9/24/207X - 8:02 AM - Watchpoint: Gibraltar

A dastardly long yawn escapes as he wakes up. His mind is fuzzy, his muscles are sore, and there's a particularly aggravating crick in his neck. He reaches out one long arm to tap the computer screen not far from him, silencing the alarm.

"Good morning, Winston."

The gorilla groans as he fumbles his hand around blindly, eventually fishing in his glasses.

"Good morning, Athena."

"Did you have a good night's sleep?"

He can just hear the AI silently asking Why did you fall asleep in your lab again? And dutifully ignores it.

"Well enough. Athena, check the-"

"No new messages at this time."

"...right."

He promptly ignores her again and goes down his morning checklist:

Recall status: 1 response (several hundred pending)

Security: Not breached

Situation in London: Bad, but no longer "brink of war" bad

Situation in Russia: Worse, and getting worse every day

Situation in the rest of the world: Better left ignored for sanity's sake

Breakfast: Peanut Butter (and Banana for variety)

Hygiene: Didn't shower last night

He almost wants to skip out on a shower, but he made a promise with himself long ago to never skimp on his hygiene; the warm water helps him wake up anyways.

9:05 AM

He makes short work of it, scrubbing every inch of his not insubstantial body until it burns. He dries off while also mopping up the stray black fur; it'd clog if he didn't.

"Feeling refreshed?"

"Better than ever! Any- ?"

"No new messages. The same as the last 20 times you asked."

He almost answers back sarcastically. Almost.

10:08 AM

He occupies himself at his workbench, tinkering with his shield; it's mostly functional save for a few kinks (such as exploding). Recalibrating with a screwdriver is more tedious than engaging however, and does little to deter him in asking Athena every 10 minutes for updates.

"Yes, you do have a new message…from me. When we get any updates, you will be the first to know. Asking repeatedly will not make one suddenly appear."

Winston grumbles to himself, tightening the sensitive equipment with a bit more force than necessary.

"I know, I know. Just…"

Without warning, the screwdriver snaps, followed by hard light bursting out violently. He doesn't get much chance to brace himself before he gets knocked off his feet onto the hard concrete floor, putting further ache in his already wary body. He growls in frustration, throwing the broken handle into a building pile of ruined tools.

"Urgh, why does that keep happening? I've checked and rechecked every nut, bolt, and wire in that thing, but I still can't find the problem!"

He knows he's shouting to no one. He half expects Athena to comment, but she stays infuriatingly silent. In the past, whenever he had a problem like this, he'd have colleagues to work off of. He remembers Mina's passionate rambles, Angela's dry wit, and Torbjorn's lighthearted jabs followed by detailed advice. He looks at the inventor's face on the Recall globe, still faded. Still unanswered. Torbjorn is happily retired, last feeling disillusioned with the organization. Why would he ever come back? He looks at Angela's picture hovering over Cairo. He can just see it, her staring at him with those calculating eyes. She'd call him a fool, daring to bring back something she had come to hate. And then Mina…her picture, blackened out, Deceased written across it in bold letters. What would she say in these times? He feels the frustration leave him in a prolonged exhale. Grabbing a new screwdriver from a drawer filled with them, he dusts himself off and picks up the fallen generator. He starts screwing again, ignoring the tightening in his throat.

11:12 AM

By the fifth try with no new results, he decides to call it quits; his body is starting to feel cramped and bruised. He should log his discoveries, but he's simply not in the mood.

"Athena, status."

"It is my opinion that you should take a break."

He keeps himself from grumbling.

"Perhaps some cardiovascular exercise would do you good?"

He holds back the snarky comment he knows he wants to make. He knows she's trying to help, but he can't stop the growing feeling of frustration. He's in no mood for something strenuous, so he compromises by just pacing back and forth across his lab.

He knows it's been little more than a week since his Recall. He knows that restarting Overwatch will take time. He knows that expecting everyone to respond right away like Tracer is incredibly naive. He knows all this, and yet…

Doubt fills him. He's not brave like Tracer, so willing to put trust in others. He wants to be: the world is being consumed by despair, and he wants to battle it with the blinding hope in his heart but…

He turned to the world and asked if they're with him.

And he was met with silence.

He stares at the globe, covered with faces. One lit, some blackened, most faded. He's entirely unprepared when a bright red EMERGENCY flashes in front of it.

"Emergency Message Incoming!"

He can barely make himself move up to the second floor fast enough.

"Who is it?!"

"Unclear."

"Unclear?"

He checks the computer. A glitchy screen comes up with garbled, indiscernible dialogue. Weak signal? He can just barely make out a voice—a vaguely familiar one.

"Where is this coming from?"

"Location of call: Antarctica."

"Wha- Antarctica?!"

12:22 PM - AURORA, above the Southern Ocean

"Who's this again?"

Winston rhythmically taps a finger against his thigh; he'd never say it, but being in airspace again put butterflies in his stomach.

"Doctor Mei-Ling Zhou. She's a climatologist." He responds with quick, decisive dialogue. Keeps things grounded. Makes it less personal.

Tracer hums to herself quietly, not turning away from her pilot seat. The Aurora has functional auto-pilot and is capable of traversing through even the most extreme of environments, but there are few places more extreme than the antarctic.

"Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Did you ever watch the OW Conference eleven years ago?"

The pilot groans in annoyance.

"Ugh, you know that I space out through those! I can never remember any of that sciencey mumbo-jum- wait, was she the super cheerful one?"

"That's her."

"Hah! Yeah, I remember her! She was adorable!... What the bloody hell is she doing in Antarctica?"

"That's a good question. It's been over a decade since I last heard from her."

"Well, what was she doing then?"

"Studying weather anomalies in Antarctica."

"Huh…it almost sounds like she never left."

"...she might not have."

Being left with what was essentially a massive global organization's scraps at his feet 6 years ago had been a little overwhelming. Thinking about how many loose ends were left in the rubble haunted him, but he and Athena could only do so much. He hoped beyond hope that nothing vital slipped through the cracks.

How could he be so naive?

5:37 PM - Ecowatch Docking Bay, Queen Maud Land

For the arctic, the weather is relatively nice. No clouds, no blizzards, no hectic winds; just smooth, clear skies. It's still teeth-shattering, knee-cracking cold, but they're prepared for that.

They aren't prepared for the bundled little scientist bursting into tears when she sees them, immediately followed by aggressively hugging the closest living thing and then falling asleep against his chest.

All within the span of 5 seconds.

Quite frankly, Winston doesn't know if anyone could've been prepared for that.

They're already flying back to the Mediterranean before she regains consciousness, violently jerking out of the medbay bed Winston had to awkwardly maneuver her into. Luckily, Winston is still there to catch her, much to her amusement.

Winston has so many, many questions he wants to ask. He's also terrified of what answers he'll receive. So he starts simple.

"Dr. Zhou, how are you feeling?"

"Wennuan…" She says dreamily, leaning further into Winston's endo-suit. She seems delirious, and the massive purple bags on her otherwise frost-bitten face present a decent hypothesis as to why. It doesn't help that this is the most physical contact he's had in several months, and it's making thinking so. Much. Harder.

She looks up at him with a half-lidded stare and a genuine smile before bopping his nose.

"I love your glasses. So cute!"

Thoughts harder. Thoughts so very harder.

"Uh, thanks? I, uh, like yours too?"

The response physically pains him, but it seems to satisfy her. Was she always this giggly, or is this from sleep deprivation?

"Dr. Zhou, can you tell me what happened? Why are you still in Antarctica? Where- Where is your team? "

Her un-lucid gaze hardens

"We- we were studying anomalies-"

"Yes, but Overwatch shut down over six years ago! Why are you-"

"So it's really true? Overwatch is gone?"

It's not what she says, but the way she says it that stands out to Winston. Like it was just yesterday his new family was torn from him.

"We never left. We used cryostasis to preserve resources, but there must've been an error. We were supposed to wake up after 6 months, but…"

Her quivering voice trails off, but she doesn't need to finish; the worst scenario he could imagine is confirmed.

"I'm all that's left." She's sobbing now, hot tears trailing down her flushed red face, "After nine years, I'm the only one who woke up."

The ground starts feeling a little unstable. Perhaps it's turbulence. Perhaps it's low air pressure. None-the-less, he needs to sit down before he falls over. He hears the smallest of whines as he leaves her side and slams into another seat.

Dead. An entire group dead. All these years, right under his nose, and he was clueless.

"I-" He's feeling breathless, and so dizzy it's hard to tell up from down.

"Dr. Zhou, I am…I'm so sorry."

She's sitting up now, staring at him with tear-stained eyes. He can't even meet her gaze.

"I got your message."

His breath hitches. Against his better judgment, he dares a peek up.

"Your Recall? I think it's what woke me up, actually. If it came any later, then I…"

She trails off again, but all he can think is If I had only done it sooner.

"I didn't think I'd make it. There was no power, no transport, no…body. All I had was your message."

She giggles self-consciously, holding her arms close to her chest. She hasn't physically changed since he last saw her, but her face looks so much older.

"So many times I just wanted to lay down, and let the snow bury me. But everytime, I would remember your message, and it pushed me forward. I wouldn't have made it without you."

He feels compelled to scoff. How could his half-thought-out, crummy rambling of a recruitment video do any of that? But there is something in her tone that shatters that cold logic. For so long, all he had was hope. For humanity. For the Earth. For Overwatch. For so long, he felt like no one else did. That he was alone in his optimism.

But there's hope in her voice.

"I don't know how to feel, being told Overwatch ended one moment, and then it being restarted another, but… I want to join Overwatch! Or, uh, rejoin I guess?"

The confident-proclamation-turned-unsure-question makes Winston chuckle despite himself. Try as he might, he can't wipe the stupid grin off his face or the warm beat in his heart.

"So… if I'm hearing you right, you woke up after 9 years, and trekked across Antarctica, all to join up with an illegal organization?"

The bundled woman's confidence appears to diminish further, which just makes him chuckle louder.

"I mean… if you'll have me?"

"Dr. Zhou, you've been through-"

"P-please, just call me Mei."

"Um, Mei… you've been through the unthinkable. Are you sure that-"

"More than anything!"

She bursts forward and clutches one of Winston's hands.

"You said it yourself! We can make a difference! I want to make a difference with you! I'm with you, Win- D-Dr. Winston."

It's so strange to receive something you didn't know you needed until you receive it. Is it the humidity? Or random particles in the air? He's sure there's a logical explanation for the burning sensation in his eyes.

"Then welcome back. We're happy to have you."

He thought he was prepared for this trip. He thought he was prepared to face all the consequences of reigniting Overwatch. But nothing could've prepared him for seeing a fully grown woman arch both arms out in celebration with a tiny shout of "Yay!"

10:37 PM - Watchpoint: Gibraltar

"So, you… time travel? But only yourself?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah!"

"And that's why you're called Tracer?"

"Somethin' like that. It's mostly a nickname that stuck after the uprising in King's Row: turns out stopping a second omnic crisis makes you world famous."

"Wow, that's amazing! It's crazy to think we almost had another omnic crisis."

"Well, yes. And no. There's, um, technically a second omnic crisis right now in Russia-"

"-which we can talk about later. For now, welcome to Watchpoint Gibraltar!" Winston says with forced passion.

Between Mei's peculiar reaction to the 'flashy blue woman' (and that she is, in fact, real, not a insomniac induced hallucination) and her droid companion Snowball blitzing around the Aurora like an excited puppy, there was enough excitement for the sleep deprived woman without bringing up the last 9 years. And when he means sleep deprived, he means she needs sleep badly. Nodding off and jerking back awake is one thing; doing so every 10 minutes on a 5 hour flight is extremely concerning. Everytime he suggested she get some sleep, she politely declined; said she's too jittery. Thinking over everything she went through, he's not sure jitters are to blame.

First things first, he needs to find her a room. 90% of the facility is unused, so finding a spare room should be incredibly easy. Finding a clean room ready for use is not. He'll need time. He shares a concerned look with Lena, and lightly taps his wrist. Distract her. She gives a curt nod before wrapping an arm around Mei's shoulder.

"Hey Mei, how 'bout a tour?"

"Oh, that sounds great! "

And they're off. With that, he locates the cleaning supplies, pulls back his metaphorical sleeves, and gets to work.

11:15 PM

He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks upon his handy work. It takes him a bit longer than he hoped, in no small part due both his size and strength (only now does he truly regret not making reinforced cleaning tools).

By the time that he's vacuumed the floors, cleaned the sheets, made the bed, and thoroughly dusted and sanitized the entirety of the small chamber, a little under an hour's gone by. He still feels like it's not up to snuff, but he supposes that it'll have to do.

"Athena, do you know where Dr. Zhou is currently?"

"Currently, she and Lena are in your lab. She seems quite happy there."

"What? B-but it's still a mess!"

It's not a far walk (good to keep things close, after all), so it isn't long before he's (casually) racing into the war-room, long ago repurposed into his personal workshop. Tracer shoots him a guilty smile.

"Hey, big guy! Hope you don't mind! She really wanted to see this."

In the back of his brain, he does mind— quite a bit, in fact—but seeing the climatologist mesmerized by her surroundings more than motivates him to hold his tongue. She has enough shame to be embarrassed, but it hardly masks her sheer excitement.

"Dr. Winston! S-sorry about all this. I just -"

"It's fine, Mei." He chuckles to cover his unease, "My lab is always open. And please, Dr. Winston was my father! Just call me Winston."

Mei relaxing helps quiet the unwelcome return of "panic from seeing people go about your things" he hasn't felt in years. That lasts until Mei eyes his latest project.

"What's this…?"

"Wait! Be careful with that, it's-"

Too late. A simple touch, and the device activates; a small, domed hardlight structure encompasses the space before being replaced with a bright red holo-projected screen saying FAIL. He tries to reach her in time.

Click

"Heh heh, wow! So dramatic! I never thought about programming an error screen like that before!"

Nothing happened. Of course it didn't. He feels stupid. She's a scientific mind like himself, of course she would be fine.

"Oh, uh, I programmed that years ago. Helps alert bystanders if something dangerous happens." Winston responds as he unsteadily adjusts his glasses.

"Ahh, that's smart! But…what happens if the fail screen fails? Would there be a double failure, or would just nothing happen?"

She sounds so serious asking the question he can't help but laugh.

"Well, if the error is so critical that the fail screen does not activate, then…"

He fiddles with the device for a sec before giving it a press. This time, a shield doesn't even come up, and the fail screen shows for a second before it too shuts down. Suddenly, hardlight confetti erupts from the device, and in big bold letters "CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE MADE A DOUBLE FAILURE!" circles around.

"...it does, in fact, make a double failure."

He hears Lena burst into laughter behind him as a wide smile spreads across Mei's face.

"So, what is the error in this exactly?"

"Well, it…explodes."

"Oh, that is dangerous!" She says with no negative connotation whatsoever.

"Usually, yes. I've tried calibrating it, but it's taking some time."

"What about a cooling system? Hardlight takes a lot of energy, so it might be overheating the coils."

A cooling system. Something that seems so obvious in hindsight.

"I…hadn't thought of that."

"Ha ha, then come here! I know a thing or two about that."

And without prompt, she reaches for the device and starts tinkering. There's a possessive urge to stop her, but an unmistakable sense of nostalgia overwhelms him. Most engineers have colleagues to work off of, after all. He ignores the tightening in his throat for a second time that day.

"That…would be lovely."

"Great! Let's science the heck out of this!"

09/25/207X - 1:56 AM

He's baffled by the progress they make. What would usually take him several weeks is done in less than 3 hours, and gosh does he miss working with other people. Thinking out loud is now met with logical responses. What might've stumped Winston enough to disrupt his flow is now carried on fluidly by another pair of hands. Her sleep-deprived mind, though clearly a hindrance, does nothing to hide her way they work off each other is refreshing and exciting, so much that he almost forgets Mei's desperate need for sleep.

Despite her admirable focus, her condition seriously starts to catch up with her when she almost touches a live wire while nodding off. Though she gives a few lines of protest, he eventually peels her away and half-drags her towards the freshly cleaned room.

"Uhhgh, wei shen ma?" She whines. "We were making so much progress!"

"And I am very thankful for that, more than you know. But you almost got yourself hurt, so I think now's a good time to call it quits."

She reluctantly allows herself to be dragged to her new living space, though pouting all the way; if he didn't know any better, he'd almost say she's stalling. He shows her the basic amenities, tells her they'll talk in the morning, then leaves her to her rest.

The day leaves him surprisingly exhausted, but sleep has never been his ally; he still has work to do, and questions to answer. He sits in front of his main computer and cracks the fingers on his feet.

"Athena, bring up everything we have on Ecopoint Antarctica."

3:45 AM

Only 2 hours in, and already the night is starting to catch up to him. He's never had problems with late nights before, but his body is screaming for him to rest. Stubbornly holding back a yawn, he decides he'll compromise with a coffee break.

He's entirely unprepared to find Mei in the kitchen, still in her winter garb and coaxing a steaming mug in her hands. She smiles shyly as he enters.

"Ah, Mei. I…wasn't expecting you." He greets dumbly.

"Sorry. Couldn't sleep." She gingerly sips from her mug. Her voice is so quiet, he strains to hear it. Funny how he used to think the base was too quiet at night.

"I'm…sorry to hear that." And skeptical. And concerned.

"You're up late." She says. He holds back the obvious 'So are you' with an awkward chuckle.

"There are few nights I'm not. So many inquiries, and yet not enough hours in the day." He walks over to the coffee machine to see that there's already a half-full pot.

"Yeah, I get that. Who needs sleep when there's science to do?" Mei takes another long sip. He side-eyes the small trash can. The filter's already been replaced; this wasn't the only pot made recently.

"Well, science really shouldn't get in the way of proper sleep habits. It's honestly something I need to work on." He comments as he pours himself a cup.

"Well, we all get on in different ways, I guess." She answers quietly. He eyes her mug with greater scrutiny. It's hard to make out under all her padding, but she's shaking. He feels a nauseating weight in his stomach.

"Mei…are you alright?" He's not sure if it's the question's bluntness or the sheer worry in his voice that gets her attention.

"I don't know." Her smile doesn't leave, but he can see the weight in her eyes. He can see it grow heavier.

"Um, do you- ?"

"-you know what would be funny?" She interrupts, her voice holding no amusement. "What if I went to sleep, and just…never woke up? It wouldn't make sense, but…" She shrugs, the motion too jerky to look natural, "It'd be weird, right? After everything?"

She tries to giggle, but it comes out as more of a choked gasp. She brings the cup back up to her lips, but Winston stops it with a gentle but firm grip.

"Mei…" He wants to say that it's stupid. It's the delirium talking. Or the trauma. He wants to tell her that, logically, none of that is possible. She's a scientist, she should know. A deeper part of him wants to tell her that he understands. That, on his first nights on Earth, he felt he needed to keep one-eye open or Simon would find him; he knew the ape was on the moon, but that fear never left him. Not for several nights. There's a lot he wants to say, and yet nothing can get through his damn mouth as he chokes on air.

"I know, it's stupid," She continues, hands still gripping her mug tightly, "I should be grateful for being alive, yet here I am, afraid to fall asleep." She tries to giggle again, but it comes out a quiet sob.

"...but every time I close my eyes-"

"-you still see their faces."

She looks at him in surprise. He's surprised himself.

"You see them screaming silently in the vacuum of space, wondering 'when will that happen to me?' Like the fact that you survived is a fluke that the universe soon wants to correct."

She says nothing; she doesn't need to. Winston puts on a warm smile, as warm as he can muster with those scars reopened.

"Believe me, I know. More than anyone. And I also know that there's no boogeyman in the closet waiting to get you." He tenderly tugs the mug, and removes it as Mei's grip relaxes, "I promise you, you'll wake up tomorrow and the day after. I'll be here to make sure of that."

"I-...*sniff* I don't know what a boogeyman is, but-" She giggles, this time for real, and he joins her.

"-but…okay." Her voice is so soft it sounds hoarse. He offers her a hand to help stand up, and she gratefully accepts.

"Do you need anything to help you get to-" and she collapses against him, out like a light. He can't stop the long, tired sigh as she starts snoring softly.

He likes to be prepared. Being prepared is good. It's always nice to have a plan for any given situation.

He is so not prepared for this.

He spends the next several minutes carrying her down the long corridors with one arm as smoothly as possible before delivering her atop her own bed. He'd tuck her in, but figures it'd be too uncomfortable with all that winter gear on (and he is not even going to attempt to remove that).

Trudging back to his own bed and collapsing on contact, only one thought goes through his extremely tired mind.

He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he's not going to let that stop him. Now he just needs to step up to the challenge.