Panther | Ghost x FemOC

3 ⋮ Fault Lines

7.23.22 - 0923

The hum of the engines droned in my ears as I sank deeper into the uncomfortable seat, staring out into the sky. Stars and faint city lights blinked in and out of sight as the plane glided through thin clouds, but nothing out there held my attention for long. I kept trying to let the white noise calm me, but something clawed at me from the inside, sharp and restless.

This mission had too many unknowns. They'd given me barely anything before sending me up here, but whatever was waiting in D.C. felt like it came with strings attached. I shifted, cracking my knuckles to give my hands something to do other than pick at the skin on my fingers. The quiet had my mind wandering into places I'd spent years avoiding like the plague.

I took a shaky breath, but that only made the memories edge closer. Shadows of a different night fell over my vision: a dark hallway, a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. I could hear his voice, booming and vicious, rattling through the floorboards as I crept closer, Mr. Blankey in my clutches. I was a kid then, smaller, terrified, but moving toward it anyway, barely breathing. The steps groaned under my feet, but I kept going, pulse racing. I could still feel the way my heart had pounded back then, every beat reminding me I was just a kid who shouldn't be there.

My chest tightened. I gripped the armrests, forcing myself to swallow down the memory, forcing myself to stay here, in the present. Not now, but the feeling lingered, like some shadow I couldn't shake.

The engines hummed louder, steady, keeping me grounded, at least for now. But with every mile that brought me closer to D.C., I felt the weight of something else growing, something that had stayed with me all these years, buried deep. This new assignment wasn't just another order. It wasn't routine. And I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was coming, I was running straight into it, alone.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, closed my eyes, and tried to will the memories away, at least for now.

Focus, I told myself. Get your fuckin' shit together, Bea. You've fought wars 'n carried wounded soldiers through minefields.

The darkness would have to wait.

...

The wheels hit the tarmac with a thud that seemed to echo in my bones, rattling loose the last pieces of sleep I'd managed to catch during the flight. The plane rolled to a halt, and I watched the gray, washed-out landscape of D.C. in the early morning light. The city lay ahead, sharp and distant, an expanse of concrete and stone framed by the hint of dawn just beginning to edge over the horizon. Everything felt cool and clinical—the exact opposite of where I'd come from, of what I knew.

I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment, feeling the weight of it shift awkwardly as I slung it over my shoulder. I stepped down the narrow aisle, my boots echoing softly on the metal, the sound carrying in the quiet emptiness of the plane. The flight crew nodded as I passed, but I kept my gaze forward, focusing on the strip of light spilling in from the doorway. Stepping out, I was greeted by the damp warmth of D.C.'s humid air clinging to my skin, heavy and unyielding, so different from the dry heat back home.

At the foot of the metal stairs, two men in crisp black suits stood waiting, arms crossed, expressions obscured by dark sunglasses that seemed more for show than necessity given the somber morning sun. Their gazes felt like they were peeling me apart, sizing me up, even if I couldn't see their eyes. I forced myself to look past them, as if I were unaffected, and continued down the stairs.

One of the men inclined his head. "They're ready for you at headquarters. Car's this way."I nodded, sparing him only a glance, and followed him toward a sleek, black Subrurban idling on the runway's edge.