The battlefield is still a bloody mess when Ana Amari arrives on the scene, with both Talon and Overwatch forces alike among the many casualties littering the area. Most are lost causes, but some will make it, Ana notes with a grim frown, looking around at all the carnage that the preceding battle has wrought.
It is what she overhears when passing one of the many medic tents that have been set up that instills in her a sense of urgency.
"How is Amari?" one woman asks a man.
"Well," the man says, "her armor absorbed a lot of the damage, but a couple of shots got all the way through. We're not sure yet, but...it doesn't look good for her."
Opening the flap to the tent, Ana asks in a very concerned tone, "Amari? My daughter Fareeha is hurt?"
The two turn to look at her, looking at one another for a brief moment.
"Ma'am," the man says, "I know this probably won't be easy for you to hear, but I'm afraid the damage done may be fatal."
The color drains from Ana's face.
"This...cannot be possible," Ana says, her eye already tearing up at the possibility of her daughter not surviving her first real, big Overwatch mission. "Where is she?"
"She's in a tent further down, ma'am," the woman says, looking at her datapad as she brings up the relevant information. "They're doing intensive surgery to try and remove the bullets before it's too late."
"I must see her at once."
"Ma'am, I don't think you should—" the man attempts to say, but he is cut off by Ana immediately leaving the tent as she makes haste towards the other tent in question.
So many things race around Ana's head as she weaves around the people who occupy the area of the camp between the two tents, but none is as prevalent as the fear that her daughter will not survive the wounds she has suffered. Already, she is mourning Fareeha as if she has already died, as if she is still not alive and fighting to stay so. She is already thinking of the eulogy she will have to give at her daughter's service, in front of many of her closest friends.
Stop this foolishness, Ana, she thinks to herself at last. Fareeha is not dead yet; stop acting as if she is. She is an Amari. We are built to survive.
On her way to the tent, she happens upon Reinhardt, who looks up from tending to the dings in his armor to shoot her a concerned, sympathetic look before saying, "I am truly sorry, Ana. I tried my best to keep her safe. If I had only been there to keep her safe, she would never have been hurt. Gabriel drew my attention away from her for too long..."
"Reinhardt, it's okay," Ana says, her face becoming stoic as best she manage. "She decided to take on this mission of her own volition, knowing full well the dangers involved. You are not to blame for her injuries."
"Even so, I cannot help but feel responsible. She is my friend's daughter, and harm came to her even after I promised to keep her safe."
Ana tries not to cry, seeing such shame on Reinhardt's face and hearing such remorse in his voice. He has always been such a noble, chivalrous individual, resolved to protecting anyone and everyone he possibly can, and his belief that he has somehow failed to do so today only serves to upset Ana more.
"She is in surgery right now," she says, hoping her voice doesn't shake, or her lip doesn't quiver. "I was on my way to see her."
"I wish you the best of luck, my friend," Reinhardt says with a solemn nod of his head as he returns his attention to his armor. "I hope to hear nothing but good news when you return."
Ana nods, though she has no idea if he sees it, and continues on her way to her ultimate destination.
Along the way, she sees others she knows—Tracer, Winston, Genji—tending to their own issues, and she doesn't bug them, not wishing to delay their efforts, nor impede her own objective any further. She has a feeling, though, that they share Reinhardt's sympathies with her, as they each turn to look at her as she passes them by, however briefly.
Finally, after what seems to be an eternity or two, Ana reaches the tent that houses her daughter. Inside, she can hear other medics discussing what must be Fareeha's surgery, but she can't make out their words very clearly, merely compounding her worries.
They exit moments later, surprised to see her there.
That surprise melts away into what Ana can only see as regret.
"How did the surgery go?" she asks them, though she knows what must be coming next.
"We were able to successfully remove the shrapnel that penetrated your daughter's armor," one said with the most solemn of tones, "but I'm afraid that the damage had already been done. We've...made her comfortable."
"Comfortable? For how long?"
With a sigh, the other medic tells her, "She has another hour or two, at the absolute most."
Whatever color was left in Ana's face drains, and she lets her head droop, her single eye fixated on the ground. Then, after a moment, she looks back up, drying her eye with the back of her hand.
"Thank you, doctors," she says, trying to keep her voice strong but ultimately failing.
"Ma'am, we're so sorry," the first medic says, placing a gentle hand on Ana's shoulder. "You can go in and see her, if you'd like."
"Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you."
With this, both of them leave her to go to another tent, where they must surely be needed.
A heavy heart seems to beat at half speed within Ana's chest as she enters the tent. There are many patients in here, and she's not surprised to see them in critical condition, for the most part. After all, the battle was a very intense one.
Then, Ana spots her.
There, in the corner of the tent, is her daughter, lying down with an oxygen mask affixed to her face.
The very sight of it is enough to cause Ana to let out a harsh sob.
Still, she makes her way over to Fareeha, determined to be there for her in her final moments. Maybe seeing a familiar face will give her some comfort, perhaps enough to pass peacefully.
It is in this moment that Ana begins to see Fareeha's life play out in her mind: carrying her, giving birth to her, holding her for the first time, watching her grow up surrounded by some of the best people in the world... It all comes back to her now, of all times. Ana supposes that it's only logical for this to happen, but it doesn't make the situation hurt any less.
A pained moan, quite groggy and weak, interrupts her train of thought.
Ana looks down at Fareeha to see that she's waking up, for however long she has left.
"M-Mother...you're here..." she says, struggling to let the words free from her lips.
"Shhh... Yes, Fareeha," says Ana, holding her hand. "I came to see you."
"It...hurts..."
"What happened to you...?"
Fareeha takes in a breath, which sounds sharp and painful, and it is, as evidenced by the wince she experiences. It makes her cough violently.
"No, never mind... Shhh... Don't speak, my dear..." Ana's other hand reaches out to stroke her daughter's hair, trying to bring her whatever comfort she can.
"M-Mother... I'm...d..."
Ana blinks her eye, holding it closed as the tears begin to free themselves from their proverbial dam.
"Yes, I'm afraid so, ḥabībtá," she says in a hoarse voice with a hushed tone.
"I'm scared..." Fareeha says, tears of her own now starting to brim.
"Don't be, my child... I am here for you..."
"W-Will you..." Fareeha coughs, interrupting her sentence. "Will you sing to me, Mother...?"
"What would you like for me to sing?" Ana has never really considered herself much of a singer, but it's always soothed her daughter, and that's enough for her.
"The l-lullaby, from when I w-was a child..."
With a sad smile, Ana says, "There were many lullabies I sang to you, Fareeha. I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific."
"M-Mother...you know the one..."
"Yes, I know I do. I was simply teasing you."
"In...Egyptian, please..."
Ana simply nods, allowing herself to cry freely now, then begins to sing a very, very old lullaby, translated into her native tongue.
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word..."
Fareeha listens in silence, soothed by the sound of her mother's voice, so much so that she closes her eyes. She is very weak by now, and Ana knows it, but the older woman continues to sing, wanting to ease her as much as possible.
Ana carries on, repeating some of the verses in order to prolong the song to keep Fareeha comfortable, something she used to do when her daughter was still young. Now, however, she knows she can't keep singing forever, and so she brings herself to finish the last couple of verses.
"And if that horse and cart fall down, you'll still be the sweetest baby in town..."
As Ana finishes the song, Fareeha finally passes, the brief silence that follows the conclusion of the song replaced by the droning of the medical equipment that signifies that Fareeha's vitals have failed.
Ana closes her eye, squeezes her daughter's hand, and kisses her forehead.
"Bedtime, ḥabībtá..."