ICU — Elijah Greyhawk
The morning had settled into a muted gray, the light that softened the edges of everything but did nothing to ease the tension in Elijah’s chest. He sat in the same chair, posture rigid, Chet’s hand cradled in his own.
Chet’s breathing was steadier now — not strong, not safe, but no longer teetering on the edge of collapse. The ventilator hissed in slow, rhythmic intervals. The stabilizer blinked in irregular pulses, compensating for the implant’s unpredictable output.
Elijah leaned forward, brushing a thumb across Chet’s knuckles. “You’re doing well,” he murmured. “Just keep going.”
Chet’s eyelids fluttered — a small, uneven movement that made Elijah sit up straighter.
“Chet?” he whispered.
Chet’s brow tightened, a faint crease forming between his eyebrows. His lips parted, a shallow exhale escaping. “Elijah…”
The whisper was thin, strained, barely there — but real. Elijah swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m right here.”
Chet’s fingers twitched, curling weakly around Elijah’s. Then the tremor passed, and he slipped back into stillness. Elijah exhaled shakily, brushing a hand through his hair.
“You’re coming back,” he whispered. “I know you are.”
###
Briefing Room — Carter Hayes
The transcript lay on the table, the name Bergmann circled in red ink. Hayes stared at it, jaw tight.
Leah scrolled through satellite data. “I ran sweeps across northern Saskatchewan, Alberta, and the Territories. Nothing matches Fourteen’s profile.”
Marianne leaned forward. “Kline said the northern site was beyond our jurisdiction.”
Evan frowned. “Everything up there belongs to someone.”
“Unless it’s private,” Leah said. “Or buried.”
Hayes tapped the transcript. “We assume the northern site is real. But we don’t assume it’s the one Kline meant.”
Leah looked up. “You think he misdirected us?”
Hayes shook his head. “No. I think he slipped. But I also think he only knows his part of the structure.”
Marianne crossed her arms. “Meaning?”
Hayes looked at the map. “Meaning there could be more than one northern site.”
Leah froze. “You think Hale is at one of them.”
###
Federal Holding Facility — Kline
Kline paced the length of the interview room, cuffs clinking. His composure was fraying — not visibly, but in the small ways that mattered.
The evaluator entered. “Dr. Kline, we need to clarify your earlier statement.”
Kline didn’t respond.
“You said the northern site was beyond our jurisdiction.”
Kline’s jaw tightened. “I said nothing.”
“You did,” the evaluator said. “And we need to know where it is.”
Kline’s eyes flicked — irritation, then calculation.
“You’re wasting your time,” he said. “You’re looking in the wrong direction.”
The evaluator paused. “Which direction is the right one?”
Kline smiled — thin, humorless. “You’ll find the wrong site first.”
The evaluator stiffened. “Wrong site?”
Kline leaned back. “You’ll know it when you see who’s waiting for you.”
The evaluator’s pulse kicked up. “Who?”
Kline didn’t answer. But the silence was enough.
###
ICU — Elijah Greyhawk
A doctor entered, flipping through Chet’s chart. “His neural activity is fluctuating. Not dangerously, but noticeably.”
Elijah looked up. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s trying to wake up,” the doctor said. “But the implant is interfering.”
Elijah brushed a hand through Chet’s hair. “He said my name.”
The doctor softened. “That’s a good sign. But we need to be cautious.”
Elijah nodded. “I’m not leaving him.”
The doctor didn’t argue. She left quietly. Elijah leaned forward again, resting his forehead against Chet’s hand.
“You’re safe,” he whispered. “Just keep fighting.”
Chet didn’t respond. But his fingers twitched again — faint, searching. Elijah held on.
###
Briefing Room — Leah Gagnon
Leah capped the marker, stepping back from the board. “So, where do we start?”
Hayes studied the map, jaw tight. “With the site that gives us the strongest signal. The one showing recent movement.”
Leah nodded slowly. “Hale.”
“Yeah,” Hayes said. “We take him off the board first. Then we go after whoever Bergmann is.”