The air in the house was still – not a lazy, serene lull in activity, but a tenuous condition set upon eggshells where none dared to make a drastic move, for fear of upsetting its fragile balance. Kamilah's nerves were on edge; Fareeha had already bowed out of the house for a spell, popping by Kamilah's room just long enough to say she needed some air, and would return with food in tow. A nod was all Fareeha needed before she disappeared from sight, and the hum of her hoverbike announced her departure. Kamilah knew well that Ana had heard the sound too – and was aware that Fareeha no longer stood between a conversation between themselves. She half-wished her daughter was back here to keep Ana at bay, or that Ana would pry the door open to chance a few words. But neither came to pass, and Kamilah gritted her teeth after a moment of weak uncertainty, standing from her chair in the master bedroom, to seek her wife out for a talk.
'Her wife'. Kamilah's heart squeezed – disbelieving of how easily she had slipped back into the old habits. She hadn't even taken a proper look at Ana yet, and her subconscious had already clung to her 'late' wife's presence, embracing Ana as that missing piece from her life, come to take its rightful place once more. An ache, then a self-chide, before Kamilah took a steadying breath and stepped out of the room.
Her search didn't take long – Ana was perched on the staircase, her back facing Kamilah as she slouched slightly over her cellphone, thumbs tapping on its screen as if she were texting. But she became aware of Kamilah's presence immediately, despite her wife's quiet movement. Ana turned her head, eye widening at the sight of Kamilah standing at the top of the stairs, then rose quickly to her feet.
Kamilah could find nothing to stay, despite the pressure in her throat waiting to be released. And it seemed Ana was in the same predicament as well – they stared at each other in silence, until Ana drummed her fingertips on her thigh and forced a tentative smile.
"Were you heading down?" Ana asked; that rough, warm voice dredging up a deep longing in her wife. She waited, and when Kamilah didn't reply, she continued, "I'll just…make way."
By god, it was awkward. To Ana's credit, her tiny, buoyant hops down the steps brought a sense of familiarity to Kamilah, one long lost to the distant years of their youth. Despite her strung-out nerves, Kamilah found herself soothed by Ana's little constancy. Gripping the stair's handrail briefly to anchor herself, Kamilah made her way down – never making contact with that gaze rested on her. She nearly stopped breathing when she passed by Ana, that source of warmth she could always depend on for comfort before. But breathe she did as she strode blankly into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.
Though she sipped for the sake of motion, it calmed her enough to bring some sense back to her mind. God, just that simple, stupid exchange on the stairs was enough to knock her off balance – and she hated it. A whole year of piecing herself back together after a tragedy, and for what? To be broken back down again, and render her efforts for naught? No, she would not allow it. She thought back to Fareeha, to her vulnerable desire to use her daughter as a shield once more, and decided she would not allow it.
Another breath, and Kamilah turned around with a mind clearer than before. She found Ana hovering just outside the kitchen, concerned gaze falling upon her as she walked out.
"Milah," Ana said, a gentle, unsure smile on her lips. "Could we talk? Fareeha wasn't keen on listening to me, and I thought you'd like the whole picture before you…decide on anything."
She couldn't even manage a nod. Her feet moved before she could respond, bringing her into the living room where she picked a spot in the armchair – which guaranteed Ana's distance, at the very least. Perhaps Ana sensed her intent, settling on the sofa at a respectable length from Kamilah. A silent gaze in question, then a twitch of the hand in reply, and Kamilah listened as Ana started to speak.
Ana spoke of her last mission – in vague details, as always – and how it'd ended with her scope shot and shattered, shards piercing her right eye, sending her unconscious. Nausea turned Kamilah's stomach as her throat tightened, Ana's eye patch finally making sense. There was a short pause as Ana gave her time to process the details, then the tale continued in the Polish hospital, where Ana had woken with no memory of who she was and what had sent her to the hospital in the first place.
The more Ana spoke, the more painful her throat felt, her eyes moist but never shedding a single tear. Ana'd had to bear alone the news of Overwatch's demise, and the death of her two old friends. To accept the loss of her eye – her pride – and learn how to move, all on her lonesome. To let go of a legacy which had fallen in pieces at her feet, to decide that her time was gone – that she didn't deserve fall back into the comfort of her old life anymore.
Ana's gaze was faraway as she spoke, but when her eye turned back to Kamilah, it sent an ache through her wife's heart which made Kamilah's eyes fall shut. Kamilah swallowed painfully, gathering herself before she lost her composure, and turned her face away from Ana.
"It…hasn't been easy. Perhaps the most difficult decision was to stay out of your lives forever. I should've known better." A wry smile. "I could barely go a day without thinking about you."
Don't, she wanted to warn Ana. But all she could do was bite down on her lip before she really did lose herself.
"How have you been?" Ana asked softly. "I know it couldn't have been easy on you."
Somehow, those gentle words twisted Kamilah's stomach in the opposite direction. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn't quite coax a rise out of herself.
"I've been better," Kamilah said quietly, almost a mutter. "I've been much better. Your 'death' nearly–, it was difficult to accept. So damned difficult. But I was starting to come to terms with it. I was starting to get better. I was better. And now you're here, throwing me back to where I started."
"I understand. I'm sorry that I let things spiral to the way they are now, but I–"
"I needed you back then, Ana," Kamilah cut in, and though her voice wavered, she ploughed on. "I needed you so much. If you'd returned then, you would've saved me so much grief, so much pain. And I could've helped you as well, but you didn't trust me enough to let me do that."
"I–, that's not true. I just…didn't want to burden you. I never wanted to." Ana's voice cracked, so briefly it was nearly unnoticeable. She took an audible breath, and calmed herself with admirable speed. "But I know what I've chosen to do…was not the best I could've done. A mistake. That's why I'm here now – like I told Fareeha last night, I want to make amends. No matter how difficult it is."
Ana paused. "If you would let me."
Kamilah looked back at Ana. An answer rested on her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it.
The conversation went much smoother than Kamilah had expected, even if it ended long before they could reach closure, or a temporary resolution. She had the answers she needed, and had reacquainted – to some degree – with the woman who was her other half. Still her other half, despite Ana being believed dead for over a year.
By the time Fareeha returned in the afternoon, Kamilah had calmed much from her previous anxiety. She'd turned Ana's story over in her head countless times, taken to heart every detail which Ana had recounted with a faint quiver in her voice, and clutched tightly to her wife's vulnerability to temper her own anger which had simmered over a long period of grief and recovery. Ana wasn't free of blame, yes – but Kamilah knew her motivations. The gentle side of her yearned to accept Ana's explanation without question, to feel the roughness of Ana's fingers against her own as they worked through whatever problems plagued them both.
But the other side of her…well. It didn't take much to be reminded that she wasn't the only one involved in this.
Fareeha didn't quite share her mother's inclination to speak with Ana. Even in the same room, Fareeha wouldn't acknowledge that her once-dead mother was sitting right in front of her. It brought a twinge to Kamilah's chest whenever she saw it, even though she knew she would've shared her daughter's temper when she was younger.
For her part, Ana seemed satisfied to play along – keeping at a comfortable distance from the family. And when she slipped quietly out of the house the next day, Kamilah thought to do the same with Fareeha as well. Her daughter appeared puzzled at the sudden request – perhaps expecting her mama to remain cooped up at home like before – but Fareeha was happy enough to drive wherever Kamilah wanted to go.
They cruised on the roads for a long while – Kamilah hadn't decided on a destination herself – but they spend some quality time in silence, relaxing for the first time since Ana's return, before they headed towards the river at Fareeha's suggestion. Kamilah wandered slowly along the riverside with her daughter following from behind, and eventually settled in a bench on a wooden viewing platform overlooking the river. Fareeha nipped away and returned with a cup of hot tea for Kamilah, while cradling a cup of coffee for herself.
"I've spoken to her," Kamilah says after a sip of tea, bringing Fareeha's cup to a stop at her mouth. "She's told me…everything she's come back to say."
Fareeha sighed, lowering her cup. "Tell me."
She listened as Kamilah recounted Ana's story, and remained silent even after it ended. Kamilah watched Fareeha's face for a hint of a reaction, but couldn't find any – not even a twitch. Her daughter merely stared out at the ships floating leisurely on the Nile, with an expression that could nearly be described as 'bored'. If a little troubled.
"How do you feel about it?"
Another sigh, more exasperated this time. "I don't know, mama. I just…don't know." Fareeha tapped her fingers on the coffee cup. "It's hard to believe, but it was so much easier back then, you know? When she was dead. It was easier to reconcile everything that I felt towards her. But now she's back, and I can't help but just…get angry, all over again. Angry at everything she's made us go through. Everything I thought I'd made my peace with."
"I know."
"Just…fuck my goddamn life," Fareeha groused, bringing her cup up for a swig, then wincing when she scalded herself. "Of all the moms I could get, I got the one who can't even stay dead."
Kamilah snorted, then rapped her knuckles on Fareeha's temple. "Horrible."
"And we both know where I got that from," Fareeha retorted with a bitter smirk. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and without looking up, she said, "You've already decided, haven't you?"
"Decided…what?"
"To accept all this. Her."
Kamilah raised her brows when Fareeha looked back at her.
"I mean, you always have." Fareeha shrugged. "No matter what happened, you'd always forgive and forget. Doesn't matter what she or I would do – you'll just keep treating us like it never happened."
"I didn't have much of a choice, habibti. I'm no saint. All I knew, all I needed was for my family to remain intact, and I held it together the only way I knew how. Even if I wasn't happy with the way I did it." Kamilah shifted her grip on the disposable cup. "Sometimes, I think it's part of what led to our family becoming…like this."
"Maybe. All I know is that you did your best, and I respect you for that." Fareeha smiled. "Honestly, I…really don't know how I'm gonna go from here. I don't think I'd even trust myself to handle it properly. So I'll just…go along with whatever you do, I guess. No pressure," she added at the end.
Kamilah huffed, lips pressed into a thin curve as she lowered her gaze. Fareeha was right – she'd always played the mediator between her wife and daughter. But here, at this very moment…she couldn't find the energy to assume that role once more. After all, she did have some peace to make with Ana again. To work through the grievances she had with her wife, which she'd never voiced before. And yet, at the same time, she knew Fareeha was right. She always was weak where Ana was concerned – and she was painfully aware of it.
A brief silence, then Kamilah set a hand on Fareeha's arm. "You're right – I've already decided," she admitted. "But I want you to understand. Your ami means a lot to me. More than you know, more than I've ever told you."
Her fingers dug slightly into Fareeha's arm. "I'm not asking you to accept or forgive her outright, just because I want to do so. Even I don't think I can manage that so quickly. But…at the very least, try to give her a chance. She's had more than her fair share of troubles as well – longer than the both of us know."
Fareeha's expression turned thoughtful, though still reluctant – not that Kamilah could blame her.
"I'll try, but no promises."
"That's good enough for now." Kamilah patted her head with a smile. "Like you said – just trust me, alright? I'll…work this out. Somehow."
"Yeah, okay. Okay," Fareeha repeated, as if to convince herself. She straightened her back, took a deep breath, and exhaled visibly. Fareeha stared at the river for a while, then turned back to her mother. "I feel like ice cream."
Kamilah half-sighed and chuckled, shaking her head. "Never change, Fareeha Amari. Promise me that."
"It's been so…strange, Jack," Ana sighed, then huffed from the effort of setting a flat, heavy crate onto the table. "It's like, I know that I belong there, but it feels as if I can't stay like I want to. You know? I know it's home, but something in the back of my mind keeps telling me it isn't."
"Not yet," Jack rumbled through the holo-screen. "But yeah, I get you. I know the feeling all too well."
Ana glanced back at the video feed of Jack sitting at his table, catching that brief wistful look in his eyes before he pulled himself back to the present, and focused on Ana once more.
"It's uncomfortable. Part of me just wants to run back to Giza and give this all up."
"If you dare run back and mope around here again, I'll punt your ass back to Cairo. Personally."
"How else are you going to do it if not personally? Jackass." Ana snorted as a grin unfurled on her face, matching the crooked one on the holo-screen.
"Well, I could always tip Fareeha off that you've been back in the neighbourhood before…" Jack raised his brows in mock-threat, then lifted both hands in surrender when Ana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Speaking of, I assume the kid's still angry?"
"Yeah. What gave it away," Ana replied flatly, turning back to the shelf she was searching. God, there was so much dust. When was the last time anyone had cleaned this safehouse?
"Just a guess."
"You made a smart one for once, then." Ana opened a duffle bag to find a few sets of combat bodysuits, then set it on the floor in disinterest. "She doesn't really want to talk to me – nothing new. Milah's still… She's been calm with me, like always." She paused, thinking back on her conversation with her wife. "I mean, I can tell she's angry, and that she's been put through the wringer. But she's listened to everything I had to say."
"And how did she react?"
Ana shrugged, dropping into the chair near the shelf. "She went into that…placid thing she does whenever her mood starts to slip? Yeah," she added when Jack hissed quietly. "But she hasn't closed herself off from me…yet. If I'm lucky, I may not even have to do much convincing with her."
Jack peered at her quietly. "And…you sound worried."
She leaned forward, resting both elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. "I'm afraid I'm taking advantage of her."
"There's that," Jack agreed, and Ana half-wished he hadn't been so quick to do so.
"She's always let things slide between us, and it's been…convenient, you know? I didn't have time at Overwatch to think about much other than work," she explained, and Jack nodded knowingly. "But she deserves more than just an apology from me, this time around." She grew quiet, gaze lowered in thought. "Both of them do."
"Then give them more than that." Jack leaned back in his side. "God knows you'll need to win them over completely before you drop the second bomb on them."
Ana groaned beneath her breath, then rose from her seat. "That's what I'm afraid of," she uttered, turning back to the shelf, eye roving over the few packs and cases left over from her search. "I go home after spending a year 'dead', explain why I'm alive, then fuck off on my own mission again, like I always do? I already hate myself for it."
She snatched a sleek briefcase from the top shelf, gingerly working the clasps with her fingertips to touch as little dust as possible. "I won't be surprised if Fareeha or Milah decides to deck me after I tell them."
"To be fair, you do deserve it," Jack chuckled, and Ana didn't bother to turn around to roll her eyes at him. He quieted a moment later, then continued, "But in all seriousness, Ana. If you need the time in Cairo, take all you can get. I can start the search on my own. This whole Reaper business is my responsibility, anyway–"
"It's mine as well, Jack." Ana turned back, fixing him with a steady gaze. "And I promised you that I would help."
Jack was quiet while Ana focused on the briefcase and opened it. The untouched power cells inside brought a smile to her face, and she carried the case to the screen, tilting it forward so Jack could see its contents – crucial parts needed to repair his faulty mask. He gave her a thin smile and nod, watching as she closed the case and set it aside.
"Ana," he said, breaking the heavy silence he'd fallen into. "I…appreciate it."
"As you should."
"But I'm speaking as a friend now – your place is there, first and foremost. Don't jeopardise your own position just to save mine."
"Jack–"
"He was your friend as well, I know. But I need answers that I want to hear alone."
A nice enough way of telling her to shove off, Ana supposed. She returned his stare calmly, sympathy rising for her old friend as she saw through his stoic façade. "I understand. Go ahead then. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can."
He didn't quite sigh in relief, but Ana could feel it in his being – even through the holo-screen. "Thank you."
She waved him off. "It's getting late. I'll scrounge up more supplies, and leave them for you to pick up when you're here."
"Sure. Thanks, Ana. I'll keep in touch."
Ana smiled. "Make sure you do."
Kamilah's heart beat faster when she left her bedroom in the morning, and caught the scent of food wafting up from the lower floor. Fareeha's door was still shut – which meant there was only one person left who could be downstairs. And sure enough, she found Ana in the kitchen, standing watch over a pan on the stove. As usual, her quiet entrance seemed to be detected effortlessly by her wife, who turned around and treated her to a smile which made her aware of her own breathing.
"Morning. Hope you don't mind, but I got a little busy since I was up early."
Ana gestured towards a chair by the table, and Kamilah found herself gripped by a moment of hesitation, before lowering herself slowly into the seat. Despite the obvious lapse, Ana seemed to take heart in her decision, and turned back to her current task. Kamilah watched Ana flip a pita in the pan with her bare hand – a stubborn habit despite Kamilah's lectures all the years before – then pour a mug of tea she'd brewed in her favourite pot, setting it down for Kamilah.
Kamilah didn't take it immediately. She waited, gripped by an indecision for which she had no reason, until Ana had laid out two plates of pita, beans and vegetables, and boiled eggs. Only when Ana started munching on her food did Kamilah start to move, smashing the beans with her fork, then bringing a small serving into her mouth.
They ate in relative silence, going through the motions while watching each other, and pretending they weren't being examined in return. Ignoring the feel of Ana's eyes – eye – on herself, Kamilah took her wife's visage in. She pondered over Ana's eye patch, wondering if there was a prosthetic beneath to fill the space, or if there was nothing but a hollow cavity. The thought squeezed some appetite from her stomach, so Kamilah quickly diverted her attention to the lines on Ana's face, that same clear alertness in her wife's gaze, and the confident smoothness with which Ana moved. It was obvious that this old woman was a league above her peers in terms of strength and dexterity – even in such a mundane setting.
"You're still wearing our ring," Ana spoke out of the blue, and Kamilah took a moment to catch on. She blinked, looking down at the wedding band on her finger.
She'd tried to stop wearing it once, thinking it would help to be rid of such a potent reminder of Ana. But she couldn't stop feeling about her naked finger for days after, and even felt antsy at its absence, until she finally caved and slipped it back on again. Just the simple weight of the ring on her finger – once a source of pain – had turned into one of comfort, then strength. Just the simple act alone was a promise that she'd be stronger, be better for Ana's sake.
Kamilah swallowed, then nodded curtly in response. She'd started drawing her hand back to hide the ring from Ana's sight, when Ana reached beneath the collar of her shirt, and pulled out a chain – on which hung the counterpart to Kamilah's ring.
"Never stopped wearing mine either," Ana shared with a touch of pride. "But I figured wearing it on my neck would be safer. And I didn't want to dirty it too much, so…" She shrugged, then let go of the ring, allowing it to hang outside her shirt.
Kamilah's eyes remained on the ring, her mind lost in thought, before it was wrenched back into the present by Fareeha's entrance – and sudden stop. Kamilah turned her head, watching as Fareeha took the scene in with a touch of surprise, which seemed to have made her freeze on the spot.
"There's food for you," Ana said simply, drawing Fareeha's gaze briefly before her daughter looked to Kamilah.
"Just checking if you needed anything," Fareeha said. "I'm…going out for a run."
A blatant lie – Kamilah knew that Fareeha preferred night-time runs nowadays. But she recognised her daughter's need to get away, and nodded – allowing Fareeha to escape from the kitchen without question. Part of Kamilah was amused by Fareeha having to stick to her lie, but she bit on her lip discretely to hide a smile. Returning to her plate, Kamilah continued eating, ears catching the thuds of feet down the stairs, and the front door being shut soon after.
"I'll keep her breakfast in the oven," Ana drawled. "Just in case she wants it."
"She will," Kamilah muttered simply.
When she was done, Ana hastened to take the plate from her, bringing it to the sink with her own. Kamilah sat in the chair, still sipping her warm tea as she watched Ana run the plates beneath the tap. This whole breakfast affair had been…strange? Though in a good way. It was obvious Ana wished for things to be returned to normal, but didn't push unreasonably. They were keeping a distance, and things were…amiable, at least. Although, Kamilah feared any next steps they took towards healing, would fracture this tentative peace.
The next sip of tea turned cold in her stomach.