Burning Bridges ✷ Gale Weathers

09. BITTERSWEET

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As persistent as Sidney was on not needing a babysitter, Harriet chose to stay with her anyway, along with a begrudging Gale. The beautiful reporter refused to leave, but for reasons she wouldn't disclose.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" Sidney was already on her way to the kitchen, clearly trying to distract herself from the fact that another serial killer was out to get her.

Harriet couldn't imagine what it would be like to be in her shoes. Just the thought irked her to no end. A shudder ran down her spine.

"Cold?" Gale's abnormally warm voice caused Harriet's head to snap up, green eyes locking with blue.

"No," she shook her head, tearing her gaze away. She couldn't stare into those eyes without feeling something she definitely shouldn't be feeling. "Just...spooked, I guess."

"By what?" Gale sounded genuinely curious, her previous sour mood melting away. "Ghostface?"

Harriet nodded. "That son of a bitch could be out there lurking right now, and we wouldn't even know it."

"If you're suggesting one of us go out there and keep watch, no thanks. I'm good." Gale wrinkled her nose.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't expect you to be of help," Harriet snarked. "I'm the FBI agent. It's my job to keep people safe. Right now I need to keep Sidney safe, and since you're here...I guess you, too."

Gale snorted. "Gee, thanks." Then, her expression suddenly changed, glossed lips quirking into a frown. "Wait, you're not seriously thinking about going out there, are you?"

Harriet simply shrugged. "I have to. I can't just sit here and wait for them to break in. Someone needs to catch this monster, and that someone is going to be me."

"Harry—Harriet," Gale quickly corrected herself, "you're insane if you think this is a good idea."

Before Harriet could reply, Sidney came back with drinks for all of them. She passed sodas to them both before perching herself on a separate chair in the living room. "What are we talking about?"

"Just how absolutely crazy Harriet is," Gale answered, all the warmth gone from her voice. "She wants to keep watch for Ghostface outside. At night. This is how people in horror movies get killed!"

"I'm a professional agent, this is my job," Harriet said. "I do this stuff all the time."

"Not with Ghostface, you don't," Gale huffed. "You used to be smart, Harriet. If you do this, you'll be a fucking idiot."

Harriet blinked. She tried to pretend those words didn't affect her, but a wave of memories crashed over her like a tidal wave.

She stared down at the B+ scrawled atop her history essay, her eyebrows furrowed in utmost confusion. She'd never gotten anything less than an A on her papers. She studied immensely for this essay, and she'd read over it three times to make sure there were no typos. What had she possibly gotten wrong?

Beside her, Gale was staring down at her own paper, her eyes as icy as ever. Curious to see what she'd gotten, Harriet craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the grade.