Chapter Text

Fareeha steps just inside the door to Angela’s office, watching her lover type away, a small frown of concentration on her lips and a crease between her eyes. With a smile and the knowledge born of long experience, Fareeha waits, not wanting to interrupt in the middle of a thought. It’s not until Angela sighs, her eyes closing and her hands stilling over the keyboard that Fareeha walks into the room proper, going behind the chair to wrap her arms around Angela’s shoulders. The small weight hidden in her hand feels warm and heavy all out of proportion, and she kisses Angela’s cheek to distract herself from it.

“Done?”

“I should be,” Angela replies, leaning back into the embrace. “But if they had any sense I would’ve been done an hour ago.” She twists in her seat, seeking out Fareeha’s eyes. “How is she?”

“Asleep. For now.”

—

The baby had been left by the front door of the watchpoint. The security cameras hadn’t picked up anything useful, and despite careful canvasing of the neighborhood, nobody had claimed any knowledge of recent births. Nobody had seen (or admitted to seeing) any pregnant women around except for the one resident who was still heavily pregnant and had laughed when she opened her door to them. The note that had been pinned to her blanket only read ”Please take care of Nadia” and gave them absolutely nothing to go on.

The part that they hadn’t asked, that the people they’d talked to very carefully hadn’t said, was that nobody wanted to take in the child.

Which was how Overwatch ended up with a baby to care for as they figured out the next steps. Which was how they found out that Jack already knew how to change a diaper like a champ and that Jesse was terrified of holding her.

Which was why when Fareeha woke one night to find Angela gone from their bed and went looking for her, she eventually found her curled up on a couch holding Nadia. When Fareeha saw the terrible grief in her expression she’d dropped to her knees in front of the couch, her hands resting on Angela’s thighs. “Talk to me, ya amar,” she’d said.

And so they talked, quietly, not wanting to disturb the child. They talked of their responsibilities to Overwatch, the world, each other. The burdens that they carry, and the fears.

“The others are right,” Angela said, though her voice sounded tight and unhappy. “We should give her to someone who can care for her properly. We’ll be pulled around the globe at all hours. She deserves parents who won’t be constantly in danger.”

And they talked about the future. Their future. And Fareeha looked at the girl in Angela’s arms, at her thin blonde hair and the closed eyes that she knew were a few shades darker than Angela’s. Those could change, she knew, but right now, like this, Nadia could easily be Angela’s own blood.

“You are already part of my family,” Fareeha told her. “She could be part of ours as well.” She didn’t know how to handle the shining wetness of Angela’s eyes and pressed a kiss to one knee to give herself a second to breathe. “You know my mother would be thrilled.”

When Angela laughed, the tightness in Fareeha’s chest eased. “Well, that settles that then, doesn’t it?”

Fareeha rose a bit stiffly, leaning over the couch to kiss Angela properly. “We will make this work,” she promised softly.

“I love you,” Angela told her in return.

They waited to go to breakfast the next morning until they were sure that almost everyone was there already. They walked in together, Angela still holding Nadia, Fareeha a step behind and to her right. They stopped by the table, still standing, waiting until someone noticed them and pointed them out to the rest. Fareeha set her shoulders as chairs scraped across the floor and all eyes landed on them.

“We’re keeping her,” Angela announced, her voice strong and clear. “So let me reintroduce you to Nadia Amari.”

With a start, Fareeha turned to Angela, who was looking up at her with a smile and a stubborn set to her jaw. They had not discussed that!

“Good going, Dad!” Hana yelled across the room, and as everyone erupted into laughter Fareeha rolled her eyes at the youngest member of Overwatch.

She heard the various congratulations and ribbings, but her attention was focused on Angela, who was smiling and laughing brightly, who soothed Nadia when she started to fuss like she’d been doing it for years, whose eyes found hers instinctively when she looked up from the child.

“That kid’s gonna have a huge family,” Jesse said next to her.

“Yeah,” Fareeha said, not looking away. “Isn’t it great?”

—

“If she’s asleep, does that mean we have a couple of hours?”

“Mhmm,” Fareeha agrees, her arms tightening around Angela and preventing her from turning. “But first: I know we’ve talked about this, and I know we’re waiting until things settle down. But since we somehow,” and Angela giggles at the soft sarcasm in her voice as Fareeha drawls the word, “acquired a child, I don’t believe that’s happening any time soon. So I wanted to give you this.”

And she opens her hand in front of Angela, feeling her go still as she looks at the gold band resting on her palm.

“Just as a reminder that I’m here. For everything. Through anything.”

She knows, because they have talked about it, that Angela doesn’t place a lot of importance on being married; she doesn’t care about the ceremony and the certificate. Fareeha could skip the ceremony as well, but she would like to get married someday. Even if it’s only so that she can officially call Angela her wife. But even if they’re not married - even if they never get married - the ring feels important. A way of shouting to the world that she is Angela’s, that she is proud of that, and that Angela is a part of her future. A part that she has chosen and will choose every day for the rest of her life.

“I’ve never doubted that,” Angela says, picking up the ring and carefully sliding it on to her finger (where, Fareeha notes smugly, it fits perfectly). “I would never doubt that.”

“I don’t want to force you into something you’re not ready for,” Fareeha says, and this time when Angela laughs and sits forward, Fareeha lets her go, straightening as Angela stands.

“I thought I was doing that to you with this,” Angela says, gesturing to the door that leads to their bedroom, where Nadia is sleeping.

Fareeha grins and shrugs a shoulder casually. “Oh, that? No problem. That’s only eighteen years or so.”

“More,” Angela says quietly, her arms winding around Fareeha’s waist.

“More then,” Fareeha concedes as she tilts Angela’s face up for a kiss. “Come on, let’s get some sleep while we can.”

A soft but rising cry from the other room makes Angela laugh at Fareeha’s exasperated breath. “Too late,” she teases. “Let’s go deal with our early riser of a daughter.”

She steps toward the door, but not before lacing her fingers through Fareeha’s, and the soldier can feel the thin metal around her finger. That, combined with the comment about their daughter, has her smiling as she follows obediently after.

How can she complain?