Kamilah sighed, wiping her oily fingers off on a towel as she sat heavily on the ground, staring blankly at the motorcycle before her. She'd had this bike for ten years now, despite the shop's frequent suggestions to just get a newer and better model, and spare herself all the effort of maintaining such an old one. But every time the mechanic showed her around the shop, trying to pique her interest in all the other models his customers were using, her eyes would always slide back to her own ride, and she'd shake her head in the negative. As much as she hated to admit it, Ana's constant teases were right – she was too attached to her bike.

Chewing on her lip, Kamilah ran her fingers over the midnight-blue paint that was starting to fade again, and traced her fingers over the small nicks and scratches accumulated from the past years of use. The bike still bore a golden trim, but the repainted colour had niggled away at her for the longest time, because Kamilah could never find that original shade that she loved. Scratches marred the black vinyl of the seat, and Kamilah suspected that the colour would fade in no time as well.

Damn it. The bike was too old to be worth all this time and effort spent on maintaining it…

Reluctance stabbed at her when she thought of parting with the old thing, and so she stopped. Kamilah tossed the towel to the side, took the sponge next to her toolbox, and paused. She looked out of the open garage gates – judging from the sun's glare, she guessed that it was around noon. Kamilah dropped the sponge carelessly to the floor and stood, patting herself off as she made her way back into the house.

"Fareeha," Kamilah called, loud enough for the girl to hear if she was playing on the upper floor. "Lunch time! We're going out, remember?"

No answer. Not an uncommon occurrence, so Kamilah repeated the girl's name as she washed her hands in the kitchen's sink, only to have her voice die in her throat when she looked up through the window. Fareeha was playing in their small backyard the last time Kamilah had checked on her, and she was still there, except her feet were not on the ground, but balancing precariously on the flat top of the fence. Her arms were held out on either side of her body, her eyes fixed on the narrow path before her in utmost concentration.

"Fareeha! Get down from the–" Kamilah's shout had been instinctive, an action she promptly regretted when she broke her daughter's focus. Fareeha looked up at her in surprise, and she tripped over her own feet, teetering precariously on the edge before she fell over, one hand colliding painfully into the fence when she tried to grip onto something.

Kamilah cursed under her breath and ran out of the kitchen, bursting through the house's back door in her frantic rush to reach her daughter. Fareeha was already whining when Kamilah knelt beside her and tugged her hands forward, spotting the small abrasions on her palms where they had hit the rough garden tiles.

"Fareeha, how many times do I have to tell you – don't keep climbing everything you see!" Kamilah guided the girl to stand on her feet, the oft-repeated chides falling from her lips as she checked that Fareeha hadn't broken or sprained anything. Taking the four-year-old by the hand, Kamilah led her back into the house and sat her on the sofa, brows furrowing into a deep frown as she dug out the medical kit and knelt before her daughter.

"Just like your ami. Only know how to throw my words out the window," Kamilah uttered, cleaning the superficial scrapes on Fareeha's knees. She took a little more care with the abrasions on the palms, which were bleeding slightly. "Fareeha, you have to listen to–"

Kamilah glanced up at the girl and froze. Tears dripped from Fareeha's eyes, but only the barest of sobs escaped her lips, pressed together as if to hide it – and Kamilah's heart twisted. She recognised that look – she'd felt it before, been there before, and suddenly she was a child again, cowering as a harsh, grating voice shouted curse-laden scoldings into her ear.

She felt nauseous, the gauze dropping from her fingers. No. No, no–, I'm not–

Kamilah reached for Fareeha, pausing briefly in hesitation, before cupping the girl's cheek in one trembling hand. She wiped the tears away, then wrapped both arms around her daughter tightly, rubbing her back in soothing circles as Fareeha started to sob in her ear.

"Sorry…"

"It's okay, habibti. It's okay," Kamilah murmured into her ear, giving her a comforting squeeze and a peck on the temple. She wiped at Fareeha's damp cheeks again, smiling gently at the girl's hiccups. "Mama loves you, Fareeha. That's why she doesn't like to see you hurt. It's painful when you fall, isn't it?"

Fareeha nodded.

"Mm-hm. And that's why you shouldn't climb up to tall places. Or you'll get these ouchies again." Kamilah pointed at the girl's scrapes, and she pouted. "Here, let's give you the cute plasters this time." She reached into the kit and took two band-aids with cartoons printed on them, and pasted them over the abrasions on Fareeha's palm. "Do you like it?"

Fareeha nodded, and Kamilah couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly a smile returned to her face.

"Come on, let's go have lunch. Then…do you wanna help mama clean her bike?"

"Yeah!"

Kamilah smiled as she packed up the medical kit, taking Fareeha by the hand and leading her up to the bedroom for a change. During lunch, she made sure to order some ice cream for themselves, periodically fending off the attacks on her own dessert when Fareeha tried to gouge some extra spoonfuls from her mother – who might have let her succeed a few times.

And when they returned home with their stomachs full, they set to work on the bike, rolling it outside the garage for a good clean. Kamilah let Fareeha rub a small soapy sponge over the bike with her, then put the hose into the girl's hands and guided her as they rinsed the soap off. She let go of Fareeha when they were done, circling around the bike to check for any spots they'd missed. Then she stopped in her tracks, her gaze having landed on Fareeha…who had the hose nozzle aimed at her with a grin.

Kamilah's eyes widened.

"Are you fucking insane, Reyes!"

Ana's exclamation had come in time with Jack's own shocked outcry, but it seemed Gabriel heard her regardless, and pinned her with the same cold gaze that he had fixed Jack with.

"We have no choice–"

"A 'choice'?" Jack bit out, taking one step towards Gabriel. "Gabe, we're talking about tens of thousands of lives here! This isn't a fucking choice–!"

"It's either ten thousands here, or hundreds of thousands tomorrow, Morrison."

Jack's lips moved, but he was at a loss for words. He turned to Ana in a silent plea for help, but she knew that she didn't have the right answer he sought, and shifted her gaze away. She looked at the doors to A.I. core chamber, where Reinhardt and Torbjörn were still fending off the omnic's relentless hailstorm of bullets – the men were occupied, but she knew they were keenly aware of the argument happening behind them. Ana glanced at Liao, who stood by the God Program's control console, and caught her gaze.

"Liao, is there no way to sever the link?" Ana asked.

"No, I'm sorry," Liao replied, regret tinging her voice as she turned back to tap on the console's holo-keyboard. "The A.I. tied the deactivation sequence to its self-destruct protocol. The only way we're stopping this…is through an explosion."

"Then, how about minimising the blast radius–?" Jack jumped in, but he was merely grasping at straws.

Liao sighed sharply. "I said just now, the A.I. is pushing its energy core into overload. There's no way to stop the buildup, so…" She wavered, then continued with a coldness similar to Gabriel's. "The only way to minimise it, is to set it off – quickly."

"Fuck," Jack uttered under his breath.

"Look," Gabriel said. "We can't afford to wait any longer. Even if you refuse to look at the large picture, think about what's happening here." He nodded his head towards the entrance, and they glanced at the Crusader's shield marred with cracks, a red turret with black smoke rising from its engines – and beyond the facility's walls, there were thousands of Indian troops fighting to hold their ground, giving their very lives to buy the Strike Team more time to end the war in their homeland.

"If we don't destroy the A.I. now, we won't have the numbers left to fight a war here. We'll be signing their death sentence."

Ana's grip tightened on the assault rifle in her hands – a gift from a now-dead soldier, after her sniper rifle had been badly damaged in the midst of battle.

"This is the best option–, no. This is the only option. We end this here, and now. If you don't agree, then I have no choice but to make it an order." Gabriel's steely stare rested on Jack, then Ana, and Liao. None spoke out against him. He raised a hand and pressed the comm piece in his ear, ordering the Indian forces to beat a full-scale retreat from the city, as quickly as they could.

"Liao, do it."

Liao's gaze passed over Jack and Ana, the fear in her eyes slowly disappearing behind a placid mask. Her fingers flew over the console's keyboard, and in a few short seconds, the blue holo-screen hovering before her turned red: [SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ACTIVATED]

"Let's go!" Gabriel barked, and he ran towards the doors with Jack to hold the defense line, while Reinhardt sprinted back towards Liao, who had started limping towards him – she'd caught two bullets in the same leg during their advance on the A.I. facility. Reinhardt lifted Liao in his arms, and nodded grimly at Ana before making for the exit.

Ana cast one last glance back at the statue towering over them, the glowing red eyes of Shiva and the snake coiled around his shoulders staring down at the team.

Damn you.

"You were supposed to prevent deaths, not expedite it!" Xie's reprimand was cutting, and her voice shook under the obvious effort not to raise her volume into an outright shout. Even through a holo-projection, the force of her temper could be felt by each person in the room.

"There was little choice, ma'am," Gabriel said, standing at attention before his team, bearing the brunt of Xie's anger. "You will see in my report that–"

"That it was the only way to complete your mission, yes. I have read it, god damn it!" Xie whipped off her glasses, a severe frown creasing her browns as she pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a moment to collect herself. "An entire city… Gone. Just like that."

"Ma'am. I am captain of this team, and I was the one who gave the order. I will take the blame, and submit myself to any–"

"There will be no blame in this, Reyes," Xie intoned. She took a deep breath and slipped her glasses back on. "When the Strike Team arrived in the facility, they found the self-destruct sequence already activated by the A.I. You had no say in the destruction that followed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"All of you."

"Yes, ma'am!" The chorus of shouts rang empty – a soulless, ingrained habit of an obedient soldier.

With a curt nod, Xie's projection blinked off, leaving the team staring into empty space for a long moment. Torbjörn was the first to move towards the door, without waiting for a debrief by Gabriel. He was followed closely by Reinhardt, who cast a forlorn look over his team, then trudged out with his shoulders slumped in shame. Liao followed after them, wiping discretely at her eyes as she passed through the door.

Ana made to move, but paused when she noticed how the team's super soldiers were still standing motionless. She shared a glance with Jack, who gave her a mirthless smile and nodded. Ana left the room quickly, anxious to get some air and leave the two men to thrash their issues out in private.

Failed missions were not an uncommon occurrence for the team. They always learnt, adapted, and overcame each new obstacle that had caused them to stumble, and were quick to accept a member's mistake, offering tips and suggestions to prevent similar incidents in the future. Even when concrete advice escaped them, silent company was often appreciated, and given in quiet hang-outs in the break room, where they nursed their own drinks of choice.

This time, no one sought each other out. Ana suspected they were all avoiding one another, as she hadn't bumped into anyone in her aimless wandering around the base, and she was…grateful for the privacy. After passing by groups of mournful soldiers and getting odd looks in her direction, she wasn't in the mood to discuss what had happened, or even think of it. The moment they'd arrived in the field camp after the mission – two days before they reported to Command – Ana had dropped the rifle from her grip like it was hot coal.

Her hands felt dirty – like there was something she couldn't scrub off her skin, though that didn't stop her from trying in the long shower she took that night. Even then, her fingers were still scratching absentmindedly at her palms, and she only stopped when she reached for the door to the bunkroom she shared with Liao.

She peeked in first, and found the room still dark – Liao hadn't returned yet. Ana shuffled in, tossing her toiletries and towel haphazardly onto her duffle bag, and fell face-down into her bed. She remained there until she found it difficult to breathe against the mattress, then flopped over with a heavy sigh. She stared up at the blank white ceiling of the room, before reaching up to the table by the head of her bed, and grabbed her phone. She'd turned it on just before heading for the showers, and had received a few new messages in her old squad's chat, two from her sister, and notably more from her wife, who still checked in every few days despite her prolonged absences.

She scrolled through the messages disinterestedly, then opened the chat with Kamilah, her interest piqued by the video. Ana tapped on it, smiling when Kamilah's shrieks and Fareeha's cackles broke the silence of her room, and she watched Fareeha chase Kamilah all over their lawn, blasting her mother with water from a hose. Then Kamilah grabbed Fareeha with one arm and lifted her, adjusting the girl in her hold as she wiped the camera lens on her t-shirt sleeve, then focused it on themselves.

"Say hi to ami."

"Hi, ami!" Fareeha yelled. In her excitement, her fingers accidentally squeezed the hose nozzle's lever, dousing both Kamilah and herself with another blast of water at point-blank range.

Ana huffed quietly as the video amid her daughter and wife's shrieks. She pulled up the keyboard, thumbs hovering over the screen, unsure what to say.

[Hey]

[ :heart: ]

[Just came back, tired. Going to sleep now]

Kamilah: [Ok.]

Kamilah: [You're doing great. Proud of you.]

Kamilah: [:heart: ]

Ana stared at the screen until it went dark, her protest dying with the light from the screen. She dropped the phone on the bed and pressed her face into the pillow, biting hard on her bottom lip as the pillowcase grew damp under her eyes.

The team was flown to Nigeria just two days later. Though the night after Xie's debrief had been cold, they still acted normally around each other, even if their usual camaraderie felt rather hollow in the first week. Nevertheless, they had an important, as-yet-unfinished mission to focus on, and it was what melded the team slowly back together, their few years spent in the thick of battle forming the solid ground from which they sprang back into action.

Spirits were high among the Nigerian troops despite the devastating incident in India, and the Strike Team found their efforts bolstered substantially by the coalition of elite African forces, which had been formed to aid Nigeria's struggle against the omnics since the start of the crisis. As with all other countries, a special task force had been created here as well – comprising of expert infiltrators, by the name of 'Shadow'. Each infiltrator was trained extensively in the use of stealth and hacking technologies, and they were perfect assets for sabotage, distraction, and gathering intelligence.

The team was paired with a squad of Shadows, under the leadership of one active and indomitable lieutenant named Mirembe. Before the Strike Team's arrival in Nigeria, she'd already performed dangerous reconnaissance missions right into the very heart of the omnium and A.I. facility, and her information was thorough. They were able to follow detailed routes through the facilities, with the Shadows covering their advance every step of the way, striking at omnic patrols and disabling sensor systems, while the Strike Team marched into the core chambers, and shut down the omnium and God Program.

Ana was rather surprised with how smooth their operations in Nigeria had gone, but her surprise quickly faded when Mirembe showed her the box of tokens she'd collected – one belonging to each soldier she'd lost to the war. Blood had been paid for this triumph, and it was not the Strike Team's.

Their last destination: China.

Liao had been on edge during their flight back to her home country, and she moved with intense fervour when they started on the last stretch of their mission, determined to seize a victory that was over four years in the making. Here, the team worked with a dedicated contingent of soldiers called the "Dancers" – masters of hand-to-hand combat, equipped with gauntlets and boots that emitted fatal shocks upon contact, and were sturdy enough to block even a direct melee hit from an OR14. Ana was tickled when Liao explained that their name was a play on the word, 'wu', which could also mean 'martial' in Mandarin Chinese. It made her regret choosing 'God Eye' as the name for her snipers, instead of a clever pun.

After a few short missions, it became apparent that their campaign in China would run as smoothly as it did in Nigeria, even if they'd had to tackle more battles head-on – as was the style of the Dancers. The group of martial artists assigned to them was led by an affable soldier named Tien, who cracked jokes nearly as often as he gave orders in the battlefield. Working with the Dancers was rather tricky, since their combat style required them to go face-to-face with the omnics in combat. Battles were always messy, and they became even more so when they had allies right in the heart of that same mess. Even if the Dancers wore personal shields of their own to protect them from weapons fire, the team had to take extra care while taking their own shots.

Nevertheless, with the Dancers charging ahead as their lethal frontline – often fighting with Reinhardt swinging his hammer in their midst – the team was able to make it into the A.I. core chambers with minimal injuries. Ana panted as she injected a self-sealing biofoam into the bullet wound below her ribs, while the others did the same for their own wounds – stemming their bleeding temporarily so they could maintain a defensive line around Liao while she worked.

It didn't take long – this was a mere routine to Liao by now. But even as they cheered at Liao's exclamation of success, a battered omnic body near them sputtered to life, red eyes flashing wildly from where it lay on the ground, unable to move. They fell silent as it uttered the same phrase in Mandarin over and over again, causing unease to flit across the faces of Liao and the Dancers. She was about to translate the words at Gabriel's request, when the omnic switched into English.

"Your victory is fleeting."

Tien snapped angrily at the failing omnic body as it rasped the ominous phrase over and over again, until the light died from its eyes.

Through the thick doors that the Dancers had demolished on their way in, they could hear the distant cheers of the Chinese soldiers. But the core chamber remained deathly silent.

Xie seemed deeply worried by their report, falling into a prolonged silence when the recording of the dying omnic ended. A frown creased her forehead, but it disappeared when she sighed and looked back at the team, who stared at her as if waiting for answers. She gave them a tired smile and offered her thanks for their efforts, telling them to leave the omnic issue to her, and spend the time celebrating their incredible achievement instead. She ended the transmission with an order for them to return to Switzerland, before blinking out of sight, leaving the team to stare at one another in an almost surreal daze.

Tien was quick to find them after their debrief, pulling them into a night of carousing and eating and drinking, that left Ana crashing back into bed feeling utterly tired. But for the first time in years, she could fall asleep without that heavy weight upon her shoulders.

They were given a few days of R&R, after which they went back into action again, having obtained permission to deal with the remaining pockets of omnics that were still active. Xie was more than happy to grant their request, after receiving reports of the omnic remnants, who seemed to have retained some measure of independent consciousness, enough to keep them operating on what was likely the God Programs' final directive. None of them, not even Liao, could fathom how the A.I.s had done it, but it wasn't the most pertinent question at the moment. They'd just achieved the nigh impossible, and they refused to have their hard-won dream undone by a few rogue elements.

Their clean-up operations took four more months, which saw them flying from China, and back to the countries that they had visited, to ensure that the omnic threat remained down, before news of their activity spread far enough to cause panic again. And in the end, they caught a flight back to Geneva, where a televised awards ceremony was held in honour of their achievements, after which they were ushered into a private reception to be showered with praise, compliments, and an endless train of small talk that made Ana desperately want to yawn.

It was a sentiment the team obviously shared, because they took a concerted breath of relief when they finally pried themselves away. Then they decided to venture into town to grab some food to eat, as they'd barely partaken in the reception's generous spread of canapés. They found themselves in a pub an hour later, and were shown into a private room by the owner, who recognised them from the news and recent broadcast. The team practically ordered a feast that they were hard-pressed to finish, but they took their time with it, delighting in the sheer amount of time and freedom on their hands.

Ana smiled into her glass of soda, watching Reinhardt give Jack such a hard congratulatory slap on the back, that the man near fell over. They'd gone to the pool table outside the room in a bid to 'work off the food to eat more food', and had attracted quite a crowd who wanted to see the purported heroes in action – even in their downtime. Though the players had little trouble with the extra attention, Ana was rather glad that she'd declined the invitation to play. A full day of media exposure had been more than enough for her.

"Ugh. I'm dying," Gabriel groaned beside her, as he took four more fries and stuffed them into his mouth.

"Then stop eating, dumbass." Ana knocked her elbow into his, wearing a smile as she fired a text back to Kamilah, who reminded her not to 'puke all that food out and embarrass herself in front of the fans'.

"I'm not a quitter." He swallowed the fries with a long-suffering look on his face, then washed it down with a gulp of beer. Gabriel knocked his head into Ana's, nodding at the phone. "Bet you can't wait to get back home, huh? It's like you can't ever put the phone down whenever we're back."

"Please. After spending all this time with you shits? I'd be surprised if I ever leave home again." Ana sighed airily, joining in Gabriel's suffering and grabbing a handful of fries too. "I'm gonna hold my girls for so long, we'll all have white hair when I'm done."

"Isn't that a crime? Like, taking someone hostage?" Gabriel chuckled when Ana rolled her eyes.

"It's not a hostage situation if they're willing."

"Stockholm's."

"Don't make me punch you, dingus." Ana grinned, taking a draught from her own glass as well. "What, you're not looking forward to going home?"

"Yeah, I am." Gabriel nibbled on the tip of another fry, before throwing it onto his plate in disgust. "Gonna visit the family. See my buddies. The usual."

"Mm-hm. Any…special plans?" Ana wiggled her brows when he looked confused, then nodded her head at the pool table. "You know, have a drink, and a little…sword fighting."

"Shut up," Gabriel laughed, glancing at the table where Jack was taking aim with a look of utter concentration, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth. "Ah… I don't know. I mean, we work well together but…"

"But nothing. You know what? I dare you to."

"What?" Gabriel said incredulously. "You don't just dare someone into–"

"I dare you."

"No."

"Aw, come on. It's just a little sword fighting, if you get my meaning–!" Ana cackled when Gabriel shoved a handful of fries at her mouth. She grabbed and pulled at his ears, the two laughing uncontrollably until Ana shoved Gabriel backwards. She shot up from her seat and yelled, "Hey, Jack! Jack! You wanna do some sword fighting with–"

The rest of her words were muffled by Gabriel's hand, who had to clamp her in a one-armed hug before she could walk out towards the pool table. But she didn't have to anyway, because Jack walked in with cue stick in hand, and a curious look on his face.

"Gabe? Is Ana drunk?"

"Yes! Yes, she is–! Stop that!" Gabriel held onto Ana's wrist when she grabbed a salt shaker, shaking it up and down rigorously in Jack's direction. "My god, you're horrible!"

Jack just stared at them with a bemused smile, as Ana finally lay down on three chairs in a laughing heap, and Gabriel sat back in relief, shooting Jack a sheepish look.

"Yup," Jack said, nodding slowly. "You all are big fucking weirdos."

"Fucking weirdos, huh?"

"Ana!"

Ana yawned, standing from her cushy seat as the private jet rolled to a stop in the Heliopolis hangar. She pulled on the jacket of her dress blues, smoothing over the minute creases with her hands, and checking the badges on her chest. Then she took her bags down from the overhead compartment, and reached for the open file she'd left on the empty seat beside hers, smiling at the group photo that the Strike Team had taken just that morning. The soldiers were in their dress blues, while their non-military members wore suits, all wearing bright smiles before they parted for their homes.

There was little doubt that they'd see each other again, though – Xie had hinted for them to 'hang on' and that they would be in contact soon. For what exactly, none of them had a clear idea, only tentative guesses. But Ana was content to leave the guesswork for another day, and had little trouble putting it out of her mind.

She slid the folder into her bag carefully, then patted about her head to ensure every strand of hair was in place, before putting on her blue beret and walking towards the exit. Jaida had messaged her the night before, telling Ana to look her best for the return home. And when the plane door was opened, Ana understood why.

At the end of the stairway were two lines of soldiers, all in dress blues and standing at attention. Ana had to bite down on her lip to stop an exasperated laugh at the formality, and strode down the stairs with a straight face, though she nearly stopped in her tracks when the soldiers snapped smart salutes at her approach. She broke into a smile and walked down the line, towards the modest welcoming party that waited for her.

Jaida and General Mahmoud stood at the head of the group, which consisted of highly-decorated officers ranked Major General and above. Ana gave them a sharp salute, received the courtesy in kind, then broke out into a wide grin when Jaida pulled her into an unexpected hug. She laughed at the colonel's light-hearted jabs, and groaned softly when Jaida informed her of the reception that was waiting for her in HQ. Jaida raised a brow at her when she muttered, 'Not again', and knocked Ana on the head, before following the rest of the party towards the building.

Ana trailed behind the group, smile turning soft as her gaze landed on Kamilah, who had stood to the side of the welcoming party, and was now walking into Ana's open arms. She squeezed her wife tight, unwilling to let Kamilah go, until she received a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Welcome home, hero," Kamilah murmured with a smile, gently tracing her tattoo with a finger.

Ana laughed under her breath, resting their foreheads together. "Thanks, albi."

The reception was just as dreary as the one in Geneva, but with some practice under her belt, Ana managed to pass the entire event without either strangling herself or someone else, and exchanged pained looks with Kamilah and Jaida during those brief moments when no one was clamouring for a chat with Ana Amari. When the affair was done, Ana nodded at Jaida's reminder of the awards ceremony scheduled in a few days, then took off with her wife in hand. She would've ran all the way back home too, if Kamilah hadn't clicked her tongue and held her back, leading her towards the motorcycle instead.

Fareeha had clung onto her the instant they showed up to fetch her from the neighbour's, and Ana gave the same reassuring answer to the girl's repeated questions of, 'You're gonna stay this time, right?' When she was satisfied with Ana's promise to stay, she then talked her mother's ear off for the rest of the day, recounting each and every bit of her life that she could remember, before saying good night as Kamilah pried the girl away to prepare her for bed.

Ana smiled to herself as she listened to Fareeha's footsteps through the door they'd left ajar, the girl talking to her toys as she bustled about her own room doing…who knew what. Using her imagination to the fullest, no doubt – quite unlike her mother at the moment.

Ana was content to let her mind rest as she lay in her own bed, listening to Fareeha's giggles, the occasional shuffles and clicks from Kamilah in the bathroom, and the near-inaudible whir of the air-conditioner. So…peaceful, quiet. Unhurried. It would take a while for her to get used to this again.

The mattress dipped to the side as Kamilah climbed into bed, then fell right on top of Ana, getting a breathless laugh from her wife.

"I knew you missed me," Ana drawled, wrapping her arms around Kamilah as her wife snuggled up to her.

"Mm." Kamilah took a deep breath, and exhaled against her neck. "I almost forgot how you feel like."

"Me too." Ana reached down and squeezed her bottom, making Kamilah jerk against her. "Ah, yes. There's the butt."

"Idiot," Kamilah crooned, pressing their lips together, but she slapped at Ana's hand when it slid down to her thigh. "No. Don't start what we can't finish tonight."

"What?" Ana fixed her with a perplexed gaze, but Kamilah just lay her head back down on Ana's shoulder.

"You'll see."

They spent the next few minutes in silence as Ana waited to 'see', and sure enough, her answer came knocking on the door.

"Oh."

"Told you," Kamilah said, raising her head again. "Come in, dear."

Fareeha peeked through the door, then grinned and walked in with her pillow and toys in hand, shutting the door behind her as she neared the bed. Kamilah pulled back the covers, giving Fareeha room to crawl in and settle comfortably between her mothers.

"Oh, is that Fart?" Ana said, when Fareeha held out the purple dragon plush to her.

"Yup! I took care of him for you."

"That's very nice of you, little one. Thank you." Ana kissed the top of her head, getting a smile from Fareeha as she lay down on the pillow.

"Mama should get one too," Fareeha whispered conspiratorially, and though she knew Kamilah could very well hear what they were saying, Ana imitated her hushed tone as well.

"Yeah?" Ana hugged the dragon to her chest, as Fareeha fiddled with the bird in her hands. "Maybe we should get her a tiger. Because mama's fierce like one."

"Yeah! That's so cool!"

"And she scratches like one too–" Ana cackled when Kamilah slapped at her arm.

"Shush. Now sleep, you two."

"Okay," Fareeha said, before Ana could protest.

"Aw, no fun."

"It's okay, ami. We can play tomorrow."

"Ah. That's right. We have all the time in the world now, don't we?" Ana gazed back at her wife, reaching over to run her fingers through Kamilah's hair, and received a kiss on her palm. She smiled gently, tracing the curve of Kamilah's lips with a thumb, before threading their fingers together.

Ana stayed awake long after Fareeha had fallen asleep, holding Kamilah's warm brown gaze until her eyelids started to fall shut from exhaustion, lulled by the soothing sensation of Kamilah stroking her arm.

She didn't know, but Kamilah could see – she wore a faint smile as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

A/N: Dear FFnet, please allow emojis in fics. IT'S 2018.