The Heart Wants What It Wants

Fareeha sighed, pausing in front of her apartment door for a moment to allow the ret-scan to skim over her iris, with a small beeping piercing the silent ambience a second later. The door to her apartment opened only then without hesitation, and the woman ambled in weakly like an dilapidated omnic days away from being recycled. Fareeha Amari was usually on top of her game and ready to take on the world, but over the past few weeks everything felt as if it had been weighing down on her an unbearable amount. Today she finally relented to that pressure, and this was displayed through her actions. It was a kinesthetic compilation of her extreme debilitation - and was also, sadly, exhaustion to the point where she didn't even feel like making dinner. This, surprisingly, was a first. Either she made something right after working a long day at the police department and roaming around the city, or she'd snatch a take-out somewhere on her way back home the days she felt lazy. Today she was undeniably too tired to do either.

Upon entering her apartment she kicked off her shoes and hung up her jacket on one of the small metal spokes protruding from the wall. Her ears perked in curiosity when she heard the clanging of pots in the kitchen, which was as relatively new sound considering she lived alone (well, until recently). The smell of something tomato-ey, a hint of spicy zest, and the scent of something singed by too much fire filled her nose and she cracked a soft smile.

"Yo, Copper! How goes it?" a high-pitched voice called from around the corner, followed by loud cursing when Fareeha heard the sound of heavy sizzling and some more clattering of pans on the stovetop.

Fareeha rounded the corner and found the young girl who had admittedly invaded more than her home and personal space fluttering in front of her stove, a smoking pot of something red in one hand and a spiky utensil with stringy noodles wrapped around it in the other. Her small smile immediately evolved into that of a lop-sided grin. "Maybe that's something I should be asking you, Hana? It looks as though you're about to burn the place down. Again." She leant against the wall and crossed her arms as the girl blew on the pot, attempting to rid it of the smoke that wafted off in grey droves.

Hana barked at Fareeha with a short laugh. "Ha, like I'd ever do that?! I'm an amazing chef, I'm just trying to get used to cooking with these fucking dangerous fire-blaster thingies, fuck them, they're burning my precious noodles-"

"It's called a stove, and I'll have you know fire is an amazing assistant to anyone who knows how to cook. You just need to get acquainted and comfortable with it." Within a moment Fareeha had somehow managed to grab the pot's handle, and carried it over to the sink, where she doused the noodles in cool water. The smoke ceased. "Dinner's ready."

Hana grumbled and stuck her tongue out, turning on her heels now having given up on cooking dinner. This now had to be more than three times that her attempts at creating a meal in her friend's kitchen had taken such a nasty detour. "That's what I was supposed to say to you. Heck, why do you think I was cooking so much spaghetti? You eat like a horse!"

The older woman plopped down into the couch and sighed, letting the cushions engulf her numb body. Her right shoulder ached and a dull, prickling pain throbbed near her arm's socket. It always did this when she was stressed. Or worried. Or ultimately wasn't feeling the best.

"What's wrong?" Hana's head popped up over the back of the couch, the girl wondering what exactly was causing Fareeha to just ditch the act of devouring her laborious cooking efforts so hastily. She frowned and thought for a moment, nodding less than a second later as a thought struck her mind. "Is it work?"

Fareeha groaned. "...Well, yes. And no. Yes and no."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A sigh. "It's lots of things." Fareeha ran her left hand up to her throbbing right shoulder and winced, her fingertips slipping under her tee's collar. She felt along the stiff muscle underneath her collarbone until fingers skimmed across warm metal, and she closed her eyes as she continued sweeping her fingertips slowly over the natural surface and then the synthetic one. Back and forth she went, the contrasting textures creating a sense of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Even though the accident had been around two years ago, sometimes it still felt as though her body was rejecting the cybernetic prosthetic.

"...Is it the pretty doctor?" Hana asked, a sly tone of knowingness to her voice.

Opening her eyes Fareeha pretended to think. She wasn't sure if her ruse would work very well with Hana being her audience, but it was worth a try. "Well….maybe just a little. But it's also everything else. Trying to figure out this Talon shit, trying to be a good role model for Rein's goddaughter, having to interact with the pret-" She caught herself from repeating Hana's tempting words, but the soft blush that dusted her cheeks was eager to betray her. "The doctor. Also my shoulder hurts a lot more often with all this going on." The woman sat up slowly and flexed her right arm. It was strange, even now, seeing a hand that was not her own. What had once been Fareeha Amari's own tan, smooth, muscled arm was now a mechanical version. It was a steely blue, with faded black in certain areas, mostly the places where her flesh's muscles would have been.

Hana deftly lifted herself up in one fell swoop and crashed into the opposite side of the couch, startling Fareeha in the process. "That's easy! Just go chat with the doc then, right? Ask her to give your arm a lookin' over," Hana smiled, canines protruding cheekily. The girl's cyber tats, light pink twin triangles on each cheek, lit up with her excitement. The older woman still wasn't exactly used to the strange traditions of street creepers; they usually congregated in various areas of the city, and each group and their respective culture was different based on the location. Hana Song liked to refer to herself as one of the most unique street creepers anyone could possibly know, but Fareeha knew it was mostly big talk. Even though the girl was small she had a stunningly large personality - that Fareeha would and could not disagree with.

Fareeha looked down at her arm again and gave her right shoulder a roll. "Yeah, probably not. I've got other things to do, more important things." She wasn't going to let Hana pull her into this ridiculous idea. Doctor Angela Ziegler was an incredibly well known person, revered in cities everywhere for her ingenious discoveries and inventions relating to medicine and current cybernetic advancement. Thus it only made sense that she had other things to do, correct? And so did Fareeha. Or maybe it was more like she'd figure out what kind of important things she needed to do.

As Fareeha attempted to get off of the couch she felt something soft hit the back of her leg, and she turned around only to get a mouthful of pillow. "Don't be a pussy, Copper! Just suck up your macho manliness and see the friggin' doc, okay? It's not that hard!"

There was a slightly aggravating silence that took hold for a few seconds while Fareeha spat whatever hair had somehow managed to find its way into her mouth with Hana's whack of the pillow, and the detective opened her mouth to deliver a weak comeback when her wrist tag pulsed and began emanating a neon blue light throughout the living room.

Even from her position on the couch, cross-legged, cuddling a pillow, and smirking maniacally, Hana could see who was calling. Heck, she didn't even have to see the miniscule digital portrait of the blonde doctor posted to the face of Fareeha's tag to know who was calling. Judging by the worried and slightly embarrassed look that crossed her friend's face she had all the information she needed. "Heh, looks like the doc wants to talk to you." Hana added a wink and then lifted her hand up to her face to split her fingers and waggle her tongue between them, making the "eating out" gesture. Fareeha immediately flushed a deeper shade of red.

"St-Stop it, Hana...!"

The wrist tag kept on pulsing and the light blue surrounding Doctor Ziegler's photo kept flashing as Fareeha tried to figure out what her next move was. Hana snickering haughtily on the couch was making it harder for Fareeha to think, so she turned around quickly and made a beeline for the balcony. Once outside she shut the glass door, not at all missing Hana's teasing. She sucked in a deep gulp of the cool night air, the fragrance a peculiar mixture of vehicle fumes and savory cuisine cooked at street stands, and swiped her fingers over the tag's screen.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Ziegler." Her voice was shaky and it was impossible to ignore the rapid irregular thumping in her torso beneath her shirt, but she did the best she could to retain her composure. It was stupid she was acting like this, after all.

"Hello, Fareeha! I'm so sorry to be calling you at this time, I'm sure you are exhausted-"

"No, it's fine," the nervous woman caught herself interjecting, and winced at her own words. "I-I am a bit tired, but I have time to talk to you. Or with you...about, er, whatever it is you would like to discuss."

Fareeha thought she heard a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. She could have been imagining it; the city was still bustling even at this time of day, as usual. "Oh, thank goodness. I did have something I would like to discuss with you. It's along the lines of the Talon incidents," rang Angela's silky voice, taking a doubtful turn that contrasted her small burst of initial elation.

The woman frowned. "What about the incidents? Did they bring you another body?" Fareeha turned away from the cityscape to lean her elbows on the balcony's rail, but when she saw Hana directly on the other side of the glass pressing kissy lips up to the screen separating the two, she rapidly did a 180. That image was not going to escape her mind for quite some time.

The doctor on the other end of the line inhaled sharply. "They didn't bring me one. It's more of where the deaths have been happening, I would like to go investigate those places. View the individuals who live there, maybe find out if there is some sort of pattern to all of this sporadic violence."

Fareeha, slightly taken aback and unsure of what she had just heard, felt the need to clarify. Did the attractive doctor really mean she wanted to explore the city's streets, particularly the more profusely rundown areas, to find answers to some of her own questions? This woman definitely had more guts than Fareeha thought she did. "Do - Do you mean you'd like to examine the areas where the bodies have been found and the incidents have been occurring?"

"Yes, Fareeha." There was a knowing smile in the way Angela spoke, as well as what sounded like faint delight. "That is exactly what I mean."

"O-Okay.…"

"What I was wondering was….if you wouldn't mind accompanying me? I believe you would be a valuable asset in this expedition. You're streetwise, smart, and undeniably brave. Strong too." She slipped in a charming laugh, one that made Fareeha's heart skip a beat.

The aforementioned woman chuckled nervously as she turned her gaze once again to the bright, daunting lights of the city, eyes taking in the luminous glow of a thousand colors. "Reinhardt hasn't been telling you stories about me now, has he?"

A melodic, gleeful chuckle followed, and Fareeha cracked into a pleased smirk. She had done that, made the doctor laugh. "Hmm, maybe just a few. Not too many….Even if he was talking you up, I would not have second thoughts about asking if you would like to join me."

"So you would be going anyways, with or without me?"

"Preferably with you. I am afraid I will not last long, if at all, on my own." Angela laughed again, this time it being prompted by something of a more worried nature. But then her confidence was back again, and Fareeha's heart lifted. "That is why I ask; will you come with? I cannot think of a better partner for this case."

Better partner...Better partner….Better partner, she said "partner," right? The words echoed nonstop, louder than Fareeha would assume, and the woman was about to bite her bottom lip in vexation at her ridiculous concentration of the phrase when she caught sight of Hana pounding her fist on the glass behind her. "That's definitely what I heard! Partner?! This sounds like some kinda lesbian drama or something, "better partner" my ass...Hahaha, hooo boy, is she thirsty or what?!" Fareeha could hear Hana's muffled words more clearly now, and realized that it had been the young street creeper parroting the words again and again. The girl's cyber tats glowed more vibrantly now, no doubt due to her animated reaction at the doctor's words, those of which were mentioned casually but given new meaning once spouted from her mischievous lips. The same lips that said things they shouldn't have said more often than not, and this was certainly one of those times.

Fareeha cupped her metallic right hand over her left wrist tag cautiously, hoping that Angela had somehow miraculously missed that snippet of badgering Hana was infamous for. Sometimes the woman wondered why she even put up with the teengager so patiently. "So when would you like to go do this investigating?" Fareeha inquired, feeling excitement being to course through her veins at the thought of working side-by-side to some degree with the doctor.

"When are you free?" came the thoughtful response.

"Tomorrow I was planning on doing some training with my subordinate along with some paperwork, it may take a while….but other than that I didn't have anything else in mind. If you would like, I can let you know when I'm done and free to, er, explore?" Fareeha felt unsure as the words rolled off her tongue, but when she heard what appeared to be a soft clapping of hands from the other side accompanied by a tiny, sweet laugh, she was sure she had said the right thing.

"That would be wonderful! Thank you, Fareeha."

"My pleasure, Doctor Ziegler."

A sigh made its way into Fareeha's ears, but this one she could easily tell was mock exasperation. "Fareeha, I've told you before you are welcome to call me Angela, have I not? I do not mind - actually I'd much prefer it - if you dropped the formalities. After all, we are friends."

Fareeha did not know why she found herself disagreeing with the carefully chosen, desirable, yet unwanted, words spoken by the doctor. She had known Angela for more than a few weeks, yes. They had spent time chatting (rather more realistically, consulting each other about the incidents going on within the city), and getting to know one another to some extent. But when Angela had mentioned so casually they were friends, a part of Fareeha wanted to disagree while another part earnestly wished to take any complement without a grain of salt the other woman offered. She enjoyed Angela's company, and was looking forward to this activity that the doctor had proposed. The real question in her mind was this: What exactly did Fareeha want?

And to be quite frank, she had not the faintest idea.

"Of course," Fareeha finished, perturbed by her own indecisiveness. It caused the knot in her stomach that had formed moments earlier to tighten, and it twisted sickeningly within her like a writhing creature. She leaned further over the balcony and languidly stretched her arms out, focusing her dark eyes on the city below. The aching in her shoulder had returned.

"Well...Thank you then, Fareeha. I greatly appreciate it. Sleep well, and I will see you tomorrow."

"Same to you, Doc-" She caught herself. "Same to you, Angela."

Another small, alluring laugh. "Goodnight, Fareeha."

"You're pretty quiet today." Brigitte stuffed a donut in her mouth and trudged along down the hallway with Fareeha, their handguns nestled tightly in the holsters around their waists as they traversed under bright, blinding light of white LEDs decorating the corridor. She glanced over quickly at Fareeha when the older woman didn't reply. "Anything out of the ordinary happen? You're making me uneasy," Brigitte jested nervously.

Her superior blew an apathetic raspberry and stepped aside, out of the walkway. To Brigitte, Fareeha seemed quite apprehensive, although she was still in the dark as to whatever it was that was causing the detective to feel this way. It was strange to the younger girl, seeing Fareeha like this. For the entire time she had known her, the olive-skinned woman was always cool, collected, and mature. She still held that persona in Brigitte's mind, but there was something off about her today that she couldn't put her finger on.

Running a hand over her head and tousling her dark ponytail, Fareeha bit her bottom lip. Her eyes darted warily back and forth down the hall for a couple of seconds. "...Come over here." The Egyptian motioned to her side with a nervous wave.

"Uh, okay…?" Brigitte raised an eyebrow but obeyed. "So what's up?"

Fareeha cringed and gave her eyes a roll, obviously upset with her own mannerisms, Brigitte figured without much effort. She never acted like this. What on Earth had caused Fareeha Amari, the Woman of Steel (yes, she had actually been dubbed that nickname by a few of her witty colleagues), to have such frayed nerves? "It's not anything important, I don't even know why I'm stressing about this so much. I mean I was fine yesterday - at least I think I was-"

"Fareeha." Brigitte placed a firm hand on Fareeha's shoulder, and for once she felt as though her stature matched her role in this particular situation. She embodied strength, and was ever-ready to support her friend. "Listen, whatever it is that's going on in your life right now - you don't have to tell me what it is if you would rather not. I'm just concerned; you're not acting like your usual self. That's definitely not going to help your aim in the shooting range, haha."

The girl was startled by the throaty chuckle that suddenly echoed in the hallway, a few passing officers sending curious glances the pair's way. It was a few moments before Fareeha finally came down from her unusual hysterical high, and she took a deep breath before fixing Brigitte with a sensitive stare. Even though she had to turn her head upwards to do so, Brigitte felt the sincerity and seriousness of Fareeha's sharp brown gaze.

"I'm sorry, Brigitte.…" Fareeha shook her head. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been dealing with a lot lately...Um, last night Dr. Ziegl- I mean Angela - asked me if I would like to help her investigate areas of the city that attract Talon influence. I think I am unsure about that whole situation…."
"You are - unsure of how to deal with working with Angela…?"

"Yes. I think."

A small but terrifying smirk found its way to Brigitte lips, and she clapped Fareeha's back heartily, causing the smaller woman to stumble forward. To someone who did not know either Reinhardt or Brigitte, they would have not been able to tell if the two were related or not. They were so similar to the degree that sometimes Fareeha insistently swore Brigitte was a smaller, younger, female version of the bulky German man. Well, kind of.

"Hahaha, sounds to me like you've got a bad case of out-of-character rigidness, dontcha? It doesn't sound too bad, though! Why are you acting like it's the end of the world? Venturing through the city to look for clues sounds like an exciting way to spend an evening or two, if you ask me." Brigitte smiled broadly her friend's way, and Fareeha instantly felt as though she were being rendered sightless by an impossibly brilliant, miniature sun of some sort. Oh how she wished she could don her aviators she left (unfortunately) back at her office this exact moment….

Here we go again, Fareeha thought to herself, eyes fixated on Brigitte's animated form as the girl continued talking. Somehow another donut had magically appeared in her hand, and she munched busily while making an attempt to provide her generous input on Fareeha's situation. But this - this was exactly what Hana had lectured her about yesterday, was it not? About how she shouldn't be scared of such a silly proposition, of going to have the doctor check up her prosthetic, or whatever it happened to be. Why was this so hard for her to do? Why was anything concerning the Swiss doctor such a challenge?

"-or maybe you've got something for the doctor, huh?" Was the last phrase that was able to penetrate the thick, preoccupied state of Fareeha's mind, and she turned with a ferocity that couldn't be rivaled to the Brigitte, who was happily chewing on her donut.

She grabbed Brigitte by the collar of her shirt, causing sprinkles and frosted pieces of donut to tumble out from her colleague's mouth, and began dragging her back down the hall. "...Follow me."

"Oof-!" Brigitte squirmed in Fareeha's grasp. "U-Uh, what's the big deal? I'm sorry if I said anything bad, please don't hurt me-" The hand at the base of her neck did not let up, and Brigitte began to slightly fear for her safety within the next few minutes. Whatever she had said had definitely struck a nerve, but she dared not ask anything else as of this moment. Although Fareeha Amari was slightly shorter than Brigitte herself (even though the Egyptian detective was considered one of the taller, stockier individuals amongst the city's police department ranks) she made up for the height difference in intimidation. Fareeha didn't always purposely try to come off as aloof in the manner that she was hoping to appear scary, but sometimes it just happened, and so she went along with the presumption.

The two continued down the hallway. As they began passing the shooting range, other individuals firing away through the bullet-resistant glass windows behind the currently receding wall, Brigitte grew curious as to where they were really going.

"The shooting range…." she mumbled melancholically, sad eyes fixed on the activity happening so close yet so far away from her.

"In a little while. I-" There was a brief pause, and for a second Brigitte thought the grip on her shirt collar loosened, but she could have been wrong because within an instant the tightness had returned, and seemed even stronger than before. "I have to tell you something important."

Brigitte nodded to no-one in particular since Fareeha was refusing to look her way. She was focused entirely ahead, a woman on a mission with an undoubtedly incredibly overriding thought circulating through her mind. Hm, something important…?

They got into the elevator at the end of the hall, having well passed the shooting range. It was a silent ride up. Fareeha's hand tightened into a fist around Brigitte's shirt through the trip of the first few floors, holding on almost for dear life - as if the minute the elevator doors slid open the taller girl would make a run for it. Of course that was not something the Swedish girl would never do, but how was Fareeha to know that?

The fluorescent lining at the bottom edges of the elevator glowed green and a small hiss sounded as the doors parted, Fareeha exiting first with Brigitte in tow. Glancing around, various thoughts plagued Brigitte's mind. They were currently on the third level; one where more offices were located. It was characteristically more quiet, when compared to the hyperactive first level of the police department building. The only time Brigitte came up here was if she had decided to visit Reinhardt, when the daily schedule allowed. She wasn't as familiar with the area as Fareeha was though, since both Reinhardt and Fareeha were her superiors, meaning they spent more time together when discussing work-related things. So where exactly where they going? Maybe Fareeha just wanted a more secluded place to talk about whatever it is she had so reluctantly mentioned downstairs.

After some walking past numerous offices Fareeha stepped up to a ret-scan, and within a few seconds a beeping signaled the allowance of entry. Light flooded through as the door slid to the side, and Fareeha pulled her subordinate out into the open air. Her hand dropped from Brigitte's shirt and she moved over to the railing across the way, slumping against it almost immediately. The beads in her hair swung to and fro, tousled by the wind in a playful manner that did nothing to alleviate the strange mood surrounding Fareeha. A long sigh escaped her lips. "I-I think….I like Angela."

Brigitte squinted at the toned woman in front of her, not quite sure if what she heard was correct or if maybe her ears had been playing tricks on her. Sometimes spending too much time in the shooting range had some effect on one's hearing; at least that's what Reinhardt had told her. He was notorious for joking often, but about that particular piece of information Brigitte could not be sure about.

"You….You are interested in Angela?" Brigitte asked tentatively, voice barely above a whisper.

Fareeha straightened up and nodded her head slowly, still refusing to look Brigitte's way. She couldn't do that, at least not yet. The overpowering uncertainty of how her friend was reacting to this was something she felt overwhelmed with when thinking about, so thus refused to do so. It was hard to breathe let alone stand on her own two feet, just announcing this poorly-kept secret to one person….She could only imagine what it'd be like if she ever decided to tell the doctor how she felt.

That is, if she ever got the chance.

"I just...I just don't know what to do about it. I'm so confused as to how I'm supposed to handle these - these absurd feelings." Fareeha stretched her prosthetic arm out, allowing the chilly autumn air to slip through her ever-numb fingers. There was no feeling at all in her prosthetic even though it was moveable and reserved all the other functions of a regular biological limb; the absence of sensation was something that always depressed her when she thought about it. Now she wished she could feel the cool kiss of fall breeze grace her extended hand, instead of the heaviness which rested over her chest and made it difficult to breathe.

Things were quiet for what seemed like a short eternity. Fareeha's confession dangled in the air between them like a fly caught helplessly in a spider web, and the Egyptian detective felt exactly that way as well - held captive by her own feelings. It baffled her how she could lose all her composure about something that she figured should be so trivial, but apparently was far from unimportant judging on the way she reacted to the thought of Angela. The sound of the tumultuous city around them did not succeed in distracting the two from the tense atmosphere, and instead the bustling echoed in Fareeha's mind like a rubber ball tumbling off of the walls of an enclosed, claustrophobic space. She was going to suffocate in her own thoughts.

Little did she know (or rather, did she rather think about), but at the same time Fareeha's brain was working overdrive, a million thoughts were also crashing through Brigitte's mind. A pinch in Brigitte's heart urged her to console Fareeha. Never before in her life had she dealt with someone close to her, as like Fareeha, coming about about their feelings for another individual of the same sex. Did this mean that her friend only took an interest in women? When did Fareeha realize that she liked Angela in that kind of way?

Her auburn hair swished to and fro as the taller girl shook her head violently, a sudden surge of bravery filling her being, and it was far too strong for her to resist. She shouldn't, and wouldn't, think about all those minute details that dotted the scene unfolding before her. None of those mattered. What mattered right now was that she was there for Fareeha.

"Fareeha - I honestly think that's wonderful." She smiled, advancing forward to place a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. When Fareeha gave her a confused look muddled by uncertainty Brigitte's eyes shot open, realizing her unconscious insertion of the mistaken implication that she was congratulating her on being confused about her newfound feelings. "I mean I think it's wonderful that you like her, not that you're super confused, haha." She chuckled nervously, and Fareeha's shoulders sagged in relief. "You deserve someone like her, y'know?"

Fareeha gave her a sad smile. "And what makes you say that?"

"Because you're awesome! You dedicate your life to making this city a safe place to live in, and you're always putting your life in danger for people who you don't even know.…" Brigitte snorted. "Heck, you're even kind enough to put up with me all the time. I know I wasn't your first choice for a partner, or anyone's first choice actually...Considering how new I am to this whole police thing, I'm surprised you haven't complained to Rein about me yet."

The smile on Fareeha's face widened, changing from something sad to a bit more cheerful. "Of course I'd never complain about you - trust me, you're the best crime-fighting partner-slash-subordinate I could ever hope for." She playfully nudged Brigitte in the ribs. "But even so, why would any of that make Angela take an interest in me?"

An exasperated sigh slipped through Brigitte's lips. "For the love of God Fareeha - you never give yourself any credit, do you?"

"Well I don't think I-"

"That's exactly what you need to do. Not think. You worry too much when you think. Just do."

"Do…?"

"Yes. Do. Don't think, just act. Be yourself and let your lovey-dovey feelings for the doc guide your actions!"

The tiniest blush possible managed to make its way onto Fareeha's already dark cheeks. "...That sounds dangerous."

The tall Swedish girl shrugged in return and leant carelessly on the railing, the wind continuing to recklessly muss her long, copper hair. "Hey, you won't know if it is until you try." With the way she ended her sentence, Fareeha didn't fail to miss the little lilt in Brigitte's voice that suggested hope. Maybe it was too much to ask for, but she did want to be hopeful about things with Angela, even if she would never admit that out loud. The surging feelings in her mind, those that circulated through her body excitedly every time she heard or talked to the doctor meant something, were feelings she didn't want to go to waste. And now that she had taken the opportunity of talking to her friend, the little hint of hope that Brigitte offered with her encouragement was something she wanted more of. Although she had been deathly nervous to confess her predicament to her colleague, she was secretly glad that she had done so.

"Heh...I guess you're right." The following clap of a hand against her back caused her to lunge forward again , this time slightly over the railway, and Fareeha's eyes bugged for a split second.

"Hahaha and when am I ever wrong?"

Fareeha groaned and rubbed her abdomen, the place where she had unfortunately collided with the metal bar that was the railing due to Brigitte's previous display of affection. "Uh, plenty of times...? You're somewhat troublesome, even though I never mention it to Rein or say anything about it. I'm nice like that." Fareeha turned on her heels and walked toward the exit, clearly content (and maybe a little smug) with her reply and the little chat that had just occurred between them.

Brigitte blinked more than a couple of times, stunned by the response. "H-Hey, I thought you just said I was the best partner-slash-subordinate you ever had?"

"I did," Fareeha called over her shoulder, already waltzing back down the hall they had walked through minutes before. "And I meant every word of it." A small smirk danced on Fareeha's face as she made her way through the hall, and Brigitte's fumbling behind her only caused the smug smile to widen. Even though she had mentioned Brigitte was troublesome at times (it was true, but this was mostly due to inexperience - Fareeha knew she'd gain more knowledge over time), just a casual conversation with her colleague was usually enough to lift her spirits. Brigitte had that special kind of air about her, and Fareeha figured that it was thanks to this cheery trait belonging to the taller girl that made her so likeable. This worked out to Brigitte's advantage, if the younger girl meant to do so or not, by preventing Fareeha from tattling to Rein about all the sorts of things the two would get into occasionally. Then again, Fareeha wouldn't deny that the unpredictability Brigitte brought more than a few times on cases wasn't something that added a little spice to the mundane, hectic schedule of life at the city's police department.

Maybe she should try that, as Brigitte had suggested - act on her feelings. After all, what good would come out of keeping them bottled up inside? She'd just continue to be an awkward, disorderly mess, and cause other colleagues to question her odd behavior left and right.

So it's a go. Fareeha nodded affirmatively to herself. Don't think, just do. Give yourself a chance - even if that means letting these feelings take the wheel for once. With a renewed confidence and a spring to her step Fareeha continued to stride down the hall, and promised herself that she'd outshoot Brigitte again today as they did their daily practice at the shooting range.

Fareeha had been watching her wrist all day, her eyes confined to the digital boundaries of her wrist tag. The numbers flashing on the screen with every flick of her wrist didn't seem to change fast enough. So naturally, when the digits displayed the time dictating that Fareeha was deemed free to go and leave the boundary of the large building she was holed up in almost every day of the week, she took flight.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Brigitte." Fareeha shrugged her shoulders to make her leather jacket feel more comfortable across the width of her taut back, and tried not to make herself come across as too excited upon leaving for the day.

"Righto, boss." Brigitte sent the other woman a comical salute. "Have fun with Angela."

Fareeha bit her bottom lip in order to hide the smirk that was brave enough to make an appearance, or at least attempted to. "Yeah. We'll see what happens." Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her favorite jacket (she had decided to bring it with her today especially, since she was going to be out with Angela tonight, even if it was something work-related) she made her way through the building, weaving through the regular hallways and finally gliding across the front lobby. The front doors parted before her like the Red Sea, and a powerful gust of wind hit her. The chilly fall air from earlier today was still running rampant at this time of the evening, but truthfully Fareeha took no notice, preoccupied with another matter entirely. She scanned the front of the building for the woman she had promised to meet up with, and found Doctor Ziegler sitting not too far away on a community bench on the department property. She donned a thick, dark coat which Fareeha figured was incredibly warm and comfortable, adequately protecting her from the cold that filled every nook and cranny of the city. Her hair was done up in the usual messy-yet-sophisticated ponytail that Fareeha was used to seeing her in, and she currently had her nose buried in a book.

She's likes books, huh? Fareeha smiled to herself, finding it adorable how Angela had a book with her and seemed to be fascinated by the contents it held. Not many people actually had books nowadays; most literature was provided and reading was consumed by the presence of a light pad. Being a doctor though, Fareeha wondered if maybe still having books was an acquired sort of taste.

The detective stopped a few feet away from the communal bench where Angela sat, hands comfy in her jacket's pockets and the same small smile from before gracing her features. Part of her wanted to stand there for a while and see how long it'd take for Angela to notice that the person she was expecting had arrived, but time was of the essence (the city was not safe at night, Fareeha knew this best) and prodded her to let the doctor know she was indeed there.

She settled for a polite clearing of her throat, and then a harmless, joking comment. "Didn't forget we were meeting up today, did you?"

The blonde woman sitting before her jumped slightly, fumbling clumsily with the book she had been holding gingerly between slender fingers. Startling blue eyes looked up from the pages and weathered cover, finally meeting Fareeha's amused brown ones. "Oh goodness! Fareeha, it's just you…" Angela placed a hand over her chest. "I'm sorry, sometimes I startle easily. You caught me unawares; I was quite absorbed in my reading. My apologies." She tucked the book in a satchel nestled by her side, then looped it over her head and under her arm as she got up from her spot on the bench. "I didn't forget about today though, not at all."

"Good, because I was hoping you wouldn't decide to go alone." Fareeha inhaled deeply as Angela sidled up beside her, and was not surprised by the way her heart rate began to pick up, just enough for her to sense the change in pace.

Angela laughed. "No no no, of course not! That would be nothing short of suicidal, considering it's me we're talking about." An unexpected torrent of wind blew against the two roughly, causing Fareeha to close her eyes and wait the breeze out, and Angela to squeal slightly as autumn's invisible hands decided to messily play with her hair. When Fareeha cracked open one eyelid her heart jumped up to her throat, the sight of Angela vigorously making amends with her wild hair filling her vision, and after a worthy attempt at fixing it tuck a loose, golden strand behind her left ear.

Don't think, just act. Without thinking twice, or even better - without thinking at all - Fareeha stuck out her right arm, which she bent at an angle, in an inviting gesture toward the other woman. She waited with bated breath, seeing how Angela would react. It was almost silly how quickly she began to feel the conception of sweat beads form across her brow, but her nervousness was soon interrupted when a welcome, delighted giggle sounded from beside her.

"Ah, such a gentleman," Angela cooed, and Fareeha felt herself blush heavily, the doctor's remark forever carving itself into her brain. The blonde woman wrapped her own arm around Fareeha's, and the two began walking slowly through the wide, sparsely filled parking lot toward the heart of the city.

Fareeha did her best to not appear proud, and was also struggling (but ultimately failing, which she was beginning to find out) to fight her wavering but rapidly growing, elated feelings. "...You asked me to accompany you, so I will make it my duty to protect you as well." Although Angela's hand arm was wrapped tightly around Fareeha's own right one, she could not feel the sensation. The gesture was no doubt somewhat intimate to an extent, but ironically Fareeha could feel none of the contact at all. Her elatedness was almost eclipsed by the occurring thought of that single, missing and totally paramount factor, but again this was something she could only have previously dreamed of. She would have to make due.

Angela smiled warmly up at Fareeha, and the act alone was enough for the taller woman to bulldoze her preceding dejection within a split second, forgetting all negativity. "My thanks."

Thank you for joining me with this little one-shot, to those of you readers who took the time to give this piece a looking at! I am considering writing a larger, full-on story with these characters in this particular universe, so if you liked this little snippet please leave some of your thoughts~~ It would be much appreciated! :)

Until next time!