"When did you become the responsible one?"
"Somewhere between dodging Committee kill teams and realizing I wanted to survive long enough to come back to you."
The admission hangs in the air between us. Sarah freezes mid-bite, her eyes finding mine.
"That's not fair," she says quietly.
"What isn't?"
"Saying things like that while I'm too exhausted to process them properly."
"Would you prefer I wait until you're well-rested and fully caffeinated to tell you the truth?"
"I'd prefer you give me time to figure out how I feel about you before you make declarations."
"Too late. I already know how I feel. You're allowed to take your time catching up."
Sarah sets down the protein bar. "You're impossible."
"I'm honest. There's a difference." I stand. "Come on. We need to finish this up before Kane's briefing. Focus on the work. Everything else can wait."
She joins me, and we fall back into the rhythm of collaboration—building protocols, testing security measures, running threat assessments.
When Kane arrives with Dylan and Stryker, we have a presentation ready. Sarah walks them through the technical architecture while I cover the operational security implications. The team asks sharp questions. We provide sharper answers.
By the end of the briefing, Kane is nodding approval.
"This works," he says. "Start implementation immediately. Dylan, Stryker and I will finalize operation planning for Reeve.Coordinate with Sarah and Micah on timeline. We need to hit Reeve before he completes his search grid."
"Understood," Dylan says.
The briefing breaks up. The team disperses to their assigned tasks. Sarah and I return to our workstations.
And the real work begins.
Days of it follow—exhaustion and proximity and the constant pressure of knowing Reeve is out there, getting closer to discovering Echo Base's location with every passing hour.
Sarah was right. This is going to be hard.
Her shoulders are already tight with tension, jaw set in that stubborn line I know too well. Days of working in close quarters while the Committee closes in and neither of us sleeps. While everything we didn't say in the analysis room sits between us, unresolved.
I pull up the next protocol set. Focus on the work. Deal with the rest when it breaks.
17
SARAH
The clock reads just before four when my vision blurs enough that I have to stop typing. I've worked days of marathon shifts, fueled by coffee and adrenaline and the knowledge that Reeve's search grid contracts with every passing hour. My hands tremble as I set down the tablet, exhaustion settling into my bones like lead.
Across the operations center, Micah studies the updated network architecture on the main display. He hasn't slept more than a few hours since we started this push. Dark circles shadow his eyes, stubble roughens his jaw, but his focus stays laser-sharp on the protocols we've built.
Tommy left an hour ago, finally convinced we had the technical framework solid enough to implement. The overnight security feeds hum in the background, the only sound in the empty facility besides the soft clicks of Micah's keyboard.
We've rebuilt Echo Ridge's entire external communications network. We've compartmentalized every contact, layered encryption protocols Tommy designed specifically to defeat the Committee's SIGINT capabilities, restructured information flow so no single compromise can expose the whole system.
It's good work. Maybe the best either of us has ever done.
And I'm so tired I can barely remember my own name.
