Kamilah waited, arms crossed, as her nose took in the faint floral whiff of air freshener brightening the stale air of the garage. The shutter door was still grinding its way up, letting more sunlight spill into the cool space, when Fareeha turned away from her hoverbike with that look on her face.
"I could stay longer, if you want."
Kamilah bit back a sigh at the question. No, I want you to leave. Actually, I want to pack my bags and leave with you.
She smothered the instinctive response, and instead raised a brow. "That is the hundredth time you've asked."
"Yeah, well. Call me stubborn. Like you," Fareeha offered the gentle jab before she turned around, locking her bike's top box, and pulled on her leather jacket.
Kamilah knew the reason for Fareeha's persistence; concern for her mother was one, but for another – it was all too obvious that Fareeha wanted to put as much distance between herself and Ana as possible. If there were a string between them, it would've been frayed and worn down to a single thread holding them together, and even then only due to the physical constraints of the house. Fareeha was eager to snap it, and Kamilah saw no reason to hold her back…for the time being, at least. No use putting two bulls in the house if they would only thrash it in time.
Yes, it would be best for her daughter to get some air, Kamilah had decided. And she dearly wished she could have the same luxury.
Strong hands clasped her shoulders, shaking her out of her thoughts, and Kamilah looked up at her daughter.
"Take care of yourself, mama."
"You too."
"Call me if…you need anything, alright?" Fareeha said, the intent hidden beneath her words were plain as day.
"Yes. Don't worry." Kamilah pulled on a smile, reaching up to pat Fareeha on the head.
"I might be away for a while, but if you need it, I can be back in a–"
"Fareeha Amari," Kamilah said slowly, and Fareeha fell silent. Some things never change. "I said, don't worry. I can take care of myself."
Fareeha regarded her in silence, and Kamilah was thrown for a sudden, unpleasant flashback to the lowest point in her struggle with grief. Her rock bottom, when she could barely summon the strength to move herself, much less put any effort into giving herself some actual care. When she'd had to rely on Fareeha like a crutch, just to keep living, day after day. Guilt and regret washed over her, and she knew exactly what was on Fareeha's mind, behind those quiet dark eyes which used to be so bright and carefree. Her reassurance, in this moment, might not be the most…inspiring.
"I'll call you if I need to, habibti," Kamilah acceded. "But, like I said, don't worry too much. I didn't get to this age by being stupid."
"Yeah, I guess so." Fareeha offered a brief smile, then turned around to mount her bike.
"And be careful at work. I don't want to hear another accident with your jet thrusters, or something."
Fareeha snorted, then flashed a crooked grin which set Kamilah's heart at ease. "I'll try. No promises, though."
She pulled on her helmet and started the bike's engine, its lights and core livening with a smooth hum, lifting it from the ground. Fareeha gave herself one last pat down to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then waved at Kamilah before gliding out of the garage. The shutter door started grinding its way back down, and the bike flew down the street and out of sight before the door could deprive Kamilah of the view.
Kamilah feels an old itch return, her eyes drifting back to her regular old motorcycle in the corner. It'd seen little use for a while now, only getting a taste of the road when Fareeha's around. But Kamilah had been diligent with its maintenance, and it was ready for a ride whenever she wanted.
Soon, Kamilah promised herself. And when she was seated on that bike again, she had no doubt it would be glorious.
Kamilah walked back into the house, mind wandering to the last time she'd worked on the bike, wondering if she should look into any upgrades to occupy her time–
A hard bump to her side knocked her off balance, and her feet, scrambling to compensate, tripped over each other. But before her fall could even begin, two hands grabbed onto her arms and pulled her upright, and Kamilah found herself gripping onto Ana's shirtsleeves for dear life, staring back into the one eye which stared back her in alarm.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry–" Ana's words ended abruptly, as if another thought had intruded and cut her short. Her eye flickered down from Kamilah's and she let go slowly, hands hovering over Kamilah for a moment, before dropping to her sides.
Ana took another breath, parted her lips – but Kamilah had already turned and walked away. She climbed the stairs to the upper floor in silence, and when her feet touched the wooden panels of the hallway, her hand strayed back to the wedding band on her finger. Slipping the ring on every morning had been a habit she'd never sought to break, save that one attempt. And Kamilah had never given it further thought until Ana'd brought it up over their meal together. Since then, what was habit had become a conscious action, day after day – as if she were reaffirming something she shouldn't just yet, something she wasn't quite ready for.
Blankly, Kamilah started to pull the ring from her finger, but her heart throbbed with an ache which forced her to push it back. She heaved a sigh, shaking her head as she made for the balcony. When did life become so damned complicated?
A shout shattered the night's calm, and startled Kamilah awake. It took a moment to get her bearings, mind fuddled from light sleep and the pump of adrenaline through the blood in her veins. She waited for the thrill to subside, and a sense of calm settled over her when nothing more happened. Thinking back, Kamilah wondered if it'd just been a figment of her dream – once or twice already she'd jerked awake with Ana's voice echoing in her ears.
The thought made her pause. The voice which had woken her had a familiar rasp in its undertone. It had been Ana, but not the one from dreams her mind had made up. Kamilah hesitated briefly, before worry pushed her off the bed. Pulling down the hem of the t-shirt which had ridden up in her sleep, Kamilah trudged out the door, and headed down to the living room where Ana had put up for the time being. She walked down the stairs, a careful hand on the railing, and stopped at the bottom step as her gaze falls upon Ana.
The woman sat slumped in the sofa where she'd been sleeping, her healthy mane of white hair mussed from the cushion. Her head was bowed, and a hand was clamped over her right eye. Kamilah tried to approach, but Ana jerked forward and raised a hand, barking a sharp, "No!"
So Kamilah stopped dead in her tracks, half in acquiescence to the command, half in surprise from the force of Ana's request. She waited, watching as Ana tore her eye away from Kamilah's gaze, bending forward as she brought her breaths under control. The quiet pants grew even quieter, until they were replaced by silence. Ana's shoulders rose with a huge intake of breath, then fell in the next heaved sigh. Her head turned to Kamilah by a fraction, before jerking away as Ana turned around in the sofa. She reached for the eyepatch on the end table, and pulled it over her right eye, brushing her hair back before slumping back into the cushions again.
"Sorry," Ana said without looking over. "Did I wake you."
It wasn't so much a question as a need to fill the heavy silence. But Kamilah played along and nodded, then realised Ana wasn't looking at her. "Yes."
"I'm sorry," she repeated, then lapsed into brief quiet. "I'm fine, I promise."
Empty reassurances ran strong in the family, Kamilah thought drily. There was an obvious dismissal in Ana's tone, but Kamilah couldn't tear herself away just yet. "Is there…"
"No," Ana said without waiting, then paused again. Her head tilted towards Kamilah, before turning back. "I–, just some…old memories. They have an unpleasant tendency to get a jump on me, these days."
Kamilah nodded again while they fell deeper into uncomfortable silence. Ana had folded her arms over her chest, eyes still fixed stubbornly away from Kamilah, obviously disinclined to speak any more of the issue. Kamilah was torn between probing further and leaving her to her own peace, but the tension in the air forced her feet to move. She moved slowly backwards, and when Ana didn't react to her actions, she turned to climb up the stairs once more.
Halfway up, Kamilah glanced back at the sofa, illuminated by the sole lamp on the end table. Ana had leaned forward, elbows on knees, her face buried in both hands. For a moment, Kamilah thought she was crying, but there was no sound, and Ana's body was deathly still. Kamilah grappled with the uncertainty, then forced her feet to bring her upwards – knowing well that Ana would not divulge any details if she asked. Not that she believed Ana would confide in her anyway, not if she still…
Kamilah thought about the way Ana had hidden that part of her face from her wife, the reluctance to share whatever troubled her. No, Ana would never talk – not even to Kamilah.
Dawn had barely broken over the horizon when Ana slipped out of the house, leaving a note for Kamilah so she wouldn't worry about Ana's absence. Truth be told, Ana had no destination in mind when she'd left with a jacket and a small bag slung over her shoulders. All she needed was some air, to be free of a roof which threatened to choke her with its promise of comfort and safety when her heart felt anything but. Her walk through the neighbourhood was quiet, and only when she'd reached the city, with the sun already risen in the sky, did she get a few disinterested glances from passers-by hurrying to their regular 9-to-5 jobs. How boring, Ana mused, and how blessedly uninteresting such a life must be. To have an occupation where life-and-death wasn't a constant concern, and didn't leave one with nightmares that deprived its victims of sleep.
Ana found a small coffee shop tucked away in the corner of a quiet street, and bought herself a bite and a cup full of caffeine to wake her up, while the other patrons gulped their brews and rushed off to join the morning traffic. She added one teaspoon of sugar to her coffee, relishing its bitter and faintly sweet tang on her tongue, as she sighed and leaned back in her chair. Looking out the window, she took comfort in the mundane around her, a sort of safety blanket which told her tense nerves that it was okay to relax. That its worries were all but a dream.
She snorted. Just a dream. If only.
She was revisited last night by that one fateful moment which had shattered her life into pieces, and bled her with its shards every day after. She'd relived every damned second of that encounter – the surprise at the sniper's identity, the torturous pain of the explosion and fire in her eye, which fortunately dissipated into nothing when she'd jerked awake. As it always had, shame and regret flooded her first, chiding her for hesitating at such a critical juncture. Then anger, as that hidden part of her simmered with a need for revenge, a push to find answers she hadn't been able to dig up despite a year's worth of searching. But practiced patience and rationalising calmed her down, Ana knowing full well that rushing the matter would yield nothing but more headaches, frustration, and unnecessary injury. It was a fact difficult to accept, but having enough practice helped put out that anger-borne fire, and turn her mind somewhere less…harsh.
Ana exhaled the tension in her next breath, and focused on the aftermath of the dream, when Kamilah had come down for her, despite her expectations to the contrary. A smile briefly curled her lips, touched that Kamilah still cared – then she realised it was more likely that she had alarmed Kamilah with an outburst in the middle of the night. She'd nearly looked to Kamilah for help then, and only turned away at the last minute to hide the scars around her eye. Even with her hand covering her face, she'd felt exposed under Kamilah's gaze like that – having her vulnerability dragged into the open by one moment of panic. She hated it – hated the shame she still felt; Ana had thought she'd already accepted the wound, but it seemed her assumption had only been skin-deep.
Of course it was – her heart still burnt for revenge at this irreversible scarring. But she'd been thrown off guard in her knee-jerk reaction to keep her right eye hidden from Kamilah, as if it would prove just how far she'd fallen, just how much she'd broken. She was so used to being the strong, invincible figure, so drunk on the idea of being the protector that she recoiled from the idea of being perceived as a beaten-down guardian. A failure. Because damn it all – that is what she'd been reduced to, what all of Overwatch had been reduced to in its collapse. One big, catastrophic failure.
She sighed, reaching up to worry at the eye patch. Does she want me back? Even I wouldn't want me back. She thought back to the night before, to Kamilah, who'd come to her side even when there were so many things to be said, to be set right.
She deserves better.
Ana shook her head, then took another sip of coffee. Her eye roved over the coffee shop, which had cleared out somewhat, and let the sight settle her own heart. Times like these, she wished Jack was with her. Sure, Ana was the one who knocked Jack to his senses most of the time, but the old grump would also return the favour now and again. Two old, fallen heroes who would give each other a kick in the rear whenever they fell into themselves, moping over a golden age lost, and all the chances they'd wasted.
She swirled her spoon aimlessly in the cup of black coffee, mulling over her thoughts as they drifted slowly into that calm, factual note. There was no use brooding over all that was past and gone, was there? All that was left, was to set things right.
After a long breakfast supplemented by an additional cup of tea, Ana left the coffee shop with a clearer mind, munching on biscuits the shop owner had offered for free. Deciding to have the day to herself – and that Kamilah would appreciate some time alone anyway – Ana wandered the city, soaking in the sights which had changed much while her gaze had been fixed elsewhere, on more pressing situations around the globe. She visited well-trodden walking trails and favourite haunts, patronising old shops as an unfamiliar face, and trying out the new as a method of passing the time. She relished these moments when she was just another face in the crowd – it was a perspective from the ground which the untouchable Captain Amari had nearly lost touch with, the longer she'd stayed in their headquarters. It was good to have a look at all these normal faces on the streets – and not just those on the battlefield, one second before she'd send them to a better place.
She strolled for a good long distance, then took temporary refuge in the abandoned Overwatch safehouse, noting that the supplies she'd packed for Jack were still uncollected. She wondered briefly at his delay, then realised he might be waiting for the all-clear from her – she made a mental note to prod him on soon. The rest of her day – and night – was spent in the safehouse, going through the old datafiles stored in the mission computer, and any handwritten notes other agents had left behind for their comrades who'd come after. She transferred all the data into her holopad, took down some of the more important notes, and settled the safehouse's inventory for future use. Only then did she leave the secret den and step out into the street, under the cover of the night sky.
When she returned home, all the lights were off, save for the upper floor's corridor and the master bedroom. Ana dropped her bag and popped into the bathroom for a shower, her body feeling rather light indeed from the day out. And when she went back to the sofa, she noticed for the first time the purple dragon plush sitting among the cushions. Ana smiled, heart soft as she took the dragon in her hands. Good old Fart was still kept in good condition, and there was little hint to give away its true age. Ana had tried to find it around the house since she'd returned, but hadn't any luck. She'd assumed the family must've kept it away, or disposed of it…
She hugged the dragon to her chest, feeling that soft, immeasurable tinge of comfort it had always brought. The only thing which made her happier in that moment, was knowing Kamilah had placed it there.
Ana looked much better after her day out, Kamilah noticed. Not that she had any choice, what with the bright smile from her wife as Ana laid out a plate of breakfast for her. Surely anything would've looked better than that guarded, forlorn manner of Ana's on the night she'd woken from a nightmare, and Kamilah was happy enough to accept this change. Ana had always been this indomitable, fierce figure in her life, and it just wasn't right to have seen her so downtrodden. Though she knew Ana hid her troubles beneath that blithe façade – as she always had – at least it hadn't kicked the wind out of her.
Perhaps it was this change, and the relief it brought to Kamilah, that she was more amenable to having Ana join her in the backyard, accepting the cup of freshly-brewed tea Ana offered. While Kamilah lounged on a bench in their small porch, Ana settled on the floor right in front of the door, where she would be hidden from sight by the fences, even if their neighbours went into their backyards as well.
They sipped tea in silence for a long while, the normalcy of it all starting to settle over them, and Kamilah spoke quietly.
"Where have you been all this time?"
Ana looked at her quietly, as if surprised that she even spoke, but she smoothed over the gap with a soft chuckle. So Ana told her tale – she'd been in Egypt for a while now, traveling from city to city, though she'd 'sort of' put up in Giza as her main place of stay. When Kamilah mentioned that was where Fareeha worked most of the time, Ana merely nodded, and she wondered if Ana already knew. The more Ana spoke, the more Kamilah wondered, and the more frustrated she felt – Ana was purposefully vague on the details of her life, speaking names of places she'd passed through, but the most detail she gave on her activities was 'this and that' and 'odd jobs'.
It reminded Kamilah unpleasantly of the days when Ana was still in Overwatch, when the Captain wouldn't tell her anything either, just that Ana was doing her job. Kamilah thought she'd understood Ana the least during those golden years of Overwatch, and she was getting a taste of that, all over again. Her old, buried temper threatened to rise again, but Kamilah wrestled it down – she wanted to leave it alone for now. She wasn't prepared for a confrontation just yet.
Even so, Kamilah's already sparse questions disappeared into thin air, having hit the wall of information Ana was determined to keep secret. So it was Ana's turn to ask the questions, and Kamilah found herself thrown into Ana's position. She glossed over the details of her grief and depression – Ana had been the cause of it all, and Kamilah was loath to share that just yet. So she turned her focus to other, happier things – the people who'd banded together to pull her through that dark time. Fareeha and the family taking turns to care for her, to ensure she was fed well and driven to regular sessions with her counsellor. The old squad who would drop by often, burdened with too much free time in their retirement, and brightening the house with stories of their heroics during the Omnic Crisis, of the shenanigans they'd encountered in the army during the years after, and of their children who had grown and were making lives of their own. They'd even carried on their D&D sessions, sharing a hobby that ensured regular meet-ups among this band of retired folk.
Without her knowing, these happy memories brought a smile to her lips, while Ana laughed softly beside her as she told of their antics. Never had she been so grateful to have around her this loyal and loving bunch of idiots – as she still called them – who'd come to offer aid when she'd needed it most. And all of this, ironically, had been given to her by the very person who had left her with pain in the first place…
The smile fell from her lips, when Kamilah remembered where she was. She turned and caught Ana's eye, and was struck for a long moment by the fondness with which Ana gazed at her. It was quieter than the fierce adoration Ana had held in their youth, but just as strong – and it was obvious Ana had been focusing on her all along.
Kamilah's throat went dry, her hands turning weak around the cup she held. Tightening her grip on the warm cup, Kamilah wrenched her gaze away, and took a long draught of tea. An old wound, deep in her chest, was starting to reopen, and Kamilah stood before her heart could spill out.
Ana rose to her feet as well, and opened the door in anticipation. Kamilah glanced at her briefly, both resentment and gratitude clashing together in an incoherent mess, and she settled for a curt nod before disappearing into the house.