This is a multi-part story divided over the seven days of the Anahardt week in tumblr. It's finished, and I'll upload it over the course of the week... : )

Day 1 - Sugar

Ana was looking at her datapad, her frown getting deeper and deeper as she read the news. Terrorist attacks. Omnics out of control, companies hacked. Governments unable to keep the streets safe- and Overwatch, mentioned in the list of threats to them all.

Sometimes she would like to get back to the UN council and punch them in their faces. And she would, soon enough. If only- If only she could made her mind about leaving. She kept delaying her departure, her rifle forgotten against a corner.

Overwatch's fall was all over the news few days after she woke up in a hospital, one-eyed and presumed dead. The two commanders were MIA, presumed dead among the many, many casualties of the explosion at the headquarters. It shook her to the core to think so many friends had died, but there were no tears. If Amelie was with Talon, they must have had something to do with the explosion. Someone had betrayed their family, toyed with Jack and Gabriel, and she-she was completely alone.

Of course she trusted Reinhardt, and Torb and his family. Lana, Winston... They would never betray them-but with Overwatch disbanded, she could not ask anyone to go against the law to help her track Talon. Besides, the less they knew, the safer they would be. The last Ana wanted was to put them in danger. No, she would not contact them.

Being a lone hunter for years had a lot of advantages, and the ache of loneliness was soothed by her frantic activity to survive another day without food, money, or contacts. She became a ghost- a ghost that ended tracking another ghost. Two ghosts, actually. Ah, to see Jack and Gabriel alive brought her both happiness and pain. They reminded her of everything she had left behind. Everything she had never had. Everything she had been too busy to appreciate.

Yet, it had been her choice to remain alone, and her job at Gibraltar was done. She had warned Winston already and she did not want to overextend her welcome. Torbjörn glared every time he saw her, disapproving. He had never been one to silence his thoughts, and the fact that she left them in the dark for so many years irked him. She could not blame him.

There was a noise at the door that could pass for an elephant walking, and she looked up if just to confirm she was right. A grey head of hair popped up at the doorway, looking at her from afar. He had done that every single day, as if he still would not believe she was alive and there, but he had never came to talk.

She stayed put, eye back to the datapad, as if he was some wild animal that could get easily scared. She would not push him after the hell he must have been through-It was only fair to let him come if he wanted to, which did not seem to be the case, since he had left again.

Ana could not blame him, either. Not after seeing him break at her return.

She had wanted to run away, that day. Run as fast as her legs would carry her-but she was frozen in place, taking in his inconsolable grief. It had melted her inside, had poured down her cheeks. It was impossible that he still loved her that much, but then, she-

She had missed him so much. His voice, his smile, his warmth, his hands. Her home for years, her friend-and everything she had never allowed him to be. Her whole body had screamed at her to open up to him. Bloody let him in already, please, before it was too late. But she did not deserve him, and he did not deserve someone that had broken his heart again, and again.

A soft knocking took her away her depressing thoughts, and Ana could not believe her eye when she saw Reinhardt at her very doorstep.

"May I?" He asked, hesitance clear in his voice. He was carrying something on his hands, and the smell betrayed it.

"Hot chocolate?" She made a gesture with her hand, inviting him in.

He sat close to her and yet too far to feel his warmth, leaving his precious cargo in the table by her side. There was only one mug with a spoon-a gift.

"Swiss chocolate. The one Jack used to smuggle everywhere he went, remember?"

She nodded. It was impossible to forget Jack producing milk or hot water during their missions and sharing a couple of mugs between them all.

With infinite care, Reinhardt put his hands on the front pocket of the oversized sweater he was wearing and produced a small package. At that point, her plan not to scare him off was damned, and Ana was actually looking at him open up the napkin-wrapped parcel. The german was much more silent than she remembered, much more somber, and it ached-it ached to see him reduced to this.

"Tiny marshmallows," she gasped at the sight of the little pink squishable squares. Now that was rare. "How did you get them?"

"Someone owed me one," he finally cracked a smile. "A big one. These come from Korea. There's a family that make them by hand, there."

"This is… really sweet, Reinhardt," she smiled, fondly, reaching out for his hand without thinking. "Pun intended."

"I promised you long ago I'd treat you to a real heiße schokolade," he snorted softly, caressing her fingers with the thumb, but then he stopped abruptly. "Ah, but I'm missing the whipped cream, silly old me. Would you wait here, maus?"

Reinhardt disappeared before she could say anything, and Ana was left with the impression that he would never come back to her room. He popped back a moment later, however, a hand on his pocket and another holding a canister of whipped cream. The grown beard may help conceal his expression better, but he was still as easy to read as the day she met him. Being there was taking him a lot of effort; he was uncomfortable and heartbroken, yet he kept playing his part flawlessly.

"Unfortunately, I could not get a hold on anything better than this," he shook it vigorously for a moment, then left it by the mug and sat down again.

She did not deserve him-but there he was, stubbornly drawing near in spite of the circumstances. As he always had done. And bringing gifts, as if his mere presence was not enough to lit the room.

Ana stared at the chocolate mug, breathless, fighting back tears. Was this how he felt when she was so close, and yet so far?

"Would you prepare it for me?" Her voice cracked a bit, and she cleared her throat. "I don't want to ruin it after you put so much effort on-everything."

He picked several marshmallows and deposited them on top of the chocolate. Then, he shook the canister again and created a swirling mountain of whipped cream on top of it. To crown it all, he picked six marshmallows with all the care in the world and, one by one, he made a smiley on top of the cream.

"It looks fantastic," she forced herself to smile at him, grateful for the patch that covered half her face and the hair that obscured her good eye. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. It was- I didn't want to miss the chance again and-" He stopped talking, made a gesture with a hand. "Doesn't matter. Hope you like it."

"Can we share it?"

Reinhardt got up, hiding behind the fake smile plastered on his face, and shook his head.

"I'll see you around."

The door closed behind him, taking away the sun, the breeze, and everything that made the world right, and Ana covered her face with her hands.