[Dude where are you]
[If you're back at work again I swear I will kick your ass]
Dick: [Ugh chill]
Dick: [You're worse than an overbearing wife]
[Right. Cos you know how those are like]
Dick: [You're giving me a taste rn]
Dick: Photo
Ana smiled, amused at the photo of a shawarma bun held in Jack's hand, with big bites taken out of it. This was one of Jack's favourite street foods, and Ana liked to tease him for gravitating towards something that most resembled a burger. His first few reactions had been flushed cheeks and downturned eyes while he stuffed the bun into his mouth, accepting the packet of ketchup Ana shoved into his free hand. Nowadays though, he'd just grumble into his food and roll his eyes, unaffected by his partner's teasing. She could hear the low rumble of his growl then, as if he were still beside her.
Biting down a sigh and self-directed chide for still mentally living in the Necropolis, Ana tapped a reply.
[I knew that's what you'd eat, you American]
Dick: [I am American and I reserve the right to miss a good ol' burger]
Dick: [Bet your wife could make a better one than this tho]
Dick: [How's the family by the way? Give them my regards]
[Haha. Very funny. Dick]
Dick: [I hate that nickname]
[No? It fits you very well tho]
Dick: [Ugh]
[What are your plans? Flying home soon?]
Dick: [...I don't know]
[Richard.]
[Come on. Don't you miss a good old steakburger]
Dick: [Dammit]
[Haha. Gotcha]
Dick: [Ugh don't you have better things to do. Like annoy your wife and kid]
[I have plenty of time to do that after I'm done with you]
Dick: [Wtv. Night]
[Hey why won't you pick up some fries with that]
Dick: [I have a figure to keep]
Dick: :rolleyes:
Ana snorted, then tossed the cheap throwaway phone onto the nightstand, leaning back against the bed she sat beside. She drew a deep breath, and focused with her next exhale, giving thanks that she was back in her comfortable, gently-scented home, instead of the spartan, musty quarters of Necropolis. She glanced at the window near the foot of the bed, curtains drawn so moonlight streamed freely over the room.
Too comfortable, Ana thought drily, getting to her feet with a pop in her right knee. And exposed.
Despite an ingrained instinct to shut the windows, Ana merely pulled the curtains together, casting the room in shadow. Then she laid in the soft bed, pulling the covers over her body, eye fixed on the window before she turned her gaze up to the ceiling. All was quiet, though she could hear the faint notes of Fareeha strumming her acoustic guitar next door. She was glad for the soft music – it would've been too quiet otherwise, and it served as a concrete reminder that she was home. Though she would've preferred to be in her own bed, the guest room gave her some proximity to her daughter, at least.
A huff pushed past her lips. Assigned to the guest room in her own home. Her past self would never have expected this, and probably would've feared to screw up so badly that she'd end up here. After all, despite her wife's numerous threats, Ana was never kicked out of bed once. This was...something, alright. And Ana preferred to think of it as a positive, since a room was much better than curling up on the sofa like some stray cat.
Though a stray cat would be more welcome than me.
Ana groaned deep in her throat, turned onto her side to face the wall to distract herself, then rolled onto her back again when that exposed feeling returned. Heaving another sigh, Ana bunched the blanket under her fingers, feeling its soft and fluffy texture.
She wasn't even accustomed to the feel of home, damn it all. It'd been a week since Ana had moved back, but she still felt like she didn't belong. Like she was a new tenant adjusting to her surroundings. With some work, perhaps this feeling would go away soon.
Hopefully sooner than later, she thought drily, and finally allowed her eyelids to fall shut.
Mornings brought her the most tranquility, Ana found. Due mostly to her sleepy haze, Ana would shuffle blearily to the washroom, finding joy in warm showers and clean waters, being able to pat her face down with a thick towel. The bright lights illuminated more lines on her face than Necropolis' dim lamps, though Ana could only laugh at her own appearance. Perhaps not peering closely at her own features had enabled her fantasy of fighting forever – she did feel as fit as her younger self, after all. And she had a kill – and knock-out – count to back her confidence. Was this what fed into her self-delusion? That she and Jack alone could avert some future crisis they didn't even know of?
And that was when her peace of mind would start to crumble – with the reminder that her glory days were over, as she trudged back to the guest room. Her eye would drift to the wardrobe where her safe was hidden – along with the two cases of weapons she'd stashed behind it. It had been a morning routine to check her weapons, every single day – a diligence that paid off in the field. But that was one place she would never enter again. She'd promised. And she would keep it. Habit made her hands twitch, but Ana curled her fingers into fists, squeezing once to wring the itch from her nerves, then relaxed.
You're a civilian now. A fit, combat-trained civilian, but still.
The world wasn't her concern now. Her family was her priority. And if anyone threatened her family, she would be ready to leap to their defense. Only if, and only then.
Rolling her shoulders, and steeling herself for yet another day full of awkwardly normal interaction with the family, Ana headed down to the kitchen.
Fareeha was leaning against the counter, already done with breakfast and sipping on a mug of coffee, when Ana passed by. To her credit, she didn't falter while speaking as she had in Ana's presence before, and offered a quiet grunt in response to Ana's greeting before resuming her conversation with her mother.
"The hoverbike's up for servicing today, though. I'll ride it along to the supermarket, then nip away to the shop."
"I don't need you hovering over me, dear. I can drive to the market by myself," Kamilah replied, gesturing at the pot on the stove after a glance at Ana.
"Oh, I'm sure you can do that. And also bump up the kerb. Maybe run over some traffic cones."
Ana bit her lip as she lifted the pot of oats from the stove, and reached for a spoon in a drawer.
"Please, you make me sound like some hopeless driver," Kamilah scoffed as Ana joined her at the table. "I only ran a red light last week."
"Right. Like the kerb and cones thing never happened. Ever. And you've never terrorised a traffic warden ever in your life."
"I still maintain that he deserved it." Kamilah sniffed, as Ana broke into a quiet laugh beside her. "And he was a wimp."
"I'll drive mama to the market, and you can bring the bike to the shop," Ana broke in. "How's that?"
Fareeha paused a fleeting moment – she was getting better at this – then replied while striding out of the kitchen. "Fine."
Ana waited until Fareeha was out of earshot, then drawled, "You know, this is the longest we've been civil to each other. I'm quite impressed."
"It's a start," Kamilah said flatly. She sipped at her coffee – black as night. Ana wondered if there was any sugar in there; though glancing at the faint shadows beneath Kamilah's eyes, there probably wasn't.
"Sleep well?" Ana asked casually.
"No."
"Why not."
"Thinking."
"Hm. I suppose you do have to think for two, now that I'm back."
That drew a small smile from Kamilah. "What's new?"
"Well, I did practice this 'thinking' thing over the years. I can help if you'd like to share them with me."
Kamilah stared at her, expression placid, before she lowered her gaze to the cup in her hands. "Not right now."
"Of course," Ana said gently, smiling even though Kamilah wasn't looking.
There were times when Ana cherished silence. In a life where the passage of time was often blurred amid the rattle of gunfire and her heart pounding in her ears, Ana had learnt to hold dear the few chances she could hear nothing, save for the singing of birds and rustling of leaves in the wind. In this supermarket, however, the rattle of shopping carts and hum of fridge display shelves would have to substitute nature's melody. A poor substitute, to be sure, but she'd take them over the silence between herself and Kamilah as they walked down the lanes.
Few silences could discomfit Ana, and this lukewarm quiet with her wife was one of them. It came and went haphazardly – at times, they could carry on well, speaking with smooth rejoinders. At others, they only spoke when necessary. She didn't hold it against Kamilah – she never would – but it twined fear into her anxiety, as if she'd made some misstep that had made Kamilah withdraw.
Then Kamilah turned to meet her gaze, and Ana could finally take a breath, fears forgotten.
"Mind picking up some wheat biscuits? Fareeha wanted two boxes."
"Two? Does she eat them that fast?"
Kamilah shrugged. "Sometimes. I'll find you." With that, she walked ahead and took a turn out of the aisle and Ana's sight.
Sighing quietly, Ana gave herself a mental shake and focused instead on the wonderfully mundane task she'd been given. She rolled her trolley into the biscuit aisle, passing her only eye over the colourful boxes, and spotted one she'd seen at home. She tossed two boxes in, and couldn't resist adding a box of chocolate animal biscuits as well. It'd been a long time since she'd indulged in little things like this.
She wandered through the aisles by herself, slow enough that Kamilah could catch her easily, and she found some enjoyment in noting products she could buy in future grocery runs. How many indulgent items could she throw into the cart to make Kamilah squint at her, she wondered?
The thought kept a smile on her face as she walked, and Ana paused when she caught sight of her expression in a small display of cheaply produced hand mirrors. The handles were made of pastel-coloured plastic, meant more for kids or travel, but that wasn't on her mind at the moment.
Ana stared at her own reflection – Captain Amari had flashed before her eyes for the briefest second, before her visage was replaced by that of a different woman, brought to life by the holo-imager on her wrist. Someone with a thinner face, a patch over one eye, no tattoo under the other, head wrapped in a loose brown hijab. She tried to recall herself – her younger self – but that image could barely stay a moment before Ana was left staring at her holo-mask again. A holo-facade that could never compare.
Just who are you now?
"An–," Kamilah's voice wrenched Ana's attention immediately, and she turned just as Kamilah caught and corrected herself, "–nia."
Despite the hollowness in her chest, Ana chuckled at Kamilah's slip. "It's Sonia, darling," she said under her breath.
Kamilah's eye twitched, though Ana couldn't tell if it's due to the endearment.
"Or you could always use 'amar'. It's easier." Ana dared to go a step further. Anything to distract herself from that disquieting moment. Even Kamilah's anger would be a welcome reprieve.
Kamilah rolled her eyes. "You wish."
Ana laughed it off as Kamilah dropped packets of vegetables in the cart, and though her heart twinged at the reply, she was more than content to resume following Kamilah with the shopping cart. Her eyes flickered to the side, stealing a glance at her wife, as she'd done the whole time.
Simple shopping, Ana reminded herself. Just focus on this, and only this. Catch up on what she hadn't done in a long time. Live in the present with her family, with herself. It was what she should've done ages ago.
One trait Ana had retained through the years – she could never stay still for long outside a sniper's nest. Home life was much more sedate than that of a vigilante's, and while having relative safety was a luxury she's getting used to, she needed something to keep her blood pumping. Naturally, she maintained a daily routine of exercise – jogging around the neighbourhood until she reached the park, took a breather, then put the outdoor gym to use.
She'd taken to having evening runs – partly because Fareeha had claimed mornings for her own exercise, and also Ana didn't want the threat of the sun rising to cook her in her own skin. It never did bother her before, but Ana had taken a leaf out of her sister's book and started pampering herself in little ways. The thought reminded her of the creams she'd bought not long ago, and she had something else to look forward to later.
As the sun dipped into the horizon, casting the park in orange hue, Ana slowed her steady pace to a stop by the pond, and laughed between breaths.
"I thought you were happy getting soft and everything?"
Safiya shot Ana a squint, moving smoothly into the next stretch where she stood by the pond. "Well, look who it is – the deadbeat."
Ana rolled her eyes. "You'll never let that one go, will you?"
"No, because I still hate you for it."
Exhaling in practiced puffs, Ana took her place beside Safiya, standing akimbo. "Join the club."
"I'm the vice president, don't you know?" Safiya raised both arms over her head, and stretched to the left – getting a loud, and no doubt satisfying, pop from her back. "Fareeha's the president."
"What about Milah?"
"She's our sponsor."
"And I'm…"
"The dartboard we use during breaks."
Ana laughed, accepting the gentle punch Safiya aimed at her stomach. "That's fair." She stretched backward, getting a few cracks from her spine as well. "You're here alone?"
"Yeah. Zahra's asleep."
As Safiya exhaled slowly at the end of her stretches, Ana slapped at her stomach. "Man, you really got soft."
"I know. Feels good. You should try it sometime."
Ana sighed, and Safiya picked up on the obvious signal.
"Be glad I'm only hitting you with words. You have no idea how much I wanted to throw you out of the house that night. How much I still want to throw you into this pond right now."
"Yeah." Ana shrugged. "It's just–, I can't get through a simple conversation without getting reminded of what I did."
"Because what you did was pretty fucked up," Safiya replied, though she set a hand on Ana's shoulder – which helped, so much more than Ana expected.
"Yeah." Ana crossed her arms, staring at the pond with her sister.
"You mind if I still kept on the subject?"
"Since we're here," Ana sighed, gesturing for her to continue.
"I've been thinking a lot. Thinking back, trying to remember when you started changing."
"No need to try. I'll tell you – Overwatch."
"No." Safiya shook her head. "No, that's not it. 'Cause I still remember the time when Captain Amari always made the effort to come home. When she'd rush onto a plane just to be there for her family. When she'd wear that blue coat and beret, and make her wife and daughter smile. I can't tell when that changed."
Ana kept quiet in thought. "Does that matter? It happened."
"I know. But I can't help but keep thinking that a well-timed punch to the nose could've put a stop to that."
Ana groaned. "Ugh, quit it."
Safiya snorted, then raised her hands. "Right. Fine."
Ana felt more tired in that moment, and stepped backward until she could fall into the nearest wooden bench. Safiya joined her, the two of them staring at the pond in silence for a long while.
"You became just like mama," Safiya said quietly.
Ana's eye fell shut. The memories were faded now, but she still remembered Zayirah's long absences and rare appearances at home. How she'd resented her mother's attempt to wrestle them into being 'good kids' after staying away for so long, how they'd argued and rebelled against her.
She swallowed, throat tight. "I became worse than her. I should've known better."
Safiya glanced at her. "Not everything is your blame to bear, Ana. Yeah, I'm giving you a lot of shit – I'm sorry. Truth is, we all have our own burdens, and how you dealt with yours is…" Her hands waved in circles as she searched for the words, before she threw them up in defeat. She never was good with words. "Ugh, fuck it. What I'm trying to say is, we all know you're going through some shit now. Back then, even. But you're here now – that's what matters. If you need any help, just tell us, alright? It's difficult right now – for me, even – but we're still family. You remember that much, don't you? Haven't gone senile yet, right?"
"Yeah." Her eyes stung with tears, but not enough to fall – thankfully. Ana sat in silence as Safiya clasped her forearm, giving a squeeze. Then she smiled. "Does this mean you're like papa, then?"
"Ha! Fuck no – I can't do anything in the kitchen worth shit. At least, not anything that can measure up to him anyway." Safiya shrugged.
"You're your own person then."
"So are you." Safiya jabbed a finger at her chest. "You have the chance now, so take it and prove you're different from mama. Or I will punch you – and I'm not joking this time."
Ana snorted a laugh, giving her sister a shove, and stood up with sudden energy. "You know what? Screw it. Why wait? Sparring match – you and me, here. Now."
Safiya clicked her tongue, wearing that crooked grin which resembled Ana's, and cracked her knuckles for show. "Tsk tsk. Seems all that time as Captain Amari has made you forget who can kick your ass."
"I can't forget a list of people that doesn't exist." Ana smirked.
"Well then, I shall be the first person on that list."
Ana hissed quietly as she trudged back into the house with weary legs, prodding at the bruises on her arm. That was hardly the first sparring match the sisters had, but it was the first since their hairs had grown white. And it seemed having an aging body did not go well with latent sibling rivalry that sparked to life the moment one landed the first hit on the other. Though still friendly, their strikes started carrying more weight as minutes went by, and Ana ended up with aching spots all over her body. No doubt Safiya was suffering the same as well.
Stupidity ages like milk, Ana groused. She climbed the stairs to the upper floor, and gave Kamilah only a fleeting glance as they passed.
"Hey, Milah," Ana muttered.
"What happened?"
Oh shit.
Never mind that the hall lights weren't on. Kamilah's eyes had always been sharp, and Ana wasn't surprised when she looked up to find Kamilah frowning at her.
"I–, uh. Just had an...accident–?" Ana said sheepishly, her voice trailing off when Kamilah moved closer, eyes narrowed as she examined the bruise on Ana's cheekbone.
Kamilah's eyes moved down, and she grabbed Ana's wrist, lifting her hand to display the reddened knuckles. "Unless you fell knuckles-first, I don't see how this was an accident."
"Alright, alright. I was sparring. With Safiya. It was friendly, I swear!"
"Sparring?"
"In the park."
"In the park," Kamilah repeated, anger diluted by incredulity. "And of course, without protective gear."
"It was impromptu," Ana mumbled weakly, as Kamilah took her firmly by the arm and led her into the study.
Flicking the lights on, Kamilah pulled Ana into a chair, then held her by the chin.
"I'm fine, Milah. Really." Ana tried to placate her wife, who turned her head side to side, eyes raking over her features like a hawk. She didn't resist when Kamilah set a hand on her arm, squeezing gently and watching for the minute twitches on Ana's face.
Kamilah lifted her arm and pushed back her sleeve, exposing two bruises on the forearm. "Friendly, was it?" Kamilah asked drily.
"You know how we are." Ana shot a tentative smile. "If it helps, I hit her good too."
"No, it does not. And that's not the point," Kamilah growled, prodding gently at her arm. "Does it hurt a lot?"
"No," Ana answered truthfully. "Feels like a bruise, that's all. I'll come to you if there's swelling, or anything is off."
Kamilah pinned her with a disapproving glare, and its familiarity made her heart skip a beat. As Kamilah let go of her arm, Ana clasped her wife's hand without thought, mind blank when Kamilah stared back. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say. No magic phrase to endear herself to Kamilah. Not even a stupid quip to make Kamilah roll her eyes.
"Thank you," Ana said quietly, letting go of her wife's hand.
She fancied that Kamilah's fingers had started to close around hers before she broke contact, but she couldn't quite tell for sure. She was left alone in the chair as Kamilah strode out, wondering if it'd been wishful imagination.
Ana leaned back in her seat, heaving a sigh.
I'm so tired.