Moonshadows (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moonshadows) wrote2013-02-13 04:29 pm
moonshadows) wrote2013-02-13 04:29 pm
Epilogue: Sombra goes organic
"Sombra," Papi sighs crankily.
I open my eyes to see him propped up on one elbow, glaring blearily at where I'm sitting: on the floor and leaning against his bed.
"There better be a good reason-" he starts, half asleep and half annoyed, but I interrupt.
"I dreamed about my mother." In the shocked silence the follows that bombshell, I say quietly, "I needed to hear you breathe."
"Oh, Fuck. Alé..." now fully awake and horrified, he sits up and holds out one hand. "Come here, hija."
I don't need to be told twice. He pulls me up to sit next to him, and just holds me while I hug him desperately and try not to cry. His heartbeat and the soft sound of his breathing are very reassuring.
"Wake me next time," he demands.
"But I-"
"Wake. Me." There's a pause to make sure he's silenced any protest before he continues more gently, "I don't want you just sitting on the floor suffering. You held me through my nightmares. I'll hold you through yours."
All I can do is nod against his shoulder.
"Good."
===
I don't wake him. It's not like the floor is uncomfortable to an omnic body, and I don't need hugs and reassurance after I've had a nightmare of Papi dying. All I need is to hear him breathe. He sleeps on his stomach, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, and if I really need more reassurance than just his steady breaths, I can hug that dangling arm and feel the subtle beat of his pulse. There's no reason for us both to lose sleep, right?
Most of the time, I can calm the nightmares and push them away within half an hour, and then I creep back to my own bed. But sometimes, I fall asleep hugging Papi's arm and wake up to him sitting on the floor next to me, holding me, snoring softly with his head leaning against mine.
I don't tell him about the other nightmares, where I've decided to go back to an organic body only to die in some freak accident, leaving him heartbroken. I call Uncle Jack after those, wake him up and make him sleepily promise to look after Papi if anything happens to me. Then I call my parent omnium or Tia Ana, depending on what time it is and where in the world Ana is, and babble at one of them until the nightmare fades enough for me to sleep again.
===
Meals are more comfortable in some ways, but slightly strained in others now that Papi's got a flesh and blood body again. His enthusiasm for being able to eat is infectious, and there's a lot of laughing and teasing. But at least once during the meal, he looks at me with a pained expression so brief that neither of my sibs notice it, but I do. He can eat, but I can't, and it breaks his heart that his little shadow, the adopted daughter who's put up with so much and given him his whole life back, is still living in the purgatory of an omnic body.
I want to go back, I want to breathe because I need to breathe and be able to taste all the foods I remember and feel my muscles burn when I run and have Papi look at me with pride because I'm his daughter, but I'm afraid.
Hope is for suckers. I learned that when I was five, when my world went up in flames and fighting and everything I'd hoped the new year would be turned into my mother's corpse on the living room floor. Don't hope, because leaving yourself open like that is only inviting disappointment. If you actually get what you wanted, you're sure to find out that there's a catch, a blemish, and the world has taken the opportunity of you letting your guard down to spit in your face.
It would be so easy, that's the worst part. I've already done the hard word, splicing Papi's Y chromosome into my DNA record. The sample I took so long ago is still going, in my little office lab, only now the biological material it maintains is the flesh that could be my flesh. I've designed my potential new body down to the last detail, choosing which augmentations to keep and which I can do without. I could call Angela up at any moment, bring the sample and the programming, dump them into a giant vat of LRF and call up my parent omnium. By the time the body had finished being formed, help would have arrived and I could be transferred into flesh as easily as I'd been transferred out of it. It would be so easy.
But deep in my heart, I know that if I did, something would happen. Something would go wrong. Everything would be ripped away from me again, leaving me scared and bleeding and alone or worse, dead, and Papi Gabriel...he loves me enough to be afraid of something happening to me even when he knows I don't die, it would crush him if I gave up that security and then something killed me.
I can't do that to him.
I can't.
=
Jack knows something's bothering me. He calls me to his office on the pretense of needing to discuss some aspect of the rebuild, and then just hugs me.
"Family goes both ways," he reminds me. "You don't want to talk to Gabriel about whatever's eating you, fine. I won't tell him. But I'm worried about you, Sombra. And if I'm worried about you, I know Gabriel's got to be worried about you, too."
It's several minutes of being hugged in silence before I can bring myself to whisper, "I have nightmares that something happens to him."
I'm not going to go into what's really bothering me. I haven't even told Tia Ana about the catch-22 of breaking Papi's heart if I do (and something goes wrong) and breaking Papi's heart if I don't.
We talk for a while about my nightmares, how losing my mother so young and in such a horrible way sowed the seeds of this issue. He jokes about getting an actual dog for me to sleep with; I joke that doing that would make Papi jealous. I suspect that I haven't completely fooled him, and that he's not acting alone, something that's confirmed when I go back home and Papi's waiting in the foyer. He hugs me for a long minute, then suggests we go somewhere quiet to talk.
In a quiet corner of the backyard, by a tree we used to sit under for hours at a time when he was a dog, Papi holds me and we talk about dealing with the aftermath of having seen horrific things.
"If you want to talk to someone professional about this," he says hesitantly, "I'll back you up. But..." I shake my head, and he laughs softly. "That's what I thought. You're too much like me. They'll fade, hija. Keep fighting however you need to fight. You were there for me; I'm going to be there for you."
That makes me cry into his shoulder, half out of actually having a parent who lives up to my ideals and half because he wants me to be stable and happy, wants to share the things that make him happy. I want to be the flesh-and-blood daughter he deserves and I can't, I just can't, because I'm afraid.
=
I'm curled up in a chair, surrounded by screens and chewing at a likely opportunity for my all-omnic construction company, when the door opens. Solen hasn't announced any visitors and the security system hasn't registered a guest, so it's moderately alarming when a slim man bounds into the room and pulls me into a hug. I'm about to knock him out with an EMP when the block on his linksignal drops and I know that linksignal. That's-
"Linkbrother Genji?"
He releases me and laughs at my confused surprise. "Yes! What do you think?"
Hands out, he turns a circle. He looks completely human, from the neck up, and the addition of clothes adds to the illusion.
"Your hair is green."
He flicks it with one finger. "An affectation from my youth. I can change it, but I am quite enjoying it for the moment. Also, it distracts people from my hands, although cybernetic hands are easier to accept than a cybernetic body."
That makes me laugh because of how true it is. "You look good, amigo. Sit, tell me all about it."
We both curl up on opposite sides of a couch. Genji plays with the hem of his shirt for a moment before saying, "Angela was able to do some...ah...creative rebuilding of some internal organs, and by submerging me in a nutrient solution, she was able to use nanites to rebuild the damaged portions of my face and scalp. For the most part, I am still as I was."
"Except now you can walk around without worrying about being seen?"
"Exactly," he laughs. "And, I can eat again. Ah, linksister, the foods I have missed!"
From the doorway, Papi says, "Tell me about it."
Genji jumps. When he sees Papi leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning, he grins just as broadly. "Commander! It is true, then - you have returned to flesh!"
"It's true. Scoot over, kid," he says, gesturing Genji to the center of the couch. "First lesson of Familia Reyes: we cuddle in this family, god damn it!"
If my linkbrother is surprised to find himself sandwiched by us, he doesn't show it. "So I am part of your family, then, Commander?"
"Please, I haven't held a rank since the explosion. Call me Gabriel, or Gabe-"
"Or otou-san?" Genji asks slyly.
Papi laughs. "Have you been plotting with my kids?"
"I thought I was part of your family," my linkbrother says with false innocence.
"You're part of my family," I assure him.
"Fine," Papi says with exasperation we all know isn't real. "If you really think I'm worthy of the title-"
Dryly, Genji says, "Have I never told you stories of the man who sired me?"
"That sounds like something we need booze for, kid. Can you drink with those fancy new organs Angela gave you?"
"Ah, despite my charming appearance, I am still very much a weapon of war," Genji demurs. "I do not think it would be wise for me to deliberately impair my control."
Papi gives him a look of mock-affront. "Logic? That's not how we do things in this family!"
"Papi!"
"...except for Sombra," he continues unrepentantly.
"Well, I am her linkbrother."
That gets me a deadpan look. "He gets it from your side, hija."
"Hey, not my fault omnics are better at logic!"
"Fine, fine." Papi raises his hands like he's surrendering the whole argument. "No booze. But you can eat, right?"
Genji nods. "Oh, yes. Angela says she developed new techniques from your journey to flesh. I have the same stomach as you, and for the first time in many years, I can enjoy food again!"
The momentary look of heartbreak Papi directs at me feels like a punch in the gut.
"Sombra, call your uncle, tell him he's coming out to dinner with us." Papi grins. "Don't tell him we're on our way. You did want to surprise him, right, Genji?"
My linkbrother grins back in delight. "You are correct, otou-san."
Papi ruffles his hair. "Good. C'mon, you two. Let's go round up your siblings."
=
"Was nice seeing Genji again," Jesse says as we stroll back through the soft dusk. "Even better that he was so happy."
"You'd be amazed at how liberating it is to take your face back after having been denied it for years."
Dryly, Adrienne says, "No, I wouldn't," and makes us all laugh.
"She's right," Jesse says. "You loosened up a lot, Dad."
Papi looks wistful. "You know that saying about not appreciating what you have until you lose it?" he asks quietly. "It's true. Fuck what the rest of the world thinks. They're not important. You all, and making sure you know that I care about you little delinquents, are what's important."
"Aww, Dad..."
"You know the rule," my sister chides gently.
Papi grins at Jesse, who groans in a wholly unconvincing way and pretends to be reluctant as he slouches into Gabriel's arms for a hug.
"I love you, you fucking ingrate," Papi growls.
Jesse growls back, "I love you too, you snarky bastard."
Ritual complete, they let go and we continue on our way.
=
Sleep doesn't come easily after Genji's visit. When I first forcibly inserted myself into the Overwatch family, I was hardly the only one who wasn't "normal"...but I was the best at passing for it. Then Widowmaker got retro-conditioned and chose a name, and Papi decided to reclaim his identity, and now Genji - while still mostly cybernetic - can eat and pass for human.
Now I'm the only one that can't.
By transferring out of my meatsack body, I built myself a cozy little shelter, a way to evade the problems of my childhood and teenage years. But now my omnic body is holding me back from fully being a part of my family, and yet...
...and yet...
It would be so easy. But hope is for suckers.
=
As Halloween - and Papi's birthday - gets closer, the catch-22 eats at me more. Every time we talk about our plans, the decorations, the costumes, and especially the food, Papi gives me one of those momentary, heartwrenching looks. I'm breaking his heart, I know it. He starts to act a bit high-strung, and more than once he hugs me without a word, just holding me for minutes at a time, like he's afraid I'm going to shatter in his arms. When we enter the week before the party and start getting confirmation for who's going to be there, he starts directing those looks of momentary heartbreak at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention.
I can't do this anymore. Maybe something horrible will happen, and I'll lose everything and he'll be left to mourn me. But I'm hurting him now, and I can't do that to him anymore. I can't.
I swear Angela to secrecy and bring her the sample and the programming, both the digital copy and a tube of leftover nanites with the blueprints for my organic body already loaded. She doesn't say anything, just hugs me for a long minute until we're both sure we're not going to cry. I call my parent omnium right there, and we work out when I'll need help for being transferred, who's going to do it, and where I'll pick them up.
Jerome doesn't question the flight plans once I reassure him that we'll be back in plenty of time for the Halloween bash.
Papi is clearly concerned by this unspecified last-minute trip I tell him I'm going on, especially since I won't tell him where I'm going or why, but I promise him that I won't miss the party.
"You know I don't bullshit you," I say quietly, and he pulls me into a tight hug.
"I know, Alé," he murmurs into my hair. "I just worry because I love you."
That almost makes me cry. "I love you too, Papi."
"Come back safe, you hear me?"
I'm doing the right thing. I just hope nothing happens that makes me regret it. "Si, Papi."
He kisses the top of my head. "Okay. I'll see you at the party."
=
Two days before Halloween, Jerome and I fly out to a little suburb of Dorado. An omnic who doesn't look like an omnic is waiting for us with take-out; Jerome takes fifteen to eat and use the bathroom, and we're in the air before anyone notices we're there. When we land at Angela's medical facility, I thank him for flying a twelve-hour round trip; he just smiles and says he'll see me in the evening to do it again. Angela has a private room reserved for him so he can rest. Once he's settled, she nods to the omnic (who has not said a word out loud, partially out of habitual distrust for organics and partially because she never learned English) and hurries us into a secured lab where my future body is floating in a tank of nutrient fluid. Tante Angela runs what I'm sure are several unnecessary medical diagnostics to be sure the body is fully-formed and healthy despite there being nobody home. The lack of a controlling intelligence would creep her out more if my blueprint hadn't dictated that the body be constructed with a state-of-the-art omnic brain instead of an inefficient organic one. My omnic "aunt" checks over the augmentations to make sure they're functioning correctly, and finally nods her silent approval.
"We are ready for transference, Schattenkind," Angela says steadily, despite the fact that she's clearly nervous about this procedure. But then again, she's never overseen the transfer of a mind from one body to another and probably wouldn't even believe it was possible if I weren't poof of that. "Are you ready?"
I look into the sleeping face of my future body. There are slight differences from having spliced in Papi's DNA, but it's close enough to be slightly unnerving. The hair has been growing while the body sat idle, and it's down to what will be my waist, thick and black and just curly enough to make me the envy of all the girls back home. I haven't had hair that long since I was twenty and still planning my "death". Looking at the empty organic shell reminds me of the last time I looked at my original body, and that I took a submachine gun to it immediately afterwards. Flesh is so easy to damage.
"I'm ready," I tell them both. It's only partially a lie.
The body is lifted out of the nutrient fluid and laid on a stainless steel table. Webbing made of tear-resistant mesh is spread over it like a blanket to keep any involuntary thrashing to a minimum, and a padded restraint is placed around what will be my head. For a moment, the only sound is the drip-drip-drip of nutrient fluid hitting the floor. Then Angela wheels a second table over, and I climb onto it. I've dressed in my mission outfit, because it seemed only fitting. My omnic body will be locked away just in case it's ever needed, and if we do need the body of a sexy omnic assassin specializing in digital infiltration, then it's damn well going to be dressed appropriately. Angela secures me with a stronger mesh and nods to my "aunt".
/You remember how this goes, little shadow?/
/Of course./
/Initiating connection protocols./
The Tehuacán Omnium answers our request for connection. The world dissolves into fragments and pixels.
=
COLD!
My lungs heave, my muscles tremble, and my eyelids fly open as my eyes roll back. I feel like I've been plunged naked into ice water. It's not that I didn't have temperature sensation over the last third of my life, but it was...distant. Muted. Objective. This is subjective, immediate, deeply personal, and I am cold. I cough on the exhale.
"Sombra?" Angela asks.
I feel like I'm trying to stuff a hundred scarves into a box full of cats, sorting out nerve input and figuring out which signals map to which parts of my body.
"Ten minutes," my omnic "aunt" says in Spanish. I think she's talking to Angela.
There's touches on my body, flashes of heat and cold and sudden, jarring pain. I can no more force this sack of meat to obey my will than I could calm a raging ocean with interpretive dance, but slowly, the thrashing stops and my lungs settle into a smoother rhythm and my heart stops pounding. The omnic hindbrain has sorted out the cacophony of traffic from my organic nerves and I am in control.
That does not mean I'm not overwhelmed.
I'm also still cold, and my body goes from trembling to shivering. I look around as much as I can with my head restrained, but all I can see is ceiling. My first attempt at saying 'Tante Angela' is a failure with my clumsy tongue and chattering teeth.
"Sombra?" Angela asks warily.
"Ssssssi," I manage to get out with my teeth clenched.
Whatever she says in response, I don't hear it because I'm dealing with the aftermath of an organic mind having been bounced around the omnic satelites in a stream of thought-particles and then reconstructed. When the world settles down and makes sense again, I'm huddled in a corner, wrapped in a thick, warm emergency blanket and leaning against one wall. Check the time. It's been almost an hour since the transfer into my organic body was completed. The nutrient fluid has dried into a crust on my skin, and every hair on my body itches.
/Your friend is quite concerned for you, little shadow. I tried to explain that you needed time to adjust, but I don't think she understood./
/Thank you. My body...?/
/It has been packed securely away. How is the adjustment?/
/I think I'm settled. Mostly./
"Sombra?" Angela asks with a note of restrained alarm in her voice.
I pry my eyes open and stretch. "I'm awake."
"How do you feel?" she asks, helping me to my feet.
I consider it for a moment. "Squishy. And itchy. I need a shower."
"Yes," she agrees, laughing. "That was quite an alarming process. Are you certain you're alright?"
"I wouldn't do it for fun, and I wouldn't advise it for your average person, but I'm okay. Shower?"
Angela helps me across the lab and into a shower stall with a convenient number of support bars on the walls. Adjusting from automatic balance routines to hindbrain muscle control is...less smooth than when the adjustment was going the other way. A long, hot shower is an excellent way to get used to not only that, but the more immediate, subjective tactile input from skin and nerves rather than synthskin and sensors. By the time I'm done, I feel much more settled.
Putting on clothes is mildly annoying with skin that's not exactly hypersensitive, but I haven't had time to register a baseline for tactile input yet so things feel...jarring. I ignore it in favor of being annoyed at the wet, heavy mass of hair hanging off my head. One of the things I haven't missed is how much of a pain it is to argue with wet hair. The purple-and-gold scarf I got in Paris works very well to keep damp strands out of my face, because I remember that one lock that liked to fall into my left eye and I don't know that my new body will have that again, but I don't feel like finding out just yet. I finish tying my hair back and call it done; brushing it out can wait until it's dry.
Both Angela and my "aunt" are beaming when I emerge from the bathroom.
"And now comes the hard part," Angela jokes as she hugs me. "Sleeping in the middle of the day."
=
Sleep is restless, and not just because it's the first time in a decade I haven't been able to just shut my mind off. Now that I've taken the plunge, I'm worried I did the wrong thing. What if I've been misinterpreting Papi's soulful looks all along? What if he didn't want me to go organic, what if he's angry, what if he's disappointed? I toss and turn on the bed in the private room next to Jerome's, trying to quiet my doubts and re-learning how to find a balance between covering enough of my body to retain body heat and having too much of my body covered. Turns out I never really forgot how to toss my head when I roll over so that I'm not choking on my own hair; I hadn't even remembered that was a thing, much less thought about having to do it again, so that's unexpected but nice. I don't get enough sleep by the time we need to get ready to go, but I get some and thankfully, there's no dreams.
Well, there's always the six-hour flight back.
I can hear Jerome shower while I brush my hair. My fingers remember how to braid it, which is a pleasant surprise. They also itch to shave most of it off again, and I am almost distractingly aware of where my organic body ends and omnic augmentation begins. The screen manipulation nails anchor to the bones of my fingers at the second knuckle, and I find myself shaking and flexing my hands absently. For a second, I'm terrified that they don't work, but I've got ten screens open in a single, frantic gesture, and everything is okay again.
Angela hugs me as I leave the room with my shoulder bag. "Fly safe," she says quietly, not wanting to offend Jerome. "I will see you in the morning?"
Because naturally, she wants to make sure I'm still doing okay after almost a full day in flesh. "Of course."
"You need to eat something," she says firmly, but I pull a bottle of nutrient fluid out of the bag. "I should have known. Very well. Have a good trip, Schattenkind."
"And remember, if anyone asks..."
"I have not seen you."
=
The trip to Dorado is comfortably silent...if you don't count the omnic channel. My "aunt" and I catch up, trading stories of Los Muertos and Overwatch. She asks what it's like, having flesh again after having lived as an omnic for so long, and why I went back if I was so torn about it.
/A sacrifice for love,/ she says after hearing my explanation. /Like a fairy tale. Both in giving up flesh, and in reclaiming it./
/But which fairy tale?/ I ask dryly. /Many of them end badly./
/I do not think yours will be one of the ones that do. You have fought against the world from a very young age, and you keep winning. I think the world is afraid to deny you what you want at this point,/ she teases.
/Serves it right for what it did to me,/ I joke back.
/More seriously, little shadow, you are the first organic to have your mind transferred into an omnic body, and the first omnic to have your mind transferred into flesh. Now that we know it can be done, it could pave the way for others to do the same. I don't know that I would want it for myself, but there are omnics who would give nearly anything to wear the flesh they pretend so hard they have./
/And omnic bodies could be an alternative to extensive surgery, or a temporary refuge while mangled bodies are healed./ I'll have to mention that to Angela when I get back.
/Will you return to legal status?/ My "aunt" asks.
I think about the handful of fancy, high-profile lunches I've had with Papi, Jesse, and Uncle Jack. /Yes. But not yet./
/When?/
A smile spreads across my organic face. /Well...it is traditional for the dead to rise on Easter./
=
The flight back is peaceful. I stretch out as usual on the co-pilot's side and poke at a few screens - nothing much, just checking up on my construction company - for about half an hour. Then I close all the screens and nap. The familiar environment, the hum of the engine and the smell of the cockpit, are relaxing enough that I drop right off and don't wake up until we land.
"I guess you'd like this to stay a secret," Jerome says as the ramp lowers.
I rub the crud out of my eyes. Haven't missed that. "Please?"
"Cloud of hungry Reaper couldn't drag it out of me," he promises. "See you at the party!"
Angela whisks me back into another section of the building where she puts me in a cheap gown and sticks a bunch of sensors all over me. I don't mind when she puts me through test after test to see how my body's holding up under controlled conditions and various stressors. Keeps my mind off what's going to happen when I walk into the party. But of course the tests come to an end and Angela takes me back to the private room so I can get washed up and dress before heading over to the safehouse with her.
She's going as a cowgirl, something that would normally amuse me anticipating Jesse's reaction. I'm in a red dress Papi made me, something inspired by Calavera Catrina. Originally I was going to do my face up in ornate sugar skull to match, but if I did that, he might not realize what I've done.
We walk over to the safehouse together, and I keep my linksignal blocked. /I am surprising Gabriel,/ I say in the omnic channel. /Please do not even hint that I am here./
/Did someone speak?/ Genji asks lightly. /I heard only the wind./
There's no other response.
Angela hugs me gently as we reach the front door. I stay outside until the safehouse systems tell me she's in the ballroom, and then I slip inside. Nervously, I wait by the double doors and listen to the conversation inside as Angela is greeted and Jesse is teased. It feels like forever before I hear what I've been waiting for.
In a voice that's trying to sound curious instead of hurt, Papi asks, "Where's Sombra? She promised she'd be here."
The doors open at my silent command. Every conversation stops, every head turns to me as I step nervously into the room. By good luck, there's no one between me and Papi, and as I approach him I can see his expression go from suspicion to confusion to realization and then into surprise so complete that it's like his brain has just shut down.
"Alé?" he chokes out as I stop just out of arm's reach. When I nod, he closes the distance and hugs me so tightly that I'm not sure either of us can breathe, and I think that's all that's keeping us from crying.
"I hate t'be the one to ask," Jesse says from the side, "but...who's that?"
Papi releases me so he can beam proudly, both hands on my shoulders. "Everyone? My daughter, Alessandra."
"Ale-" Winston breaks off mid-word. "Sombra??"
"In the flesh," I say, ridiculously pleased that I not only got the opportunity to say that, but that it occurred to me to say it.
The room erupts into confused babble and cheering, and it's a good thing Papi and I both decided to forgo the sugar skull cosmetics that normally accompany Calavera Catrina and Señor Bones because we're both crying, and he barely lets me go long enough for other people to take a turn hugging me. It's several minutes before the commotion calms down again.
"So, shadow-sis..." Jesse looks embarrassed to be asking this. "Is it okay if I still call you Sombra for a while? Because I know I'm gonna slip up and I don't wanna offend you."
"You can still call me Sombra," I reassure him, and half the room sighs in relief. "I still am Sombra. It's just that now...there's a name behind the alias."
Adrienne frowns distantly at me, like she's gnawing at some puzzle. "Was this the name you were born with, or did you choose it?"
"It's her original name," Papi and Winston both say at the same time.
The frown clears from my sister's face. "Ah! Because I was afraid you had chosen it just to fit in."
It's my turn to frown in puzzlement. "Fit in?"
"Angela, Ana, Athena, Adrienne..."
"You noticed, too!"
Chuckles, some awkward coughing, and teasing in an undertone that ends abruptly.
I realize that I'm actually hungry. "Papi, did you do the cake yet?"
He shakes his head. "Waiting for you, Alé."
My face lights up. "I haven't eaten in a decade, and I'm starving. It's time for cake."
Solen is already on it, and comes back with the cake on a serving cart with a knife, a stack of plates, and a pile of forks. This year, Papi's birthday cake is a large sheet decorated to look like a graveyard with little fondant gravestones and tiny sugar bones scattered around. Chocolate-dipped pretzels have been pressed all around the edges to make an edible rickety fence, and candles trimmed down to something too short to grab with organic fingers have been set in little candle-holders on the graves. They're already lit.
"Come help me blow out the candles and serve it," I tell Papi.
He picks up the knife, looks at the cake, and gives me a wicked grin. "I don't think the candles need to be blown out. Gives it a sort of ambiance, don't you think?"
Carefully, he cuts a single grave out of the cake, transfers it to a plate, and hands it - candle still lit - to Jesse, who looks at his flame-infested dessert with something less than full enthusiasm at having become the butt of the prank.
"Thanks, Dad," he deadpans. Then he pinches it out with his metal fingers and grins as everyone laughs at him having turned the prank around. "Here you go, Alé. Only fitting you get to have the first bite, since it'll be your first bite in forever."
The look Papi gives me as I accept a fork is molten hope. I cut a small bite from the inside corner, moist chocolate cake and green-tinted icing, and raise it to my mouth. Words can't describe what it's like, tasting chocolate for the first time in a decade with a mouth that has never tasted anything. Words also can't describe the sheer, overwhelming joy on my father's face at seeing me enjoy food at long last.
I made the right choice.
I open my eyes to see him propped up on one elbow, glaring blearily at where I'm sitting: on the floor and leaning against his bed.
"There better be a good reason-" he starts, half asleep and half annoyed, but I interrupt.
"I dreamed about my mother." In the shocked silence the follows that bombshell, I say quietly, "I needed to hear you breathe."
"Oh, Fuck. Alé..." now fully awake and horrified, he sits up and holds out one hand. "Come here, hija."
I don't need to be told twice. He pulls me up to sit next to him, and just holds me while I hug him desperately and try not to cry. His heartbeat and the soft sound of his breathing are very reassuring.
"Wake me next time," he demands.
"But I-"
"Wake. Me." There's a pause to make sure he's silenced any protest before he continues more gently, "I don't want you just sitting on the floor suffering. You held me through my nightmares. I'll hold you through yours."
All I can do is nod against his shoulder.
"Good."
===
I don't wake him. It's not like the floor is uncomfortable to an omnic body, and I don't need hugs and reassurance after I've had a nightmare of Papi dying. All I need is to hear him breathe. He sleeps on his stomach, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, and if I really need more reassurance than just his steady breaths, I can hug that dangling arm and feel the subtle beat of his pulse. There's no reason for us both to lose sleep, right?
Most of the time, I can calm the nightmares and push them away within half an hour, and then I creep back to my own bed. But sometimes, I fall asleep hugging Papi's arm and wake up to him sitting on the floor next to me, holding me, snoring softly with his head leaning against mine.
I don't tell him about the other nightmares, where I've decided to go back to an organic body only to die in some freak accident, leaving him heartbroken. I call Uncle Jack after those, wake him up and make him sleepily promise to look after Papi if anything happens to me. Then I call my parent omnium or Tia Ana, depending on what time it is and where in the world Ana is, and babble at one of them until the nightmare fades enough for me to sleep again.
===
Meals are more comfortable in some ways, but slightly strained in others now that Papi's got a flesh and blood body again. His enthusiasm for being able to eat is infectious, and there's a lot of laughing and teasing. But at least once during the meal, he looks at me with a pained expression so brief that neither of my sibs notice it, but I do. He can eat, but I can't, and it breaks his heart that his little shadow, the adopted daughter who's put up with so much and given him his whole life back, is still living in the purgatory of an omnic body.
I want to go back, I want to breathe because I need to breathe and be able to taste all the foods I remember and feel my muscles burn when I run and have Papi look at me with pride because I'm his daughter, but I'm afraid.
Hope is for suckers. I learned that when I was five, when my world went up in flames and fighting and everything I'd hoped the new year would be turned into my mother's corpse on the living room floor. Don't hope, because leaving yourself open like that is only inviting disappointment. If you actually get what you wanted, you're sure to find out that there's a catch, a blemish, and the world has taken the opportunity of you letting your guard down to spit in your face.
It would be so easy, that's the worst part. I've already done the hard word, splicing Papi's Y chromosome into my DNA record. The sample I took so long ago is still going, in my little office lab, only now the biological material it maintains is the flesh that could be my flesh. I've designed my potential new body down to the last detail, choosing which augmentations to keep and which I can do without. I could call Angela up at any moment, bring the sample and the programming, dump them into a giant vat of LRF and call up my parent omnium. By the time the body had finished being formed, help would have arrived and I could be transferred into flesh as easily as I'd been transferred out of it. It would be so easy.
But deep in my heart, I know that if I did, something would happen. Something would go wrong. Everything would be ripped away from me again, leaving me scared and bleeding and alone or worse, dead, and Papi Gabriel...he loves me enough to be afraid of something happening to me even when he knows I don't die, it would crush him if I gave up that security and then something killed me.
I can't do that to him.
I can't.
=
Jack knows something's bothering me. He calls me to his office on the pretense of needing to discuss some aspect of the rebuild, and then just hugs me.
"Family goes both ways," he reminds me. "You don't want to talk to Gabriel about whatever's eating you, fine. I won't tell him. But I'm worried about you, Sombra. And if I'm worried about you, I know Gabriel's got to be worried about you, too."
It's several minutes of being hugged in silence before I can bring myself to whisper, "I have nightmares that something happens to him."
I'm not going to go into what's really bothering me. I haven't even told Tia Ana about the catch-22 of breaking Papi's heart if I do (and something goes wrong) and breaking Papi's heart if I don't.
We talk for a while about my nightmares, how losing my mother so young and in such a horrible way sowed the seeds of this issue. He jokes about getting an actual dog for me to sleep with; I joke that doing that would make Papi jealous. I suspect that I haven't completely fooled him, and that he's not acting alone, something that's confirmed when I go back home and Papi's waiting in the foyer. He hugs me for a long minute, then suggests we go somewhere quiet to talk.
In a quiet corner of the backyard, by a tree we used to sit under for hours at a time when he was a dog, Papi holds me and we talk about dealing with the aftermath of having seen horrific things.
"If you want to talk to someone professional about this," he says hesitantly, "I'll back you up. But..." I shake my head, and he laughs softly. "That's what I thought. You're too much like me. They'll fade, hija. Keep fighting however you need to fight. You were there for me; I'm going to be there for you."
That makes me cry into his shoulder, half out of actually having a parent who lives up to my ideals and half because he wants me to be stable and happy, wants to share the things that make him happy. I want to be the flesh-and-blood daughter he deserves and I can't, I just can't, because I'm afraid.
=
I'm curled up in a chair, surrounded by screens and chewing at a likely opportunity for my all-omnic construction company, when the door opens. Solen hasn't announced any visitors and the security system hasn't registered a guest, so it's moderately alarming when a slim man bounds into the room and pulls me into a hug. I'm about to knock him out with an EMP when the block on his linksignal drops and I know that linksignal. That's-
"Linkbrother Genji?"
He releases me and laughs at my confused surprise. "Yes! What do you think?"
Hands out, he turns a circle. He looks completely human, from the neck up, and the addition of clothes adds to the illusion.
"Your hair is green."
He flicks it with one finger. "An affectation from my youth. I can change it, but I am quite enjoying it for the moment. Also, it distracts people from my hands, although cybernetic hands are easier to accept than a cybernetic body."
That makes me laugh because of how true it is. "You look good, amigo. Sit, tell me all about it."
We both curl up on opposite sides of a couch. Genji plays with the hem of his shirt for a moment before saying, "Angela was able to do some...ah...creative rebuilding of some internal organs, and by submerging me in a nutrient solution, she was able to use nanites to rebuild the damaged portions of my face and scalp. For the most part, I am still as I was."
"Except now you can walk around without worrying about being seen?"
"Exactly," he laughs. "And, I can eat again. Ah, linksister, the foods I have missed!"
From the doorway, Papi says, "Tell me about it."
Genji jumps. When he sees Papi leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning, he grins just as broadly. "Commander! It is true, then - you have returned to flesh!"
"It's true. Scoot over, kid," he says, gesturing Genji to the center of the couch. "First lesson of Familia Reyes: we cuddle in this family, god damn it!"
If my linkbrother is surprised to find himself sandwiched by us, he doesn't show it. "So I am part of your family, then, Commander?"
"Please, I haven't held a rank since the explosion. Call me Gabriel, or Gabe-"
"Or otou-san?" Genji asks slyly.
Papi laughs. "Have you been plotting with my kids?"
"I thought I was part of your family," my linkbrother says with false innocence.
"You're part of my family," I assure him.
"Fine," Papi says with exasperation we all know isn't real. "If you really think I'm worthy of the title-"
Dryly, Genji says, "Have I never told you stories of the man who sired me?"
"That sounds like something we need booze for, kid. Can you drink with those fancy new organs Angela gave you?"
"Ah, despite my charming appearance, I am still very much a weapon of war," Genji demurs. "I do not think it would be wise for me to deliberately impair my control."
Papi gives him a look of mock-affront. "Logic? That's not how we do things in this family!"
"Papi!"
"...except for Sombra," he continues unrepentantly.
"Well, I am her linkbrother."
That gets me a deadpan look. "He gets it from your side, hija."
"Hey, not my fault omnics are better at logic!"
"Fine, fine." Papi raises his hands like he's surrendering the whole argument. "No booze. But you can eat, right?"
Genji nods. "Oh, yes. Angela says she developed new techniques from your journey to flesh. I have the same stomach as you, and for the first time in many years, I can enjoy food again!"
The momentary look of heartbreak Papi directs at me feels like a punch in the gut.
"Sombra, call your uncle, tell him he's coming out to dinner with us." Papi grins. "Don't tell him we're on our way. You did want to surprise him, right, Genji?"
My linkbrother grins back in delight. "You are correct, otou-san."
Papi ruffles his hair. "Good. C'mon, you two. Let's go round up your siblings."
=
"Was nice seeing Genji again," Jesse says as we stroll back through the soft dusk. "Even better that he was so happy."
"You'd be amazed at how liberating it is to take your face back after having been denied it for years."
Dryly, Adrienne says, "No, I wouldn't," and makes us all laugh.
"She's right," Jesse says. "You loosened up a lot, Dad."
Papi looks wistful. "You know that saying about not appreciating what you have until you lose it?" he asks quietly. "It's true. Fuck what the rest of the world thinks. They're not important. You all, and making sure you know that I care about you little delinquents, are what's important."
"Aww, Dad..."
"You know the rule," my sister chides gently.
Papi grins at Jesse, who groans in a wholly unconvincing way and pretends to be reluctant as he slouches into Gabriel's arms for a hug.
"I love you, you fucking ingrate," Papi growls.
Jesse growls back, "I love you too, you snarky bastard."
Ritual complete, they let go and we continue on our way.
=
Sleep doesn't come easily after Genji's visit. When I first forcibly inserted myself into the Overwatch family, I was hardly the only one who wasn't "normal"...but I was the best at passing for it. Then Widowmaker got retro-conditioned and chose a name, and Papi decided to reclaim his identity, and now Genji - while still mostly cybernetic - can eat and pass for human.
Now I'm the only one that can't.
By transferring out of my meatsack body, I built myself a cozy little shelter, a way to evade the problems of my childhood and teenage years. But now my omnic body is holding me back from fully being a part of my family, and yet...
...and yet...
It would be so easy. But hope is for suckers.
=
As Halloween - and Papi's birthday - gets closer, the catch-22 eats at me more. Every time we talk about our plans, the decorations, the costumes, and especially the food, Papi gives me one of those momentary, heartwrenching looks. I'm breaking his heart, I know it. He starts to act a bit high-strung, and more than once he hugs me without a word, just holding me for minutes at a time, like he's afraid I'm going to shatter in his arms. When we enter the week before the party and start getting confirmation for who's going to be there, he starts directing those looks of momentary heartbreak at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention.
I can't do this anymore. Maybe something horrible will happen, and I'll lose everything and he'll be left to mourn me. But I'm hurting him now, and I can't do that to him anymore. I can't.
I swear Angela to secrecy and bring her the sample and the programming, both the digital copy and a tube of leftover nanites with the blueprints for my organic body already loaded. She doesn't say anything, just hugs me for a long minute until we're both sure we're not going to cry. I call my parent omnium right there, and we work out when I'll need help for being transferred, who's going to do it, and where I'll pick them up.
Jerome doesn't question the flight plans once I reassure him that we'll be back in plenty of time for the Halloween bash.
Papi is clearly concerned by this unspecified last-minute trip I tell him I'm going on, especially since I won't tell him where I'm going or why, but I promise him that I won't miss the party.
"You know I don't bullshit you," I say quietly, and he pulls me into a tight hug.
"I know, Alé," he murmurs into my hair. "I just worry because I love you."
That almost makes me cry. "I love you too, Papi."
"Come back safe, you hear me?"
I'm doing the right thing. I just hope nothing happens that makes me regret it. "Si, Papi."
He kisses the top of my head. "Okay. I'll see you at the party."
=
Two days before Halloween, Jerome and I fly out to a little suburb of Dorado. An omnic who doesn't look like an omnic is waiting for us with take-out; Jerome takes fifteen to eat and use the bathroom, and we're in the air before anyone notices we're there. When we land at Angela's medical facility, I thank him for flying a twelve-hour round trip; he just smiles and says he'll see me in the evening to do it again. Angela has a private room reserved for him so he can rest. Once he's settled, she nods to the omnic (who has not said a word out loud, partially out of habitual distrust for organics and partially because she never learned English) and hurries us into a secured lab where my future body is floating in a tank of nutrient fluid. Tante Angela runs what I'm sure are several unnecessary medical diagnostics to be sure the body is fully-formed and healthy despite there being nobody home. The lack of a controlling intelligence would creep her out more if my blueprint hadn't dictated that the body be constructed with a state-of-the-art omnic brain instead of an inefficient organic one. My omnic "aunt" checks over the augmentations to make sure they're functioning correctly, and finally nods her silent approval.
"We are ready for transference, Schattenkind," Angela says steadily, despite the fact that she's clearly nervous about this procedure. But then again, she's never overseen the transfer of a mind from one body to another and probably wouldn't even believe it was possible if I weren't poof of that. "Are you ready?"
I look into the sleeping face of my future body. There are slight differences from having spliced in Papi's DNA, but it's close enough to be slightly unnerving. The hair has been growing while the body sat idle, and it's down to what will be my waist, thick and black and just curly enough to make me the envy of all the girls back home. I haven't had hair that long since I was twenty and still planning my "death". Looking at the empty organic shell reminds me of the last time I looked at my original body, and that I took a submachine gun to it immediately afterwards. Flesh is so easy to damage.
"I'm ready," I tell them both. It's only partially a lie.
The body is lifted out of the nutrient fluid and laid on a stainless steel table. Webbing made of tear-resistant mesh is spread over it like a blanket to keep any involuntary thrashing to a minimum, and a padded restraint is placed around what will be my head. For a moment, the only sound is the drip-drip-drip of nutrient fluid hitting the floor. Then Angela wheels a second table over, and I climb onto it. I've dressed in my mission outfit, because it seemed only fitting. My omnic body will be locked away just in case it's ever needed, and if we do need the body of a sexy omnic assassin specializing in digital infiltration, then it's damn well going to be dressed appropriately. Angela secures me with a stronger mesh and nods to my "aunt".
/You remember how this goes, little shadow?/
/Of course./
/Initiating connection protocols./
The Tehuacán Omnium answers our request for connection. The world dissolves into fragments and pixels.
=
COLD!
My lungs heave, my muscles tremble, and my eyelids fly open as my eyes roll back. I feel like I've been plunged naked into ice water. It's not that I didn't have temperature sensation over the last third of my life, but it was...distant. Muted. Objective. This is subjective, immediate, deeply personal, and I am cold. I cough on the exhale.
"Sombra?" Angela asks.
I feel like I'm trying to stuff a hundred scarves into a box full of cats, sorting out nerve input and figuring out which signals map to which parts of my body.
"Ten minutes," my omnic "aunt" says in Spanish. I think she's talking to Angela.
There's touches on my body, flashes of heat and cold and sudden, jarring pain. I can no more force this sack of meat to obey my will than I could calm a raging ocean with interpretive dance, but slowly, the thrashing stops and my lungs settle into a smoother rhythm and my heart stops pounding. The omnic hindbrain has sorted out the cacophony of traffic from my organic nerves and I am in control.
That does not mean I'm not overwhelmed.
I'm also still cold, and my body goes from trembling to shivering. I look around as much as I can with my head restrained, but all I can see is ceiling. My first attempt at saying 'Tante Angela' is a failure with my clumsy tongue and chattering teeth.
"Sombra?" Angela asks warily.
"Ssssssi," I manage to get out with my teeth clenched.
Whatever she says in response, I don't hear it because I'm dealing with the aftermath of an organic mind having been bounced around the omnic satelites in a stream of thought-particles and then reconstructed. When the world settles down and makes sense again, I'm huddled in a corner, wrapped in a thick, warm emergency blanket and leaning against one wall. Check the time. It's been almost an hour since the transfer into my organic body was completed. The nutrient fluid has dried into a crust on my skin, and every hair on my body itches.
/Your friend is quite concerned for you, little shadow. I tried to explain that you needed time to adjust, but I don't think she understood./
/Thank you. My body...?/
/It has been packed securely away. How is the adjustment?/
/I think I'm settled. Mostly./
"Sombra?" Angela asks with a note of restrained alarm in her voice.
I pry my eyes open and stretch. "I'm awake."
"How do you feel?" she asks, helping me to my feet.
I consider it for a moment. "Squishy. And itchy. I need a shower."
"Yes," she agrees, laughing. "That was quite an alarming process. Are you certain you're alright?"
"I wouldn't do it for fun, and I wouldn't advise it for your average person, but I'm okay. Shower?"
Angela helps me across the lab and into a shower stall with a convenient number of support bars on the walls. Adjusting from automatic balance routines to hindbrain muscle control is...less smooth than when the adjustment was going the other way. A long, hot shower is an excellent way to get used to not only that, but the more immediate, subjective tactile input from skin and nerves rather than synthskin and sensors. By the time I'm done, I feel much more settled.
Putting on clothes is mildly annoying with skin that's not exactly hypersensitive, but I haven't had time to register a baseline for tactile input yet so things feel...jarring. I ignore it in favor of being annoyed at the wet, heavy mass of hair hanging off my head. One of the things I haven't missed is how much of a pain it is to argue with wet hair. The purple-and-gold scarf I got in Paris works very well to keep damp strands out of my face, because I remember that one lock that liked to fall into my left eye and I don't know that my new body will have that again, but I don't feel like finding out just yet. I finish tying my hair back and call it done; brushing it out can wait until it's dry.
Both Angela and my "aunt" are beaming when I emerge from the bathroom.
"And now comes the hard part," Angela jokes as she hugs me. "Sleeping in the middle of the day."
=
Sleep is restless, and not just because it's the first time in a decade I haven't been able to just shut my mind off. Now that I've taken the plunge, I'm worried I did the wrong thing. What if I've been misinterpreting Papi's soulful looks all along? What if he didn't want me to go organic, what if he's angry, what if he's disappointed? I toss and turn on the bed in the private room next to Jerome's, trying to quiet my doubts and re-learning how to find a balance between covering enough of my body to retain body heat and having too much of my body covered. Turns out I never really forgot how to toss my head when I roll over so that I'm not choking on my own hair; I hadn't even remembered that was a thing, much less thought about having to do it again, so that's unexpected but nice. I don't get enough sleep by the time we need to get ready to go, but I get some and thankfully, there's no dreams.
Well, there's always the six-hour flight back.
I can hear Jerome shower while I brush my hair. My fingers remember how to braid it, which is a pleasant surprise. They also itch to shave most of it off again, and I am almost distractingly aware of where my organic body ends and omnic augmentation begins. The screen manipulation nails anchor to the bones of my fingers at the second knuckle, and I find myself shaking and flexing my hands absently. For a second, I'm terrified that they don't work, but I've got ten screens open in a single, frantic gesture, and everything is okay again.
Angela hugs me as I leave the room with my shoulder bag. "Fly safe," she says quietly, not wanting to offend Jerome. "I will see you in the morning?"
Because naturally, she wants to make sure I'm still doing okay after almost a full day in flesh. "Of course."
"You need to eat something," she says firmly, but I pull a bottle of nutrient fluid out of the bag. "I should have known. Very well. Have a good trip, Schattenkind."
"And remember, if anyone asks..."
"I have not seen you."
=
The trip to Dorado is comfortably silent...if you don't count the omnic channel. My "aunt" and I catch up, trading stories of Los Muertos and Overwatch. She asks what it's like, having flesh again after having lived as an omnic for so long, and why I went back if I was so torn about it.
/A sacrifice for love,/ she says after hearing my explanation. /Like a fairy tale. Both in giving up flesh, and in reclaiming it./
/But which fairy tale?/ I ask dryly. /Many of them end badly./
/I do not think yours will be one of the ones that do. You have fought against the world from a very young age, and you keep winning. I think the world is afraid to deny you what you want at this point,/ she teases.
/Serves it right for what it did to me,/ I joke back.
/More seriously, little shadow, you are the first organic to have your mind transferred into an omnic body, and the first omnic to have your mind transferred into flesh. Now that we know it can be done, it could pave the way for others to do the same. I don't know that I would want it for myself, but there are omnics who would give nearly anything to wear the flesh they pretend so hard they have./
/And omnic bodies could be an alternative to extensive surgery, or a temporary refuge while mangled bodies are healed./ I'll have to mention that to Angela when I get back.
/Will you return to legal status?/ My "aunt" asks.
I think about the handful of fancy, high-profile lunches I've had with Papi, Jesse, and Uncle Jack. /Yes. But not yet./
/When?/
A smile spreads across my organic face. /Well...it is traditional for the dead to rise on Easter./
=
The flight back is peaceful. I stretch out as usual on the co-pilot's side and poke at a few screens - nothing much, just checking up on my construction company - for about half an hour. Then I close all the screens and nap. The familiar environment, the hum of the engine and the smell of the cockpit, are relaxing enough that I drop right off and don't wake up until we land.
"I guess you'd like this to stay a secret," Jerome says as the ramp lowers.
I rub the crud out of my eyes. Haven't missed that. "Please?"
"Cloud of hungry Reaper couldn't drag it out of me," he promises. "See you at the party!"
Angela whisks me back into another section of the building where she puts me in a cheap gown and sticks a bunch of sensors all over me. I don't mind when she puts me through test after test to see how my body's holding up under controlled conditions and various stressors. Keeps my mind off what's going to happen when I walk into the party. But of course the tests come to an end and Angela takes me back to the private room so I can get washed up and dress before heading over to the safehouse with her.
She's going as a cowgirl, something that would normally amuse me anticipating Jesse's reaction. I'm in a red dress Papi made me, something inspired by Calavera Catrina. Originally I was going to do my face up in ornate sugar skull to match, but if I did that, he might not realize what I've done.
We walk over to the safehouse together, and I keep my linksignal blocked. /I am surprising Gabriel,/ I say in the omnic channel. /Please do not even hint that I am here./
/Did someone speak?/ Genji asks lightly. /I heard only the wind./
There's no other response.
Angela hugs me gently as we reach the front door. I stay outside until the safehouse systems tell me she's in the ballroom, and then I slip inside. Nervously, I wait by the double doors and listen to the conversation inside as Angela is greeted and Jesse is teased. It feels like forever before I hear what I've been waiting for.
In a voice that's trying to sound curious instead of hurt, Papi asks, "Where's Sombra? She promised she'd be here."
The doors open at my silent command. Every conversation stops, every head turns to me as I step nervously into the room. By good luck, there's no one between me and Papi, and as I approach him I can see his expression go from suspicion to confusion to realization and then into surprise so complete that it's like his brain has just shut down.
"Alé?" he chokes out as I stop just out of arm's reach. When I nod, he closes the distance and hugs me so tightly that I'm not sure either of us can breathe, and I think that's all that's keeping us from crying.
"I hate t'be the one to ask," Jesse says from the side, "but...who's that?"
Papi releases me so he can beam proudly, both hands on my shoulders. "Everyone? My daughter, Alessandra."
"Ale-" Winston breaks off mid-word. "Sombra??"
"In the flesh," I say, ridiculously pleased that I not only got the opportunity to say that, but that it occurred to me to say it.
The room erupts into confused babble and cheering, and it's a good thing Papi and I both decided to forgo the sugar skull cosmetics that normally accompany Calavera Catrina and Señor Bones because we're both crying, and he barely lets me go long enough for other people to take a turn hugging me. It's several minutes before the commotion calms down again.
"So, shadow-sis..." Jesse looks embarrassed to be asking this. "Is it okay if I still call you Sombra for a while? Because I know I'm gonna slip up and I don't wanna offend you."
"You can still call me Sombra," I reassure him, and half the room sighs in relief. "I still am Sombra. It's just that now...there's a name behind the alias."
Adrienne frowns distantly at me, like she's gnawing at some puzzle. "Was this the name you were born with, or did you choose it?"
"It's her original name," Papi and Winston both say at the same time.
The frown clears from my sister's face. "Ah! Because I was afraid you had chosen it just to fit in."
It's my turn to frown in puzzlement. "Fit in?"
"Angela, Ana, Athena, Adrienne..."
"You noticed, too!"
Chuckles, some awkward coughing, and teasing in an undertone that ends abruptly.
I realize that I'm actually hungry. "Papi, did you do the cake yet?"
He shakes his head. "Waiting for you, Alé."
My face lights up. "I haven't eaten in a decade, and I'm starving. It's time for cake."
Solen is already on it, and comes back with the cake on a serving cart with a knife, a stack of plates, and a pile of forks. This year, Papi's birthday cake is a large sheet decorated to look like a graveyard with little fondant gravestones and tiny sugar bones scattered around. Chocolate-dipped pretzels have been pressed all around the edges to make an edible rickety fence, and candles trimmed down to something too short to grab with organic fingers have been set in little candle-holders on the graves. They're already lit.
"Come help me blow out the candles and serve it," I tell Papi.
He picks up the knife, looks at the cake, and gives me a wicked grin. "I don't think the candles need to be blown out. Gives it a sort of ambiance, don't you think?"
Carefully, he cuts a single grave out of the cake, transfers it to a plate, and hands it - candle still lit - to Jesse, who looks at his flame-infested dessert with something less than full enthusiasm at having become the butt of the prank.
"Thanks, Dad," he deadpans. Then he pinches it out with his metal fingers and grins as everyone laughs at him having turned the prank around. "Here you go, Alé. Only fitting you get to have the first bite, since it'll be your first bite in forever."
The look Papi gives me as I accept a fork is molten hope. I cut a small bite from the inside corner, moist chocolate cake and green-tinted icing, and raise it to my mouth. Words can't describe what it's like, tasting chocolate for the first time in a decade with a mouth that has never tasted anything. Words also can't describe the sheer, overwhelming joy on my father's face at seeing me enjoy food at long last.
I made the right choice.