Chapter Text
Ana Amari couldn’t thank anyone enough for the blessing of a man named Reinhardt Wilhelm, and how good he is with children.
Including, no, especially her child, little six-year-old Fareeha. Ana watched on, smiling, as Reinhardt lifted his arm again and again while leaning heavily on his right leg, with Fareeha hanging on tightly and giggling. They were in Reinhardt’s small but practical assigned house, not too far from the Overwatch base. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom and front room. Much better than the barracks lower-ranking Overwatch agents bunked in. Ah, the perks of rank.
Many people, mostly those who didn’t really know Reinhardt, were surprised how much he liked children. Even more were surprised by how much children liked him. It was somewhat understandable, she supposed, Reinhardt was well-known for his love of ‘glorious combat’, and his less than gentle friendly back-slapping.
Ana had known from the moment she told her team she was pregnant, the way Reinhardt’s eyes had lit up, how he gently touched her abdomen after asking, sincerely congratulating her on the achievement of creating life.
Although, she had had to quite firm in say no to naming her child ‘Harimanna’, ‘Baldhart’ or ‘Gunther’. Reinhardt had sulked for days, although he would deny it fiercely. At least he didn’t suggest ‘Reinhardt II’.
Now, with her child born and baring a proper, elegant name, Reinhardt took to caring for her as determinedly as he took to everything else, if a little eccentric.
This was lucky, since it was hard to find a babysitter or au pair that was both competent and not an assassin for when her missions took her out of the country for long periods of time.
Reinhardt, whose armor had been hit hard in the leg last mission collapsing it into his left thigh, was in recovery for the duration of her current mission. It wasn’t a terrible injury, a large deep bruise but the bone thankfully intact, but the armor needed repairs and being in the armor while injured would cause more harm than good. It was quite serendipitous, injury aside. It left him open to watch Fareeha, which did not often get to do, much to his disappointment.
He would look after her, Ana knew, to his dying breath if need be.
Ana shook her head, still smiling, “Now, Reinhardt,” Ana said sternly, “You know you cannot feed her only German sweets and ginger biscuits.”
“Ah, but Ana!” Reinhardt boomed with gusto, as usual, “Everybody loves Pfeffernüsse!”
“Not every day, they don’t. Fareeha, eat your vegetables.”
Fareeha’s face fell as she made the high-pitched groan of a disappointed child, still hanging from Reinhardt’s arm.
Ana sighed, no doubt in her mind Reinhardt would spoil her daughter. She put down Fareeha’s bag, full of clothes and toiletries and foam dart guns. She hoisted her own, smaller bag and her rifle case higher up her shoulders.
“Be good for Uncle Reinhardt. Do as he says, but not as he does. Brush your teeth, brush your hair. Do the reading I gave you. If you need help with something and you can’t find Reinhardt, talk to Uncle Jack. Eat something that came from the earth once and awhile.
Reinhardt, take care of Fareeha. Try to set a good example, and try to stay off your leg, yes?” She gave them a look, a take care of yourselves look, but scarier, more of a take care of yourselves, or else, look.
“Ja, Ana.”
“Yes, mama.”
They spoke in sync, both trying to look innocent and responsible. They both looked equally ridiculous.
They would be fine.
“I am leaving now. Fareeha, come give mama a kiss.” Ana said, squatting down, arms out.
Fareeha finally dropped from Reinhardt’s arm and ran towards her mother, practically crashing into her to hug her. Ana wrapped her arms around her daughter tightly, before taking her young face in her hands and kissing her forehead. Fareeha’s face scrunched up, but she returned the kiss to her mother’s cheek.
With a final salute to Reinhardt, she turned to leave, “Call me if you need me,” she looked back at them, “Don’t need me.” She said wryly, but fondly.
With that she left, the chorus of farewells following her out. Time for work.
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Back in the small house, Reinhardt looked down at Fareeha, “Do you want some Pfeffernüsse, Mäuschen?” He asked with a wink.
Fareeha grinned widely up at him, showing off her missing tooth.
“Ja, Herr Reinhardt!” She said proudly, careful with the pronunciation.
“Wunderbar! You have been practicing your German!” He clasped his hands joyfully, “We will make a fluent speaker out of you yet. Now let’s go get that Pfeffernüsse.” He took her hand, barley able to reach down that far, and hobbled with his bad leg to the kitchen.
“Does your leg hurt much, Uncle Rein?” Fareeha asked with concern in her young voice.
“Nein, Mäuschen, I am fine,” He said with a smile, “It’ll take much more to bring down this Crusader!” He pounded a fist on his chest proudly.
Fareeha smiled, and climbed her way up a tall stool to sit at the kitchen bench, “Can we have some Perffufferss now?”
“Ha, it is Pfeffernüsse, Fareeha.”
“That’s what I said!”
Reinhardt huffed a fond laugh, “Yes, you can have some ginger biscuits now, child.” He got the jar down from the shelf and opened the lid, offering some to Fareeha.
Fareeha took one, and thanked Reinhardt very politely, as her mother had taught her, before taking a huge bite of the iced ginger biscuit.
Reinhardt took one for himself and sat heavily on the stool besides Fareeha, groaning and holding his leg.
Fareeha looked up at him, chewing her biscuit.
“Okay, maybe my leg is a little sore,” Reinhardt admitted, somewhat reluctantly, “so I guess you shall have to carry me, Mäuschen.” He said cheekily.
Wide-eyed, Fareeha gaped at him, taking in his huge form, before swallowing her Pfeffernüsse and steeling herself, “I will do my best, Uncle Rein.” She said seriously, with a nod of her head.
Reinhardt exploded into uproarious laughter, slapping the bench top in lieu of the small girls back, “Ah, child, so much like your mother.” He wiped an eye, “Have another biscuit, Fareeha.”
Sometimes her Uncle Rein confused her, so different from her mother or any of the other adults she knows, but that was why she liked him so much. He could be a little loud, and often said things she didn’t understand, even when it wasn’t German, but she felt safe with him, and he was so much fun.
And he gave her biscuits.
She didn’t much like it, when her mother goes away for so long, so frequently, but it was definitely better when Reinhardt watched her.