Lifting weights had become part of Fareeha "Pharah" Amari's daily routine every since she joined Helix Security International. While in the army, she would do it often, but back then stamina was a higher priority than raw strength. That changed due to one simple fact: the Raptora suit. There were few people in Helix that could bare the strain of such a suit for hours at a time, even days if it was necessary. Those that could had all been put into a squad to test out the newly acquired Raptora Mark VI's capabilities. The suits were heavy, much more than Pharah expected. She remembered some Overwatch members using earlier versions of the suit for combat, and thinking that they couldn't be that heavy or bulky given how easy they made it seem to use. And maybe that was true for earlier versions of the advance-mobility suits, but this version wasn't the case. Not that it mattered. No matter how difficult the challenge was, being able to soar through the sky aided only by a suit was an unbeatable experience that made all the work she put into being able to use one worth it.

But to wear such a suit, one would need to have the muscle to lug around about thirty kilos of equipment, despite the suit being made of state of the art alloy that reduced its weight to a minimum without compromising sturdiness. And so, the young Egyptian woman trained her body daily with the rest of her squad under Captain Khalil's insistence. Personally, she would've preferred to be left alone. Training was something that always helped her clear her mind, but with so many people around chatting away instead of focusing on what they were doing, it wasn't possible for her to do that. The only one that seemed to understand her, however ironic, was the Captain, who made sure to pair up with her whenever she needed a spotter on the weights.

That understanding didn't stop him from insisting that she should interact more with her squadmates and pushing his views onto her. At least once a day, he would bring up the subject. Pharah talked with them, she insisted. He would go on about how keeping it professional at all times wasn't healthy, as it could damage the bonds squadmates were suppose to have between them. She always rolled her eyes at that. If she'd learned anything from observing Overwatch agents throughout her life it was that even those closest to you could die, no matter what you did. Or worse, they could betray you… Why risk that? If she was faced with deciding between the mission and a squadmate, she would always choose the mission. And if someone betrayed them? Well, they all knew she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

The Captain shook his head at her response as he helped her set the weights back down and she sat up on the bench, her body drenched in her own sweat; a good sign that she'd put in the effort necessary for the day and that she should end it there. "Your mother knew better than that, Fareeha," he insisted as he showed her his back. She glared at him, prepared to accuse him of not knowing anything about her mother, which was true. However, she didn't get a chance. "Hit the showers and then see if you can find Okoro. He has no excuse to skip out on training because he's an omnic. Dismissed."

Pharah restrained herself from clicking her tongue. No matter which way she looked at it, Okoro had the only excuse that mattered. Omnics didn't grow stronger from training their bodies as humans did. She wouldn't say that to the Captain, though. Instead, she stood up and saluted her superior before walking away towards the locker room without saying a word. To her pleasure, the place was empty when she got there. Neatly leaving her clothes on a pile, she took a cold shower to get rid of all the sweat on her. She wouldn't bother with washing her hair seeing as she would likely want to take a bath back home. Putting the Helix uniform that every soldier was required to wear, she left the facilities in search of Okoro. The omnic wasn't one to wander around. She knew it well enough to know exactly where it would be.

As she walked through the hallways of the facilities, she noticed some of her peers making their ways around too. Some of them, like her, walked alone. Others did so while chatting with coworkers or discussing more serious topics, as was to be expected of members of the R&D staff. Nothing out of the ordinary there. It certainly reminded her of the busy halls of the different Watchpoints she'd visited throughout her life. The only difference was that she did not smile or wave at those faces she recognized. She didn't even acknowledge them. Those days were over.

Much like she'd suspected, Pharah found the omnic in the squad's shared office space. What did surprise her was it holding a picture frame, studying the image intently. She had to do a double take to make sense of just who that picture frame belonged to. Stamping, she made her way to the omnic, who still hadn't acknowledged her presence. Before it could turn, she snatched the frame from its hands, fuming. This was the exact reason why she didn't keep anything too personal on her desk to begin with. As soon as she brought something, someone felt like they had a right to know all about her life.

"Gunnery Sergeant," Okoro said respectfully as it turned to face her, thought she'd already turned her back to it, only looking back at it from the corner of her eye. "My apologies. I did not mean to cross a line. Curiosity got the best of me."

"How can an omnic feel curiosity?" It was a rhetorical question, but Okoro didn't figure that part out, despite its alleged learning algorithm and processing.

"It is part of our core programming that allows for our own growth, Gunnery Sergeant. It provides my kind with many learning experiences, much like humans do during their infancy." The aperture on its single optic shrank as it followed her every movement. The top drawer of her desk was flung open before she shoved the picture in there and closed it back again. "Where you close with Strike-Commander Jack Morrison, Gunnery Sergeant?"

Her eyes flicker up to its optic, which widened in response. Not only did it feel curious enough to pick up something that belonged to her, but now he was asking about her personal life like they were close enough for it to be casual. "My private life is just that. Private. I don't want to see you snooping around my things again, is that understood?"

"Understood, Gunnery Sergeant. Once more, allow me to apolo—"

"The Captain wants to speak with you. He sent me to look for you. I wouldn't keep him waiting. It would reflect badly on both of us."

The omnic gave a stiff salute before walking to the door, but before he could open it, it turned back to face her again. Pharah narrowed her eyes. Her words had been clear. She would expect a stupid question like "where can I find him?" from one of the other recruits, but not from Okoro. Instead, it took a step back in her direction, pulling out an envelope and laying it on her desk. "I was told to leave this on your desk, Gunnery Sergeant. I will take my leave now, in case you wish to read the contents in private."

Pharah didn't make a move for the envelope until a whole minute had passed since Okoro left the shared office. Who still sent letters to people anymore? Other than trashmail and some bills, snailmail was rare in Egypt. For a letter to make its way to her through Helix instead of being sent to her home was suspicious too. She thought about shredding the damn thing and forget all about it. Had something important been written on it, she would've received an email instead. Then again, the letter didn't seem like it was trash either. There were stamps from all over the world showing where the letter had been before reaching her. Germany, Turkey, Russia, Venezuela, Argentina, Japan, Israel, and finally Egypt, not in that order, though. The dates that were written on the stamps had faded out. She would give it a read later, if at all.

Opening her drawer back up, she noticed the frame face down in there. She set the envelope to a side, picking up the frame instead. Compared to her, everyone else in her squad had decked out their desks with personal paraphernalia, from gear, pictures of friends and families and posters (there was a poster of Reinhardt hanging from a wall that reminded her of the one she had in her room when she was younger), to small Japanese figurines and collectibles. If someone came in that didn't know the squad, they would think her desk was vacant given how plain it was. Pharah always prefered to keep her working space in pristine condition, keeping things clean and out of the way. That is until her Nan gave her the picture she was now holding, telling her that she should keep it with her. It was a thoughtful present, but it didn't feel right to take it, let alone bring it to Helix of all places. It was one of Nan's precious possessions, as she liked to call her old photos kept in the many albums she brought with her when she moved. On the other hand, Pops called it a picture and memory. "We can always print another copy," he said.

The picture in question was one from her early childhood. She took another glance at the picture, letting a smile grow on her. A younger version of herself laughed as she was carried on the shoulders of the renown Jack Morrison. Or should it be infamous? With how he'd been portrayed after his death, it certainly felt like no one cared about him anymore. Jack was smiling up at her, his hands trying to keep her steady while she leaned on his head. Her mother stood with them, also smiling up at Fareeha, her hands on her hips. She could see some of the others on the background. As she recalled it, Reinhardt, Gabriel, and Gerard were in the middle of an eating competition when the photo was taken, which explained why the three men were stuffing their faces in the picture. It was a nice picture… Except, the only ones still alive were Reinhardt and herself. A nice memory turned sour. She counted herself lucky, after all, she could've died in Zurich too...

I should've stopped him from going. She never would've thought that it would be the last time she would see so many friends. They were supposed to meet with Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Angela, and Gabriel to celebrate her advancement in the army and possibility of joining Overwatch. Instead, she waited alone at the restaurant with the Crusader until they heard the explosion…

Pharah was tempted to stash the picture away like she did most of her memories. If Mrs. Morrison asked about the picture, Pharah could always lie about it. It wasn't as if anyone was allowed to visit Helix facilities. No one would know. She took the picture out of the frame and placed it safely in the inner pocket of her jacket, storing the empty frame in the drawer before locking it.

Her eyes went to the letter once more. She was still curious about it. Lifting the envelope carefully, she examined it once more, taking in every minute detail. If it made it past the screening, there wouldn't be any pathogens in there that could harm her. Still, the letter felt heavy and thick. Whatever there was inside, there was a lot of it. Again, she pondered about putting it through the shredder. The only people she cared about anymore knew how to best contact her. A letter?

There wasn't a letter opener on her desk—it wouldn't see any use if she did have one—so she resorted to her pocket knife instead. Tearing one of the sides, she pulled out the contents of the envelope. As she first guessed, there was a lot in it. There were two smaller envelopes and several pages worth of writing that she could see. The envelopes were labeled, one with a square and the other with a '76' written on it. Below each label was text telling her to read the letter first. She would amuse the writer for the time being.

My beloved Fareeha,

Immediately, Pharah dropped the paper like it was a piece of smoldering steel. Her heart was racing and she felt her hands shaking. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd seen that handwriting before many times during her life. Not only that, the way the letter was addressed and the dialect of Arabic used made the list of possible senders rather short. Really, there was only one person that came to her mind, and yet, that couldn't be. That person was dead. They'd been for years. Maybe she's not. She quickly silenced the thought. That was ridiculous. Wishful thinking from the little girl in the picture that cried herself to sleep during those long and lonely nights, not from Pharah. An old letter that would reach me after certain time. A deadman's switch? Plausible, but unlikely given that she joined Helix sometime after the fall of Overwatch. Someone is trying to trick me.

Reaching out for the letter, she continued reading.

It is every parent's wish to give their children a better life than they had. When you were born, I firmly believed that to be the case. The Omnic Crisis was over, and the world, united, entered an era of peace. Or at least that was what we thought at the time. The Omnics were defeated, but when a common enemy no longer exists, the world creates new monsters to war against. As a soldier, I knew that I had to keep my family safe. I stayed and fought as part of Overwatch, knowing that it was to provide you with a better future.

Protecting the ones I loved had always been important to me. After years of fighting together, my comrades-in-arms became my family, and I loved each and every one of them. And I taught you to do the same, despite not wanting you to go down the same path I did.

The sender of the letter was becoming clearer the longer she read and that made her stomach churn. Most people mistakenly assumed that she didn't have a challenge joining the military. Her life's goal was to join the ranks of Overwatch, and yet, there was always one constant obstacle… She read on.

Overwatch was as much your family as it was mine. Reinhardt filled your head with stories of honor, justice, and glory of the battlefield. Reyes helped me teach you how to use your body as a weapon. Torbjorn made your mind sharp with regards of machinery. Jack made you smile as he carried you on his shoulders, always willing to give you advice whenever you asked. There are many others I could mention, but you will remember them better than I can. Perhaps because of this, you felt that you had to join them in their fight. But that was not the future I had fought to protect. I wanted for you to live a life of peace, not fight for it, for that was my burden to carry, not yours.

"Sarge?" Pharah lifted her eyes to see that Aizad, Tariq, and Saleh were in the room with her. She'd been so focused on the letter, her heart thumping harder than a boot on a march that she didn't register the sound of the door opening at all. To make matters worse, she knew that they'd seen what she was reading and the expression she was making because of it. They all looked between amazed and worried at her. Finally, Aizad spoke up again. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," she snapped back, leaving no room for argument. She hurriedly picked up the letter and everything else, stuffing it inside her jacket before going for the door. Luckily for her, she was a few minutes behind her usual schedule. She was supposed to be gone before anyone else got back to the office. This gave her an excuse to not discuss anything with them as the trio just moved aside when she hurried past them. If anyone tried to stop her, she didn't notice at all, nor did she care.

It took her a good twenty minutes to leave the building and find a cab to take her back home. The driver was an omnic, thankfully. For situations like these, Pharah always preferred omnics over humans. It was rare for an omnic driver to initiate chit-chat. Yes, the silence was better—it gave her time she needed to think about what she should do. She'd brought the letter with her, and it was starting to burn a hole in her jacket, figuratively speaking. Taking another glance at the omnic to make sure it wouldn't try peeking at her, she took out the letter again to resume reading.

Taking the life of another isn't something to be taken lightly. Even knowing that I was killing to protect those important to me, it didn't stop me from wondering what those that I killed fought for. We are always doing good in our own eyes. To them, we were the evil ones, trying to disrupt their goals or their own picture of peace. They were men and women with families of their own. They were someone's sibling. Someone's child. Someone's parent. And each time I pulled the trigger and later made a notch on my rifle, that's what I would think about. It was suffocating to do so at times, especially when recruits asked how many notches I'd put on my rifle, but nonetheless, I always did what was asked of me… Until the day I hesitated, and my family paid the price.

The people whom I was supposed to protect were killed one by one. Before I knew it, when I tried to take the shot again, it was too late. Jack ordered me to retreat, but I was stubborn. This stubbornness had a cost. The lives of many are worth more than the lives of a few. Overwatch abandoned me as much I did them. My decision left me gravely wounded. Broken and alone.

I'd finally reached a point where there was no more fight left in me. The burden became too great for me to handle. The world believed that I was dead, and I did nothing to rectify it. I told myself that it was for the best. I wouldn't need to kill anymore—to break families apart and the world was already turning against us. It was time for me to taste the fruits of our work, to set down my rifle, and try to live in the peace we brought to this world, even if it was alone, away from everyone I loved. I lost so much in my life. I couldn't let it go to waste.

Pharah clenched the paper hard enough that it started wrinkling and even tear. If she knew that the world was already going against Overwatch, why go into hiding? She called Overwatch her family, but when push came to shove, she left them get eaten by the wolves. Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Angela, and Jack. They all tried their best to keep things from falling apart. Had she been there… Had she helped… How many people would still live? Would Zurich had happened? Jack and Gabriel always listened to her. She could've brought an end to things before they got out of control. Selfish. Pharah felt disgusted by it all. She was tempted to throw the letter out the window and forget she ever received it, but she was nowhere near done with it. She wanted an explanation, but it would have to wait, as her eyes connected with the driver's through the rear-view mirror.

"Is everything okay, dear customer?"

"Here's far enough." The cab came to a stop on the side of the road. Pharah collected the letter before taking out her credit chip and swiping it on the holoscreen in front of her seat. The charge was confirmed, and she took off before the omnic had a chance to thank her. She was close to home now. Nan and Pops sent her a message earlier in the day saying that they would be coming back late, which meant that Pharah had some time to read through the letter before they arrived; enough time to hide it away. Hopefully by then, her anger would have subsided and they wouldn't noticed that something was off with her.

Much like her desk, Pharah's home had once been clean of anything that gave it a personality. Helix provided the place for her as part of her contract. The place was also furnished by Helix so that she would be able to start working as soon as she relocated. That all changed when the Morrisons came to live with her. There was definitely a more homely feel to the place in its present state. It was nice. It reminded her of those times Jack would take everyone back to his family home to celebrate the end of the Omnic Crisis or whatever other excuse he had to get them all together. The Morrisons were always happy to host them all, going as far as providing them all with a place to stay, even if their own son was forced to sleep in the barn to let little Fareeha and her mother take his old bedroom. She once snuck out in the middle of the night to go find him. He told her all about growing up in the farm and other things that she would've never known otherwise. To think such an important figure would have such a humble beginning…

Pharah found herself in the modern kitchen, sitting on the table, a flower vase on it serving as decoration. She would've taken over her own desk, but Pops was working on a small scale model of some kind on it. She rathered not disturb the working area. Besides, she was able to pour herself some of the coffee that was ready for her on the coffee maker. There was even a note, telling her that she shouldn't drink too much otherwise she wouldn't be able to sleep. Despite it all, they still treated her like that little girl that visited the farm. It gave her a warm feeling, even if she did roll her eyes at the notes most of the time. Something told her the coffee wouldn't be guilty for her staying up at night this time around.

Decades of combat meant that I had to bury many friends. I saw both young and old fight side by side, eat with one another, and be laid to rest as equals day in and day out. I buried those close to me myself. I thought I would grow past the need to do so… I was wrong. When the incident in Zürich happened, I knew I couldn't stand idle and let them bury an empty casket. Not again. Not for Jack.

Pharah set down her cup, reading over the line a few more times. She wasn't blind. She knew that there was something going on between her and the Commander. Most people close to the two of them knew about it, but never said a word out loud. It was like Overwatch's little secret, one which, if it'd gotten out, would have ended the careers of the couple. Whoever sent the letter…

I left my sanctuary, and with some help, entered Switzerland undetected. I never thought I would see the day that what was once my home would be reduced to rubble. It was a shock. More so when I didn't see any work being done to recover the agents still trapped underneath it all. Your father often called me stubborn, and it was that stubbornness that made me search through what little remained of my home in search for Jack.

Her eyes were glued to a single word. ...father... Pharah knew nothing about her father. She suspected a few people of being her father, but they vanished over time for one reason or another, never giving her a chance to ask them directly to confirm her suspicions. She would never mention her father. Not once in her life could she think of a time the word had crossed her lips. So if this letter was from who Pharah thought it was from, why would she mention him now?

My friend and I, we searched for days, slowly working our way down to the lower sectors. I was forced to wear a hazmat suit at some point, which made me sluggish and slow, but still I searched. I wasn't sure what I would find, or even if I would find anything at all. How could I do what so many failed to do before me? I knew him better than anyone else. I told myself that I would be able to find him. But as time went on and we kept coming up empty handed, I was losing hope. That is, until my companion noticed something. We searched for the source, but saw nothing more.

Of course they didn't. Jack's body was never found with good reason. What was the point of talking about it now? He was dead. No one would survive for that long in that kind of environment. She knew these things to be facts. The world knew it. But then, why was her heart racing? Why did she feel hope? Maybe...

Just as we were losing hope, I heard someone call out to us. I knew the voice too well. And I followed it to it's source. There, trapped between stones that would've crushed any other man, lying on a pool of his own blood, I saw him. And though it was a herculean task, I could not leave him there to die.

Pharah's breathing became shaky.

Not him.

She had to set down the letter, but she kept reading.

He was a fighter. Always was.

Her mouth felt dry, but she only had coffee with her.

If there was anyone that could survive through it all, it was Jack. After all, he was made out leader for a reason.

Not even water would make her feel better.

He always refused to die.

There was no way! It was impossible to survive through it all! They all knew it!

Jack was alive. Jack is alive.

If she hadn't been sitting already, her knees would have buckled under her.

We both are. But the world thinks us dead. Our watch is over.

Her brain was telling her to stop reading. It could all be some kind of sick, cruel joke—

Growing up, you often asked about your father. And though you eventually stopped asking, those question were soon replaced by harder ones. I blamed myself for it. We thought we were careful when we were together, but you saw us share a moment none other had since the end of the Omnic Crisis. You asked me if Jack was your father and if the three of us would be a family then. It was something I was not prepared to answer at the time. But now I think you deserve to know the truth...

I have many other things I want to say to you, but I know you too well. You will doubt what's written on here without more proof. I've prepared something that will convince you. Open the smaller envelope, the one marked with a square. Maybe then you will be convinced.

With Love,

Your mother, Ana

A gentle squeeze of her shoulder was what snapped her out of her stupor. Her head snapped back as her breathing hitched and she quickly relaxed when she saw that it was Nan, with Pops setting down brown paper bag full of groceries on the table.

"Are you alright, dear?" Nan asked, looking at the soldier with concern. The older woman turned to her husband. "Honey, I think she could use your hankey."

Only then did Pharah realize that something was rolling down her cheeks. It confused her when she noticed they were tears. It had been years since she last cried. To think a simple letter that could still be nothing but a falsification would push her to that point was an embarrassment. She took the handkerchief offered to her and wiped them away before they could threaten to fall. She wanted to explain why she was like that, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth. Trying again ended in the same result. The Morrisons looked at her even more concerned now. What could she do? Her eyes turned to the small envelope that laid sealed on the table. With a shaking hand, she opened it. Photos. The three of them gasped.

A picture of Jack hooked up to half a dozen machines while he was lying in bed, his eyes bandaged.

Another one, but this time there weren't as many machine, and he was awake. A familiar looking figure was removing his bandages, revealing a pair of glowing eyes.

The next showed Jack in shorts, walking with the help of a short omnic and a girl that couldn't be older than twenty. He looked uncomfortable, but didn't look like he could fight it. But more importantly, Jack wore early 21st century prosthetics on both legs.

Jack meditating with an omnic.

One that made it seem like he was bossing people around while humans and alike omnics ran around in the background.

There were so many pictures that none of the three that looked at them could look away…

Then came the pictures of her

Ana, who now wore an eye-patch over her right eye, pushing Jack in a wheelchair.

The two of them laughing as they sat with the same omnic monk that Jack had been meditating with.

The second to last picture showed a gathering of a dozen people. At the center of it was Jack, who held Ana Amari to his side by her waist. At their feet, names were written in pen. "76" was under Jack. "Janina" under Pharah's mother. To each side of them stood two omnic. Pharah recognized one of them as the spiritual leader of the Shambali, Mondatta. Zenyatta was the name of the other one. Behind them was an Omnic Crisis Bastion unit with the name over its head simply being Bastion, a small bird on its shoulder. Then there was another surprise. An unmasked Genji crouched near Zenyatta, a smirk on his exposed face.

"My boy is alive…?" The broken voice of Pops echoed in the kitchen. Now it was him who needed the handkerchief, but it seemed like he wasn't the only one as both Nan and Fareeha herself were shedding tears as they tried to laugh. Fareeha stood up and enveloped the old couple in a hug, feeling a mixture of happiness and relief overtaking her.

The very last picture laid on the table. A selfie of Jack and Ana smiling at the camera, their cheeks touching. Underneath it, there was a text that read: "With love, Mom + Dad."