"All units, this is Morrison. We have the hostages. Ana, you ready?"
"Roger that. I'm looking out for you."
Another day, another mission. Innocent lives at stake, ruthless foes on the prowl, a team whose safety depended on her. All the mental pressure and physical strain of a soldier, was in Ana Amari's blood – which pumped with only a slight elevated pressure in her veins. It was all routine, familiar. Nothing would go wrong under her watchful eye.
"Take care of us, mama bear."
A faint curve on her lips was the only reaction to Singh's light-hearted request, as Ana turned her wrist and squeezed the trigger with near-mechanical smoothness. A shot in the head, in another's chest, and another's head. One Talon agent after another went down under Captain Amari's all-seeing eye, each shot striking off another notch in her mind, scratching a kill count amid her meditative state of mind. Lives taken, a necessary evil to ensure that good could flourish in this world.
Pumping the last rounds into three bodies, Ana felt a flash of irritation when Jack's voice crackled through her earpiece.
"What these scientists know about the project can't fall into Talon's hands. We need to go!"
Biting down a petty retort, Ana replied, "Looks like you're clear. Take the alley to the right, and cut through that warehouse."
Ana scanned the area through her scope, blood slowing to a vigilant calm – before spiking with urgency at the sound of two bullet impacts through her earpiece. She swivelled her scope briefly to Jack's position, and her heart dropped at the sight of two agents lying motionless on the floor.
"Where's the shooter? Ana, report!"
He didn't need to say a thing – Ana had set on a methodical search pattern through her rifle's scope, working out the angles of fire from the dead agents' wounds. They weren't adding up – not to a single place. The two shots had been taken from two different positions – a pair of snipers, then.
Ana's scope had just caught a blur of motion in the building to the front, when a shot burst against the window ledge she'd been resting her rifle on.
"I've been engaged. Changing position."
Ana rose from the ledge and leapt through the broken portion of the floor, landing neatly on the lower level. Even as she moved to the next window, hearing lead pinging off the concrete outside, her fingers moved along the holo-interface attached to her wrist, spreading her airborne drones over the field.
"Everyone good?" Ana asked, as two more agents fell to the Talon snipers.
"Ana, can you get a handle on this shooter?"
"Pretty sure there's two," Ana replied, resting her rifle on a narrow ledge, looking through its scope again. Before she could explain, Jack continued.
"I've been hearing chatter about a new Talon sniper. Moves like lightning. This could be him."
It could be, but Ana didn't quite care at the moment. Whoever this was, she wanted him dead – now. She traced the fleeting motions through the building's broken windows, and sent her drones to where the mystery sniper was headed.
"Morrison, the pink building – third floor, corner window. Break when you see impact."
Jack didn't reply – he didn't have to. She knew he'd heard her loud and clear. And sure enough, when three drones exploded at the indicated window, Jack led his team and the scientists on a sprint towards their VTOL.
"Everyone, move!" Jack hollered. "Ana, you too!"
But Ana's cybernetic eye was still fixed on the blast site, and she was barely aware of the furious pump of blood in her chest, her ears.
"Evac's on its way! Wheels up in two! Now beat feet!"
"No," Ana replied flatly.
"Disengage, Ana! That's an or–"
With a swipe of two fingers over her earpiece, Ana cut the channel off. If anything, this new sniper had proven he was too dangerous a threat to leave unresolved. To take down four agents under Captain Amari's watch? Unthinkable. It was supposed to be impossible. But it had happened – and she'd failed her people.
This is not going to happen again.
With a running start, Ana burst through the window and landed with a grunt beside a billboard on the next rooftop. Before she even had a chance to breathe, an explosive round hit the billboard's rusted metal supports, and ignited in a fiery blast. Ana would've been caught in it, if she hadn't leapt off the edge, and landed on another, lower rooftop. She slid into cover behind the tall parapet, took a deep breath, and rested her rifle on the ledge.
A glance through her scope, and Ana found her target right where she'd estimated he would be – but cursed when she realised when he ran behind a stretch of wall.
Don't have a shot–, wait.
Ana tracked her target's path, and snapped the crosshairs of her scope towards the narrow slat in the centre of the wall.
Inhale.
Exhale.
She squeezed the trigger.
A bullet cut through the air and the slat in the wall, just as the other sniper stepped into view – and in the line of fire. The sniper's head jerked back from the impact of the shot, and Ana breathed a sigh of relief, lowering her rifle to watch the figure stagger backwards. Even if that shot didn't kill him, it would incapacitate him long enough for Ana to deliver the last blow.
May be the toughest shot I've ever made–
Ana's eyes flew wide when her cybernetic vision allowed her to watch the sniper peel off the crumbling, ruined portion of his helmet – revealing the enraged countenance of Amelie Lacroix. The sight of Gerard's wife struck her dumb; Ana didn't know if it was the revelation that Amelie was working for Talon, or that Amelie had acquired a sniper's training from out of nowhere, or that her skin was such an unnatural blue, eyes of a golden amber colour. She didn't know, nor was she given time to process the information.
Instinct made Ana raise her rifle once more, as Amelie did the same. They sighted each other at the exact moment, but when a shot rang out from Amelie's rifle, Ana's finger was still frozen on the trigger, held back by the memory of Amelie's warm and graceful smile, the pleasant cadence of her voice, that tender gaze reserved only for Gerard–
The scope exploded right before her eye, and in the next second, fire seared through her skull. Ana howled, rifle dropping from her hands as she fell backwards, but the impact of her back slamming onto the concrete floor barely made a dent on her consciousness. Every twitch, every scream magnified the mass of sharp agony in her eye, and Ana was heedless of her wails as she writhed helplessly on the ground.
Something thick and warm trickled down her cheek, and Ana tasted it on her tongue – viscous blood with a metallic tang that sent a wave of horror through her mind. Her stomach twisted and turned, and Ana wretched onto the floor, a sour taste surging forth to wash that which was her pride onto the floor. She heaved and hurled, until her stomach had nothing more to give, and a tiniest sliver of sense returned to her mind.
One shaking hand, which had grasped onto the yellow-glowing canister on her chestguard, now scrabbled and clawed at the release mechanism. Ana was panting heavily, head swimming from nausea and pain still embedded deep in her eye, but her fingers managed to catch the latch on her chestguard, and tore the canister off. Thumbing the activation for the canister, Ana tried to look up, but could see nothing.
She was trembling, curling up into a ball, as spittle dribbled out the side of her mouth, tears and blood dripping from her eyes. Her vision slowly turned to black amid the comforting hiss of the healing canister, granting her the merciful embrace of numbness, as she sank into unconsciousness.
"Come on, habibti! We're going to the mall, not a matchmaker's," Kamilah called from the living room, and smiled at the loud whine that answered her from Fareeha's bedroom upstairs.
The girl was usually punctual, but this time, she'd stayed up late to watch movies in her room, and had to be woken by her mother for this outing. Children could grow so much through the years, yet never change in some aspects… Not that Kamilah was complaining.
She smiled to herself, twisting the wedding band on her finger once, before she was distracted by the doorbell. Tossing her purse onto the coffee table, Kamilah walked to the front door and pulled it open – and froze.
Mirembe and Jesse stood before her, both wearing crisp Overwatch dress blues. Her heart dropped as she eyed their grave expressions, and just when Mirembe opened her mouth to speak, Kamilah slammed the door shut.
Her mind had ground to a halt, every other thought replaced by a stubborn, disbelieving blank. Overwatch agents on her doorstep – it wasn't a mere courtesy call. Not after Ana had gone silent for over a week.
Ana. Ana. Please, Ana–
"Mama? Who was it?" Fareeha's voice came from behind her, but Kamilah didn't move as her daughter walked up to her side. Fareeha eyed her curiously. "Mama? You alright?"
Kamilah's stare was still fixed on the door, and Fareeha frowned when she didn't react.
"What happened–?" Fareeha pressed her eye to the peephole, and her voice evaporated as quickly as Kamilah's senses had fled. She stayed there for the longest time, frozen like Kamilah was, though she turned her head to look at her mother.
Long moments passed as Fareeha stared at Kamilah, before the deathly silence was finally broken by Jesse's voice, "Kamilah? You still there?"
No. No, no. I'm–
A gentle, but firm grip wrapped around her wrist. Kamilah raised her gaze with effort to meet Fareeha's, and her throat tightened when Fareeha gave her a tight smile. A plea for her daughter not to open the door was stuck in her throat, and Kamilah could only watch as Fareeha pulled away the trembling hand she'd kept on the door.
The door opened slowly, to reveal Mirembe and Jesse still standing in the same spot, about to set this living nightmare into motion. Kamilah listened as Fareeha invited the Overwatch agents in, and her mind wrestled itself into a dangerous blank as Mirembe and Jesse walked in with measured steps, eyes resting cautiously on the family. Two hands clasped her shoulders, and Kamilah followed Fareeha's lead into the living room, where her daughter sat her on one end of the couch, while Fareeha motioned for the agents to sit as well.
Kamilah stayed silent and still, not even looking at Mirembe as she delivered the news of Ana's death in the line of duty, and recounted non-classified details of the last mission Ana had embarked on. The information sank into Kamilah's consciousness, while Fareeha listened to Mirembe with a similar quiet.
"We wish to escort you back to HQ for the funeral, all on Overwatch's expense–"
"How."
Mirembe's stopped abruptly at the sound of Kamilah's rasp. "I'm sorry?"
"You said there is no body," Kamilah said quietly, voice hoarse. "How can you know she is dead when you don't even have her body."
Fareeha's arm wound around her shoulders, and Kamilah felt a flicker of anger – did her daughter think she was in denial? That she needed comfort? No. No, she was being careful. Logical. She would not accept any news of Ana's death, unless it was supported by concrete evidence.
Mirembe kept quiet for the longest time, then spoke. "We couldn't find her body, yes. We suspect it was recovered by Talon. But we did find…traces of her, where she'd been last. The blood on the floor was hers, next to an empty healing grenade, and we brought it back for examination," Mirembe's voice grew soft, as if to minimise the blow. "In that sample we had – there was organic matter from the eyeball, and shards of the cybernetic enhancements Ana had."
It was as if she'd been clubbed in the chest. The eye, then. Ana had been shot through the eye. How would she survive that…
Kamilah's head spun, and she closed her eyes, pressing a fist to her mouth as bile rose to her throat. Swallowing painfully, Kamilah rose to her feet in an unsteady motion, and pushed away Fareeha's hand. One step after another, Kamilah walked out of the living room, up towards her bedroom. Her fist fell away as she took a deep breath, eyes staring at the room around her, finding solace in the mundane surroundings.
She fell heavily into the chair at the study desk, staring blankly at its wooden surface, scuffed here and there after years of use. Kamilah raised her eyes slowly to a framed photo on the desk – one of herself and Ana, who was dressed in Overwatch colours and still had half a head of black hair.
Kamilah stared at Ana's smile, the crinkles around her then-wife's eyes and mouth. And she could feel nothing.
She was drained – of energy, thought, emotion…everything.
Kamilah had sat at her desk, unmoving, until Fareeha came into the room and spoke in a steady voice that couldn't mask the quivers beneath. She could hear the tears that had been shed in her daughter's voice, but couldn't bring herself to do anything, not even to comfort. She remained motionless through Fareeha's questions and gentle touches to her head, through that empty period of time when Fareeha left her alone to pack a bag, through the quiet rustling as Fareeha packed her mother's bag as well.
It was only with Fareeha's guiding hands on her shoulders that Kamilah moved – down the stairs to meet Mirembe and Jesse, into the car which ferried them to the private airfield, down the jet to step on Zurich's soil once more. Only when they were in the compound of Overwatch's headquarters, did Kamilah move her eyes up from the ground. She complied with Fareeha's directions as her daughter led her through the halls, paying no heed to the curious and pitying glances stolen in their direction. And when Fareeha turned them towards the residential compound, Kamilah stopped dead in her tracks.
Fareeha looked at her curiously with eyes reddened during the flight, which then grew wide when she walked away from her daughter.
"Mama? Where are you going?" Fareeha asked, following behind her. "Mama, ami's quarters are this way."
Kamilah wasn't listening. She didn't even know where her legs were taking her, as she walked down hallway after hallway, turning many corners until she came to a stop before the door to Jack's office. She palmed the controls on the wall, and the doors slid open to reveal Jack, who looked up from his desk in surprise.
"Mama, wait." Fareeha set a hand on her shoulder, but Kamilah lifted her own – a gesture for Fareeha to stay out.
Fareeha didn't speak again, and Kamilah strode into the office, doors closing behind her as Jack rose from his chair.
"Kamilah–"
"It was your mission," Kamilah cut him off, voice coming back so strong and steady that it surprised even her. With it came a burning surge of anger, which curled her hands into fists.
"I–, yes. It was."
"You made the decision to leave her behind."
Guilt delivered a punch to Jack's gut, and it showed on his face. He rounded the table, moving cautiously towards Kamilah. "Yes. I couldn't compromise the safety of our–"
"You're the one who chose to leave her behind," Kamilah said, voice growing louder with each word. "You were the one, yet you sent your agents to tell us the news? You left her behind, but you don't even have the fucking guts to face me!"
"I…am sorry–"
Jack's apology was met with the crack of knuckles against his nose. His head snapped back from the impact, and he staggered back a few paces, before clutching onto the desk's edge to steady himself. His hand had flown up to cover his nose, and red soon seeped between his fingers. Kamilah glared at him as he met her eyes, and it was all she could do not to fly at him again. Her knuckles were stinging, probably bruised or fractured. Blood pounded in her head and ears so heavily, the floor swayed beneath her a little. But that did not deter her.
"You are a coward, Morrison!" Kamilah yelled, its force scraping against her throat. "You are an arrogant, selfish, cowardly bastard! Ana would have waited for you. Ana would have fought through hell to save you. And yet here you stand, telling me that you abandoned her!"
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Kamilah's voice cracked. "She's gone, you bastard! 'Sorry' doesn't bring her back–"
Sobs wracked her throat, and Kamilah clamped a hand over her mouth, as hot tears dripped from her eyes. "Nothing will bring her back."
Reality poured over her like a bucket of water, shocking her back to a life she refused to be part of. Kamilah took a few steps back, before walking out of the office, leaving Jack to stare at the floor, cradling his bloodied nose.
Fareeha seemed taken aback by her sudden reappearance, and quickly hurried after Kamilah as her mother strode quickly towards Ana's quarters.
"Mama? Mama, are you alright?"
Hand still covering her mouth, Kamilah glared through her tears to find the way to Ana's room, where the lights switched on upon detecting their movements. Kamilah paced around the room with jagged steps, fighting back and swallowing the sobs squeezing her throat painfully, until Fareeha gripped onto her arms.
"Mama, stop. Stop for a moment."
Fareeha pulled Kamilah in for a firm embrace that held her in place, and her daughter's warmth snapped the last thread which had held back her grief. Kamilah weeps onto Fareeha's shoulder, clutching onto her daughter's shirt for dear life, as Fareeha hugged her back tightly.
"She's gone," was all Kamilah could sob. "She's gone."
"I know," Fareeha whispered thickly beside her ear. "I know, mama."
Kamilah spent most of the days in Ana's quarters, alternating between tears and a dry, catatonic state where she was fully spent from crying. And where she'd lain in bed, staring blankly at the wall, Fareeha had remained strong through the ordeal. She was the one who cared for a mother stricken senseless in grief, who guided Kamilah gently up from the bed to take a sip of water or a bite of food, and freshened her mother up with a damp towel before laying her in bed once more.
And it was Fareeha's strength, perhaps, which finally made Kamilah raise her eyes to meet her daughter's, for the first time in three days. Fareeha smoothed her hair back with a wan smile, and it was then that Kamilah decided to be functional, at least. For the funeral.
Though she moved slowly, Fareeha was patient and helped Kamilah put on her dress blues, fastening every badge onto her chest. When Fareeha moved away to dress herself in uniform as well, Kamilah stared back into the mirror, hearing an echo of Ana's compliment in her ears, and she screwed her eyes shut. Moisture pooled beneath her eyelids, and she swallowed through a tight throat, before opening her eyes when a hand clasped onto her shoulder.
Kamilah looked over at Fareeha, who looked smart in her own dress blues, yet with a sombre expression where a normally proud smile would sit. Fareeha tilted her head in question, and Kamilah nodded. It was time.
The sky was overcast – aptly so, but Kamilah didn't have the presence of mind to appreciate poetry in the weather. Her eyes were at once fixed, yet unseeing at the empty casket carried by the original Strike Team, saluted by all present at the funeral. Kamilah watched as they lowered the casket into the ground, then tuned out the rumble of Jack's voice as he delivered a eulogy.
Fareeha turned to her at the end of the commander's speech, looking at her disengaged, clouded expression, and guided her into a chair. Drawing a pair of shades from her own pocket, she slipped them over Kamilah's eyes, affording her reprieve from the constant attention given subtly by those around them. And while Kamilah remained deathly silent, staring at Captain Amari's grave through tinted lenses, Fareeha stood straight-backed as she accepted one condolence after another.
She shouldn't do this, Kamilah knew. She shouldn't let Fareeha do this by herself. She should stand as well, share her daughter's burden, instead of wallowing in her own. But as she stared longer at Ana's empty grave, the life in her trickled slowly from her being, lost to the void. She could hardly think, let alone receive the sympathies and well-wishes of strangers who could barely understand what she felt, what she'd lost.
Kamilah's throat tightened dangerously, and she bowed her head, swallowing hard. She closed her eyes, detaching her mind from the present, and listened to Fareeha's calm voice give thanks to the line of people who'd come to speak with her.
After what felt like an eternity, Fareeha's arm wound around Kamilah's shoulders again, and she looked up at her daughter.
"Ready to go?" Fareeha asked gently.
Kamilah stared at her face – drawn with exhaustion and well-hidden grief – then glanced at the crowd still lingering at the site. "Are you…?"
"I don't think I can take smiling at people any longer," Fareeha said, breaking into a strained smile, eyes pleading through her weak jest. "I could use a break."
Heart aching, Kamilah touched her daughter's cheek, and nodded.
Kamilah didn't wish to linger in Zurich any longer than they had to – and Fareeha was of the same mind. They steeled themselves the day after the funeral, and started packing Ana's belongings in her office and quarters. Kamilah's hands shook often as she grabbed books, clothes, and devices from the rooms, and after she'd stared too long at the family photos Ana kept on the desk, Fareeha took the matter from her hands – literally.
Relieving Kamilah of Ana's possessions, Fareeha sat her mother down on the bed, from where Kamilah watched as Fareeha set to work by herself, tossing the items into large cardboard boxes Overwatch had provided them. Kamilah hated her own weakness, her inaction whenever she noticed Fareeha wiping her eyes subtly with the back of a hand. She wanted to speak, to comfort her daughter – as she should – but knew there was no comfort to be found in the moment.
Not when they had lost Ana for good.
They were sent off by the Strike Team, most of whom hovered near Kamilah quietly as she waited unmoving by the stairs to the jet. Fareeha hugged Jesse tightly in farewell, then shot Reinhardt a thin smile when the man ruffled her hair with a huge hand, before joining her mother by the stairs. She thanked the team when they bade farewell, and guided her silent mother into the jet, which ferried them smoothly back to Cairo.
It was now over an hour since they'd reached home. Fareeha had deposited Kamilah's travel bag and a box full of Ana's stuff in the master bedroom, before kissing her mother on the head and going into her own room. Kamilah had heard the door being shut firmly, but not the sound of it being opened since then. Fareeha didn't come to check on her as often as she'd done in Zurich, but she understood – after all the days spent dealing with the funeral and paperwork and with each other, mother and daughter needed some time apart. Some time to let it all sink in, to let the grief settle fully, to care just for themselves.
At the moment, Kamilah could feel nothing. Her heart was flat as she sat on the floor, with the opened box of Ana's belongings before her. There was a half-finished tin of biscuits inside, two stacks of clothes, Ana's handphone, a stress ball, framed photos, and…
Kamilah reached slowly into the box, and took the blue beret in her hand. Fareeha had given to her, back in Zurich. The sight of it had floored her then – the signature gear of Captain Ana Amari. But now, all it offered was a painful truth, slowly trickling and cutting open her soul.
The beret had been a point of pride for Ana. It was proof of her skill – which had granted her entry into Egypt's Republican Guard, and resulted in the creation of God Eye during the Omnic Crisis. This was the very same beret she'd worn during her tenure in the Strike Team, and throughout her lengthy career in Overwatch. It was a symbol of her strength, her talent, her success. In many ways, the beret was her.
And now, it was a reminder of a bright spark gone dark. A dead soldier. A dead mother. A dead wife.
Kamilah hunched over, the weight of reality turned crushing upon her shoulders. Her lips were parted, but her voice had escaped her. Tears dripped from her eyes, and she clutched the beret to her chest.
I love you. Ana, I love you. I'm sorry.
Heart squeezing beneath the cold grip of grief, Kamilah wept silently, while an impossible hope she'd held in her heart dissolved into nothing.
A/N: Here we fuckin go...