One thing for certain, Fareeha preferred night to day while in the Raptora armour. She grew up under the harsh brilliance of the Giza sun and loved it, make no mistake. It watched over her when she fell and scraped her knees, got involved in a street brawl after her friend's honour was insulted. When she bid goodbye to her mother, hands gripping her jacket leathers, wondering how many months would pass before she would return again. In a way, the sun was her guardian. But in the Raptora, it would become the source of a sweltering, sweaty hell that left her suit drenched, and the armour in need of a good clean.
The moon was currently providing a merciful reprieve, making it much more comfortable in the Raptora. That did not stop Saleh from bellyaching though.
"Would it kill to install better ventilation in our armour? I mean, they do know we're shooting rockets out of these things, right?" His voice came through clear and crisp, as though he was standing right next to her. At least they knew their radios were still working.
"You could put in the suggestion. Again," Tariq deadpanned. "So the eggheads can ignore it. Again."
"Kids," Fareeha cut in. "Focus. Status report."
"All clear, Captain," Saleh said promptly, followed by Tariq, his patrol partner.
"Nothing in sight," Akila followed up. She was a recent transfer to her squad, along with Eshe, in light of their recent losses. Fareeha was impressed with both women so far. Tough and resolute, people she would trust to watch her back.
It was a little piece of comfort for the mission they were on. Helix had given them a rare assignment outside the Anubis facility, breaking the monotony that was starting to set in. They were to watch over the construction of a secret military research facility on the edges of Aswan, in its last stretch towards completion. The past month had been relatively uneventful. A few spies trying to enter the facility, small attacks at vulnerable corners. Nothing they could not handle, and it was good exercise for the team to get used to one another. Fareeha found herself liking this assignment, spending her time at a secret base. It was kind of like being in Gibraltar.
She stopped in her tracks, the word Gibraltar echoing emptily in her head. It held no meaning for her. Was it a…place? A name? Fareeha frowned under her visor, turning sharply to look behind her shoulder, expecting to find a white figure framed by wings and a halo. Her heart skipped a beat at a ghost she did not see, bewilderment growing by the second. Wait. She was not supposed to be here. Fareeha spun again, looking around at the facility, familiar surroundings suddenly feeling foreign.
What…what am I doing here?
"Captain!" Saleh's voice distracted her from the growing panic. "Eshe hasn't reported in."
In an instant, the disorientation fell away. Her mind snapped back into focus, as though the mental lapse never happened.
"Eshe, report. What's your status?" Fareeha brought up Eshe's vitals on her helmet display, only to find it was not available.
Shit.
"I'm heading to her position. Saleh, cover the north entrance."
"Affirmative."
With the jump jet's help, Fareeha was able to clear the distance within a few seconds. She tried to identify her silent squadmate's location from the air. Nothing. Not even the IFF could tell her where Eshe was. Mind on high alert, Fareeha landed, immediately beginning a sweep of the area. It did not take long for her to spot the anomaly – a bunker entrance was open, spilling artificial lighting into the dark of night. Moving cautiously, Fareeha could just make out a bulky figure crumpled on the ground, right inside the door.
Eshe. Despite every ingrained bit of training, Fareeha threw caution to the wind and sprinted towards her fallen teammate. She stepped through the door, calling a name which fell away from her lips. Where the bunker once was, her old room stood in its place. She looked down at her hands, where a rocket launcher no longer rested, taken aback by how smooth and soft her skin was. There was no longer a weight hugging tightly at her body, replaced instead with the lightness of a pair of cotton shorts and snug t-shirt.
Fareeha lifted her eyes, feasting on the view of her spacious room, back in their home in Giza. Sunlight streamed in from open windows, covering the room in a golden glow. Her bed was in the corner, neatly made, fitting in with the rest of her tidy room. It was an iron-clad rule in the Amari household: nothing should be out of place. The only spot in her room that came close to being messy was the wall next to the window, which was covered with posters of Overwatch. There was one of Reinhardt, striking the heroic pose of a guardian. More than a few had Morrison in the foreground. Ana Amari took up the back, in true sniper faction, wielding the Overwatch flag or her sniper rifle. Pride welled up in Fareeha's chest. She would be like her mother one day. A hero.
"Fareeha."
Ana's dulcet tone reached her ears, invoking a sense of longing. She became aware of her mother standing in front of the posters, arms crossed, back facing her.
"Ami. What are you doing here?"
Muted surprise at how young she sounded. That did not stop her from moving forward, to stand by her mother's side.
"Just paying you a visit, little one." Ana turned to give her a smile. "It's been a long time since we've seen each other."
"But aren't you busy?" Fareeha asked, looking up at the posters. "The world always needs its heroes, doesn't it?"
Where did the resentment come from? It was sharp. Acidic. Eating her from the inside, but also distant. Trying to pull away from where it did not belong.
Fareeha felt Ana's eyes on her, but the burn of teenage rebellion forbade her from returning the gaze. She focused on the posters instead, eyes moving from face to inexplicably familiar face, until she landed on the angel.
The angel?
Murky memories of a military facility bubbled to the surface. Confusion. Strain. Anticipation. Exhilaration. A secret base, her life's dream, heroes undercover. Under covers, soft lips hot against hers, mouth, neck, chest. Hunger. Passion. Love.
"Mercy." The word – no, name – rolled off her tongue unbidden. Effortless. She had said it many times before. When?
"Mercy. She saved a lot of lives. More than I ever could."
The praise was ice cold on Ana's lips. Fareeha turned towards her mother, defense ready to burst from her throat. A warm touch on her cheek pushed it down, thumb tracing her tattoo softly. Ana's expression was unreadable as she regarded her daughter, now grown, strong, and independent.
"Too bad she didn't save me."
Something warm, thick, splattered across her face. She did not flinch. Eyes locked with Ana's, before sliding down to the perfect hole in the middle of her chest. Red seeped out of the wound, staining the dark fabric of Ana's shirt, claiming territory. Then she moved her gaze further down, looking at her own chest, where the bullet had burrowed right above her heart. There was no pain. Just a soft weight pressing down, like it belonged.
She lifted her head, looking past her mother, and saw the masked assassin through the narrow angle of the window. She could do nothing except feel the coldness of Ana's hand trailing down to her shoulder. Lifeless. As Ana fell into Fareeha's arms, the rifle muzzle leveled at her and she knew.
It was over.
Fareeha jerked upwards, the echoing report of a rifle still ringing in her ears. She stared up at the nondescript grey ceiling, as reality seeped back into her being. Then she became aware of a warm weight pressing on her body, looking down to find a mess of blonde hair resting under her chin.
Angela. She must have come in after Fareeha fell asleep on the couch. The blonde had adopted a habit of crawling into her bed at random hours of the night, one that Fareeha needed time to adjust to in the beginning. The first time she awoke to find a strange presence in her bed, her combat reflexes kicked in. Literally. Angela's search for bedtime warmth was rewarded with a bruise on her hip and a cut on her forehead from the bedside table. Fareeha had apologised, kissed, hugged the dazed and hurt woman profusely, even became her lab assistant for the next few days. But it took Angela two whole weeks before she dared to try again.
She was glad Angela did, though. Now it was one of the best comforts she enjoyed, feeling her lover's warmth as she fell asleep, and when she awoke.
Fareeha wrapped her arms around Angela as she stirred, woken by Fareeha's spasm. Dark fingers ran softly through blonde locks, languid caresses eliciting a note of satisfaction from Angela's throat.
"Bad dream?" Angela mumbled against her chest, words slurring into each other. She shifted, grasping blindly for the blanket she had draped over them, pulling it tighter around her shoulders and Fareeha.
"It's nothing," Fareeha murmured softly, never breaking the motion through Angela's hair.
"Mm." Wrapping both legs around one of Fareeha's, Angela pressed the side of her head closer against Fareeha's chest.
"You're going to have a heart attack soon if you don't relax," the doctor said, sounding sharper. "Want to talk about it?"
Fareeha remained silent, taking deep breaths to calm herself as ordered.
"No, it's alright," she said, bending down to kiss the top of Angela's head. "Go back to sleep."
Sleep would not come easy for her again, though. Fareeha's mind was now fully-awake, crisp at the edges and ready to work. So she let it. Holding onto the dream was difficult, bits and pieces becoming fuzzier the more she tried to remember. There was a part where she was back with Helix. It was more of a memory, to be honest. Despite the fact that she never had an assignment in Aswan – which she dismissed as her brain's dream antics – it was pretty accurate. They had been assigned to a secret military base, and she lost a squadmate near the end. Eshe had lain exactly where she did in the dream, where Fareeha ran towards, only to find…her home.
Her old home. Back in Giza where she lived with her mother, and an aunt just across the street. She could not remember each and every detail of the house anymore. Just the ones that she held close to her heart. The plane models in her room's display case that she would play with, wishing she could fly through the skies whenever she wanted. The old, worn couch in the living room where she would crash in after a long day at school and watch television from. The wooden stairs she loved running up and down as a child, until one day she tripped and fell to the bottom. Ana's hands wiping away her tears after, as she chided Fareeha for not listening to her mother's warnings, but still pulling her close, holding her until the sobs subsided.
The sense of loss intensified when the memory was ripped away, replaced by that of her dream. Ana standing before her with a bullet wound in her chest, the touch on Fareeha's cheek growing colder as she slipped away.
"Just paying you a visit, little one."
If it really was her, then she chose a horrible dream for a visit. Fareeha tried to replace Ana's dying image with a more pleasant one. But all she could bring up was Ana's distant, angry expressions, from when their relationship hit the rocks. She closed her eyes, throat tightening with regret, feeling like such a piece of shit. Fareeha could not even remember when or how the argument started. Only the residual feeling of abandonment and wilful pride, that forbade the extension of any olive branches. It all seemed so petty now. Resenting her mother for not being with her, for having good reason to not be with her, for making her look selfish.
"You know I have to be there, Fareeha. There are–"
"Go. The world needs you more."
She did not send Ana off that day. God. Selfish. So selfish.
"Mmph. You're cutting off my air, Bärchen."
Fareeha's eyes snapped open and, realising she was indeed clamping onto the smaller woman, eased her tight hold. Angela shifted again, this time lifting herself up from Fareeha's body. She felt the press of Angela's chest against hers, as she rested both elbows on the couch beneath.
"Lights, warm. Forty percent."
A soft, yellow glow illuminated the bedroom. Angela gazed down drowsily, fingers dabbing at the corner of her lover's eyes.
"Thought your breathing's a little off," she said, wiping off tears Fareeha did not know were there. "What's wrong?"
Fareeha sighed, slipping her hand through Angela's.
"It's nothing," she replied. "And what was that you called me?"
"Bear. I thought I was being strangled by one." Angela smiled, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Now, don't change the subject. What's wrong?"
"It's nothing. Just a…bad dream."
"About?"
"A mission I had with Helix. And–," Fareeha considered not giving the full picture. But if the raised brow was any indication, Angela was onto her.
"And then I saw my mother."
"Ah. What was it this time?"
"We were back in our home in Giza. In my room."
"Then something happened."
"She got shot by a sniper. In front of me," Fareeha said flatly. Talking through it helped to chase remnants of the dream away, she found. Another perk of having the doctor close.
"I'm sorry."
The morose look on Angela's face drew a sudden, unexpected swell of amusement in Fareeha. It must have shown on her face, because the doctor's brows furrowed into a frown.
"Are you alright?" Angela asked, not comprehending Fareeha's smile. Or the shaking of her shoulders. "Do you need a brain scan or…"
Fareeha swallowed her silent laughs and propped herself up, stealing a kiss.
"No. It's just that you're so serious," she said. "Look. I had a dream. It was bad. But it's not real, and I'm already getting over it. So stop worrying, okay?"
Angela stared at her, features schooling into a doctor's poker face.
Yup. She's not buying it. Just as well. Fareeha did not either.
"You're unbelievable," Angela said finally. She let her head fall, burrowing back under Fareeha's chin as the soldier laid down in relief.
Fareeha reached for the blanket and pulled it up, wrapping themselves in a warm cocoon. She ran her fingers through blonde hair, placing one last kiss on Angela's head.
"I know you mean well, albi, but I'm just not ready to talk about her. One day, but not today."
Light tickling on her chin as Angela shifted her head. "I'm shivering with anticipation."
"Now who's unbelievable?"
"You're still the reigning champion," came Angela's muffled reply.
Fareeha chuckled. "Good to know. Lights, off."
The room was plunged into darkness once more, with a hint of moonlight trickling in from the window. She could already tell sleep would not come. It was fine. Fareeha was more than used to short, sleepless nights. At least she had company this time.
Fingers tracing circular patterns on Angela's bicep, Fareeha's gaze wandered aimlessly around the ceiling, before it finally fell on the wooden falcon statuette on her study table. It was a beautiful little thing: wings spread in mid-flight, fierce eyes locked on an invisible prey, sharp talons ready for the kill. A farewell gift from her Helix squad; Saleh said it reminded them of her. Now it served to remind her of them. Fareeha missed the squad. She wondered how they were doing. Were they still assigned to the Anubis facility? Who was their leader now, and that person had better treat them well, or else.
She released the pent-up questions in a forceful exhale, then kept deathly still. Only when Angela did not stir, did she relax. The doctor not only woke quickly, but fell asleep equally fast as well. A few times Fareeha had gone unfulfilled when Angela passed out the moment her head hit the pillows.
If only she had Angela's gift. Deciding to try and court sleep again, Fareeha closed her eyes, hand moving down to drape over Angela's stomach in a loose hold. She cleared her mind, matching Angela's slow and steady breathing, falling into a comfortable rhythm. And eventually, a dreamless sleep.
A/N: "albi/kalbi" = my heart (Arabic) - I got this from Google, so do tell me if I've been played. Seriously.
Been reading Sombra/Ana Amari theories, then this happened. Blizzard, please give us more Ana Amari so I can worship two generations of Amari goddesses.