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iggy-of-fans · 4 years

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Of Being a Ladybug 1.5

Happy Holiday’s! Here is my gift to you!

Previous Masterlist

The class, Then

Monday of the attack

Adrien smiled, satisfied that Marinette hadn’t done anything. He shook his head, ‘really, what could she have done?’ he asked himself. Marinette was a great girl and had designed for or worked with a few famous people, but he doubted that they even remembered a lowly baker’s daughter. He sure didn’t remember most of his fans. He shrugged. Alya really should have just fact checked. Probably an over-zealous fan that sent it to one of the actors mentioned. Marinette also wouldn’t do anything that could hurt Alya. He got to the class and stopped short at the door. There were a lot of long faces in there.

Alya was sobbing into Nino’s shoulder.

Rose was quietly heaving into Juleka’s shoulder as well. Not so much sobbing, but still very upset.

Max sat tense, glaring at his phone, looking like he might set it on fire.

Kim glared ahead at the bored.

Mylene, for once, looked stronger than all the class and like she might punch somebody.

Adrien was confused. As far as he knew or remembered, only Alya had a real reason to be this upset. He frowned.

“Nino? What’s going on? Why is everyone so upset?” Adrien asked, completely lacking the social understanding to perhaps ask someone else. Who wasn’t holding their+

3 crying girlfriend. Nino just glared at him.

It was Alix who answered, “Seriously Adrien? Read the fucking mood. And to answer your question, Lila Fucking Rossi.”

“I don’t understand. What did Lila do?” Adrien asked, passing over the first comment. He just wanted answers.

“Marinette was right. Like always, she was right. Lila is a liar, and a bad liar at that. We were idiots and all fell for it. Rose lost her friendship with Prince Ali because she bought Lila’s tales. Alya is being sued for slander. Mylene and Ivan contributed to her “go green” projects, only for none of them to be legit. Max is being investigated by the school for letting Kim cheat off him and Kim got kicked off the team for it. Then the school NERD club got wind of the napkin incident and apparently even Superman and Wonder Woman can’t throw a napkin hard enough to take out somebody’s eye. And me? I was told I would be meeting pro skater Esmee Visser. We should have listened to Marinette” Alix shook her head. Mari had warned them. Warned them not to cheat, not to listen to Lila, to work their own way up. Marinette always worked so hard but made it all look so easy.

The whole class bowed their heads. Mylene had ended her friendship with Marinette on Tuesday the week before, because Marinette had suggested that she and Ivan not give their combined 400 Euros to Lila’s charity. This morning, Mylene had seen the news coverage of over fifteen people suing Lila Rossi and by extension, Alya Cesaire, for slander, defamation and theft. Lila had been going around getting things put onto tabs for famous people to pay off, claiming she was a niece, goddaughter or assistant.

They waited for Marinette or Lila to come into the class. Marinette so they could apologize. Lila so they could beat her up. When the warning bell rang, and Ms. Bustier entered the room, nobody even batted an eye. When the last bell rang, and Marinette still wasn’t there, they worried. When the sound of a car being tossed through a building reached their ears, the students evacuated.

Alya rushed to the scene. The Ladyblog may be shut down, but she could start fresh. Maybe Ladybug would even call on Rena Rouge! When she got to the scene, Vipereon was hidden on a building with… was that… a new fox? Alya almost started crying again. Another hero made her way there. A new bee, it looked like. And another, a new turtle too. When Ladybug arrived with the dragon, the team huddled for a minute before breaking apart to fight. Alya snuck closer as she watched Guilty Conscience coming at the heroes.

“I never wanted to be a hero. I feel horrible when I have to lie to protect my identity because I hate liars. I wish I had never met the Master or been picked to be Ladybug or had managed to give the Miraculous away before I got too serious. I hate what this has turned me into, I wish I could go back to just being Marinette…”

Alya gasped. Oh! OH! She shut off her video and turned. She’d wanted to earn back her title as a journalist. But not like this. She ran back to her apartment. Not like this.

As Tuesday morning dawned, the class was sitting together again. Adrien kept looking at the door expectantly. If Chat Noir payed a visit to the bakery last night, no body would know. Namely because nobody was there. Adrien’s foot bounced. The minute she walked through the door; he would confess to her.

Nino looked sideways at Adrien. He knew his boy was a bit starstruck with Ladybug. Did he really expect her to come to school, though? Nobody seemed to notice that Juleka was also missing.

Class started, only to be interrupted again when the principle announced all classes should turn on their TVs to the news.

“Good Morning Paris. We interrupt your scheduled programming to bring you breaking news,” on the screen was Lois Lane, world renowned reporter. “This morning, the Mayor of Paris was able to welcome for the first time, Justice League Members Batman and Wonder Woman, to Paris. Already, the world’s greatest detective is solving the matter of ‘who is Hawkmoth?’ and ‘where is he hiding?’. The investigation was started early this morning and is still ongoing now, however, the heroes are confident the matter will be resolved by end of day today. League intervention is also being given to the local Parisian heroes, who are being folded into the League system. The now dubbed Miracle Team will be receiving regular training and adult supervision from the American Heroes. On other news… One moment please. We are now going live to the traffic copter, which has caught sight of Wonder Woman storming a mansion in the heart of Paris. Jean, what can you tell us about the current situation?”

“Thank you, Lois! I am here, on scene as Wonder Woman storms the Agreste Mansion. Parisian’s will remember that Monsier Agreste was Akumatized as the Collector a few months ago. He certainly isn’t putting up any fight, it looks like. And there is Nathalie Sancour. Both are coming out with their hands up. It looks like Monsiour Agreste is doing all the talking. Ms. Sancour is going down in what appears to be a coughing fit! Police is also arriving on the scene. An arrest has been made. I repeat. An arrest has been made! A police car is pulling off, and looks to be heading to Francois-Dupont, commonly dubbed the Akuma school. If I am not mistaken, it is the same school that Gabriel Agreste’s only son, Adrien Agreste attends! AH, one moment. It looks like Wonder Woman is going into the mansion. Paramedics are also pulling up on scene. Ms. Sancour is being taken into an ambulance, but the other set of paramedics is running into the mansion as well. Is that?! It is! Lois, and watchers, for those of you who do not know, this is Emilie Agreste, the wife of Gabriel and mother of Adrien. She went missing and was declared dead three years ago. Paramedics are now rushing her prone body to the ambulance…”

The news continued, but the class was distracted by the door being thrust open. Officer Raincomprix and his partner entered.

“Adrien Agreste, you are under arrest for suspicion on working with Hawkmoth. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you” the officer stated, placing the cuffs on a stunned Adrien Agreste. His mouth hung open. What…? And then he heard the whispers.

“He was supposed to start school the day of the first Akuma…”

“Always defending the bully…”

“Never there during attacks…”

He shook his head mutely. NO! He was a hero!

The class watched mutely. Two in two days.

*!!*

Because he was a minor and could prove, behind closed doors, that he was in fact Chat Noir, Adrien was acquitted and sent to live with his Aunt Amilie and Cousin Felix Graham de Vanily. He took off the Miraculous ring. Plagg had told him Ladybug would need her cat. So, he put the ring in the mail to be sent off to Wilhelm with a letter explaining everything. He heard through the news that the Dupain-Cheng family had left Paris in a rush. Nobody was quite sure where they went, though most guessed to China. When he landed in London, Adrien had no idea what to expect. He hadn’t seen Felix since his mother’s funeral. He had also heard that Felix’s father had died not long ago. Felix and Amilie greeted him at the airport with smiles. He smiled and dared to hope.

*!!*

Alya watched the footage of Marinette revealing herself again. She sighed. Adrien Agreste was publicly deemed innocent and sent away. Lila Rossi, while facing several lawsuits, was only being sent to a remedial school at the outskirts of Paris. Lila’s mother, who had been akumatized as Guilty Conscience, almost lost her job. As it was now, diplomatic immunity was the only thing keeping her from being investigated further for child neglect. Alya was still facing the law herself, but being a minor, she was only facing some fines and heavy warnings, but otherwise she was also grounded until she was eighteen. Her parents were disappointed, her sisters avoided her most of the time. School had become her only escape. But even there was no escape from everything that had happened. Marinette was no longer there, and Ms. Bustier was under investigation for the amount of Akumatizations in her class. Mr. Damoclese was as well, for mismanaged funding to the school. Turns out his Owl suit and “weapons” were being funded from donations to the school. The class was split up into different classes too. Divide and conquer. Alya sighed. They weren’t really allowed to interact with each other, for fear of it causing more trouble. But most of the other students didn’t want to interact with them either. Alya had never noticed it, but their class was isolated by the rest of the school.

*!!*

Luka sighed as he watched Marinette walk into the Zeta Tube, her head bowed. Paris had ruined Marinette. He brushed his hair back and looked at Juleka. The news had confirmed that Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth, but he had given his Miraculous to Nathalie to get rid of. They were pawned off to another party, but Gabriel had no idea who, and Nathalie went under and into a coma like Mrs. Agreste.

The League told them that they would be receiving training and supervision, as there were Miraculous everywhere now. They would be needed to step in. Luka being the oldest was made the leader, despite not having the ladybug miraculous. He sighed. What a shit show.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce closed the journal and replaced it in the secret compartment in the desk. He turned to the bed behind him, where his newest ward was fast asleep, tear tracks staining her young face. He wanted to rage at Diana and Clark. He’d petitioned to have Marinette live with him from the beginning, but had been denied because Diana’s mother had been a Ladybug. Reading about what Diana had done to the poor girl, all with good intentions but completely misguided, Bruce was ready to wage war. Marinette had been through emotional hell. He would make sure to do better by her. He swore then that he would give her a family.

#of being a ladybug #Marinette #Marinette deserves better #miraculous ladybug #batman #Wonder Woman #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #lila rossi #lila salt

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alphawave-writes · 4 years

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Evil actions and good intentions Chapter 10: ‘I need a hero’

Synopsis: Harold and Sigma meet the rest of the newly reformed Overwatch and make some friends. Harold and Winston finally reunite and share a tender moment as father and son.

Read it here or find it on AO3. If you like Sigrold, join the Sigrold discord server. I’ll also be participating in #Sigroldweek.

Once upon a time, Harold got a job offer at Overwatch. Back in its prime, they had been interested in his work on respirocytes. But Lucheng Interstellar gave him a better job, and the position was filled by someone else, though he still kept in contact just in case they still had a job for him when the Lunar Ops program was finished. In another life, he might have found a cushy job as a researcher with Overwatch, traveling the world, perhaps with Winston by his side. In another life, he might have proposed to Siebren, or even married him outright, and Winston will be with them, and the three of them will live together in a comfy home of their own. But life, or perhaps the universe, had other plans.

He doesn’t know why that’s the first thought to filter into his head when he exits the airship and takes in the sprawling Overwatch base. Buildings are carved into the rock, obscuring it from sight. Night time has fallen, making the base look desolate and abandoned, but as Tracer leads them through, he sees the slow trickle of life and habitation. An offering near the cliffside to a deity, leftover Christmas decorations hanging from the rafters, tracks on the gravel made from footsteps and tires.

Tracer is a far more eager guide compared to Satya, even if she often diverts on irrelevant tangents. She talks about the history of the place, her own past in this very base, as well as some humerous anecdotes about the other Overwatch agents. Every now and then she points out buildings that she thinks are important to note. The hangers where everybody’s rooms shall be, the communal kitchen, the washhouse with the ‘nice showers’, and of course Winston’s lab. Whenever she mentions Winston, she makes a point of glancing back to Harold with a knowing little smirk. She’s looking for a reaction. Harold has absolutely no idea if he’s giving the right one or not.

Satya is quiet at the back of the group, keen eyes taking careful notes of every little detail. She speaks up only to clarify on Tracer’s ramblings, confirming directions and instructions for her stay here. Sometime during the flight she’s somewhat accepted that she is now in need of refuge. Whether she wants to be a hero, that’s another thing entirely.

Siebren doesn’t speak at all during the tour. His gaze is up to the moon. Harold can’t help but let his eyes drift up to the celestial body hanging in the sky. The sky is clear and the light pollution is minimal, but the sparkling stars don’t hold a candle to the light of the moon. A wash of confusing emotions bubbles up to the surface as he stares at the lunar surface, gazing upon the lunar craters and moutains, many of which he’d personally explored.

“Do you miss it? The moon?” Siebren asks quietly when Tracer’s not paying attention.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t. It’s always up there, lighting the night sky. A reminder of my mistakes.”

Siebren frowns. “It’s not your fault, what happened. Your colleagues were idiots.”

“Sure. So am I.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Siebren says softly before straightening his posture. “You’re incredibly reckless. Nagging. Inappropriate at the worst of times—”

“—OK, I get it,” Harold laughs.

“—short-sighted, and far too trusting, but you’re not an idiot. Never have been in all the years I’ve known you.”

Harold smiles despite himself. It's an abysmal effort to cheer him up, but Siebren is trying his hardest, and he can't help but appreciate it. “I hope good-looking is on that list.”

Siebren smirks. “Do you really want to know?”

Harold punches Siebren lightly on the shoulder, shaking his head. The events of a few hours past feel so long ago, and Siebren is acting like nothing happened. Knowing how fragile Siebren is now, it should comfort Harold that he’s laughing and talking normally, and yet it doesn’t. There are words left unsaid, stories left untold. Siebren hides it well, but his jaw is set tight and his shoulders are tense. Mentally, he’s in control. Emotionally, that’s harder to say.

Harold waits for Tracer to begin talking before he makes his move. “That was a black hole earlier,” he says.

“Yes,” Siebren utters, looking uncomfortable.

“I heard the noises. The universe’s melody, as you called it.” He pauses before admitting, quieter, “It’s terrifying.”

Siebren grimaces. “I know.”

Harold frowns. “How many lives did you take?”

“Far too many to count,” Siebren says. “I’d rather not kill, but it's a necessary evil in my life now. I cannot have any regrets.”

Harold remembers the lifeless body of Tempest Williams stacked amongst the other guards and feels sick to his stomach. “I’m not like you then.”

“It gets easier over time, the killing. You learn to accept it. Death is inevitable and life can be cut short. Although,” Siebren ducks his head, “I was not necessarily in control when I first took a man’s life. Even now, it's easy to convince myself it's all for the sake of research.”

Harold has suspected this for some time. He isn’t surprised, but it doesn’t comfort him to know that Siebren has lost his mind before and that Talon manipulated him to kill when he was in that fragile state. It explains why all the Talon staff feared Siebren. In his mind’s eye he sees himself in that fateful moment last night when he lost control himself, eyes wild and crazed, his attacks bloodthirsty and savage like an animal. In a way, it’s worse than Siebren, because he doesn’t have an excuse to defend his actions. He let his emotions get the better of him, clouding his vision. He is the one who killed those people. He’s a murderer.

Siebren's hand goes up to his shoulder, rubbing small circles. Harold wants to lean his head onto Siebren’s shoulder and press his lips into his neck and forget about all the atrocities they have just committed, but he knows this is the extent of Siebren’s comfort. Siebren has a point, and he will not back down from it.

“I don’t want to get used to killing,” Harold whispers.

Siebren continues rubbing, his touch light. “I know you don’t. But you will. You’ll have to if you want to survive, and I know you can. You have gotten so far by yourself.”

Harold smiles bittersweetly. “Still, if only I can avoid it.”

“You’re a grown man, Harold. I won’t shield you from the world, but I will support you.” Then, with a smirk, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Harold feels a tap at his hip and sees Siebren’s knuckles grazing the fabric. He smiles softly to himself as his fingers entwine with Siebren’s, squeezing softly as they continue their walk.

Tracer leads them to an unassuming building a few stories high. Lights and noises can be seen from the tinted windows above. Harold holds his breath as Tracer goes through the main doors and blinks within. His eyes shut rapidly as a burst of light fills the large room.

Harold has to admit, of all the things he expected when first arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, a party wasn’t one of them.

The place is a laboratory filled with tools, though they have all been shoved to the side away from view. There’s a long table full of foods and drinks, all with a little piece of paper to tell people what it is, who made it, as well as any allergy warnings. Music is playing from an old-fashioned radio. Many are partnered in twos and threes, conversing pleasantly to one another. Soon as they enter, all the people within turn their heads to them, smiles on their faces. To Harold’s disappointment, he doesn’t see Winston.

“Who are your friends?” A rather tall and muscular man with white hair asks with a teasing tone in his voice.

“New guys here to hang with us for a bit. Got into a bit of a scrap to save them.” Tracer turns towards them and grins. “Should’ve seen us, we were fighting Talon with the best of them.”

“Then they are comrades.” From the table behind, the tall muscular man grabs a jug of beer and lifts it up.

That’s enough to get the small crowd to approach them. In an instant the three of them are surrounded on all sides by friendly faces. Tracer giggles lightly to herself while she raids the buffet table.

The first to greet them is the large, muscular man, flanked on either side by an equally muscular young woman and a bearded dwarf. All three of their eyes glance down to Siebren’s feet, floating a foot off the ground. They don’t seem to be frightened. In fact, they seem more intrigued than anything.

“All sorts of fancy schmancy tech nowadays,” the dwarf scratches his head.

“What’s wrong, old friend? Have you lost your touch?”

“My ‘touch’ can make your armour break faster than a boiling frog in a cauldron!”

“It’s not ‘technology’,” Siebren utters. “I have just harnessed gravity.”

The two old friends look at each other incredulously and shrug. The bigger man is quick to put a hand out. “Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

“Torbjörn Lindholm,” the dwarf says, putting his own hand out.

Siebren stares at the hand for just a second before shaking both firmly. “Sigma,” he says.

“Dr. Siebren de Kuiper,” Harold corrects, turning to Siebren. “Talon used to call him Sigma. But you don’t have to use that name anymore.”

He looks like he’s about to object but Reinhardt has already clasped Siebren on the shoulder. “So they have enslaved you, but you escaped? How dreadful they must be, to strip a man of his identity.” His expression suddenly goes dark. “You were not the first to get pulled into their ranks. We lost one of our own that way.”

Harold almost thinks Siebren might set the record straight but instead he keeps his mouth shut. As if sensing Siebren’s discomfort, the two men launch into a variety of anecdotal stories about each other. Reinhardt was once a knight for the German Crusaders during the Omnic War, while Torbjörn was a member of the Ironclad Guild. He tries to play it off as a cool secret society, but Reinhardt clarifies that it was just a very ostentatious name for a group of ragtag engineers. The two had been best friends for a very long time, to the point that Reinhardt was given the honour of naming Torbjörn’s first child. At this, Brigitte, who reveals her identity as the eldest daughter, begins to pick holes at her father and godfather’s stories, correcting them on the more fantastical elements.

Harold watches as Siebren falls securely into conversation. He mentions his own work as an astrophysicist, his early life growing up and working in Den Haag and the very briefest account of the ISS accident that gave him his gravitic powers. He does not talk about his mental health or what he did in Talon, which is probably for the best. It will inevitably sour the party mood. Siebren joins in on the light teasing shared between the family, making fast friends with Reinhardt and Torbjörn and Brigitte. It’s the first time he’s looked at ease since their escape, Harold notices. After today’s events, he never thought he’d see that smile again. He’s glad he’s been proven wrong.

“You are a man of strong caliber, are you not?” Reinhardt asks Siebren.

“I should think so,” Siebren utters.

“Oh no,” Brigitte sighs.

“Then why not a friendly little challenge between friends? Brigitte, bring us some beer.”

“Not a drinking contest, Reinhardt.”

“It’s hard enough lugging you around, you big oaf, but I ain’t lugging the two of you,” Torbjörn mutters.

“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt smirks at Siebren. “You chicken?”

Harold silently groans as Siebren stiffens visibly. With the markings of a man who very much doesn’t like it when someone attacks his inflated ego, Siebren stretches his hand out and the two men shake.

“This is not going to end well, is it?” Brigitte murmurs under her breath.

“Nope,” Harold sighs. He knows from many a post-conference pub crawl that Siebren, despite his size, is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Harold is a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but he never liked the taste of alcohol enough to drink outside of special occasions. Certainly not enough to know how many drinks is his limit.

While everybody gets a table cleared for the drinking contest, Harold walks over to the buffet table and grabs a small plate. He fills it up with as much food as the small paper plate can hold. He’s got spring rolls and samosas and moon pies that look suspiciously similar to the ones he made back on Horizon, and is pleasantly surprised to find out that Winston made them himself. Food in hand, he finds a corner of the room and munches quietly, watching the small crowd. Tracer’s having a dance party with a shorter, tan man on rollerskates near the radio. On the second floor, near the staircase, Satya is watching the man with narrowed eyes. The look in her eyes is knowing and distrustful, and Harold thinks he sees the same look in the man’s eyes whenever their stares connect, but they don’t say a word to each other. A few minutes later, Brigitte breaks away from her father to chat with Satya. She hides it well, but Harold can see the relief flood Satya’s body.

It’s an organization, but it feels more than that, Harold thinks. These people from different walks of life move and talk to one another like they’re friends. Suddenly Winston’s comment that Overwatch is his family makes a lot more sense. They have all bonded over disaster and war, and those bonds are stronger than gravity.

Harold can only hope this family will accept him.

From the corner of his eye he spies a Chinese woman with glasses approach him. She looks familiar, but where from he cannot place. In her hand is a plate full of Chinese dumplings.

“You do look like the photos, Dr. Winston,” she comments.

“I’m sorry?”

“Winston, my friend. N-not you, Dr. Winston,” she stumbles. “He’s got a photo of him with you. The two of you are so cute!” Seeing his confusion, she smiles shyly. “Sorry. You may not know me. I’m Mei-ling Zhou, but you can call me Mei.”

“Oh, I remember. You were in the same team as Dr. Adams. Part of Overwatch’s Ecopoint project, right?”

Mei frowns deeply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Harold knows that look. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She nods quietly. “We got into a blizzard in Antarctica. The cryostasis machine malfunctioned for everybody except myself.”

Harold cannot help but grimace. He’s missed a lot about the world, it seems. He’d worked together with Julian Adams, right before he got the job with Lucheng Interstellar, a long while before he will meet Siebren. Silently, he gives a soft prayer for Adams and his family, wherever they may be.

Harold takes his time to stare at the crowd and the unfamiliar surroundings. After a few seconds, he says, “I don’t see Winston.”

“He’s a bit nervous about meeting you, so he left. I’m not sure why though, this party is to celebrate him and all he’s done for us.” She points at Tracer, who’s taken a break from dancing to commentate on the drinking contest. As Harold suspects, Siebren is losing badly. “Lena got into a really bad accident. She was like a literal ghost, all see-through, disappearing for months and then reappearing. ‘Chronally displaced’, they called it. But Winston made a device so she can be with us here in the present, and now she can zip through time. She’s so cool!”

So Winston’s an Overwatch agent and an inventor, Harold thinks. Another surge of pride fills his lungs. “I assume you know him through Overwatch?”

“No, we only met recently, but he is very lovely and very kind.” She giggles behind her hand. “You raised him well.”

Harold chuckles as he rubs the back of his head. “I suppose I did.”

"He misses you. Every time I see him, he’s always looking at a photo of you.” She gives a shy smile and adds, “He hasn’t said much, but I think he’s glad you’re safe.”

Harold stares at his surroundings, warm but unfamiliar, a fusion of the past and present and future. Winston’s stories make up the particles of these stony cliffs and worn workbenches Harold’s missed so many of them. He wants to learn them, one by one. He wants to make up for lost time. “You don’t…happen to know where he is?”

Mei just smiles and points at the main hangar doors. “Check the cliffs outside. He likes sitting there to think.”

Harold gives her a friendly goodbye, locates Siebren (who fortunately did not partake in Reinhardt’s challenge and is still sober) and together they head away from the party.

It’s hard to find out what Mei meant by the cliffs, because most of the area outside the HQ is made of steep cliffs. The cool evening wind whips at them, a stark contrast to the warm levity of the party. Harold's worried he might have to rely on the nanobots to see in the darkness, but the moon shines brightly above their heads, lighting the way.

They make their way down the stone steps and follow the path between the buildings. It’s there that they find Winston, sitting at the edge of the cliff between two smaller buildings, gazing forlornly at something in his hands. Harold pauses in his steps, his breath catching in his throat as he watches Winston’s silent form. Winston is here, looking exactly the same as he remembered, only more mature. The white bodysuit hides most of his fur,

He turns to Siebren, who only stares at him. Siebren offers his hand to Harold and he squeezes it lightly before finally approaching Winston. Harold sits beside him, not saying a word. Winston doesn’t appear to react, but Harold can feel those sunflower irises scan him, looking for any sign that he is an imposter or a ghost or a figment of his imagination. Something to prove he's not real.

Harold glances at the photo and recognizes it almost immediately. It’s one that Winston took when he was a child, the first one he ever took, albeit by accident. Harold was working in the lab with Hammond when Winston took the picture. Seeing his younger self smiling politely into the camera, seeing baby Winston play eagerly with his glasses, it sends a familiar ache of affection to his chest.

“Where’d you get that photo?” Harold whispers.

“The camera,” Winston replies, just as quiet. “I grabbed as many spare pictures I could find, and then I downloaded the rest from the camera before I came to Earth.” He smiles bittersweetly at the photo. “I was so young.”

“We both were.”

Winston blows air out of his large nostrils. “You were in your forties.”

“I’m still young, I was just even younger back then.”

Slowly, he grabs one end of the photo and pulls it towards him. He can feel Winston’s fur on his arm beneath the white bodysuit and the body heat radiating. For a second, Winston stiffens, and Harold worries if perhaps he’s gone too fast, but then there’s an arm wrapping around his back. He turns to see Winston’s eyes, as wide and beautiful as the moon in the sky.

“I miss you,” Harold admits. “Sorry I haven’t been here for you all these years.”

Winston shakes his head softly. “It’s fine. I had family to take care of me when you were gone.”

“Overwatch, huh?”

“Yeah,” Winston chuckles quietly for a few seconds. He stares at the photo and smiles. “I guess I’m lucky then,” Winston says, finally gazing upon Harold. “I’ve got two families now.”

Harold’s vision begins to blur and he realizes that tears are forming in his eyes. He huffs as he wipes them away with his arm, which he has only just realized is still red from when he was strapped to the bed. He’s not sure if it’s the sea wind or the new setting or the moon above his head, but Oasis already feels like a lifetime away. Winston’s gazing upon him with unspoken affection.

Before he can say anything, the air shifts as Siebren floats over.

Harold patted the ground next to him. “Join us,” he says.

“I shouldn’t,” Siebren starts, but Harold is already standing up and dragging him to the cliff edge. With a roll of his eyes and a smirk of his lips, Siebren waves his hand. Rocks from the cliff roll up and stack together to create a reclining chair for Siebren to lie down on.

“And you thought me seeing in the dark was special.”

“Off-target effects,” Siebren says in an annoyingly inaccurate representation of Harold’s voice.

Winston’s gaze lingers between the two older men, a soft look of understanding falling on his face. He chuckles deeply. “You two haven’t changed.”

Harold shares a look with Siebren. “We haven’t, have we?”

Siebren smiles bashfully but earnestly. “Speak for yourself.”

The three of them sit there and watch the stars as they glitter in the ebony expanse of space. They’re content to admire for afar, but old habits die hard, and soon Harold’s talking about the stories behind the constellations. Siebren joins in about the more scientific fact about star systems while Winston discusses the planets in great detail. For one brief moment, they’re just enjoying the present together, without fear or worry about the past or the present. They’re a family, reunited at last.

Harold doesn’t hear Siebren slip away, leaving him alone with Winston. His eyes are glued to the moon, pale and beautiful despite all the tragedy that bathes its surface. He wonders briefly if Chang’e, the goddess of the moon, saw the rebellion. Who would she mourn more? The humans who lost their lives, or the gorillas who endured so much suffering?

“You’re together with Dr. de Kuiper, right?” Winston asks suddenly.

Harold blushes despite himself. “Despite the universe being hellbent on keeping me buried in the ground? Yes.”

“But you were gone for a decade. Everybody thought you were dead. How did you find each other again?”

“Siebren found me. Or rather, Talon found me. I was called a lot of things while I was stuck on the moon. Jade Rabbit, Specimen: 31, a whole bunch of expletives, you name it.” He stares at the rushing waves far beneath his feet. “I joined Talon partly because Siebren was in their ranks, and partly because I didn’t know better. I think it’s the same with Siebren, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

“After all this time, you still loved each other?”

“I’m not sure if we still loved each other. I think we were relieved to have a familiar face at first. But then we fell into old habits.” Harold recalls the first fleeting kiss he pressed onto Siebren’s face after Tempest’s first attack and smiles. “Guess it’s more accurate to say an old flame got rekindled.”

Winston nods thoughtfully. “I know the feeling. Sounds similar to how I feel right now.”

Harold turns to Winston and frowns. “How do you feel about me being here?”

“I don’t know,” Winston admits. “A bit nervous, I suppose.”

“Nervous? About what?”

“About how I feel about our relationship. About the moon, and the others back on Horizon…and you.”

The waves beat against the rocky face of the cliff, reflecting the light of the night sky. Harold wonders right then and there what will happen if he jumps. From this height, the impact would normally kill him, but he’s not a normal man anymore. Will the nanobots protect him, or will it all be futile? Will Winston and Siebren cry over him if he dies for real this time?

Winston turns his head sharply away in embarrassment. “S-sorry. D-don’t take it the wrong way, I am happy that you’re here and that you’re alive. Heh. I’m…really glad you’re alive, actually, but…um…”

“It’s fine, champ. The past is the past. We choose whether or not we look back upon it for guidance.” Harold braves a small smile. “Whatever you want me to be, I’ll always be here to support you.”

Winston smiles bashfully to himself. He takes the glasses off his face and stares at them for a few seconds. Harold just looks at the frames, an identical copy to his previous pair, caressed in Winston’s gorilla hands like they’re the most precious thing in the world. He turns to Harold, smiles enigmatically, then slips them back on.

His words are quiet against the thundering waves and the howling winds, but to Harold, they’re crystal clear and perfect pitch.

“I really did miss you,” Winston whispers.

Harold wraps his arm around Winston’s shoulder and squeezes tightly. “So did I, buddy. So did I."

They stare at the ocean until they’re shivering from the cold. They stand up and walk together back to the party, side by side. There’s still nervous smiles shared, still a bit of fragile hesitation, but it feels like the walls between them have crumbled. They’ve become just a bit closer. He doesn’t even realise that his arm is still around Winston’s shoulder until he gets back to the party.

The light atmosphere is gone. The music has long stopped and there is no chatter or banter. Everyone’s attention is drawn up to a hologram, their faces unreadable. Harold stares at the hologram, where a news presenter, Olympia Shaw, stands in front of a very familiar building.

“We’re just outside Lucheng Interstellar’s headquarters here in Lijiang, where they have just made the announcement that Dr. Harold Winston is still up on Horizon One.”

At a press conference, the new director of Lucheng Interstellar stands amidst a small crowd of reporters. Harold doesn’t recognize the man, even when his name pops up. He smiles professionally into the camera.

“It’s absolutely gut-wrenching to lose one of our own, but now we have the chance to bring one of our scientists back home. If we are able to rescue Dr. Winston, not only will we know more about the tragic accident that cut communications with the lunar base, but we will also gain valuable data on human colonization in space. We might learn more about how humans will be able to adapt to live on Mars.”

Olympia Shaw shows the formal picture of Harold taken from his badge on the screen as she discusses Harold’s research and role on Horizon, as well as giving a vague generalization of the rebellion. It’s weird to hear someone talk about him like this, like he’s a celebrity of the utmost importance.

Tempest’s picture pops up briefly as the director discusses her ‘untimely’ death. The news claims it’s a sudden heart attack. Harold knows better.

The footage cuts back to the conference with the director, flanked on both sides by his investors. “We will be launching a shuttle as soon as possible. Our primary goal is to bring Dr. Winston back down to Earth safely and rehabilitate him if needed.”

He says more, but no one is concentrating on his words anymore. They’re all staring at the people flanked by his side. Moira and Sanjay stand a fair bit away from him, both dressed in sharp suits. He feels eyes latch onto his body, one by one. Suddenly his throat feels dry.

“Why are they saying you’re still on Horizon?” Tracer asks.

“My tracker should be on my old lab coat there, but that can’t be it. Dr. O’Deorain and Sanjay Korpal know I’m alive.”

Winston frowns gravely. “What are they planning?”

“The research,” Siebren utters, his expression dark. “Mr. Korpal was talking about Dr. Winston’s work with interest. The nanobots he has created can give a man temporary invulnerability. Talon hopes to use it to create the ultimate living weapon, an invincible machine of death.”

“We know Talon has already mastered mind control techniques, and if Dr. O’Deorain really is a member of Talon as our intel suggests, who knows what technology they have?” Winston shakes his head. “If it’s just technology and research they want, it still doesn’t explain why they’re saying he’s in space when he’s right here.”

“It’s blackmail,” Harold says grimly. He feels the eyes on his body once again but he tries to shake the feeling away. “They have part of my research, but not all of it. I’ve only wrote about improvements, not the actual design itself. And the original design is stored on Horizon’s computers. If they get their hands on it, combined with my notes, they can recreate it. Get the invincible soldiers they’ve always wanted.”

“It’s an excuse to go back up there,” Winston gasps. “If this means what I think it means, we have to stop them.”

“How?” Harold asks.

Winston smirks as he adjusts his glasses. “You just leave that to us.”

All around Harold, the Overwatch members rally together, faces bright and fierce in determination. They’ve huddled around Winston, looking up to him as their leader, but more than that they are united by a single cause. That’s the thing that unites these disparate people and personalities together, Harold realises. They all want to do good by the world. They are all heroes.

It’s always been Harold’s dream to change the world for the better, but so far he’s just sent it hurling faster into chaos and destruction. But with these people, this new Overwatch, maybe he finally has an opportunity to make amends. Maybe this is why he is here. To right his wrongs. To make a difference.

To be a hero.

He clasps Winston tightly on the shoulder. He closes his eyes for a second to compose himself, and when he opens them, he’s sure there’s fire and gold in his gaze. His voice is unwavering and strong. “Never accept the world as it appears to be. Dare to see it for what it could be.”

Winston’s eyes glitter. Small gasps escape from a few of the others around them. “Does that mean…? Are you…?”

Harold smiles. “I’m helping you out, hero. Wherever, however I can.”

#Overwatch #Sigma #Siebren de Kuiper #Harold Winston #Sigrold #Observant fans of mine will probably recognise those two lines at the end of the read-more as something I wrote in a previous tumblr post #This is definitely a breather chapter compared to the previous ones #Which is good because these space dads NEED to breathe #If you like it don't forget to reblog because that does help me out

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pizzapality · 6 years

Text

Since it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought I would drop the fanfiction I wrote a few months ago on here...

Title: Valentine’s Day (Or, Concerning Oolong and Pfeffernüsse)

Author: pizzapality

Summary: It had been so long since she had heard those words – ten years, at least. The thought didn't even cross her mind until just now. Was it February already? How many Valentine's Days had she missed?

Ship: Ana Amari/Reinhardt Wilhelm, Anahardt

Link to AO3

"There, perfect."

Ana Amari raised her rifle to take a better look at it. The metal glittered brilliantly in the light, tarnished only by the notches she'd put in the weapon.

Was it really perfect…? Would it ever really be perfect?

Carefully, she raised a finger to run over the blemishes, a pang of something like quiet discomfort washing over her. Eighteen…nineteen…twenty…at least twenty human lives taken for their cause, she reflected. If not more. Her rifle wouldn't look the same without those scratches carved into them, and yet…she forced herself to remember those lives she took. People with lives, families, children. People no different from her.

The door to her private quarters swung open that moment, jolting her out of her thoughts before they took too somber a turn. A young girl of about ten or so ran in, her knee-length dress swishing about her legs as she half-skipped toward her mother. Ana smiled and put aside her gun just in time to have the girl jump into her lap, enveloping her into a hug.

"Fareeha, my daughter," she began with a chuckle under her breath. The girl looked up at her, her black hair falling messily around her face. Blue, green, and red paint dotted the child's cheeks, although she could still see the youthful pink shining through her features. "I thought I told Reinhardt to watch you today."

"Yes, Mommy." Fareeha replied, nodding. "But he told me today was special! That today we're supposed'ta bring you presents!" She adjusted herself in her mother's lap, holding up her other hand that held a slightly crumpled piece of paper. Ana chuckled again – Fareeha never could be delicate about anything. On the paper was a relatively crude drawing of Ana and her daughter together with the words "Ich liebe dich Mom" written in bright green paint across the top and the bottom.

"Look, Mommy! Reinhardt even taught me how to write 'I love you' in German! And here's Jack, Gabe, and Angela and Reinhardt and…" Fareeha continued on while Ana's eyes scanned over the drawing. She noticed quite a few stick figures standing awkwardly off to the sides of her and her daughter, unmistakably the other members of their squadron. Blonde-haired Morrison…ah, there was Gabriel in the back with the black beanie…and Reinhardt, well he was…

"Yes, Captain," a voice boomed from the door, causing the woman to glance upward with mild surprise. It was a wonder that she'd missed him when they came in – Reinhardt Wilhelm was one hulk of a man – but he was just crouching underneath the doorframe to enter the room as well. "After we painted, she said she must show you now, so here we are. Isn't that right, fraulein?" He hummed a laugh as he made his way to a chair in front of a small desk. Fareeha nodded happily in affirmation.

"Do you like it, Mommy?" The girl chimed in, holding it up proudly and absolutely beaming. Her mother cracked a smile and nodded, running a hand through her daughter's hair and taking her face into her hands.

"You have done very well, Fareeha. I love it. Perhaps you will be a famous artist one day."

She could see Fareeha's eyes glint with mischief at she conjured a response.

"Perhaps I will be a famous member of Overwatch one day too."

Reinhardt let out a snicker at the comment while Ana couldn't help but roll her eyes. Rebellious youth.

"Why don't you go show everyone." She changed the subject, which immediately made her daughter begin to pout as she climbed down from her seat. "I'm sure they would all be happy to see your picture."

Fareeha folded her arms and huffed, puffing out her chest slightly and taking a wide stance. "I want to join Overwatch and be like you, Mommy!" The little girl stamped a foot on the ground for emphasis.

Her mother sneered before gesturing to the door. "Go."

The young girl turned with her picture and stepped to the door, lingering for a moment with a hand on the doorknob. Ana's breath caught for a moment, wondering if her daughter was going to press the issue, when she saw Fareeha glance back and say "Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy." before smiling and walking casually out the door and into the hall.

Happy Valentine's Day.

The woman's ears perked at the phrase. It had been so long since she had heard those words – ten years, at least. The thought didn't even cross her mind until just now. Was it February already? How many Valentine's Days had she missed?

Ana slouched from her stiff stance, slightly confused, slightly lost in thought. But it was one clear of the throat from Reinhardt, still in the room, to bring her back to Earth.

"Ana…!" he cooed softly, leaning forward in his chair. Ana could feel the hair bristle on the back of her neck. "My, you definitely seem checked out today."

Ana pretended to be unaffected by her co-worker's observation, opting instead to readjust herself on her bed and lean back on her hands.

"And how did my Fareeha come to know about Valentine's Day? Certainly, I have never told her – working here has kept me far from that holiday for years." she spoke quietly, looking sidelong at Reinhardt and conjuring a wry smile. The large man flushed a slight pink color while taking a giant hand to run his fingers through his dirty blonde locks.

"It has been a well-celebrated holiday in Germany for as long as I can remember," her company explained while he rested his elbows on his knees. "My mother was always baking all kinds of sweets for us to take to our classmates – it was quite a tradition. And when I had to travel this afternoon from the Watchpoint to grab some supplies for baking, Fareeha – she asked what the occasion might be."

"Wilhelm!" She exclaimed, her eyes aglow with the same mischief that rose from her daughter not moments ago. "You bake?"

Reinhardt laughed haughtily. "As I said – in my family, it is tradition."

An equal parts comfortable and awkward silence stretched between them as the two Overwatch operatives remained quiet in each other's company, glancing at each other one moment and losing the gaze the next.

"Valentine's Day is for lovers," Ana spoke up after a short while, although she immediately regretted the words as they came out. Now the air was definitely awkward. Reinhardt blanched instantaneously, glancing away to peer out the glass doors that opened to her private balcony overlooking the ocean.

"…Perhaps…" he half-murmured, wringing his hands nervously as his muscles tensed slightly under the black t-shirt that clung to his skin. He sounded like he was going to speak again, but she wasn't sure if or when that would be the case.

The silence settled into place again.

"So, did you ever give your mother's cookies as gifts to a sweetheart?"

She had intended the question to come out teasing, so she wasn't sure why she'd asked him so airily. She could make out the faraway look in his good eye as he opened his mouth to speak, but his words hitched slightly before anything could come out. He looked down, almost painfully, but then heaved a sigh.

"Wil –?" she started, concern lacing her tone.

"This is going to sound…very strange." He interrupted with a slight chuckle, looking up at her. His furry eyebrows almost obscured their line of sight, which Ana wasn't sure if she minded or not. "But I never could muster up the courage."

Ana wanted to snicker at that. To tell Reinhardt how ironic it was that this lion of a man who charged headstrong into battle every single time she'd seen him, who'd come back beaten and bruised but still smiling and still laughing, who any woman should and would feel blessed to be with, had qualms about being in love.

But she remained stoic. After all, she wasn't…the most romantic person in the world, either.

His snap to attention almost startled her. His head whipped back into position and he near absent-mindedly reached for a small brown box behind him. The box was foreign to her – he must have brought it in with him without her noticing. Reinhardt slowly rose from his chair – did she seem him tremble? No, it had to have been a trick of her mind – and came to sit beside her on her bed.

"But…perhaps now would be as good a time as any to overcome childhood fears." He said, extending the box to her. Her eyes glanced between the man and the box, a bit taken aback at how sharp a turn the conversation had taken. She carefully took the box into her hands, holding it delicately between her fingers and palming it ever so lightly as to not disgrace the gift given to her.

Just knowing that Reinhardt had thought of her on Valentine's Day made her pulse feel thick and heavy for a moment before she was able to regain herself and lean in Reinhardt's direction.

"Ah, you mean to tell me that Reinhardt Wilhelm, crusader known and loved the world around, has graced me with some Valentine's Day cookies that he baked with my daughter? My, what a family man you turned out to be." She crooned out the side of her mouth, and she almost caught the dazed expression that had washed over him as he took in her playful jab. A smile made its way to his face and he simply placed a large hand over top of both of hers.

"In time, there will be pfeffernüsse. Open it." He nodded, and she trusted the confidence in his voice as much as she did the curiosity brewing within her.

Slowly and carefully she flipped open the top, to reveal an ornately-painted teacup, complete with saucer. Daintily, the sniper raised it from the box, admiring the hot pink floral pattern that decorated the outside. She could feel her mouth fall slightly agape as one lithe finger traced the gold-flecked rim of the cup, astounded at its understated beauty.

"…How charming…" she breathed. "And you got this…for me?"

When her eyes fell upon him, she could feel him withdraw for a moment, obviously terribly nervous but also terribly excited. He raised a hand to comb through his blonde beard, hoping it would ease some of the tension.

"Ah, well. Yes. Just this morning, actually. Fareeha and I –"

"You devil of a man! You had my daughter in on this?" She couldn't help but playfully slap him on the shoulder, which caused him to relax quite a bit. Soon his raucous laughter was filling the room.

"You'll have to forgive me, Ana – she was the one who helped me to pick it out. I had my heart set on another, but she pointed me to this one and I…I simply knew."

"Did she now."

Heat rose and pleasantly flowed through her at the mention of that, and, without her notice, she welcomed it. For someone so shy about the uncertainty of romance, Reinhardt sure did know how to flatter someone.

A balmy type of stillness hung between them for quite a while, almost as if they had been encapsulated into a bubble that the rest of the world was closed off from. Even with no tea in the cup, the gift created thoughts and feelings that Ana wasn't sure she was willing to explore. They were co-workers, squadmates, friends, but…she felt so full of emotion, full of some kind of freedom that she hadn't let herself have, well…since she helped to create Overwatch. And it felt rather good, being beside him like this. Comfortable, even.

"Do…you like it, maus?" his voice turned up at the end of the question, a tad vulnerable. She looked up to lock eyes with the man, and without even thinking, her mouth stretched into a warm, genuine smile.

"I am in love with it, I think." She responded before the smallest snicker ghosted itself upon her lips. "Thank you."

He stifled a laugh himself.

"Good. Happy Valentine's Day, Ana."

And the grin that lit his features was so kind, so real, so genuine that she thought herself ready to drop the cup. Hastily, she placed it back into the box and rested it beside her rifle, where it was very much out of the way, and could be washed and possibly enjoy the company of some chamomile later.

"I…didn't think to get you a gift." She admitted, turning in his direction and folding her hands in her lap. "I am sorry, Reinhardt."

Reinhardt looked wistful for a moment, but then abruptly shook his head, assuring her that he never expected anything from her, and that it was supposed to be a nice surprise.

"It is my gift to you, Ana. I hope it will serve you well." He finished, placing a hand on her knee in reassurance.

Suddenly, a thought sprung to her mind. Perhaps it was the bubbly, giddy air around them both clouding her mind, or maybe it was the warm sensation that kept poking at her insides, but the thought almost felt right, and with every passing moment, the urge to do it grew stronger within her. No amount of mild suppression would bring about the termination of the thought that in this moment, Ana Amari wanted very badly to kiss Reinhardt.

"I…want to repay you somehow." She managed, scooting forward a bit. She was giving into herself a little, but my, was she bad at this.

"Ana, maus, as I said, you don't have to –"

"No, Reinhardt. I want to."

Reinhardt's body stiffened in that moment, paling a few shades as she continued to advance toward him until their faces were only centimeters from touching. She could hear his breaths quicken to a fever pitch, and realized that he was just as telling as she was. Nervous. Unsure.

What was she doing?

Before she could stop to second guess herself, Ana reached up and joined her lips with his. The musky scent of his beard tickled her nose, and she couldn't help but let a girlish giggle escape into his mouth. Before either of them knew it, she had lifted her long slender fingers to tie knots into his unruly blonde hair, and he held onto her with such need, such passion that it was almost as if he didn't, she'd cease to exist. Without much thought, she leaned forward against him, pressing her chest against his to feel the man's heart pound wildly against his ribcage beneath. The faintly bitter taste of his mouth reminded her of her favorite cup of oolong after a stressful day, and she knew that she'd never be able to drink that tea again without thinking of this moment.

Somehow that seemed…pretty okay.

But, hell, did this feel good. Strange emotions, ones she wasn't aware she'd still had smoldered within her, stirring around her stomach and robbing her of more rational thought as each second passed. Ever so minutely, Ana tilted her head, and Reinhardt pushed back, leaning into her with the same dizzying amount of fervor that she had.

But it wasn't to last.

A gentle pair of footsteps and a sing-song rendition of the word "Pfeffernüsse!" coming from down the hall ripped them apart as Fareeha returned into the room, grinning all the while.

Luckily, she was too wound up to suspect something from the two interrupted adults breathlessly watching her on the other side of the room.

"Reinhardt, can I have some of the pfeffernüsse we made? Please?" she questioned, attempting to put on her cutest face. Tough as he was, the crusader was a sucker for her daughter's adorable mannerisms.

Reinhardt, taking a moment to run his tongue along his slightly kiss-swollen bottom lip, turned the corners of his mouth up into a smirk.

"Only if it's okay with Mama, Fareeha." He responded.

The girl's pleading eyes turned to her mother, taking a moment to stand herself on her tippy-toes and fold her small hands in front of her.

Ana laughed a little, taking a moment to settle her pulse while running her hands through her hair, hopefully to make it appear less messy.

"Go downstairs, we'll be down in a minute."

Fareeha was gone before Ana could even finish the sentence, yelling "YAY, COOKIES!" at the top of her lungs.

The moment was gone, she knew, but that didn't stop her from turning again to Reinhardt once they were all alone. He still looked a little winded, as if he had only dreamed of the repayment he received for his small gesture. His expression held so much emotion, so much that he wanted and needed to say to her, and she knew that it would come bursting forth any moment.

But Ana needed time to reflect on her mistakes. If, in fact, this was one.

"Maus…" His voice, gravelly and low, came then, barely above a whisper. He leaned in closely, reaching for her face and holding his hand to gently stroke his fingers through her hair.

Luckily, before he could say much more, Ana was able to raise a finger to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

"Asad," she started, softy. "I think you and I could really use some pfeffernüsse."

His eyes begged her to reconsider but a raise of her eyebrow was all she needed to silence him on the subject. With that, she slowly rose from the bed, smiling as Reinhardt followed suit before handing her the small box that was seated next to her rifle.

"Pfeffernüsse is a tea cookie, you know." He mentioned as he stood aside for her to exit the room.

"That's good to hear." She replied, looking at her companion out of the corner of her cybernetic eye. "Because I feel a strong desire for a good oolong right now."

Thanks for taking the time to read! I actually have a companion piece to this called Mended in Gold, and that’s on AO3 as well. If you have a moment, you can check that out as well! :) Thanks again, and long live Anahardt!

#overwatch #anahardt #ana amari #reinhardt #fanfiction

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