of crunchy peanut butter on the bed, and hopped to her feet. She stretched her arms behind her head. "Then, I suppose we should get to work. Time isn't on our side. We should go warn the others."

Winston's smile vanished. "Wait a minute. I'm not so sure if that's a good idea."

"They have a right to know what's going to happen. Especially Angela."

"I don't she's going to take that very well. Or any of them, for that matter. Hearing that their deaths are inevitable might cause them to panic."

"Come on, love. Wouldn't you want to know if you were marching headfirst into danger?"

"What if telling them is the event that starts us towards the end?"

"What if not telling them is the event that starts us towards the end?" Lena suggested. "You said it yourself: the future is fixed. It doesn't matter what we do, so why not be honest? Isn't that what being on a team is all about?"

Winston shook his head. "I have a very bad feeling about this."

"Don't fret," Lena said with a half-smile. "We'll work this out somehow. We're a family, and nothin's ever gonna tear us apart again."

Sombra rested her cheek on her knuckles as she scanned the many screens in front of her. SO much data. All of it so boring. Meaningless. Pathetic. Her fingers danced on the holo-keys, causing the information to soar by like a rushing river. Alone, in the darkness, surrounded by technology, she felt more at home than anywhere else, but it still did not satisfy her.

Widowmaker slipped in behind her without making a sound. Sombra only noticed her when she slammed the data chip onto her desk, causing the hacker to jump back in surprise.

"Hey, don't sneak up on me like that! You nearly gave me a—"

Sombra locked onto the data chip, and her eyes suddenly lit up with delight.

"You actually got this?" Sombra screamed, giddy with disbelief. "Chica, you are golden!"

"I went through a lot of trouble to get that," Widowmaker said, unamused. "This better be worth it."

Sombra picked up the data chip, and held it in front of her face, letting it glow in the violet light of the screens.

"Oh, baby," she cackled with glee, "this little beauty will change the world."