Smokescreen

16

Ben started as Cain entered the room, instinctively curling his fists and wincing when the raw skin and scars rubbed against the metal of the handcuffs. She ignored him, keeping busy by straightening the weapons on the table almost obsessively and cleaning it up. Her back was to him, but he could tell that she wasn't wearing her mask or modulator anymore.

"You took my advice." He blearily spoke, blinking the few hours of sleep out of his crusted eyes. She didn't respond, instead turning around and shifting his chair slightly to the left with a screech of metal.

"Are you cleaning up for our guest?" Ben quipped; silence answered him. He'd been alone with his thoughts for hours, formulating a plan. He thought of the letters, the ones he had written a year ago, just in the case of his death. At that point, he was thinking of a much different way to go, and Ben flinched as he pictured the long vertical cuts on his arms.

Cain stopped in the doorway, giving him a once over and a small but sharp smirk. It was as if she knew what he was thinking, and he shivered as the paranoia crept on his shoulder again. He hadn't seen her face in years- she'd gone missing by seventeen though.

"Good to see you too." He called, spitting out the blood that filled his mouth once the door slammed shut, and he was alone once more. There was no big gasp, no revelation to her identity then. He had known who she was for a while.

Ben ran over the plan in his head. He had drawn the conclusion from Cain's behavior that she was planning on killing them both in some sort of strange staged suicide. He knew that she would have ended it with him earlier if she didn't have a bigger fish to fry. Ben had done his work in making it seem like he knew nothing about the inner workings of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Two pairs of feet walked down the hallway. One was marked with a rhythm of purpose, and the other was stumbling, as if they weren't exactly sure where they were. She had arrived, and she had brought Erica with her.

"Welcome." He drawled, stretching his right leg out to the side, and positioning his left underneath the chair. Cain had her mask on again, but Erica was blindfolded. An identical metal chair- save for the burn marks, dents, blood and phlegm- screeched against the concrete floor until it was resting against the back of his. Ben couldn't see anymore, but Erica grunted when Cain forced her down and he heard the clinks of the handcuffs as she was bound.

"I'll leave you two to get reacquainted." The door was closed again, the sound echoing through the small, windowless room.

"I told Zoe about Mike." Erica spoke. Ben shifted slightly, his muscles aching as he tensed. It was silent for a few minutes, and she could feel the tension seep into her mind, just as it had in the car, until-

"You did?" It was phrased as a question, and she couldn't help but shiver at the dangerous tone in his voice. "That wasn't your secret to tell."

"I was the one who pulled the trigger, who framed it all on Joshua."

"Because it was me!" Ben yelled. "Joshua might have started the end, but I was the one who brought him into this business."

Erica shook her head, and he could feel her moving slightly from the way that their chairs aligned. Ben reached out with his pinky finger, the only one that he was sure was not broken. It locked onto one of Erica's fingers and curled around it protectively, like a snake.

She tensed before reciprocating, so they stayed there, silent and readied for battle. The past was not forgotten, and it hung over them like an unsaid cloud. Sometimes, when people think they want to disappear, they really just want to be found.

"I'm sorry." She apologised. Ben huffed a laugh, hoarse from little hydration and speaking. Erica jolted, surprised at that long familiar sound, but she didn't dare speak.

"I've never blamed you." The finger around his loosened in what seemed to be surprise, before it was back, strong as ever. "I got rid of my anger a long time ago."

Erica frowned. They had always been taught in the academy to compartmentalise. It was easier to focus on your job, the mission. You could deal with things at later times. It did the job, sure, but eventually, those compartments were full. Agents were very nearly always on the run, so there was little time to deal. Things could overflow, and suddenly you're killing your former best friend as he threatens to end everything you hold dear.

"Still," She chuckled tearfully. "I shouldn't have left." Erica remembered the tearfully young boy who had shown up at her dorm room to beg her to stay at the academy, or even in Virginia. She'd brought him in for a cuppa, patronisingly hugging him and remembering that they could never be.

What a shock it was to have a stoic agent show up in her cell, like the knight in shining armour that she was supposed to be. When Ben came to interview here, and refused to look her in the eye... She recalled their last conversation in her room before she had left.

"I can't be Erica to you anymore. You're still a student, and I'm a full agent." She had told him, trying to end it before she could break his heart anymore by leaving. A mistake, true, but one she hadn't seen in foresight.

"I'm sorry, Agent Ripley." He leaned his head against hers. Erica could feel him shake at the stress put on his neck. Turning her head, she stared into his eyes, brown and dark, almost like black holes, like death itself. There was no mixture of caramel or honey in his coffee coloured irises, but they swirled all the same.

"Ben."

"Hm?" This dance around each other felt familiar. Her heart skipped a beat at his response, and she swore to herself that she was getting in too deep. But Erica wasn't going to leave this time- she had made that mistake before.

"You know my name. Use it, Erica."