Kamilah's heart sank like a heavy stone as silence fell over the living room, near-suffocating. Her eyes flickered to Ana, who sat on the sofa, rigid in surprise as she stared up at their daughter. Fareeha stood before them, face set, and though her feet shifted in that nervous tick she couldn't grow out of, she crossed both arms over her chest. Shoulders rose and fell in a quiet breath, and it was obvious Fareeha was preparing for the consequence of her announcement.

All air had been sapped from Kamilah's lungs, and she was incapable of moving despite her mind screaming at her to do something, anything to defuse the situation. Then Ana spoke, and Kamilah knew it was out of her hands.

"No."

It was curt, as if in reflex, but Ana's tone was forceful enough that Fareeha met it with resistance.

"You're not going to stop me."

"Fareeha–" Ana paused, abruptly ending what sounded like the start to a reprimand. But Kamilah's eyes had fallen shut, brows drawing into a frown as she steeled herself for Ana's next words. "You spent four whole years in university, and now you want to enlist? You–" Her voice had risen a pitch again, but was quickly reined back in. "You have a good degree, a great academic record. You'd be accepted by any company you apply for, get a comfortable job–"

"But I don't want it."

"Then what was the point of spending all that time to study?"

"Because you insisted."

Kamilah cracked her eyes open in time to watch irritation flit across Ana's features. Her wife was losing patience – rapidly – and she still couldn't bring herself to move.

"Fareeha, I don't think you understand what you're signing up for. And what you're about to give up."

"I know what I'm doing. I've planned this for a long time."

"The army is not for you."

"I won't be there forever."

A single name dropped in their midst without being spoken, and it seemed to snap Ana's restraint. She rose to her feet and squared her shoulders, looking every bit as tall as her daughter, who stood a full head over her. "You will not reach your…end goal, I assure you."

Fareeha's eyes narrowed. "You will not stop me."

"I can, and I will."

Fareeha's stoic composure cracked, anger flashing in her eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why are you still trying to stop me? To control me!"

"I am stopping you from making a mistake, Fareeha!" Ana matched her daughter's volume. "You have no idea what you'll see in the army – in war. It's ugly. It's dangerous. And I am trying to protect you from it!"

"I don't need your protection!" Fareeha shouted. "I'm an adult now, ami! Not a little girl running around, playing pretend and crying when I fall down anymore. I know what I want, and no matter how much you try to hold me back, I will get what I want!"

"We won't let your name go through the academy–"

"You have no say in that!"

"Your mama won't allow it!"

A cold hand squeezed about her chest, and Kamilah had to grip onto the armrest of her chair to steady herself.

"Don't bring mama into this! We both know damn well this is about you not wanting me to join Overwatch!"

"Overwatch is not the point, Fareeha! I never want you to see war. I never want you to hold a gun. I never want you to get hurt on a battlefield–"

"And it's all you, you, you, isn't it! Who gives a fuck about what I want!"

"I know better for you–"

"And I don't fucking care! I am going to enlist, whether you like it or not!"

"Fareeha Amari," Ana barked. "You'd better start listening to me now–"

"Or what?" Fareeha snapped. "You'll slap me again?"

Fareeha stood her ground, glaring right back into her mother's eyes, even though her clenched fists were trembling. Kamilah's throat tightened as she glanced at her daughter, and was shocked into action when Ana took a step forward; she flew to Ana's side and grabbed her arm, holding her in place with a death grip above the elbow.

Ana turned to meet Kamilah's half-despondent, half-shocked stare. "Milah–"

"Stop."

Fareeha snorted. "Let her try, mama. I–"

"I said stop!" Kamilah's voice soared to a distraught pitch, and cracked. She took a breath with difficulty, then said, "Go to your room."

"I'm not–!"

"Now!"

Indignation flashed through Fareeha's expression, before her scrunched features smoothed over in disbelief, defeat; hurt shone in her eyes, believing Kamilah had put her weight behind Ana, and Kamilah nearly broke under Fareeha's heavy gaze.

Their daughter spun on her heels and marched towards the stairs, path telegraphed by the loud stomps of her feet against wood, ending with a solid thud of her bedroom door. Kamilah stared at the staircase, torn by indecision, before Ana's voice drew her back.

"I wasn't going to hit her."

Kamilah's lips parted, her throat working in silence until she found her voice. "You could've been more patient with her."

"Been more patient?" Ana repeated, turning to face Kamilah fully. "Didn't you see the way she spoke to me? She doesn't know how to respect her parents anymore–!"

Kamilah tugged on Ana's arm forcefully, cutting her off. "Ana. She may fight with you, but let me tell you," she intoned. "You are still the one she respects the most. And you should try to guide her instead of…commanding her–"

"Oh, so it's my fault now?"

"That's not the point–!" Kamilah broke off, and took a deep breath to calm herself – then another. But her heart still beat rapidly, and her hands were starting to tremble. "I just…want–"

She lost her breath, falling silent once more. Kamilah took a step back to distance herself, despite Ana reaching out to her. Ana's hand fell to her side, and Kamilah found it difficult to breathe.

"I need some air," she uttered, averting her eyes as she headed for the stairs as well, not stopping until her feet had carried her to the balcony.

Kamilah took a breath of fresh air, but it only made her head spin. Reaching blindly for a chair, she fell heavily into it, and sat unmoving until she lost track of time.

The bedroom was empty when she entered, and Kamilah went about her nightly routine in a daze, with a weight upon her shoulders. She'd held a bottle of cream in her hand for the longest time, then decided she hadn't the energy for it that night, when her body tensed again at the opening of the door. She didn't look at Ana when her wife stepped in, but listened to the sounds from the bathroom as Ana got ready for bed. And Kamilah still hadn't moved from where she sat at the dressing table when Ana emerged, approaching her with a certain resolve that Kamilah was sure Ana had spent some time building up.

"Milah," Ana said, coming to stand by her chair. "You can block her enlistment, right?"

Kamilah sighed, knowing her wife wouldn't like the answer. "I can't do that, Ana."

As expected, Ana's brows drew together. "Why not?"

"It's unethical to impede or manipulate–"

"Who cares if it's unethical!" Ana insisted, bending down to look Kamilah clearer in the eye. "Our daughter's going to make the biggest damned mistake of her life! We can't just stand aside and do nothing. Just…" She started pacing the floor in thought. "Deem her unfit for duty. On integrity – say she's been arrested before."

"It's not on record, remember?" Kamilah reminded her tiredly.

"Milah, you have to do something. You're sitting pretty damn near the top in the academy. Surely you can do something–"

"Fareeha's right on one thing, Ana," Kamilah cut in. "You're trying to control her."

"I'm not–!" Ana threw her hands up, crying out in frustration. "Milah, she's making a mistake! She doesn't know what she's getting herself into."

"She doesn't." Kamilah steeled herself, and continued, "But at the end of the day…the decision is still hers." She met Ana's stare, and her heart felt so flat it might as well be dead.

"How are you–, why?" Ana's voice dipped into a hush. "You know the things we see in the field, how…shit it can be. Do you really want Fareeha to put herself through that?"

A twinge in her chest – painful enough to rouse some life back into her. "You know war," Kamilah said quietly. "You know its horrors more than anyone else here. But if I asked you to leave Overwatch, to quit the field – would you?"

Ana was taken aback, wordless for a moment. "That's different, Milah. It's my job, my duty. It serves the greater good, and it's a burden I have to bear." She waited for Kamilah's response, but was met only with silence, and seemed to crack under her wife's unspoken meaning. "It's different, Milah! I–, it's too late for me to turn back. I have served all these years, done all I could to keep you safe. And I can't stop now if I want to keep it this way. I love you, Milah. And I love Fareeha too – she's my daughter, damn it! And I can't allow her to do what she wants, not in good conscience."

I know, Kamilah wanted to say, but Ana had straightened herself, blinking up at the ceiling. She took a long, stuttering breath, ambled around in half-hearted pacing, before falling onto the edge of the bed. Ana clasped her hands together, shoulders slumped in such a picture of defeat that guilt shot through Kamilah's chest.

"One day, Milah. When she gets out there, starts getting hurt… One day, she'll come back injured, scarred. Haunted by nightmares. All because she wants to be like the Captain. One day, she'll be damaged permanently, beyond repair, and it'll be all because of me." Ana jabbed at finger at her own chest, face twisted with guilt and helplessness, voice choking up so she couldn't speak any further.

Kamilah rose from her chair as Ana averted her eyes. Walking over to her wife, Kamilah wrapped both arms around Ana's shoulders. Ana reached for her instinctively, leaning into the embrace with arms locked tightly around Kamilah's waist. With her face pressed against Kamilah's shirt, all Kamilah could hear was a slow, thick drag of breath through clogged nose.

Just a single breath. Then silence.

The last week of Ana's time at home was spent mostly in silence, laden with the weight of an argument not voiced anymore, but was still being fought through non-words. She was sent off at the airport by Kamilah alone, and though Ana wore a heavy look in her gaze, she said nothing more to persuade Kamilah. She drew her wife into a tight hug, and Kamilah clutched onto her as if she were life itself, only letting go when Ana drew away. A lopsided smile that didn't reach her eyes was the last thing Ana gave, before Kamilah was left standing before the departure hall, watching Ana's back draw farther away from her.

Kamilah was troubled for the months to come, well-aware of Ana's standing wish for Fareeha to not enlist, while Fareeha would fight the world itself to achieve the goal she clung to despite her mother's wishes. Kamilah was torn, and her uncertainty led to indecision, which was cast into a decision through inaction regardless. Fareeha's name was snapped up by the academy, and when Kamilah finally caved in for a look at the recruits' roster, regret consumed her at the sight of 'Fareeha Amari' sitting among hundreds of other names.

Ana was curt in her texts when Kamilah informed her of the outcome – just an 'ok' and 'keep me updated'. It hurt – immensely so, even though Kamilah fully understood her disappointment. Or perhaps, it was this knowledge that compounded the ache with guilt, Kamilah knowing she'd gone against Ana's wishes. But it was too late to rectify any mistakes she'd made, and Kamilah could only lock her misery away to focus on the present, on who needed her most.

She'd parked her bike in the farthest corner of the carpark, then walked with Fareeha towards the foyer of the academy, currently filled with recruits and their families who stood about, saying their farewells for the moment. Kamilah was dressed as a civilian on her day off, in some futile attempt to distance herself from her own workplace. But it wasn't working, what with all the glances cast in their direction by the uniformed instructors. Kamilah knew it wasn't just her own fierce reputation drawing the attention – they'd recognised Fareeha, Ana Amari's daughter, simply through the Captain's wife.

She sighed and took off her shades, but Fareeha didn't seem to notice the attention yet, turning around to face her mother. Her face was stiff despite the sheepish smile, as though she was trying to look stoic and casual at the same time, but Kamilah saw right through her anyway; the young woman was happy, of course, but the nervousness had set in, mixed with a little guilt as she gazed at Kamilah longer.

"Mama, I…um." Her words trailed off, as she scratched uncertainly at the back of her close-cropped hair. "I never really… I know you don't really want me to…" She pointed a thumb back at the building.

Kamilah kept quiet for a moment, putting her thoughts together. "I feel the same as your ami, yes. I'm your mother. I never want to let you get hurt in any way. I never want to see you suffer. And in there?" She nodded at the academy. "You will. It's hardly the worst you'll see, but it's a start to everything your ami and I have tried to protect you from."

She ran a thumb over the rim of her shades, while Fareeha averted her eyes in discomfort, though the girl stood her ground. "There's a point in time where you can't protect your child from the world anymore. Now we're learning it the hard way."

"I'm sorry," Fareeha said quietly, and Kamilah could hear clear as day – 'but I want to do this.'

"Don't be. You're growing up, and I suppose this is what children do." Kamilah let out a breath, looking up at her daughter. "Since you're determined to go off on your own, might as well let you learn a thing or two. Your ami's always said you have no idea what it's like in the army. Now it's time to judge for yourself."

Fareeha grimaced. "Do you agree with her?"

"Yes," Kamilah replied, though she regretted her lack of hesitation when Fareeha seemed to grow unsure of herself. Putting on a small smile, she clasped Fareeha's arms. "But don't worry – I'm a good judge of the recruits who enter the academy…and I'm sure you'll pull through just fine."

Her daughter's face brightened. "Really?"

"Yes. But." Kamilah held up a finger. "Don't get yourself into trouble. Remember – when we're both in there, and in our uniforms, I won't play favourites. I will kick your ass if you deserve it. Understood?"

Fareeha broke into a lop-sided grin. "Yes, ma'am."

Kamilah smiled, then met her daughter in a hug. She clasped at the young one tightly, closing her eyes as she wondered for the briefest second – and not for the last time – just when her daughter had grown so.

"I'll make you proud. I promise," Fareeha said when she let Kamilah go.

"You always have, habibti."

Fareeha blinked in surprise, and bit her lip. She swooped back in for one last hug, then jogged off to join the remaining recruits streaming into the academy.

Kamilah watched the girl go, her heart growing tighter the farther Fareeha went. And when Fareeha moved out of sight, Kamilah was left with the feeling of a chance gone by, as if she'd made yet another mistake in her life. Perhaps one of the biggest yet.

She reached for her pocket, but the urge to text Ana dissipated the moment she touched her phone. Her wife was probably not the best person to seek comfort in, not right now.

Kamilah waited until the guards had shut the inner gates, before turning on her heel and walking back to the bike. She never was one for alcohol, and hadn't touched a drop in years; but a shot of something potent in her afternoon tea seemed a very welcome prospect right now.

Though Kamilah was no longer directly involved in the training of recruits, she kept a close eye on the performance of the latest batch, and would open one particular dossier regularly – just to keep herself updated. According to all the physical tests thrown at the recruits, it seemed Fareeha Amari had performed outstandingly well, placing herself as one of the top recruits in the entire batch. And the academy was abuzz with quiet chatter about the daughter of Captain Amari – among instructors and cadets alike – though Kamilah knew it was more due to her reputation, not her performance.

Many colleagues had struck up a conversation with Kamilah in the past two weeks, trying to wheedle more information about her daughter, though Kamilah never gave them more than a few vague answers. If the instructors alone were this nosy, Kamilah could only imagine that Fareeha's fellow recruits were the same, maybe worse. At best, Fareeha would be given preferential treatment based on her name alone. At worst, Fareeha would suffer the brunt of the instructors' punishment and general ridicule, which aimed to pop her ego before it could rise. Realistically, Kamilah knew it would be a mix of both, but the thought of her daughter enduring undue hardship had made her want to march into boot camp herself, and keep an eye on the proceedings. Just to ensure things were fair.

But Lieutenant-Colonel Amari possessed a restraint that far surpassed the Captain and recruit in her family, so she contented herself by watching discretely through a tinted window, while the recruits were put through another day of brutal physical training. This particular company had been running the circuit for what felt like a whole hour, before the ones leading the group finally slowed to a stop just below Kamilah's fourth-storey window. She eyed a familiar figure bending down to rest with hands on knees, shoulders heaving in pants as the recruit tried to catch her breath, then raised her face to the sun for some reprieve.

Fareeha had been training herself for a long time, but even that hadn't fully prepared her for the academy. Although, Kamilah noted to herself with satisfaction, Fareeha seemed to be handling the physical exertion much better than her fellow recruits. She watched as the scattered company finally gathered before the instructor, then fell to the ground in push-up positions while their handler gesticulated angrily at them – probably punishment for not sticking as a group during their run. Teamwork was one of the first things they drilled into the recruits from day one, to forge them into a tight-knit family, whether they liked it or not.

Kamilah was distracted when she heard the door swing open, and was surprised by the sight of Khalid walking into the break room, wearing a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Hello," he said, walking over to join her by the window. "They said I'd find you here."

"Oh? Do we have business together?"

"Nah. Just wanted to check on you, that's all. You, and…" Khalid looked through the windows, cocking his head in amusement at the recruits pumping push-ups like their lives depended on it. "The young Amari, of course. Damn it. I feel so old now."

"Join the club," Kamilah chuckled, turning her gaze back to the field as well.

"Feels like only yesterday that a little girl in a pretty dress told me she wanted to be a soldier," Khalid murmured, almost to himself. Then he glanced at Kamilah. "Seems she got what she wanted, huh?"

Kamilah shifted on her feet. "Yeah."

They fell into a short silence then, which coaxed the truth from Khalid without prodding. "Ana called me, you know. Sounded pretty…upset over the whole thing."

"That's an understatement," Kamilah sighed. "What did she say?"

"Well, not much. Nothing really coherent anyway. But I think she wanted me to stop it…somehow."

Kamilah nodded blankly. "She really didn't want Fareeha to…"

"I know," Khalid said, voice soft.

And I allowed it anyway, Kamilah wanted to say, but kept it down. Instead, she continued staring down at the recruits, then spoke, "How's your son, by the way?"

"Oh, he's doing great. He's on a field trip in New Zealand right now, doing his…botany stuff. He's pretty happy." Khalid smiled. "Bet he misses his best friend though."

"Dalia?" Kamilah said. "Last I heard, Layla and Mesi were worrying about her too."

"Ah, which parent does worry about their kid?" Khalid waved a hand nonchalantly. "Dalia's just being rebellious, that's all. She's a good kid at heart. Kinda like Ana back then too."

Kamilah wore a faint smile as Khalid sighed wistfully, talking about his son and Layla and Mesi's daughter, and how they reminded him of how he and Ana used to be. Ana hadn't talked to Khalid much in recent years either, and it seemed her family wasn't the only one missing her.

A twinge in her chest, and Kamilah's eyes drifted back to Fareeha.

"Hey," Khalid said gently, setting a hand on her shoulder when he noticed her distraction. "Don't worry about her. If she's anything like Ana, she'll pull through just fine."

Kamilah kept quiet for a while. "That's not what I'm worried about."

She received a squeeze on the shoulder in sympathy, but it did little to alleviate the weight from her chest. Kamilah had thought much in the past weeks, wondered if she hadn't let Fareeha do what she want out of fear. Fear that her daughter would pull away from herself, much like Fareeha had done with Ana. She wanted to keep Fareeha close, and so chose to let the girl break away…against her better judgment. Against her wife's will. Now, she was left wondering if she'd made a dear mistake, and it was all herown fault.

Damn it.

Khalid shook her shoulder gently, and Kamilah was jolted back to the present, aware that a frown had creased her forehead. With some effort, she smoothed her trouble expression over and looked back at Khalid – who didn't seem to buy it, but smiled at her in understanding.

"Have you eaten? Do you want to have lunch together? Take our minds off…stuff, maybe?"

Kamilah looked back into his eyes, still twinkling with that buoyant, youthful spark as if his hair hadn't grown white with age.

She huffed fondly, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Ana stared at her tablet, which displayed a picture of Fareeha dressed in uniform and standing at attention. It was a photo taken surreptitiously by Kamilah, and sent over at Ana's request – though she deeply regretted it now, the longer she stared at the photo. A few more moments passed before Ana closed her eyes in defeat, and thumbed the tablet's power switch, so Fareeha's photo was no longer visible. Slowly, her head fell forward to rest in her hand, while she heaved a sigh through her lips.

Despite her best efforts, Ana's mind had dwelt constantly on Fareeha's enlistment for the past two weeks, and was occupied by regular updates from Kamilah on Fareeha's progress – which Ana herself had requested. Since it was their reality now, Ana wanted to be kept informed on Fareeha's status, despite her inability to accept it. The very thought of Fareeha in the academy still brought her no small amount of anger and conflict, and a part of her still couldn't swallow the fact that she'd lost. That she'd failed.

Yes – that was the word. Failure. The one thing that Ana's been fighting for, over the course of decades, had just been rejected by her very own daughter. All Ana had ever wanted was to keep her family safe – she'd shed countless drops of blood for it, and now she had to deal with the reality that she couldn't do so anymore. That she was losing control, no matter how hard she tried to keep things together – the way it used to be.

You failed. And it's all because of you.

Ana slumped further onto the desk, head resting in the crook of her arm. Here, in the office filled with medals and accolades she'd earned through bravery and success, Captain Amari suddenly felt like she didn't deserve any of it.

Minutes ticked by as she wallowed by her lonesome, head falling into a heavy blank while energy dissipated from her body. The war raging in her heart slowly calmed, and soon she was left with a mere hollowness in her chest, that provided a clarity which was quite welcome – and useful. Her phone blipped a message tone just then.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ana pushed herself up from the desk, and exhaled in an effort to relax her muscles. Recomposing herself, she reached for the phone and was pleasantly surprised to find Kamilah's text waiting for her. 'No news', it read, but just as well. Things between Kamilah and herself had been tense, for a length of time that was uncomfortable to think of now. It had hurt deeply to even think of her wife in recent days, but…it would be a good first step to start making up with Kamilah, at least.

Steadying herself, Ana swiped across the screen to make a call. She held the phone to her ear, waiting with no small amount of anxiety, until that familiar voice answered her.

"Ana? Is everything alright?"

Still worried about her. Ana felt a twinge in her chest, and smiled even though Kamilah couldn't see it. "Yeah. Just…wanted to hear your voice, that's all."

I'm sorry, Ana wanted to say, but she couldn't find the breath for it. So she settled for another truth, "I miss you."

Silence. Then Kamilah breathed a fond huff, setting Ana at ease. "I miss you too, amar."