Overwatch High School: During The Crisis

Lost in Translation

4 days. That is how long Ana Amari had been missing from school. Normally Reinhardt didn't notice if one of his many classmates was out of class. People get sick, cut class, or go on vacation all the time. It wasn't usually his concern. But with Ana it was different. He misses her. He misses her help and patience when he was having trouble with English. He misses talking to her at lunch. He— "Mr. Wilhelm, are you paying attention?"

He was still in English class. "Yes, Ms. Hargrove! I was just thinking." The people around him wince at his volume, which causes Reinhardt's expression to become slightly bashful as they return to the lesson.

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"I'm just getting worried about her! What if she's sick? What if she got hurt? Who would take care of Fareeha?" Reinhardt suddenly notices how bored his audience is. Jack has his head on the table. Gabe's arms are crossed over his chest and he's leaning back in his chair, the metal front legs lifting off the floor as he balances it precariously. It's Gabe who finally speaks. "First of all, I think Ana's aunt would have no trouble taking care of Fareeha. Second of all, if you're so worried about her, why don't you go check on her? You're over there almost every day after practice anyways." Reinhardt mentally smacks himself for not thinking of that first. Jack talks next. "Reyes has a point, Rein. Just go check on her yourself."

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Reinhardt walks up to the door, hand raised in a fist a few inches from the painted wood. Then he stops, turns around, and walks back to the sidewalk, looking up at the sky painted with the oranges, reds, and purples of sunset. He's been here for twenty minutes trying to work up the courage to knock on Ana's door. "Come on, Reinhardt, it's no different from any other time you've come to visit her. You're coming to check on her, it's not like you're here to ask her on a date or something." Even the idea of that makes him more nervous than he was before. With a shake of his blond head, Reinhardt squares his shoulders and walks back up to the door. He raises his hand once more, but before he can knock, the door opens. "Sorry, my aunt wasn't certain you'd be able to knock before the sun went down, and she wanted you to come in in time to have dinner with us."

Ana is standing in the doorframe, a tired smile on her face and a fussy Fareeha situated on her hip. Reinhardt swallows nervously, his cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment. "Don't just stand there, Reinhardt. Come in!" He ducks his head and steps through the door as Ana moves to the side to let him through. As he straightens up, the top of his head almost brushes against the ceiling. The house is filled with the smells of food as a voice comes from the kitchen. "Did you finally get that boy to come inside?"

"Naeim, eimatan!" Ana's attention is drawn away by Fareeha, who has started to rub her eyes. "Katakut, stop rubbing your eyes. You know you aren't supposed to touch them."

"Itches!" Ana sighs in exasperation. "I know it itches, but you need to be patient."

Her aunt's voice again rings out in the house. "Ana, come help me with dinner." Another sigh from Ana. "Reinhardt, could you hold Fareeha while I help with dinner?"

"Of course!" He holds out his arms eagerly, and Ana deposits the small bundle into them. She then walks into the kitchen. Reinhardt gives Fareeha a huge smile. "How are you, Liebechen?"

The little girl yawns, and he notices the pinkness in the whites of her eyes and the crust around them. She responds, "Mutaeabuh..."

Reinhardt racks his brain, desperately going through the limited Arabic Ana has tried to teach him to figure out what Fareeha just said to him. "One more time, Liebechen?"

Ana's voice comes from the kitchen this time, "It means she's tired." Fareeha nods, reaching up to her face to rub her eyes again. Reinhardt catches her hand, holding it gently between two fingers as he sits down on the couch. "Your mother said you weren't supposed to rub your eyes, Reeha."