To learn that her daughter was dating, was one thing. To learn that Fareeha had been dating much longer and more frequently that Kamilah had ever known was a smack in the face – not an unpleasant one, but the revelation still leaves her reeling from the impact. Fareeha never talked of a love life at all, and though Kamilah had suspected the one or two people Fareeha always hung out with, she never tried to pry into her life. A sort of precaution, perhaps; she wanted to give her daughter the freedom to grow how she wanted, to live a life without too many restrictions placed on her by protective parents. And she didn't want to drive Fareeha away by becoming quite as controlling as Ana had become, so she acted the opposite of her wife, merely giving advice instead of…forceful suggestions.
Kamilah liked to think her method had worked out, in a way. Fareeha seemed to have little qualms talking about her girlfriend – whom she met at the university's soccer club – and shared plenty of the little adventures they had in England, all the while insisting there were so many places Kamilah should see too. She was flattered her daughter still thought of her on dates, and could only assure Fareeha that 'yes, I'll come over for your next term break'.
Fareeha hadn't changed one bit in the months away from home, and yet, Kamilah could tell the girl had…matured. Or learnt to be responsible and just a tad more serious, at least. She took charge with the chores, and for the very first time, touched the broom and mop to clean her own home without needing an hour's worth of nagging first. She wiped the floors, cleaned the counters, then turned her attention to the fine layer of dust lying over decorations and clutter that Kamilah had neglected to care for.
Frankly, Kamilah thought her daughter was possessed, perhaps going overboard with her fastidiousness, but the results couldn't be argued with. It was nice to reach for a book and not have to pat off its cover first. And whenever Fareeha stayed out for reunions for her various groups of friends, Kamilah was able to lounge at home with that old sweater which had been finally washed, courtesy of her daughter. She had a fleeting thought that she might be more of a mess than Fareeha now, but soon brushed it aside without care; she was old, and a lack of energy was a perfectly valid excuse.
And – much of her time was occupied by her beloved project anyway. Her hoverbike was coming along nicely, its chassis and the rest of the body put together by steady, patient hands, soon to be fitted with its engine and anti-grav cores…when Kamilah was ready. She'd had an accident, burning her forearm while welding the last of the bike's frame together, and dropped her tools to the floor with a pained yelp. The noise attracted Fareeha to the garage, and the girl promptly flew to her side when she saw the reddened, blistered skin on her arm.
Fareeha went into a small bout of panic then, before regaining her senses and calling for the ambulance, her face staying pale as she accompanied her mother to the hospital, only regaining some colour when the wound was finally dressed. Though ridden with pain, Kamilah was still amused by the way Fareeha had stared at her wound – which was hardly the worst she'd seen as a medic – and flicked her daughter on the nose when Fareeha glanced down at the bandage once more, as they headed towards the car.
Kamilah had decided she wouldn't work on the bike for two weeks at least, and it seemed Fareeha was of the same mind as her, because the girl forbade her from doing so. Kamilah nearly rolled her eyes at her daughter's nagging, but could only feel tickled to have the tables turned on her, and finally be put in Ana's position for once…
She felt a pang at the thought, unconsciously worrying at the corner of her bandages. Fareeha's eyes turned to her quickly, landing on the hand on her forearm.
"Does it hurt?"
"Itches, more like," Kamilah replied, setting her hand down with a sigh. "And stop hovering over me. I'm not a child."
"Yes, you are my child now," Fareeha declared, putting on a mock-pompous expression that was soon broken by a grin, when Kamilah slapped her lightly on the shoulder. "You are going to do as little things as possible until your arm heals."
"Might as well swaddle me and be done with it," Kamilah grumbled, feeling an ache in her wounded arm, which she stubbornly reached out to scoop more fried rice onto her plate – making Fareeha's eye twitch in the process.
"If you insist on being a stubborn baby…" Fareeha sang, then snorted when Kamilah shot her a squint.
"Wonder where I learnt it from," she said, and her daughter shrugged airily, pretending to have forgotten all the stories of a certain obstinate Amari baby who gave her mothers all sorts of trouble.
"Must run in the family." Fareeha managed to grin through the spoonful of rice in her mouth, before letting the matter drop in favour of dinner. "Come to think, I'm kinda surprised I haven't done anything dumb in uni yet. Maybe I should…"
"Don't you dare."
"I have four years there, mama. It'll happen. Just give it time." Fareeha cackled, though her laugh ended in a brief sigh. "At least it'll make things more fun. You know, part of me still can't believe I have four more years overseas. Four."
"I know. When your education's free back home too," Kamilah said drily.
Fareeha let out a quiet whine, and her head fell onto Kamilah's shoulder. "I already feel homesick…"
"Oh, pull yourself together, habibti," Kamilah deadpanned. "You have nearly two more months of vacation."
"Two years."
"You wish."
Another whine.
"Chin up, Fareeha Amari." Kamilah patted her temple, and Fareeha raised her head with a groan. "You made your bed overseas, now fly over and lay in it." She smiled when her daughter closed her eyes, looking utterly defeated. "Besides, four years will pass quickly. You'll see."
"Ugh."
"And, if you play your cards right, it'll pass even quicker with your girlfriend…"
"Oh, mama," Fareeha groaned.
"I meant spending quality time with her."
"Sure you did."
"What's her number, by the way?"
"Nice try, mama."
Kamilah's burn healed much slower than she'd liked, but she was well enough to start working on her bike again, while Fareeha was still at home. She made much progress with the girl's help, and the six-month project that she'd taken her time with, was finally completed before Fareeha had to fly off again. The girl drove her to the workshop, where they fitted the engine and cores into the bike, and had a remote test that saw the hoverbike floating from the ground without trouble, putting an almost child-like grin on Kamilah's face.
She was given the honour of riding it first, and her heart soared right into space when the hoverbike hummed to life, lifting her from the ground. Head giddy, Kamilah rode a few laps around the track behind the workshop, before Fareeha hopped on behind her with glee. With her daughter urging her to go faster and faster around the track, Kamilah slowly built up speed, caution falling to the wind bit by bit, until they were whirling around the track at a pace that had them both cackling out loud.
When they slowed to a stop, Kamilah was breathless from adrenaline and Fareeha's arms, which had hugged her waist tightly out of excitement, nearly squeezing the air from her mother's lungs. They both basked in the afterglow of their achievement, before Kamilah whipped out her phone and took a photo of themselves on the bike. Fareeha watched as she sent the photo to the family chat.
[Finished bike. Took it for a spin.]
[Fave new ride.]
[#whatwife]
"Ugh, mama!"
4 years later
If Kamilah could remember her own words to her daughter, she'd probably be quite amused by its accuracy. Or maybe not, since time always passed faster in retrospect, and it was simply a fact of life that wasn't worth mentioning in the moment. Really, there was nothing much that could compare to this very moment, as Kamilah sat with the audience in the darkened hall, keeping her camera lens trained on Fareeha as her daughter strode onstage to receive her degree – with first-class honours.
An unnamed emotion sat heavy in her throat, perhaps more. Joy, satisfaction, and pride made her feel lighter than ever before, yet made her throat clog from the very same feelings, as she watched a lopsided smirk curve Fareeha's lips, her daughter pausing for a photo before making her way off-stage. It was a blessing in disguise that each graduate's time on stage was so short – it allowed Kamilah to fall back in her seat, and take a deep breath before she actually bawled in front of everyone else. Not that she'd been close. But there was always a possibility.
Kamilah cleared her throat quietly to collect herself, glancing down at the photos she'd taken of Fareeha, before locking her phone and politely turning her attention back to the stage. Her feet itched though, and she waited impatiently beneath a calm veneer, before springing up from her seat at the ceremony's end, streaming out into the gardens with the rest of the attendees.
She wandered among the crowd for a good few minutes, sense of direction muddled by the constant movement of people around her, head kept on a swivel as she searched for her daughter. Kamilah started to get frustrated when her search bore no fruit, but her scowl was quickly replaced with a smile, as she laughed aloud from a sudden hug from behind, which actually lifted her feet from the grass.
Fareeha squeezed and shook her mother in her arms, before setting the woman down with a goofy grin on her face. She stood still while Kamilah righted the black gown worn over her formal shirt and pants, heaving a playful sigh while her mother fussed over her.
"I'm already dashing, mama," Fareeha said. "No need to adjust anymore."
"Your gown was crooked," Kamilah pointed out, though she relented and gave her daughter one last pat-down, before disengaging. "I'm just making you look smart."
"Hey, in these? Even a worm could look smart."
"Hm. Then maybe you should let me…"
Fareeha laughed, patting down her mother's hands before they could reach her robes again. But her retort was forgotten when she turned around at the call of her name, and found a trio of friends running towards her. Kamilah recognised them as her coursemates – ones she'd met in her last year of study.
"Hey, Far! Looked good on stage back there," said the girl whose name Kamilah couldn't remember. "Oh, hey! This is your mom, isn't it!"
Kamilah smiled as her hand was shaken vigorously three times in turn.
"This is Colonel mom, yeah?" The friend leant in conspiratorially, making a show of looking around, and whispered, "Where's Captain mom?"
"She's busy," Fareeha laughed. She scratched her head, discomfort well-hidden but for the glance she shared with Kamilah. "Saving the world and shit…"
Kamilah nearly reached out to pinch her daughter in the back.
"Oi, stop trying to get an autograph," said one boy in jest, rolling his eyes at the other. "Here, let's grab some pictures together first!"
The girl grabbed Fareeha's hand and tugged. Fareeha looked back at Kamilah, gestured for her to wait, then went along with her friends after her mother waved her along.
Kamilah sighed to herself as Fareeha disappeared into the ocean of black robes, then picked her own way out of the crowd to stand at an emptier corner of the garden, listening to whoops and cheers in the distance. She sat on a bench and took out her phone, sending pictures of the graduation to Ana.
[Ceremony's done. We're going to eat later.]
[Drop her a text when you can.]
All of a sudden, she froze. Her throat constricted. It was difficult to breathe for a very long second, before the feeling passed, and she drew in a lungful of warm, humid air. An inexplicable weight sat on her chest, and Kamilah looked back down at her phone.
[You've been quiet for a few days now. Hope you're fine.]
[Remember to take a break if you're busy, alright?]
She was…tired. Head light, breaths uneven and shallow. Her eyes were open, but saw little – only sheer stubbornness kept them focused on the ground she lay on, and the pool of blood gathering atop dusty concrete. Her hands felt weak, but were curled tight over her broken rifle, its magazine empty. Again, she tried to move her legs, to crawl out of the ruined dormitory she was stupid enough to chase her target to, but couldn't move from where she was propped up against the wall.
Darkness crept into her vision once more, and she blinked to keep it at bay. The sound of gunfire was distant but constant, meaning her team still had their hands full. Probably too occupied to reach her anytime soon. She moved a shaking hand to her abdomen, clutching weakly at the body suit soaked with blood, covering a wound that bled profusely.
A breath. Her head spun.
Ana Amari felt a cold jolt of fear.
She knocked her knuckles on her earpiece, but no sound came from it. Her radio was dead. Ana reached for the dogtags hanging about her neck, and with great effort, snapped one tag in two. She dragged a finger over the holo-device strapped to her wrist, and it flickered on with a map of the old oil refinery, displaying a full squad of blue blips engaged in combat with the red. A sole orange blip flashed far to the south of the action – Ana's position. Either a teammate would respond to her emergency beacon, or an enemy would come to finish her off. Only time will tell. All she could do now was wait.
She chided herself again for being goaded into a chase by an inconsequential foe, who now lay dead on the roof above, body caught on a jagged edge of broken concrete, whereas Ana had a cleaner fall to the floor below. Much good that did her. Ana had to remind herself to keep breathing, each draw of air into her lungs becoming more laborious by the second. Her head lolled, before resting against the wall behind, Ana's eyes slowly falling shut without her knowing. She grabbed a fistful of her blue coat, and pressed it against her wound, hoping to stem the bleeding. She should feel worried that no pain flared no matter how hard she pressed – either she was growing numb, or too weak to exert pressure. She didn't know, and she prayed she lived to find out.
Another breath.
Can't end here. Little one. Fareeha just…graduated. Have to see her. And Milah. Promised to go home. Promised…
Not in a casket. Not…
Her heart surged, and Ana forced her eyes open, staring up at the dirty grey ceiling with more clarity than before. You're the Captain, damn it. Supposed to be looking out for them.
Ana forced herself to move, and though her legs were still dead, she set her hands on the floor to push herself further upright – and earned a lance of pain up her back. She groaned through gritted teeth and disengaged immediately, allowing herself to slump back against the wall, riding out the wave of pain crashing over her body. Taking controlled breaths, fighting against the nausea threatening to overtake her, Ana waited as patiently as she could – then gripped her rifle when rapid footfalls came from the doorway outside.
She'd dragged her dead rifle up with one hand when McCree burst through the doorway, revolver at ready. But he lowered his gun when his eyes landed on Ana, colour draining from his face.
"Captain!" He ran over to her, and skidded across the last few inches on his knees. Passing an eye over her, he yanked the black serape from his shoulders, and tied it around her middle as a makeshift bandage.
Ana clenched her jaw when he tightened the serape, pain flaring from her wound, but she bit down the reproach that had risen to her tongue. He was sacrificing a beloved scarf of his, after all.
"Any other wounds, Captain?" Jesse asked.
"Back. Spine. Maybe," Ana breathed. "Can't move legs."
"Damn. I told Mercy she should've followed me," he growled, as another figure entered the doorway. Genji caught McCree's backward glance, and they shared a nod – no words were needed between the Blackwatch agents, after three years of working together.
Genji made a sweep of their immediate vicinity, while McCree picked up Ana's fallen beret and placed it back on her head. Then he lifted her easily into his arms, and carried her through the refinery with Genji on guard beside them. Judging from the silence that had fallen over the facility, and the dead Talon-clothed bodies littering the floor, Ana assumed their assault mission had succeeded, with this Talon cell flushed from their hideout.
As they reached the VTOL, Reyes walked out to greet them, and watched as McCree deposited Ana in the medic's corner of the aircraft. They drew back when Mercy walked over to Ana, taking stock of her injuries.
"Apologies, Captain," Mercy said, voice clipped and professional. "But I had to stay with Winston – his lungs had collapsed, and I needed–"
"It's fine," Ana grunted. "Just patch me up quick."
Mercy fell silent then, quickly scanning Ana's body with the micro-systems of her Valkyrie suit, before she thumbed a switch on her staff and aimed it at Ana. The golden stream of energy met Ana's stomach wound first, the Captain feeling the ever-odd sensation of her flesh knitting back together, before relief washed over her body as the Caduceus Staff mended the rest of her. Ana took a breath, then moved her legs – utterly relieved to find them working without trouble.
"Like magic, as always," Ana commented, getting a quiet smile in reply.
As Mercy walked away, Ana clutched onto the black-gloved hand reaching for her, and rose to her feet with Gabriel's help. But her head spun dangerously, Ana swaying on her feet, and Gabriel guided her into one of the VTOL's many passenger seats.
"Thanks, Captain. Couldn't have done it without your support."
Ana waved it away. "You could've. Gerard wouldn't have chosen you for this mission otherwise."
Gabriel huffed and clasped her briefly on the shoulder, before joining Winston at the cockpit. Ana sighed to herself, leaning back in the seat, untying the serape from her waist. Worrying at the bloodstained edge of the hole in her bodysuit, Ana nearly smiled to herself. Thank god she pulled through, or her wife would've stormed right into hell just to kick her ass.
It was a…unique experience, to say the least – to have teetered on the edge of life and death, to have felt a true fear of dying just a few days before, only to survive and pretend that everything was normal, that it was part of everyday life. And, in Overwatch, it quite literally is. Since the successful creation of Angela Ziegler's staff, capable of performing the miracle of bringing the dead back to life, a few agents have had the…dubious privilege of being once-dead, but still alive and kicking.
Jack was one of them – a chance shot that went right through his heart had ended his life in mere seconds. And in the same span of time, Mercy had stepped in to bring him back, hale and hearty once more. He'd confided that it was disorienting, maybe even felt wrong, like he'd cheated death. But it was a result that none of them could argue with, only feel grateful for.
Ana, for one, was glad that they had technology of such potency on their side. If not, she wouldn't be alighting from the cab on a chilly Cairo night, slinging a duffle over her shoulder as she looked up at her own home – that she hadn't seen in over a year. Heart light, Ana strode up to the garage first, only waiting for the gate to be raised halfway before slipping underneath it. She turned on the lights, and smiled at the sight of Kamilah's hoverbike – still painted with the same shade of midnight blue and golden trim. Ana indulged herself briefly, grazing her fingers over the polished surface of the bike. She looked forward to her first ride with Kamilah on it.
Heading into the house, Ana padded softly over the wooden floor of the hallway, and was met with the figure of her wife, who stood waiting in the living room – she must've seen the cab outside. Lips parting in a smile, Ana dropped her bag and engulfed Kamilah in a hug, feeling her wife's arms locking around her shoulders. She turned her head into grey curls tinged with black, inhaling deeply the scent of a shampoo she didn't recognise. Nuzzling into her wife for a few more moments, Ana finally pulled back, glimpsing the fond sparkle in dark brown eyes, before she placed a kiss on Kamilah's lips.
"You're finally back, you scoundrel."
"I missed you too, darling," Ana chuckled, forgetting to breathe as she gazed back at Kamilah, that curve of a smile which could only be worn by the woman she loved most. Had she always been this beautiful? Or was she as beautiful as the world had been so vibrant, ever since she'd thought she'd seen the last of it?
No, no. She probably was turning back into a lovesick fool once more.
Her fingers had reached down to twine with Kamilah's, when she noticed her wife's eyes looking to the side. Ana followed her gaze, turning her head back to find Fareeha standing at the foot of the stairs, watching them. A dash of reality mixed into her joy of being home, as mother and daughter stared at each other in silence. Neither moved until Kamilah reached a hand out to Fareeha, who walked over slowly, and seemed to freeze in surprise when Ana closed on her with a hug.
Luckily, Fareeha didn't take long to respond – wrapping her arms around Ana as well, returning her mother's squeeze with one of her own.
"Congrats, habibti." Ana smiled up at her when they parted. "You're a certified engineer now."
"Yeah." Fareeha shrugged.
"So…any plans get a Master's, maybe?"
Fareeha rolled her eyes at Ana's joking tone, though a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Well…I don't know. Maybe. Let's see what I wanna do now…"
Fareeha's voice trailed off into an uncertain mumble, and Ana didn't press. She was glad to just have a moment of peace with her daughter, and since they were still on tentative grounds with each other, Ana didn't want to tip this balance with a wrong word or two. So she turned back to Kamilah, tugging on her wife's hand.
"Wanna head out for supper? I didn't eat much on the plane."
"When do you ever," Kamilah deadpanned. "But yes, I guess. We can take the car–"
"Bike. Please," Ana cut in quickly, squeezing Kamilah's hand as her wife gave a knowing huff. To her surprise, Fareeha snorted a laugh as well, and moved back up the stairs. "What? Something I missed?"
"We bet you'd ask for a ride the moment you came back," Kamilah said, raising her brows pointedly. "You're very predictable."
"You can't build a bike like that and expect me not to ask," Ana replied. "Besides, I wanna see what you've been riding instead of me–"
Even from the second floor, they could clearly hear Fareeha's loud groan, and smiled at their daughter's exasperation.
"You did that on purpose," Kamilah said, voice low.
Ana smirked. "You know what else I'm gonna do?"
Kamilah reached up to pinch her nose, getting a muffled cackle from Ana. "You are terrible."
"Only for you, my dear."
A/N: Kamilah: 54, Ana: 52, Fareeha: 24
;)