Liz’s heart rate picks up, a soft buzzing filling her ears. There is a very real possibility they will come to blows in the tiny room. If they do, who knows who else will get involved.
“What did you think would happen if it wasyouwho got caught outside? Do you really think we wouldn’t be in the exact same situation if he gave in and let everyone run around?” Liz snaps.
“It’s cute that you want to defend him, darlin, but speaking as your best friend, you need to stay out of it. He got us into this mess, and he needs to be held accountable. No one else wants to say it, so I will. He fucked up,” Mikey tells her. That makes Riley sit up straighter, watching Mikey with a predatory intensity.
“Jesus, Mikey, give it a rest. Talking to her like that is only going to piss him off more. We all knew this was a possibility when we agreed to it. It was a gamble and we lost. Pointing fingers isn’t going to change that,” Alex says.
Mikey slumps back against the wall, looking anywhere but at Liz and Riley huddled together.
“Are you okay?” she whispers in his ear, getting as close as she can. Her hand rests on his leg, rubbing up and down, more to ground herself than anything.
“I’m fine. I want to kill him for snapping at you, but he’s scared, and so is everyone else. If they want to hide their fear with anger aimed at me, I’ll take it,” he whispers back, leaning down so his lips practically brush her ear.
They sit in that room for hours. Liz tries to focus on anything she can. The different sounds of breathing from her team, the drips every fifteen minutes from the leaky toilet in their cell,counting the scars on Riley’s hand over and over again, anything to keep her mind from drifting. When that stops working, she starts picking at any loose threads she can find on her clothes, meticulously pulling them off and creating a neat pile, followed by braiding tiny braids into her hair.
“Are you doing okay love?” Riley asks, noticing all the fidgeting.
“Oh, yeah. I’m doing awesome. Not thinking about being back in Dmirti’s cell or that fuck ass interrogation room again at all,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. The last thing she wants is her team looking at her like she is weak, but she can’t help the words that come tumbling out. She regrets it instantly.
Riley wraps his hand tightly around hers while Mikey watches them, looking as if he is torn between going to her and staying put. She lets out a breath of relief when she hears footsteps echo down the long hallway. It may not be a good sign, but at least the attention is off of her pathetic panicking.
The steps stop outside the door. The team perks up, bracing for whatever is about to happen. The old metal door glides open and three men step into the already crammed room. Each one carries an armful of handcuffs and chains. One look at what they are holding breaks the thin thread of restraint she has. Her eyes go wide, breathing rapid, she backs away from them as far as she can.
“General Langford has ordered you to be brought to his private briefing room. Everyone line up. Place your hands together in front of you. Once you are in cuffs, step to the door. You will be shackled together for transport,” one man explains, looking at each of them.
Mikey slowly moves over to where she is pressed against the wall. Riley is already there, trying to calm her breathing. He doesn’t interfere with whatever Riley is whispering to her, he simply reaches out and wraps his pinky finger around hers. She watchesin horror as each one of her teammates does as they are told, getting cuffed and shackled together. Her body shakes when one of the men approaches.
“What’s wrong with her?” the man asks, eyeing her up and down. She fights through her panic, trying to keep from a full breakdown. She focuses on the tag attached to his uniform: Callahan.
“Have you read our files?” Mikey asks, stepping up while Riley continues to try and calm Liz. “She was held for over six months by Dmitri Komarov. He kept her cuffed and chained to the floor,” he explains, his voice remaining calm.
Callahan signals for him to raise his hands. Not wanting to make the situation any worse, he does, letting them put the cuffs on him before stepping to the side.
“You’re not putting those on her,” Riley seethes, never taking his eyes off Liz. “You can cuff me, but I am staying with her. Call Langford and tell him she has PTSD. It will only get worse if you try to force her.”
Riley turns from Liz, just long enough to let them put cuffs on him before turning back to keep talking her through her panic. There are too many voices around, too much chaos for her to single in on one person. Her eyes drop to the cool metal pressed against her, going wide at the sight of the shiny handcuffs circling Riley’s wrists. A second man joins them, but she can’t bring herself to look.
“General Langford says you need to be cuffed.” Her eyes snap to him the moment the words leave his mouth. “But you don’t need to be shackled. He has given us permission to walk you separately and let you stay next to Reaper,” he says, talking directly to her, giving her far more respect than the last group of men who brought her in.
Her mouth is too dry. She can’t form words. She gives theslightest nod and lifts her shaking hands. To her surprise, the man is gentle, opening the cuff completely before putting it on her, and letting it hang just tight enough to not slip out of.
She follows Mikey and Riley out into the hall, letting the soldier, Callahan, loosely grip her elbow to guide her. True to their word, she remains unshackled and next to Riley the short walk outside. Liz watches her feet as they go, breathing in the fresh air, ignoring the feeling of too many eyes watching. She listens to the leaves crunch under their boots, mixed with the chatter of soldiers making their way around the base. Before long, they are being led into a secure, windowless room.
“Hands out,” Callahan orders as soon as the doors close behind them. One by one, the handcuffs and chains are removed, starting with Liz. She watches Riley’s reaction, calming slightly when she sees nothing but respect in his eyes. The door swings open and General Langford strides in, walking past the line of prisoners and sitting himself at the head of the long oak table.
“Sit,” he orders. He gets handed a thick tan folder that he begins thumbing through, carefully picking and choosing what papers to spread across the table.
Liz watches with curiosity. She had expected every other general to be short, balding, and portly like Scott. Now seeing him in the light, the man in front of her is the exact opposite. He is what she imagines Riley will look like when he is older. Just as tall as the rest of them, and nearly as muscular. It’s clear he doesn’t shy away from a fight. His hands are callused and dotted with scars. His hair is buzzed short, more salt than pepper, but it works on him.
He reminds her so much of someone, but she cannot put her finger on it. It hits her when he stands to walk around the table. She clamps her lips shut, trying not to smile at the realization.Riley’s brows pinch together looking at her. She can’t speak, simply shakes her head hoping he forgets about it later.
“Alright, Riley. You trusted me, the least I can do is trust you. What is your plan?” he asks, stopping his slow circling once he reaches the head of the table once more.
“Simple, sir. We find him and bring him in. That’s where you come in. We have the intel, and we should have the manpower. We just need the resources,” Riley explains. “We know he is hiding out with Dmitri, no doubt waiting for us to be caught so he can magically be released. Once we know where he is, we just need to get there, find him, and capture him before he has the chance to re-surface, claiming our team was holding him hostage,” Riley says, watching his old mentor.
Sitting down, he picks the file back up, flipping through it while he casually leans back in his chair. “I have had my suspicions about General Murphy for years, and you now have everything you need to take him down. I can’t be involved, but I can give you supplies. I have briefed the commanding officers on base with what they need to know. You won’t get trouble from anyone. I also can’t help you with satellites, but, if you happen to say… wander into command and convince someone to help you, well, then that is out of my hands. To anyone outside this base, you are all locked in my cells awaiting trial. You have one week to do what you need to do. After that, I will have to move you back into holding,” he says with no room for discussion.
A weight lifts off her shoulders, and seeing how everyone else relaxes in their seats, they feel it, too. For the first time in weeks, it feels like they may actually stand a chance.
