Flash Fiction: Sleepless Night

Ana Amari lay on her bed, shivering, the thin covers of the ratty twin bed doing little to keep out the everpresent draft in the too small apartment room, unable to sleep, again. Sleep didn’t come easily to Ana Amari, it never had. In her youth, restless energy fueled many long nights behind a scope and now that she was old, the faces of those she killed, the faces of those loved, and lost, haunted her when she closed her eyes. So she kept them open. 

She shifted in bed, first lying on her left side then her right then her back. This pattern repeated for about 30 minutes. Then she got up and made some chamomile tea. She drank it. It did little to help. As she crawled back into bed, she felt her age worn body cry out against the movement in protest. She tried to push away the pain, she tried to reach inward to find some comfort to draw from, something to soothe the ache of the years, but there was nothing.

It was too cold.

She needed to talk to the landlord about the draft. She had been putting it off, no need to draw attention to herself. Especially not now. She needed to hide. Too many people looking for her.

Her mind felt slow and her movements felt sluggish, but she just could not fall asleep. No matter what she did. Her eyes kept turning to the sleep dart on the side table, she knew that would drop her if all else failed, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. The back of her hand was yellow enough as it was from the bruising of the constant injections.  She looked at the bruises with disgust, her weakness was inexcusable. She had always been able to control her emotions when out in the field. Why not now? Had she gone crazy? Had she lost her touch? She shook her head, too many thoughts, too much noise. She looked at the dart again. The sleep that dart gave her wasn’t normal, while her body shut down, her mind remained very, very lucid, and that was frankly something she couldn’t deal with. Not tonight. 

She lay flat, searching her mind. What did she do before? When she was younger? She thought back to her time in Overwatch and she remembered the nights on Gibraltar dancing with Reinhardt, she smiled to herself like a little girl and pointed her toes  in the darkness of that apartment, remembering how he would pick her up by the waist and spin her around. She loved that feeling of weightlessness, the feeling of total release, and the feeling of freedom.

He was four doors down the hall. Room 123. She could stop by. It was only 10:30. Maybe he’d let her sleep in his room, just on the couch. As long as she was with him, she was sure she could sleep. And if not, she’d be awake with Reinhardt and that was better than being awake with her thoughts. 

She pushed up the covers and got out of bed, she opened the door and walked down the hallway, she hugged her nightgown tight around her, her bare feet cold against the freezing hardwood flooring. She stopped in front of his door and knocked lightly, twice. 

Reinhardt Wilhem was sitting on his couch watching reruns of his matches in Germany's olympic wrestling meets, as he always did, reliving the glory of older days, when he heard a light knocking at the door. 

“Who could it be?” He wondered out loud to himself as he threw on a tank top and some sweatpants and went to the door. He opened it and gasped in surprise at who he saw standing there.

“Ana!” 

She gazed at him, and he gazed back, and as his eyes searched her he could tell she had been having trouble sleeping, the puffiness of her eyes, the disheveled hair, and her incessant shivering. He made a mental note to talk to the landlord about that draft in her room. 

“Reinhardt… I…” 

In a moment of wordless understanding Reinhardt pulled Ana into the room and embraced her. His massive body enveloping her tiny frame in its warmth.

“Ana, my dearest, all is well.”

He released the embrace and grabbed her hands leading her to the bed. He pulled back the covers, picked her up and set her down gently, his arms holding her as gently as he would hold a baby bird. He tucked her in and as he left he whispered, “Is there anything that you need darling?” Her hand reached out for him and her eyes pleaded with him, 

“Stay with me Reinhardt, please don’t leave.” 

Her voice, tired as it was, called out to him with mournful longing, but she needed him by her side, she could not bear the darkness of that night alone.

At this, he climbed into the bed beside her and wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her close. She curled up and placed her head on his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through her fighting back the cold. The deep rumbling of his breathing and the rise and fall of his great chest made a soothing midnight melody.

“I will never leave you Ana,” 

She melted into him, and her arms wrapped tightly around him as if he might escape, while body and mind entered a state of blissful weightlessness as she drifted off to peaceful uninterrupted sleep.