#original plot

The poncho she wore didn't do her much good as she fumbled her way through the parking lot of the marina. If the keys to the sailboat were taken from her house, it means whoever did it, whether that was her dad or not, was headed to the arena, so logically, that was where she ended up. She didn't bother locking her car as she made her way to the small building in front of the dock for cover. If someone wanted to steal her car during a torrential downpour, they deserved it at that point.

The building was some office building where people could rent boats out, pay for their docking expenses and whatever else one might need to do at a marina. Thankfully, the walkway up was covered, so Reese could step out of the rain for a little bit while she figured out what to do next. The only issue was, getting there.

All the street lamps were out and she didn't have a flashlight or any way to see anything in front of her. The only light she had was the very quickly diminishing daylight, but it was nearly dark, so even that wouldn't be enough soon, especially with the already lowered visibility due to the storm.

She didn't realize it until she made it more than halfway across the parking lot, but there was another car in the spot closest to the small building. She squinted, still not being able to make out much of it. It wasn't until she got closer to the vehicle that she froze.

It was a range rover, which in a normal context wouldn't be unsettling, but this one was the same make and model of her fathers. Once she got close enough, she could make out the bumper sticker on the back and it was the very same one she'd gotten him for Christmas last year. It has some ridiculous fishing pun on it and it was the only bumper sticker he'd ever put on his car.

So, it was her dad and not some mystery assailant. But, what was he doing at the marina building during a hurricane? Reese hoped it was just because he wanted to make sure the boats would be okay, but she knew somewhere deep down that wasn't the reason why. And, the fact he was here, at least his car, still didn't explain the ransacked room, or the wet footprints.

Reese continued forward, finally making it under the cover of the walkway up to the building. While it may have been an office building, it still had that outer banks charm to it, with beautiful landscaping out front and a beach-y interior that screamed vacation getaway. Reese would've loved to be able to see it right now because it might calm her nerves, but the sun had finally set and the sky had turned an inky black.

She inched forward, unable to see in front of her and held out her hands. When they brushed against the metal handle of the door she quickly yanked on it, hoping by some miracle that it would open. Usually, they locked the building after officer hours, but who knows if her father was here maybe they hadn't.

To her surprise, the door slowly opened, the door jamb mounted on the top of the door making it rather difficult to pull. Once she made it inside, she stopped.

What was she doing? Trying to find her dad who was most definitely okay and just staying at the marina to keep an eye on the boats? All because he didn't answer her call because, no shit, there was a hurricane and phone lines were down.

All this for an overreaction. She mentally slapped herself. She drove in a hurricane to find someone who was perfectly safe. Why did she freak out over every little thing? Sarah was right, her dad was fine and she did all this because that little voice in the back of her mind told her to freak out.

So, there Reese was, standing in the entryway of the building, dripping water all over the floor, completely soaked for nothing. Looking back on it, she should've just stayed at the Cameron's. It would've been so much safer there and if she had, Rafe could've talked her out of leaving in the first place. She felt horrible for the way she treated him. Yes, she was upset, but if she had just stayed there, they could've talked everything out and she wouldn't feel like crying every time she thought about how mean she was to him.

She felt sad, just standing there, her shoes and socks full of water that squished uncomfortably with every step she'd taken. Her hair was a tangled, wet mess, like someone had taken a wet mop and put a baseball cap on it. Her clothes were soaked, even with the poncho and she just felt gross. But, with the ever worsening storm raging outside, she didn't know if it was safer to get back in her car and head back home or to stay in the marina building.

Maybe she would just never make a decision again because whenever she did it always seemed like the wrong one. Getting into a fight with Rafe and probably hurting his feelings, bad idea. Leaving to find her dad, bad idea. Driving to the marina because the spare keys weren't on the hook, bad idea. It felt like that's all she had. Bad ideas. The keys could've been misplaced or maybe her dad just forgot to put them away.

With a dejected sigh, Reese walked further into the building's lobby and took a seat on the floor next to some very coastal looking furniture. It seemed like it was linen and Reese was not going to be the asshole that sat on cream colored linen furniture while soaked to the bone.

It was while Reese was sitting with her thoughts when she could've sworn she heard muffled talking from one of the offices down the hall. Her eyebrows furrowed as she strained her ears to try and hear something, if there was talking at all. Then, a loud yell erupted from the area she heard the voices coming from originally and a door near the end of the hall slammed open.

"I told you I didn't want any part in this," She heard one voice say. It was deep and masculine and almost familiar. "And, I told you to keep Reese out of it," The voice boomed. It was only then she recognized the voice as her father's.

Before she had time to process what she'd heard, she could hear the pounding footsteps of her father exiting the room and walking toward the main entrance. Without thinking, Reese scrambled to get out of sight. While it may be dark, she didn't trust it enough to not be seen by anyone and even though she knew her father wouldn't do anything to hurt her, she had this gut feeling it would be best if no one knew she was listening to this conversation.

"You have to understand," The other voice called behind her dad. It was so familiar but Reese just couldn't place where she'd heard it before. "I'm doing this to protect my family, just like you."

Reese's face visibly contorted in confusion. What had she just stumbled into? What was going on? Was this why her dad was in such an evident hurry to leave the house? Or maybe he wasn't the one who did the damage in the first place.

"Maybe so," Reese's father started. The voices had gotten louder, signifying they had made their way from the hall to the lobby. "But, that doesn't mean you can just kill someone to do that."

Reese clasped a hand over her own mouth to muffle the gasp she just let out. What was going on? Her mind started to race with all sorts of different questions. She wanted to stand up from the chair she was currently hiding behind and ask what was going on but every bone in her body screamed at her to stay exactly where she was.

"You, shut up," The other voice seethed, the person it belonged to took a few steps, most likely closing some distance between him and her father. "I did what I had to do. You would've done the same."

"No. I wouldn't."

There was a brief silence and Reese felt like they had seen her. Somehow in the darkness they'd seen some light glint off her poncho. Her heart was beating so loud she was sure they would hear it.

"Look, Ford," The other voice started, addressing Reese's father by his first name. "I just need you to—"

Ford cut off the other voice with a stern, angry tone. "I know what you need me to do, but I told you to leave me out of it. Do it yourself."

"Ford, would you just listen to me," The voice demanded. Reese thought maybe her father had turned to leave and that's why this person was so adamant about getting his attention.

But, then she heard it. The click of a gun, the click you hear when it's safety is turned off. Reese's eyes widened and it took everything in her not to scream. A gun? Was this man about to shoot her father? She couldn't let that happen. She tried to stand up, but it was like her legs were glued in place.

"Woah," Ford exclaimed, raising his hands in their as if to show he didn't want to fight. "Just put the gun down."

"I don't want to do this," The voice insisted. "I do not want to do this. It would be very unfortunate for Reese if she had to live without her father."

There was silence for another moment, before Reese's dad finally spoke up. "Fine, fine. I'll do it. Just, god, put the gun down."

The sound of the clicking once more filled the lobby and echoed around. It felt so loud compared to the quiet that the building had just settled into. "Alright," The unknown voice said after what felt like forever. Then, the jingling of keys came from the unknown man and Reese could just see his shape outlined in the darkness. She squinted and watched as the dark figure of the man handed the keys off to her father.

"Get it done," The man said. "You know where to find me." And with that, the man walked out of the lobby, into the darkness of the storm without so much as a second thought.

Her dad remained, still and unmoving as he looked down at the keys placed in his hand. Reese wondered what he was thinking. And what that conversation just meant. How could her dad be wrapped up in something like this? She felt like she knew him better than anyone, but with a secret like this, she doubted that now.

Reese stayed unmoving as well. She wanted to get up and ask what was going on and yell at him for keeping this a secret, whatever it was. How could he lie to his own daughter? Now, more than ever she regretted venturing out into the storm to find her dad. What was she supposed to do with this? Pretend it never happened and then after the storm act completely normal as if she didn't overhear her father talking to someone who'd killed somebody.

The sound of her father sighing snapped her out of her thoughts. "Shit," He muttered. He stared at the keys for a moment more before walking away from the lobby and further into the building.

He was leaving? Reese stood up from behind the chair finally, the clear plastic of poncho crinkling as she did. Realizing she wasn't going to be able to sneak around wearing it, she threw it off, dumping it on the floor of the lobby.

She followed her dad as he moved through the building and down the stairs to the lower level that led directly to the dock. As the realization dawned on Reese that her father had planned to go out in the storm, on a boat no less, she paused. What was so important that he had to do this? She couldn't think of one possible reason he'd need to get on a boat during the middle of a tropical storm. Then, it hit her. He was disposing of evidence. That's what the man wanted from him, for her father to do his dirty work. Well, not if she has anything to say about it.

Reese hurriedly followed suit again, but by the time she caught up with her father, he'd already made it outside and onto the dock. She could only tell because of the light emanating from the flashlight he carried. As soon as Reese stepped outside, the wind almost toppled her over. She regained her balance and after steadying herself she broke into a run, trying to catch up with her dad before he got on the boat.

As she sprinted along the dock, the waves crashing against it battered her. She'd managed to keep her balance so far, but with the way the storm continued, she wasn't sure if she'd make it to the end of the dock where their boat was stationed.

"Dad," She called over the wind and rain, but to no avail. Trying to get his attention seemed futile. "Dad, stop," She tried again, hoping he might hear her.

She was about to try again, when her foot collided with an uneven board on the dock she couldn't see and she fell. Hard. She didn't have time to brace for impact and nearly face planted onto the dock. Reese winced in pain and tried to get to her feet when a wave came crashing down on her, bringing her back down. With the combination of the rain and the constant battering of waves, she felt like she could barely breathe.

Struggling to get back up, Reese made it to her hands and knees and let out a loud cough. She wiped her mouth, not that it did much good because all of her was drenched with sea water by now. She ran a hand through her hair as her hat had fallen off when she fell, probably swept into the water by the waves. With a bit of time, she managed to get back up. She looked down at her throbbing leg and winced when she saw two large gashes, one on her shin and the other on her knee.

As if suddenly remembering her mission, Reese's head shot up, her wet hair flicking water into her eyes. She searched in the darkness, for the shape of another person, for the light of the flashlight, but there was nothing. No large figure of the sailboat wading in the violent waves. Her dad was gone, already on his way to who knows where with evidence of a murder he was getting rid of for someone else.

It was dark, too dark and Reese couldn't see anything. She felt hopeless. Going out into the ocean when a hurricane that was right over the Outer Banks was practically a death sentence for her father. She had to follow him, but had no way of doing so. Nothing she couldn't think of would allow her to survive catching up to him. She couldn't swim because she'd drown, she couldn't surf because she'd drown.

Another wave smacked against the dock, causing one of the boats nearby to slam into it, creating a horrible metal sound. Wait, Reese turned to look in the direction of the boat. That's right. The Seafarer. Named after the store her father owned. It was the boat her mother had won in the divorce settlement and hadn't come to get it yet. It was a skybridge, so it was plenty big enough to weather the storm while she tried to find her dad. It hadn't been prepped for the storm either, since no one was around to do it and technically her father didn't own it anymore.

Carefully, Reese felt her way around the dock, grabbing hold of the bowline that tied The Seafarer to the dock. Taking one step and then another, ignoring the burning pain in her leg, she stepped very timidly onto the boat. Only, it wasn't the boat, it was the water beneath the boat. She gasped, pulling her foot back, forever thankful she didn't put her weight on it.

She tried again, only this time, she felt the solid ground of the deck of the boat. She grinned and took another step, firmly planting her feet on the boat. It took her a moment to get used to the dips and sways, but after a few minutes of standing still, she managed to get the hang of it.

The first thing in her mind that she needed to find was a flashlight so she could actually see what she was doing. Last time she was on The Seafarer was a while ago, but she remembered the 'in case of emergencies kit' her mother put together that had a flashlight in it was in the cabin under one of the leather seats. Only problem was, the doors to the cabin were most definitely locked.

The only thing Reese could think of was breaking the window. If worse came to worse, she could blame the storm. Seeing as it was the only idea she could come up with, Reese looked around for anything she could use to cover her hand with so she wouldn't get cut by the broken glass. In the dark, she struggled, but eventually found a tarp sitting on one of the deck chairs. Quickly, she  wrapped it around her hand. She reeled her arm back and then punched one of the windows as hard as she could.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, the window finally shattered on the fourth try. She reached past the broken glass carefully and fumbled her hand around until she found the door handle. She turned it and the door unlatched. She walked into the cabin and made a b-line for the seats.

Digging around in the bottom of a seat compartment on a boat during a hurricane wasn't how Reese thought she'd be spending her night, but she couldn't stop now. Not when she was this close to getting her father and finding out what was going on.

Once her hands clasped around the metal base of the flashlight, she twisted the bottom and the light flicked on. "Yes," Reese exclaimed with excitement. She could finally see everything around her which was a major win in her book.

She got up off the floor, ignoring the stinging in her leg as she stood up. She groaned at the thought of having to go back out in the storm, but the bridge was on the top level of the boat and it didn't have windows, so Reese would be expose to the elements.

With a bit of hesitation, Reese made her way out of the cabin and up the latter on the boat that led to the second and third deck. The bridge was on the top, so she still had a ways to go. She stuck the flashlight in her mouth to hold it as she climbed rung by rung up the latter.

Her feet slipped off the rungs a few times, but eventually she made her way to the top and to the bridge. There was a small windshield blocking the rain coming down at the front of the controls, which helped greatly as it would be difficult to go anywhere with rain consistently pelting her face.

It took her a while to remember how to start the engine, but after fifteen minutes of staring at the buttons and throttle with the flashlight flickering every few seconds, she finally got the boat to start.

The lights built into the roof of the bridge turned on, the bright yellow light uncovering everything that had been swallowed by the darkness. The engine purred to life and Reese smiled at the sound. This was it, she could follow her father and figure out where he was going and what he was doing.

﹒✿﹐♬ ﹒⤹

REESE'S EYES SHOT OPEN to the dim sound of the doorbell ringing multiple times and rapid knocks at the door. She groggily wiped the sleep from her eyes, turning to look at the alarm clock on her nightstand which flashed 12:00. At least the power was back on, but now she'd have to fix every clock in the house.

The pounding on the door continued and a muffled yell filled the house, which was quite a feat since it was a rather large home. Still feeling like her eyes would close from sleep at any minute she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

She rolled out of bed and groaned. Her head pounded like a bad hangover. Light spilled through the bay window of her room, the curtains a brighter green than they usually were signifying it was later in the morning or the early afternoon.

She trudged down the stairs her birkenstock clogs thudding on the hardwood. She held one hand to the side of her head as the banging and persistent ringing of the doorbell got louder.

"Reese," Rafe's voice called from outside the door. Reese stopped for a moment when she heard his voice wondering what he was doing here. "Answer the door."

Reese closed her eyes as she approached the door, trying her best not to start crying from the pain in her head. She needed ibuprofen or something to keep the pain to a minimum.

She passed the ransacked office, not giving it a second glance because all she could think about right now was how much her head hurt. The door creaked open as she twisted the handle. As soon as it was halfway open, Rafe pushed his way through.

"Reese," He started, but stopped when he saw the state of her. He only had to look at her face to know something was wrong.

"Hey, hey," He said, cupping his hands around Reese's face and tilting her head to look up at him. She blinked slowly, still forcing the sleep from her eyes and made eye contact with him.

Reese had no idea what she looked like. Probably a mess. She remembered how the rain battered against her and how her hair was most definitely tangled beyond recognition, but that was it.

The expression on her face was blank as she was still trying to process what was going on around her. Outside, the sun was out. It looked like a beautiful day which she found ironic because of how bad the weather was last night.

"Reese, look at me," Rafe demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh, it was laced with worry. She took her eyes off of the still open door Rafe hadn't yet closed and stared into his blue eyes. "Are you okay? I called you."

Reese's face wrinkled in confusion and she shrugged. "I didn't get a call," She responded slowly, her words slurring slightly.

"Like hell you didn't." Rafe let go of her face only for his eyes to linger on her face. They were filled with concern and a bit of frustration. "Baby," He whispered, momentarily forgetting the anger that had bubbled up at Reese's words. "You don't look good."

Reese closed her eyes once more, she could feel her body swaying back and forth. She decided it was better to keep her eyes closed, her head hurt less that way. "I don't feel good," She mumbled.

"What happened last night?" He asked worriedly.

"Last night," Reese repeated, trying to recall. "Last night I..." She opened her eyes at the realization she couldn't remember. She remembered seeing the state of the office and going to the marina, but after that it was a complete blank. She had no idea what happened after, how she got home from the marina, any of it. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" This time it was Rafe's turn to repeat. "You look like you got your shit rocked, Reese. How do you not remember that?"

"I don't know, Rafe," Reese spoke weakly, not in the mood to have her every move scrutinized right now. "I don't know. I've just got this fucking horrible headache and it won't go away."

Rafe took a step back. Reese rarely cursed, at least out loud, so hearing that come of her mouth must've been a shock to him.

"Look, baby," Rafe started, rubbing a hand over his chin. "I'm not trying to start anything. I'm just worried, okay? I'm worried about you. I called you and you didn't answer."

"I know, Rafe," Reese groaned. "I know," She said, this time more quietly. "And," She paused, thinking for a second if what she was about to say was true and as far as she could tell it was. Their argument from yesterday was momentarily forgotten. "I'm glad you're here."

Reese took a step forward and leaned into Rafe's chest, seeking comfort. She wanted this. Needed this. Last time they spoke, they fought, well argued at least and this, him coming over to check on her was a sign he wasn't upset. At least she hoped so. She needed to be with him right now, it gave her solace and comfort.

"Yeah," Rafe hummed, wrapped his arms around Reese tightly. He rested his head on hers and placed a kiss into her tangled hair. "Me too."

After a moment of just standing there in comfortable silence, a far cry from the awkward tension yesterday, Rafe released her from his embrace and closed the front door. Reese had forgotten that it was even open.

"Why don't you go sit down and, uh, I'll get you something for that headache," Rafe insisted, moving his way through Reese's house like he'd been there a million times.

Reese just nodded slowly and followed him to the back of the house, but instead of taking a right to the kitchen, she turned left and planted herself face first into the comfort of her couch. Sunlight poured through the wall of windows that lined the back of her house. It felt warm on her skin and helped calm her from the pain of her head.

"Okay, baby," Rafe said, announcing his presence since Reese was face down on the couch. "Here, sit up." He pulled one of her arms up and the rest of her body followed, slowly Reese made it into a slumped sitting position on the couch.

"What time is it?" Reese groggily looked toward the oven clock only to realize it also needed to be reset.

"It doesn't matter," Rafe brushed off, handing her the cap of the medicine bottle with two small pills inside of it.

Reese nodded, "It does matter." She thought for a moment racking her brain on why she thought the time mattered when she had this splitting headache. "There's... there's something I have to do. I think," She muttered, going to stand, only to have Rafe's hand push her back down to the couch.

"You're not going anywhere. Not until I find out what happened last night," He insisted. "Take these." Rafe held out the medicine bottle cap once more for Reese to grab.

She wasn't sure why he was so insistent on trying to find out where she was last night. She couldn't even remember. Maybe he was just concerned, but it felt like there was more to it that than. Ignoring the small itch at the back of her mind telling her something was wrong, she grabbed the pills from Rafe.

Once the medicine had been downed and Reese had finally gotten rid of the some of the brain fog and was coherent again, Rafe sat down on the coffee table in front of her.

Reese reached up to itch her neck absentmindedly as Rafe started to ask her questions about last night. "You don't remember anything," He asked calmly.

"Not really," Reese answered truthfully. "Just that I went to the marina... for something."

For the life of her, she couldn't remember why she was there or what possessed her to go out in a storm like that. "So, you don't remember why you didn't answer my calls?"

"No," She shook her head. In fact, she wasn't even sure where her phone was. "I don't remember getting any calls. Honest."

"When you left yesterday, all worked up," Rafe gritted his teeth as if he was reliving what happened all over again. "You didn't say where you were going, so how am I supposed to help you figure this out when you won't give me anything to go on?"

"Rafe, I can't remember. What part of that do you not understand?" Reese raised her voice. What could he not get through his head about her not remembering anything from last night. It's like he didn't believe her.

"I just find it interesting that you leave yesterday after being a total bitch to me and now you can't remember anything from last night," Rafe spat, getting up from his spot on the coffee table and pacing around the room.

"What did you just call me?" Reese asked, not believing what he'd just said. How dare he? Did he think she was lying to him? He must have, why else would he call her that or say these things to her.

"Sorry," Rafe apologized hastily, his hands waving around. "I'm sorry. I just, I don't understand why you won't tell me." He pinched the bridge of his nose frustration evident. "I didn't mean it."

Reese got up, the medicine kicking in pretty fast, although she still felt like shit, at least she could get up without her skull throbbing. "Tell you what, Rafe? What is it that you want me to say?"

"That you were with that fucking pogue last night," He screamed, his hands gesturing to Reese.

So, that's what this was about. He thought she was with Beau. She knew it. He was just worried, insecure about her friendship with him. He needed reassurance is what Reese told herself, hoping that it was true. Even if it wasn't, it's what she believed.

"What?" Reese asked, astonished. "You think," She laughed in disbelief, still ignoring the ache in between her eyes. "You think I decided that I wanted to hangout with Beau last night while there was a hurricane?"

"Why else wouldn't you tell me," Rafe hissed. "You got defensive yesterday when I said I didn't want you hanging around him, what am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to think I wouldn't do that to you," She spoke calmly, trying to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from falling. God, Reese hated fighting with Rafe. It was clear from his words he was just insecure and that's why he was saying all this, but it didn't make it right. It didn't make name calling or insulting right and it didn't make it right to yell at her after she had clearly gone through something last night. She shouldn't have to stand here and fight with the person she loved.

Loved? That's the first time she thought that way about Rafe. During a fight no less. Did she really feel that way? Or was it just the heightened emotions from the pain in her head and the uncertainty of last night?

"How am I supposed to think that when all you do is talk about how much you love the pogues?"

Reese closed the distance. She knew this outburst was coming from some small part of Rafe's mind telling him that fighting was the best defense mechanism. "Rafe," She started, taking a step closer. "You need to trust me, okay? I would never do that to you. I talk about the pogues because they are my friends. Nothing more. We don't need to fight about it, you're the one I want, not Beau, not anyone else."

Rafe looked at her and she could see the tears that had started to fall from his eyes. She knew he was just a crier, seeing as how anytime they would fight or he'd get worked up she'd see tears. "You really don't remember what happened?" He asked, his voice cracking.

"No. I don't and I need you to trust me when I say that," Reese assured, grabbing his hand. She hesitated, her breath hitching before she decided it was the right thing to say. She didn't know why it felt right, but she knew it was true and it was definitely something he needed to hear right now. "I love you, Rafe. Outbursts and all."

She did love him, even if he was a bit unstable at times. He was always there for her, even if it was more for him than for her. They just needed to clear up whatever miscommunication this was and they'd be back to normal.

Rafe stood there for a moment, still processing what Reese had said. For a moment, she felt scared, as though he wouldn't say it back. That fear was quickly assuaged when Rafe enveloped her in his arm and whispered, "I love you too."

"I'm sorry," He whispered into her hair. "I didn't come to fight. I just wanted to talk. I'm just, I..."

"I know, Rafe," Reese soothed, wrapping her arms around him, headache slowly fading away. She did know, it seemed to happen a lot recently. The stress he'd had on his shoulders made his outburst more frequent. This one about the pogues from yesterday was a new one, but she figured it probably the stress and worry he'd had about losing her. "Stress does crazy things."

"What I called you," He muttered into Reese's hair. "I know it was wrong."

"It's okay," Reese nodded, knowing she couldn't stay angry at him for long, even if that was the first time he's ever said anything like that. She was glad they'd finally gotten over this little bump, but didn't like how it happened. She hated fighting, her parents did it all the time before eventually they got divorced and it seems to happen more and more often with Rafe.

"How's your head," Rafe asked after a long moment of silence. Reese could tell it must've been at least five minutes because the sun had already shifted angles, more light filtering in through the trees that lined her back deck.

"Better," Reese replied, shoving her face into the crook of Rafe's neck. She pushed the bad thoughts out, the ones about constant fighting and miscommunication, and instead focused on breathing, calming herself down.

"Any memories coming back to you?"

Reese shook her head. It was all still to unclear to understand what happened. She felt like she was waking into fog with a flashlight and it didn't do anything but bounce the light around the water droplets. Anytime she tried to remember it was like she had this white, hot pain seer through her head. That's probably what caused the headache in the first place. "No."

She could tell Rafe was still slightly frustrated by her answer at the way he tensed up. She wanted to reassure him, to make him feel at ease, so she added, "But, hopefully soon."

"Yeah, uh," Rafe started, pulling away from

the embrace. "Look, I got some things I have to go do." He backed up and Reese felt the warmth disappear and in its place, cold air. "For my dad," He added on, probably for the same reason Reese felt like she had to reassure him. "I

just needed to know what was going on," He told her as if explaining his actions from the past hour. "I was worried."

Reese figured that there was a double meaning hidden in his words. He was worried about her, but also what she had done last night. She was glad she could help him get over that feeling and both of the meanings that came with his words.

"Okay," Reese nodded, her headache finally dull enough to where she felt like she actually function like a normal person. It was only then that she felt Rafe's eyes give her a once over and lingered on her legs. She followed his gaze and her mouth nearly dropped at the sight of the giant gash on her shin.

"Oh my god," She whispered, reaching down to gingerly touch the cut that covered about half of her leg. She had no idea how she didn't notice it earlier. The blue pinstriped shorts she was wearing obviously didn't cover it, so how did she not see a giant wound covering half of her shin?

"Baby, you have to remember how you got that," Rafe says, though instead of a question he said it like definitive fact. Reese shook her head, wincing as she felt the wound.

It was an angry red cut, darker in the middle where the blood had clotted to stop the bleeding on its own and more light red around the outside. It looked like a scrape, because there was no skin around it to suggest it had been gashed open by something.

"Don't touch it," Rafe snapped, but Reese knew it wasn't the angry kind of snap, he was concerned and like how most things do with Rafe, it manifested as anger.

Reese sat down on the coffee table to get a closer look at the scrape. It didn't look too deep, but still something that would definitely scar. There was a smaller, less atrocious cut on her knee and it had already started to scab over.

Rafe crouched down in front of her. "I'll be back, later tonight, okay?" Rafe ran a hand through his hair. "I'll grab some, like, gauze or something while I'm out. We can talk to your dad, see if he knows anything when I get back. But, I have to go."

That's when it hit Reese, like a she stepped into the middle of a busy highway and a truck slammed into her. She felt like her breath had been taken as her head began to throb. She put a hand to her temple and winced as the same pain she experienced when she tried to remember what happened coursed through her head. Then, it was flashes of white, each time more and more painful. She saw the ocean, the sailboat, the waves and then a beach and a cave. It was all foggy. She saw the lobby at the marina and then her dad on the dock. It was coming back in bits and pieces.

"Reese, baby," Rafe called. Her eyes were closed as she tried to fight off the pain. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

Just as soon as it came on, the pain stopped. It was like someone had flipped a switch in her brain and she opened her eyes slowly. She didn't remember everything, just snippets of what happened. She still had no idea how she made it home from the marina. But, she knew one thing, her dad was missing.

She looked at Rafe, staring into his blue eyes, seeing the concern and fear in them. "It's my dad," She said urgently, her voice low and soft. "He's missing."

Rafe held her gaze with his own. "Ford? Is missing? Reese," He said, wanting to believe her, but finding the whole thing a bit far fetched.

"I remember... some stuff," Reese stammered. "I remembered being at the marina last night and, and my dad was there, he was talking to someone and," Reese paused, realizing what she had remembered.

"And what, baby?" Rafe coaxed, trying to get an answer out of her.

"I think whoever he was talking to killed someone," She whispered, her tone somber. It sounded insane to say out loud. Her dad tangled up in some insane murder plot and having to get rid of the evidence, but she couldn't ignore what she saw and heard.

Reese waited for Rafe's reply, her eyes never leaving his. She was dead serious and she hoped he could tell. Instead of a verbal response, Rafe dragged his finger down her cheek, pulling her eye lid down slightly.

"What are you doing?" She asked, pulling her face away.

"You're eyes are bloodshot, you have these random headaches and you're acting insane," Rafe explained, though he didn't hold any malice or anger in his tone, it was like he was just stating the facts. "You have a concussion, Reese."

"What?" She asked, understanding he didn't believe a word she said. "What no, no," She insisted, trying and pleading with him to hear her out. "I'm not making this up or misremembering. I know what I saw."

"Reese, baby," Rafe soothed, still in front of her. "Just five minutes ago, you couldn't remember shit. You told me that, so unless you were lying to me, you're not doing okay," He said. "I think you just need to lay down and get some rest."

"No." Reese responded defiantly, standing up to ignore what he said. Rafe followed her and blocked her from walking away.

"I said, you need to rest." He nodded, his eyes making it clear this wasn't up for discussion.

"I need to find my dad," Reese said vehemently, refusing to give into what Rafe wanted. How could she forget what happened? Her father was missing and she couldn't even remember a majority of what happened.

Rafe put a hand on her chest, forcibly stopping her from talking another step. He looked as though he was deep in thought even those he was still looking directly at her. "Fine," Rafe relented, moving his hand. "But, you should change first."

Reese, confused by his sudden change in attitude, let her eyes linger on him. She agreed, she wasn't going anywhere looking like the total mess she probably did. But, why was Rafe so quick to switch up on her leaving?

"Yeah," Reese replied. "Good idea."

It wasn't long before the pair had made their upstairs and down the hall to Reese's bedroom. On the way there, they passed the master suite and the door was still partially open. While walking, Reese peaked into the room, her curiosity getting the better of her. If the sheets were messed up, it meant her father had been fine and she was crazy. If they weren't... well Reese didn't want to think about what that meant.

She felt her heart drop when she saw the room remained in pristine condition, no sheets disrupted, no lights on, nothing. She sighed and looked down. She didn't know why she got her hopes up that everything was okay. Maybe in some way Rafe's words had gotten to her and made her think for a moment that her dad was okay.

"Don't take too long," Rafe said as they approached her open door. "I got errands to run."

"Don't worry," Reese smiled reassuringly, although she felt like she needed the reassurance more than him right now. She wouldn't get it, since she knew he didn't believe she what she'd said, but she was still happy he agreed she needed to look for her dad. "I won't."

Reese took a few steps into her room, wondering absentmindedly where she'd but her bandaids to help cover up the cut on her leg when the door closed behind her. She whirled around, expecting to see Rafe standing in front of it, but he was no where to be seen.

Reese paced back to the door. "Rafe," She called out, rolling her eyes. "You're not funny."

She heard the small click of the lock on her door and the small she smile she wore faded as she understood what was happening. "Rafe," She called again, her hand reaching for the doorknob and twisting it, only for it to remain unloving. "Rafe, this isn't funny. Let me out," She pleaded.

"I'm sorry, baby," He called through the hard oak of the door. "I can't do that."

Reese banged on the door, letting out a frustrated groan. He must've found the keys on the credenza they keep at the end of the hall. It was for decoration mainly, but the cabinets inside held a few essential items, like spare keys to the doors, extra light bulbs and items like that. "Rafe, please," She begged, trying the doorknob again.

"You need to rest," Rafe replied as if what he had done was no big deal. "I told you that."

"No, I don't. I need to go," Reese argued, but stopped her efforts trying to open the door. She rested her head against the wood.

"Baby, this is for your own good. You hear me? I'll be back tonight with some medicine and we can talk this all out then."

"No," She tried desperately to get him to listen. "I know you're trying to help—"

Reese was cut off by Rafe. "Then, you understand. That's good. I'll see you tonight."

She heard retreating footsteps and Reese felt the last bit of hope she had that the door would open leave her. She turned around and moved down to the ground in a heap against the door. She could understand where Rafe was coming from, he just went about it the extremely wrong way and she would be sure to tell him that whenever she saw him again. But, she did know one thing, she wouldn't be stuck sitting in her room when her dad was out there missing somewhere.

﹒✿﹐♬ ﹒⤹

AFTER CLEANING HERSELF UP, taking a shower, brushing her hair which was an extraordinary feat considering just how tangled it was, brushing her teeth and changing her clothes from the pajamas she was wearing to a crochet top with a pair of short overalls over top, she finally felt like herself again.

Bandaging up the open wound on her leg proved to be a challenge. She didn't really have any bandaids big enough to get the job done, so she took some cotton balls she had on the shelf next to her sink, unraveled them and placed them on the scrape, wincing as she did. She then grabbed the ace bandage she'd found in the back of closet and rolled it at least three times over the cut. It wasn't the prettiest nor was it the best, but it got the job done.

With that, she turned to face the large window in her room. It faced the back of the house, as it was right above the kitchen and thankfully for her, the roof of the deck was less than six feet under it. So, in order to get out, all she had to do was manage to get out the window and off the roof of the deck without breaking anything. Seemed simple enough.

Reese thought about grabbing a bag before she left only to realize she didn't have anything to bring with her. No phone, no wallet, no nothing. It felt weird to venture out into the world without one, it kind of felt like being naked to her, but she would just have to deal.

She wanted to count her frustration at Rafe as something, but it wasn't tangible and she'd decided to push it out of her mind until she saw him again or else she would never get anything done.

Lacing up her converse, Reese walked toward the window, grabbing the white wood of the sill and unlatching the lock. With a deep breath and after a small pep talk, she shoved the window upward. It was difficult since she rarely opened her window and it made a horrible squeaking noise whenever it moved up and down.

Cringing at the awful noise, she peered down the edge of the window and gulped. It may have been six feet down but it was still six feet and for someone who'd never jumped out a window before, it was quite scary.

Not wanting to second guess herself, Reese went for it, not leaving time to think things through. She hoisted one leg over the edge and then the other until she was sitting squarely on the sill. She twisted her body until her weight was being supported by her upper body and her arms. Slowly, she lowered herself down, her feet reaching out below to find the solid ground of the decks roof.

Her arms shaking with the weight, she started to panic when her feet didn't reach the shingles of the roof. She took in a deep breath as she continued to lower herself down. Once her head dipped past the sill, her arms grew tired and she felt like she would fall at any second. Her fingers started to slip off the window sill. "Shit, shit, shit," She cursed and then, just a moment later, she fell.

Reese let out a shrill scream only to have her feet land squarely on the rooftop not a second later. Still taking in deep breaths, Reese let out a small giggle at herself. That was a bit of an overreaction. She couldn't help but laugh, how was she supposed to know how far down it was, it wasn't like she'd ever had to sneak out a window before.

Well, that was the scary part done. Now, that she was on top of the roof, she should just be able to jump down. Her house backed up the marsh, so if she didn't jump onto the deck, but the grass instead, she should be fine. She didn't know if marsh grass was any softer than regular grass, but it made sense in her head. Plus, today was her day of not thinking about things before she did them or else she'd overthink everything.

So, without another thought, she turned to her right and jumped. She landed on the ground with a thud and toppled over after failing to reach her balance. She paused for a moment, lying down in the grass that she decided was definitely softer than regular grass. She took a deep breath and wiggled her legs around a to make sure nothing was broken. While the fall did hurt, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

Getting to her feet, she dusted the dirt off her hands and took in a deep breath. She was headed to the marina, since that's where she last saw her dad. At least, that's what she remembered. Only problem was, she had no idea how she got home from said marina. She couldn't imagine she'd left her car there, but maybe she had. If that was the case she had no idea what she was going to do.

She made her way over the exterior door of the garage, opening the flap to the lock and punching in the familiar combination. The garage screamed to life, its mechanical gears shrieking as it rolled upward. She groaned annoyed at the sight of an empty room. No car. That means she'd have to walk to the marina and that was by no means a short trip.

﹒✿﹐♬ ﹒⤹

BY THE TIME she got to the marina she was sweating. The outer banks summer heat was especially bad when there was direct sunlight overhead. Before Reese had given up on finding a mode of transportation, she found her old bike at the back of the garage. It's tires were a bit low on air, but she figured they'd do the trick. And they did, for the first 15 minutes of the trip, but after the air had made its way out the tires, rolling a bike with two flat tires to the marina in the middle of summer wasn't for the weak.

She made it to the parking lot after 30 minutes, sweating and nearly out of breath. She smiled happily when she saw her car parked near the back of the lot. It didn't look too damaged either. Just a whole lot of leaves and another debris covering it, nothing a car wash wouldn't fix.

For once, Reese was grateful to have a bike rack on the back of her bronco. For the longest time she'd asked her dad to take it off, since she never used it and his reply was the same each time, he'd get to it. But, right now, Reese was glad he didn't.

She lifted the bike up with a bit of a struggled and placed it on the rack. Admiring her handy work, Reese blocked the sun out with a hand over her forehead. The headache was completely gone now, the only pain she was in was the dull throb of her shin, but that was to be expected.

She turned to face the building just off the dock of the marina. She was determined to see if anyone knew anything or had seen her father recently.

The building was insanely busy, people everywhere and the person at the front desk looking extremely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people arguing over what had happened. Reese sighed internally, knowing that waiting in this was going to take a very long time. 

Deciding to come back once the chaos had died down a bit, she took the stairs down to the lower level of the building that lead to the dock. She figured maybe one of her father's friends would be out there. Maybe they could tell her a bit about what had gone down after she'd left yesterday.

She looked down at her leg, to check on the scrape, hoping it hadn't bled through her bandage when she smacked into someone as she walked out the door.

Her head shot up only to come face to face with Beau Sacher. The very same Beau she was on the phone with yesterday and the same Beau who was supposedly her best friend. Her eyes widened as she took a step back.

What was he doing here? At the marina? Shouldn't he be at his house? Reese could've sworn that's where he always was during storms.

"Look who it is," Beau says, his voice sounded friendly, but his face told a completely different story. He looked upset, almost betrayed. "The girl of the hour."

"What?" Reese asked, looking around. He was clearly talking about her, but she couldn't figure out why. Did they have plans to meet up or something?

"Forget about us already?" He asked, gesturing somewhere behind him. Reese followed where his hand pointed with her eyes, squinted to keep the sun out of them and saw John B and Pope arguing with some sort of coast guard employee.

That's when it came back to Reese that, yes, they did have plans and she'd completely forgotten. She wanted to say it was her fault, but considering she couldn't remember what happened last night, she felt she wasn't entirely at fault for forgetting.

"What?" She asked again, this time she had understood what he was upset about, so it wasn't really a question. "No, no." She waved her hands in front of her face. "Of course not, Beau."

"So, where were you?" He was upset and he had every right to be. To him it seemed like Reese practically blew him off for who knows what. If only she could explain what happened without sounding insane. If only the people in her life weren't so worried about her and focused on themselves more, she wouldn't have to deal with any of this.

She felt overwhelmed, first but the interaction she had with Rafe earlier. It was nice up until he locked in her room, which she still couldn't figure out why he thought was a good idea. Second, by the memory that he dad was quite literally missing and now, by what felt like, but was definitely not, an ambush with Beau. It couldn't have been because he had no way to know she was here and it looked like the pogues had business to take care of.

Still, she felt bad. "I'm sorry," She apologized. "Last night, I don't even know what happened," She started to explain. "I think my dad is missing and..." She trailed off knowing how crazy this all sounded. If Rafe didn't believe her and he was the person she loved, how was her friend supposed to believe her?

She looked at the ground, not wanting to see Beau's expression. She heard his breath hitch like he was about to speak, but she heard JJ's voice instead.

"Wow. You look like shit," He commented, a smile plastered on his face. "Yo, what happened to your leg?" Reese liked JJ, he was cool and always said what he thought. It was actually very refreshing to meet someone like him, someone who didn't hold back their opinions, at least that's how it seemed when he was around her. Which, to be fair, wasn't very often.

However, now was not the time she needed to hear the honest truth. What she needed was people to believe her when she said her dad was missing, she needed people to help her find him. But it was clear no one was going to do that. "Thanks, JJ," She muttered, brushing past the pair and walking away.

She no longer wanted to be anywhere near the marina. Her friend thought she was lying and most definitely hated her and now more than ever she needed some idea of where her dad was. So, the logical next step was to go to the rental store he owned, The Seafarer. It wasn't too far from the marina, since he rented boats out of it fairly often. She figured if she could get to the store she should be able to find some clue about what was going on last night.

It wasn't a long walk by any means, as the store sat just outside of the marina, nestled between a few oak trees and backed up to the edge of the marsh. Her father rented out kayaks and paddle boats, surfboards and paddle boards, you name it, he had it.

As soon as she made her way down the dirt road to the store, she gasped. A tree limb had fallen just short of the store, blocking the entrance. The dirt was soggy and puddles of mud littered her path to the door. Stepping over the puddles, she made her way to the store entrance. She carefully climbed her way over the broken tree limb and landed on the other side, her shoes caked in mud. She knelt down to the shell the spare keys were kept under and grabbed them. She felt the cool metal in hands and fumbled with the lock on the door for a moment before walking in.

The inside didn't look much better. Like her house, there was a lot of natural light from the windows that covered the store and the window paned doors at the back. Unfortunately, the windows had been damaged in the storm and the back doors had been flung open causing the rain to be able to seep in. The water damage covered almost the entire store. There were puddles of standing water on the ground and she doubted the computers they did transactions on worked anymore.

She continued to look around the room, noticing every thing that looked slightly off or damaged. The surfboards mounted on one of the walls had fallen, resulting in broken shelves and more damage. She turned her gaze to the floor, noting the wood had curved due the amount of water it had soaked up during the storm. She could only think about how much this would cost to fix.

It was then that a glint of light caught her eye. She walked over to it, careful to avoid any of the uneven wood so as to not fall and get yet another injury. She crouched down to examine the item further. She recognized it as a key, a solid brass key with a chain around one of the loops at the end. Her eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

Was this one of the keys the man gave her father last night, the ones he took to dump the evidence of whatever crime was committed? And if it was, what was it doing at The Seafarer? She reached down to grab it, her fingers dipping into the cold rain water and clasping onto the hard brass.

She held it closer to her eyes, looking at the weathered imperfections on the metal. What did this key belong to? What did it unlock? 

She was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt a sudden tingling sensation in her legs. It was like pins and needles, similar to when your foot falls asleep. She chalked it up to the scrape on her leg and once more turned her attention back to the key. Not for long, however, as her heart began to race. It started to be so fast she felt like it would be out of her chest. She dropped the key and it landed back into the puddle, the water splashing up and landing on her.

She fell backwards into yet another puddle after losing her balance. The tingling sensation only became worse until her legs felt completely numb and then it was as though her vision turned white for a moment. It was the same as when she got the flashbacks from last night, only this time there was no headache and her vision turned completely white.

She heard a voices from outside, muffled, but still audible. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but the voices sounded like Beau and the pogues. What were they doing here and what was going on?

Reese blinked a few times to clear her vision. Once she regained her sight, she took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief. Maybe Rafe was right, maybe she did have a concussion. She probably needed to go to the doctor. Reese made a move to stand up, but realized soon enough she still couldn't feel her legs. Instead, it felt like there was a heavy mass dragging her body down.

The path ahead rose gently, carved from cracked stone and overgrown with wild grass that rustled under their boots. At the summit, something utterly alien dominated the landscape. (Y/N) felt herself slow as they approached. The building was massive—an impossible fusion of nature and machine. Its outer shell gleamed a pale, metallic white under the filtered sunlight, so smooth and seamless it could have been poured from the sky itself. Luminous accents of blue and gold traced delicate patterns across the surface, pulsing softly with a life all their own.

It was beautiful in a way that felt almost cruel.

The air around them buzzed faintly, the hum of unseen energies vibrating against her skin. The closer they got, the more the world itself seemed to quiet—no birds, no insects, only the low, ever-present sound of power thrumming through the ground.

(Y/N) tightened her arms around herself, feeling the rough fabric of her shirt between her fingers. Every logical part of her brain screamed at her to stop, to turn back, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something terrifying about the structure's perfection, something deeply wrong in how it stood untouched by time, by decay, as if it had simply been waiting.

Chief moved ahead without hesitation, his heavy steps unwavering. (Y/N) trailed after him, her own movements cautious, almost reverent. Her gaze flicked across the strange architecture—arching spires, floating platforms suspended in shafts of golden light, walls that shimmered like living stone. She had never seen anything like it. Nothing human, nothing natural.

When they reached the entrance, she hesitated.

The doorway stood three stories high, no hinge or seam, only veins of light tracing its edges. No handle, no welcome—just silent, mathematical permission. Then, with a deep, resonant groan, the metal split along hidden seams. Panels shifted and slid into the walls with fluid precision, revealing a passageway beyond. Cold air spilled out, brushing against her skin with a strange electric bite.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively, heart hammering against her ribs. She had seen automatic doors before—at malls, at hospitals—but this was different. There had been no sensor, no sound of hydraulics, no visible command. It had reacted to them as if it knew they were there.

She stared into the gaping entrance, her muscles locked in indecision. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, that stepping through would be a mistake she couldn’t undo. She looked toward Chief. He waited at the threshold, one solid hand resting lightly against the frame, his gold visor reflecting her small, frozen figure back at her.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the sharp bite of her nails against her palms, and forced herself to move. One step. Another.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the hum grew stronger. Not louder—but deeper, like a bass note thrumming in the bones of the world. The air inside was colder, thinner, laced with a metallic tang that tasted like ozone.

The walls of the corridor were impossibly smooth, curving upward into a vaulted ceiling etched with glowing lines of shifting script. The floor underfoot was the same seamless white metal, marred only by hairline fractures spiderwebbing outward like old scars. Shafts of pale light streamed down from hidden sources far above, catching in the mist that clung low around their boots.

(Y/N) slowed, tilting her head back to stare at the dizzying height. Awe prickled down her spine, battling fear. It was too much. Too alien. Her engineer's brain itched to understand the mechanics of it—the materials, the construction—but her instincts recoiled. This wasn’t built. This was grown. Or shaped by hands that didn’t think the way human hands did.

Her fingertips brushed lightly against the wall. It was cool to the touch, almost soft, as if the metal itself was breathing. She snatched her hand back, heart leaping.

Chief kept moving ahead at an even pace, scanning the path with methodical sweeps of his rifle. His steady presence anchored her, gave her a rhythm to follow when her mind wanted to spiral into panic.

(Y/N) forced herself to breathe slowly.

One step at a time.

One breath at a time.

The corridor opened wider ahead, revealing a massive inner chamber lit by an eerie, sourceless glow. Great pillars of white stone and metal spiraled toward the unseen ceiling, their surfaces engraved with delicate patterns that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them. Floating platforms drifted lazily through the air, tethered by thin streams of crackling energy. In the center of the room, a towering obelisk pulsed with soft light, casting long shadows across the misty floor.

She turned slowly in place, trying to take it all in—the impossible architecture, the terrible beauty of it. Her heart ached with the enormity of it all, a sharp, painful longing for home, for anything familiar.

(Y/N) stopped dead in the entrance, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

An immense circular platform stretched out before them, suspended high above a bottomless abyss by columns of shifting, braided light. Floating geometric shapes drifted lazily through the air, orbiting a towering central spire that pulsed with a cool blue glow. Narrow bridges branched out from the platform’s edges, leading into darkness and distant doors she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Above them, the ceiling disappeared into swirling mist lit by shafts of golden sunlight that filtered down like something holy.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her hand tightening instinctively around the hem of her shirt. This wasn’t architecture. This wasn’t construction.

It was like stepping into the exposed skeleton of a god.

A sudden metallic trill echoed overhead. Narrow panels in the floor parted, and a flock of small machines drifted out on columns of pale light—orb-shaped cores ringed by three razor-thin arms that clicked and realigned with unnerving grace. Their central lenses glowed a cool amber as they fanned across the chamber.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step behind Chief’s bulk. “Uh—what are those flying machines?”

“Sentinels,” Cortana supplied, tone matter-of-fact. “Automated Forerunner custodians. They’ll monitor us unless we give them a reason to do something less friendly.”

One Sentinel paused directly in front of (Y/N). A lattice of light swept over her—head to toe—then receded. The machine issued a soft chirp, as if filing her under mildly interesting, and floated away.

She let out the breath she’d been storing. “Good to know we’re only rated ‘minor inconvenience.’ “

Chief resumed his advance, apparently satisfied the drones posed no threat. Their amber eyes tracked him for a moment, then drifted upward, leaving the platform clear for Cortana’s console work. (Y/N) followed slower, unable to tear her eyes from the grandeur towering above and around them, even after the Sentinels had left.

Cortana materialized as Chief slotted her into the console—her form flickering to life in a bloom of soft blue light above the smooth surface.

(Y/N) stopped a few paces back, watching in awe as Cortana's hologram leaned over the console, her fingers moving through holographic displays that shifted and twisted at her command.

"We’re close," Cortana said, her voice sharp and focused. "I’m picking up faint distress signals—"

(Y/N) tilted her head. "From what?"

Cortana glanced over her shoulder at her, faint amusement flashing through her flickering form. "Infinity," she said simply.

(Y/N) blinked. "Infinity?"

Chief answered without looking away from the room, his voice low and steady. "UNSC Infinity. Our supercarrier. Biggest ship in the fleet."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept. Even the words felt too big. Supercarrier. Fleet. It made her world—the small workshops, the crowded streets—feel impossibly distant.

She watched as Cortana plunged deeper into the console’s systems, chasing something only she could see.

Then suddenly, without warning, the entire console shuddered violently. Cortana's form blinked and distorted before being violently ejected in a burst of static, her figure collapsing into thin air.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively.

Cortana’s voice snapped sharply over the comms. "They’re locking me out of the system!"

The console darkened, streams of glyphs racing like veins across the platform as hidden mechanisms clicked into motion deep beneath the floor.

Chief stepped forward immediately, already assessing, already planning.

Cortana's voice crackled through again. "There’s still a way. Power couplings, connected to the core systems. If we can re-enable them, I can regain control."

(Y/N) watched as parts of the platform shifted—strange mechanical flowers unfolding from the walls to reveal pathways across the abyss.

Two glowing bridges of light—narrow and unstable-looking—extended from the platform toward floating generator nodes embedded in the stone around the perimeter.

Chief started toward the nearest path without hesitation.

(Y/N) stared at the luminous walkway, her heart hammering.

It wasn't solid. It wasn’t natural. It was a ribbon of pure energy stretching over a drop so deep it made her dizzy to look at it.

And yet—

A small, fierce spark lit inside her chest.

Beneath the fear, the awe, the endless crushing wrongness of everything around her, there was something else.

Excitement.

Her hands itched at her sides, aching for tools she didn’t have.

"This is..." she whispered under her breath, almost laughing in disbelief, "This is insane."

Chief paused halfway across the platform, turning slightly to glance back at her.

She shook her head, grinning despite herself. "Back home I was... sort of an engineer," she admitted, voice still breathless with awe. "Or at least, I tried to be."

Her fingers brushed lightly against the glowing lines on the nearest column as she passed, feeling the faint warmth radiating from the Forerunner metal.

"I used to fix broken junk in my apartment," she said, almost to herself. "Now I’m walking on light bridges built by gods."

Chief didn’t answer—he just nodded once, a small, silent approval she could feel in the gesture.

The platform beneath her boots vibrated faintly as the structure shifted again, unseen systems stirring in the depths.

(Y/N) pulled in a slow breath, steadying herself.

She had no tools.

No manuals.

No backup.

But somehow, in this broken, alien place, for the first time in what felt like days—

She wasn’t useless.

Not yet.

Not today.

And that would have to be enough.

They moved across the first bridge of light, the endless drop yawning hungrily below.

Behind them, the Cartographer core pulsed faintly, waiting for the system to come alive again.

And yet, some part of her—buried deep beneath the fear—ached with a different feeling.

Wonder.

Terrible, aching wonder.

(Y/N) hugged herself tightly, trying to hold the feeling together before it could tear her apart.

Chief stood nearby, silent and patient.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

She met his gaze—or rather, the reflection of herself in the gold mirror of his visor—and felt a tiny, fierce spark of determination flicker inside her.

She wasn't ready for this world.

She didn't belong here.

But she was here anyway.

The bridge of light solidified beneath their boots as they moved, humming with an almost musical resonance. (Y/N) kept her eyes forward, trying not to think about the abyss yawning on either side. The first generator came into view—a massive pillar of smooth metal carved with shifting glyphs. Its surface pulsed faintly, a heartbeat buried under layers of ancient code.

Chief reached it first.

He moved with efficiency, placing a gloved hand flat against a recessed panel. A series of symbols flared to life beneath his palm, and with a deep, resonant hum, the pillar began to unfold. Light spilled upward in a sudden surge, stretching back toward the core platform where Cortana waited.

(Y/N) flinched slightly at the sudden flare, but it was beautiful—like watching a sun rise in fast-forward.

Before they could admire it, Cortana’s voice snapped through the comms.

"Contacts! Covenant forces incoming!"

(Y/N)'s blood went cold.

She turned instinctively—and there, across the broken stone and floating pathways, a ripple of distortion twisted into reality. Bright bursts of energy crackled into existence, forming the squat, hunched shapes she recognized from before. Grunts. Behind them, taller, more imposing figures materialized, weapons raised, armor glinting in the strange half-light.

Panic surged in her chest.

Without thinking, she darted toward the nearest cover—an outcropping of fractured Forerunner metal at the edge of the platform. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she pressed herself against the cold surface, heart hammering wildly.

Blasts of plasma sizzled through the air.

Chief was already moving—fluid, precise, a living machine of destruction. He dropped into the fray with brutal efficiency, plasma bouncing harmlessly from his shielded armor as he cleared a path with his rifle.

(Y/N) crouched lower, arms wrapped tight around her knees, fighting the instinct to squeeze her eyes shut.

Stay calm. Stay hidden. Let him handle it.

That had been the plan.

Until she realized where she had ended up.

Through the shifting haze of battle, she spotted it— another generator, nearly identical to the first, tucked against the far side of the platform. The second activation point.

And she was closer to it than Chief was.

Far closer.

(Y/N) hesitated, terror clawing at her throat. Plasma scorched the air overhead. She ducked instinctively, her muscles locking.

She could stay here. Hide.

Let Chief deal with it.

Or—

She swallowed hard, heart slamming against her ribs, and pushed herself up into a low crouch.

I’m not useless. I’m not dead weight.

She forced her legs to move, darting from cover to cover, keeping her body low as she sprinted toward the pillar. Every step felt like it could be her last, but somehow—miraculously—nothing hit her.

The generator towered above her, humming with latent energy.

(Y/N) stared up at it, trying to remember what Chief had done. The panel—his hand—the symbols—

Biting her lip, she mimicked his movements as best she could, pressing her palm flat against the smooth surface.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the pillar pulsed under her hand.

And the entire structure responded—not sluggishly, not with mechanical delay, but immediately. Like a living thing recognizing something familiar.

Light flared upward in a brilliant rush, faster and brighter than before.

(Y/N) flinched back, shielding her eyes.

She stared at the activated console for a stunned second, blinking.

"...Huh," she muttered under her breath, brushing dust off her jeans. "Thought it would take longer."

The words left her mouth without thought, more confusion than pride. She stepped back quickly, scanning for cover again as the battle raged nearby.

Chief, having just cleared the last of the nearby Covenant, turned at the sudden surge of light. His helmet tilted slightly, his posture shifting in that subtle, careful way she was starting to recognize.

Assessing.

Calculating.

Cortana's voice chimed in the comms, sharp but not accusing. "The generator’s online. Faster than expected."

(Y/N) ducked her head, half-shrugging as she jogged back toward them. "Got lucky," she called out breathlessly.

Neither Chief nor Cortana answered immediately. But as she fell into step behind him again, she could feel it—their attention lingering just a moment longer than usual.

Not suspicion, but respect, if she could call it that. Which made her proud, showing them, she wasn’t just useless.

The bridge behind them solidified, a new path unfolding back toward the core platform.

(Y/N) tightened her fists at her sides, her skin still tingling faintly where she had touched the console.

She didn’t understand what had happened.

The chamber shuddered.

A deep, resonant hum rolled through the floor under (Y/N)’s boots, rattling up through her spine as the Cartographer core flared to life.

The central spire blazed upward in a torrent of shifting blue light, expanding outward like a living tree made of pure energy. Thin strands of illumination spiraled across the platform, connecting the floating islands of Forerunner machinery with lines of burning code. Above them, a massive holographic sphere unfolded—spinning slowly, casting fractured light across the mist-filled air.

(Y/N) staggered back half a step, head tilted back in awe. The sphere was enormous, suspended above the platform like a captured star, its surface rippling with images she couldn’t understand—maps, symbols, complex structures forming and dissolving in impossible patterns.

It was breathtaking. And terrifying.

Nothing human could have made this.

She stared, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, lips parted in stunned silence. It wasn’t just technology. It was art. It was language. It was alive in a way no machine back home had ever been.

Cortana flickered into existence at the console nearby, her form brighter now, energized by the facility’s systems. She moved with quick, precise gestures, manipulating the swirling mass of information with her bare hands like a conductor orchestrating a symphony only she could hear.

"There," Cortana said sharply, highlighting a section of the sphere. "Deep beneath the surface. There's an access point near the core. If we reach it, we might be able to find the source of the signal."

Chief stood still, his rifle lowered for now, his gold visor catching and scattering the light from the hologram.

(Y/N) looked between them, frowning slightly. "Wait—core? As in, 'center of the planet' core?"

Cortana didn’t look up. "More or less. This entire installation is built around it."

(Y/N) blinked, then gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"Oh, great," she muttered. "We’re digging our own grave now. Didn’t know self-burial was part of the mission."

Chief’s helmet tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement. If he was amused, he gave no sign—but Cortana’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner, a shadow of a smile.

"It’s not ideal," Cortana admitted, her tone dry. "But it's our only option."

The platform beneath them shifted again, deep, grinding tremors rolling through the massive structure as more pathways unfolded—narrow bridges of white stone and shimmering light stretching downward into the misty abyss.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her stomach flipping uncomfortably.

Lower. Always lower.

She shifted the strap of her glasses nervously, tightening her hands into fists to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

Chief moved first, stepping onto the newly formed bridge without hesitation.

(Y/N) hesitated a breath longer.

The glowing lines pulsed underfoot, inviting them downward into the heart of a dead world.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, voice almost lost in the rising hum. "First the end of the world, now spelunking into alien hell."

Still— she followed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The corridor widened until it dissolved into light. Stone gave way to a sweeping ledge, and (Y/N) found herself staring at a sky that seemed too large for any horizon she had ever known. Mountains reared up in fractured ridges, their peaks lost in bright, swirling haze. Great white spires of Forerunner alloy pierced the cliffsides; smaller monoliths hung motionless in mid-air, tethered to the earth below by ribbons of molten-blue energy. Far beneath the ledge, rivers of light wound through silver forests and out across a valley floor she could barely see.

One step carried her onto weather-worn stone. The breeze was thin and metallic—sharp enough to sting her nose, scented with rock dust and something faintly electrical. She gripped her sleeves, half for warmth, half because the view threatened to tip the world sideways.

Back home she’d fixed radios in cramped apartments, brushed rust from broken circuit boards, breathed city air heavy with exhaust. Now she stood on a mountainside that wasn’t even on her star chart—still not sure which star chart she belonged to anymore.

Chief moved ahead along a narrow path etched into the plateau. Cortana’s hologram glimmered at his shoulder, her voice soft in the comm line. “The distress signal’s stronger out here. A Terminus should be deeper in the structure beyond those cliffs.”

(Y/N) followed, forcing calm into her steps. Somewhere overhead a floating platform drifted, its underside latticed with lights that rearranged themselves like living circuitry. Her heart ached to understand it. Part of her wanted to laugh—of course she’d crossed half a galaxy only to find the most advanced machinery in existence and not a single tool in her pocket.

A gust of wind stirred the grass at the cliff’s edge. Homesickness punched through her chest: not for an exact street or building, just for sidewalks, neon reflections in puddles, the warm buzz of voices carried on traffic noise. Normal things. Earth things. A world that still existed—somewhere, impossibly far behind her—but no longer within reach.

She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum, steadying her breathing. Chief glanced back; his gold visor caught daylight and threw it in fractured sparks. He waited until her steps matched his again before pressing forward.

They wound down a sloping ramp toward another entrance carved into the cliff face: tall, flawless, rimmed with glowing script. Luminous glyphs whispered across the doorframe, as though debating whether to let them pass.

(Y/N) swallowed. She was most likely light-years from every reference point she’d ever trusted, walking into halls no human had mapped. Yet the path kept opening, and Chief kept moving, and she—somehow—kept following. Hoping she could go back to Earth. They knew about it, so maybe it was possible?

One step at a time, she told herself as the massive doorway parted with a deep metallic sigh, spilling cool blue light across the stone

The corridor sloped steadily, each level dropping them a little farther beneath the mountain. No sudden lifts, no shimmering portals—just a long march down pristine ramps of pale alloy. The walls glowed with thin seams of light that pulsed in a lazy heartbeat, guiding the way deeper into Requiem’s silent gut.

(Y/N) stayed close to Chief yet still far enough back to stare at everything. Where cracked stone met seamless metal, she traced faint scorch patterns as though someone had once tried—and failed—to cut this place open. Half-buried conduits pulsed behind translucent panels; every so often, a thread of energy leapt from one vein to another, throwing sparks of blue across the floor.

“Hard to believe this is all older than humanity,” she murmured.

“It predates most recorded Forerunner history,” Cortana replied, voice projected from the slip-space of (Y/N)’s earpiece.“Even their own archives call this period ‘pre-dominion.’”

“Translation: antique.” (Y/N) smiled. “My specialty.”

Chief’s boots thudded on the ramp, otherwise silent. (Y/N) shot a glance at his broad back, then lowered her voice into a mock whisper. “Does he ever say more than seven words in a day, or is that classified?”

Cortana’s voice said, which sounded suspiciously like amusement. “You get used to the economy of syllables.”

Ahead, a small alcove opened on the left, housing a waist-high console the color of polished bone. Glyphs drifted lazily across its face like embers floating on water. Chief passed it without slowing, but (Y/N)’s feet stopped on their own.

Curiosity won before common sense could throw a flag. She reached out, brushed the back of her fingers over the smooth surface.

Light flared. Symbols realigned into crisp lines of text no human alphabet had ever taught her. She yelped and jerked back. “Whoa—sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The console dimmed again, settling into a quiet pulse that almost felt amused. Nothing else stirred.

Chief paused, half turning. “Status?”

“Fine,” she said, cheeks hot. “Console’s friendly. Or merciful. One of those.”

Cortana’s avatar flickered up beside the panel, arms folded. “Whatever you did, you pinged a diagnostics sub-routine. No harm done.” She smiled—just a hint. “Consider it a handshake.”

“Great. I nearly shook hands with a supercomputer the size of a continent.” (Y/N) flexed her fingers, still tingling. “Back home I needed two weeks just to get a toaster to stop murdering bread.”

“You were an engineer,” Cortana ventured as they resumed walking.

“Amateur scavenger, borderline fire hazard—depends who you ask.” She smiled despite herself. “But yeah. I liked fixing things that had no business working.”

Chief led them onto a ascending ramp. The air cooled further; somewhere below, turbines—or lungs—hummed in steady rhythm.

“Part of me wants to take one of these panels apart,” (Y/N) admitted. “Other part remembers the plasma grenades and votes no.”

“Wise,” Cortana said. “Forerunner tech isn’t forgiving. Though you seem to have a… rapport.” Her tone held cautious curiosity rather than suspicion.

“Rapport with walls. My résumé keeps improving.”

Chief’s voice cut in quietly. “Stay focused. Unidentified hostiles still in the area.”

“Right. Serious mode.” (Y/N) mimed zipping her lips, shooting the gesture toward Cortana since Chief’s broad back was already turned to lead the way.

Surprisingly, the AI’s hologram matched the motion—two translucent fingers pinching an invisible zipper across her own glowing mouth. The playful mirrored action was so unexpected (Y/N) couldn’t help the soft grin that bloomed on her face before she hurried after Chief up the ramp, a little warmth flickering in her chest at the first spark of real companionship.

The giant door split apart with a groan, light shearing through the seams until each half slid into the walls. A causeway of white alloy extended beyond—straight, narrow, and impossibly long, suspended over a gulf so deep (Y/N) could see no bottom. Giant pillars—huge hexagonal shafts of metal and stone—rose and sank far below in slow, deliberate patterns, as if the planet itself were breathing through machinery.

At the bridge’s end, a lone console glowed—an altar of glass-smooth metal awaiting a key. Chief strode toward it, and (Y/N) hurried to keep up, clutching her palm against her side. Halfway across, the voice slid into her thoughts again—clearer now, cold as split granite: Reclaimer… fracture… unworthy. She winced, pressing fingers to her temple.

What the hell was that?

Chief reached the console and slotted Cortana’s data chip into the interface. Only then did her hologram flare to life, casting pale blue over the platform.

“According to the Cathedral,” Cortana began, scanning glyphs far above (Y/N)’s comprehension, “this Terminus is just one node of a larger transit grid that spans the entire planet.”

Chief’s visor never left the shifting projections. “What?”

“When I tried to access the outlet closest to Infinity’s transmissions, the system responded with this.”

An emblem spun into view—two arcs orbiting a single dot.

“What is it?” Chief asked.

Cortana’s tone turned almost breathless. “That’s the kicker. It’s the Forerunner symbol for Reclaimer.”

Humanity. The word fell through her like lead shot—heavy, irreversible.

“Humanity,” Chief confirmed. “That’s got to be Infinity. Can you get us to those coordinates?”

“Let me try to open a portal.”

“Whoa, portal?” (Y/N) blurted before she could stop herself. The last “portal” she’d experienced ripped her straight out of her apartment. “We’re skipping steps here, guys!”

Cortana didn’t answer. Light whipped around her, coalescing into a sphere—and then everything faltered. Her hologram stuttered, static rippling across her edges.

“I’m picking up unknown energy signatures,” she said, voice tight.

Chief’s grip shifted on his rifle. “Where?”

“This can’t be right.” Cortana’s figure dimmed but remained fixed in the console. “Set a waypoint out of the tower—”

She broke off as a violent tremor shook the bridge. Beneath them, the pillars surged upward like spears. From their mirrored faces unfolded shapes—metal giants that assembled themselves in glowing seams. From her point of view, they stood maybe even taller than Chief, plated in shifting segments, skull-like masks bathed in amber light; forearms unfolded into blades of crackling energy.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. “Those are not Covenant.” Whatever they were, they moved with unnerving grace—their machine parts moving smoothly, even if they weren’t connecting with anything.

Chief leveled his rifle. But before he could shoot, Cortana screamed:

“How did—Quick! Into the portal. Chief, GO!” Cortana’s voice snapped from the console. The hologram vanished as her program jumped back to the chip that Chief pulled out of the console and into his armor.

A disc of incandescent white flared open in midair near the console, distorting the view beyond it. (Y/N)’s stomach lurched; every instinct screamed that doors should have hinges, not horizons.

Chief braced, grabbed her wrist. “Move.”

They sprinted. The knight-like machines shifted, tracking with smooth, predatory precision. Before they could even attack, they were already jumping at the portal...well more like Chief jumping and (Y/N) being dragged along in the air, legs kicking at nothing.

“Next vacation,” she gasped, adrenaline surging, “I pick the destination!”

Chief didn’t answer—twelve words was apparently his daily limit—but his grip tightened around her wrist, pulling her hard toward the roiling light.

They plunged through. White swallowed everything: the bridge, the pillars, the metal phantoms, the echoing hum of Requiem’s heart. For one dizzy instant (Y/N) felt weightless, lost between moments.

Then the world slammed back—new ground, new air and the nightmare they’d left behind dissolved, at least for now.

But the voice lingered, faint and amused, at the edge of her mind:

SIX OF HEARTS — ECHOCHAMBER * UNFAIR.

Venue: Underground Rave Club in Shinjuku.

Goal: Vote to [VINDICATE] or [CONDEMN] a rotating Subject based on their secrets.

Player Limit: 6

Setup: There are 6 rounds. In each round, one player is designated the Subject and stands on the center Stage. The other 5 players remain in their booths. The 5 players in the booths must vote [VINDICATE] or [CONDEMN] for the Subject. If the majority (3 out of 5) vote [VINDICATE] , the Subject clears their round and returns to a booth. If the majority vote [CONDEMN], Game Over for the Subject Player.

Voters’ headsets blast 110dB industrial noise mixed with 19Hz Infrasound. This frequency is inaudible but triggers physical haunting sensations, such as intense chest pressure, cold sweats, and extreme paranoia.

Instead of a full trial, the audio plays a 10-second audio bite of the Subject’s past, surgically stripped of context. The Subject is told they can "defend themselves." However, the booths are soundproof. The voters only see the Subject’s frantic, distorted face and aggressive gesturing, which, combined with the anxiety-inducing infrasound, makes the Subject look like a guilty, unhinged threat.

Example: A player saying, "I had to let him die," when they were actually a doctor performing triage in a disaster. To the voters, it sounds like a confession of murder.

A button on the console labeled [CONDEMN]. For every second a player holds this button, their headset goes silent, the infrasound stops, and a cool, refreshing mist fills their booth. To get "The Relief," you must actively vote to kill the person on stage.

Win Condition: If all previous five players die, last player to be Subject automatically lives. Earn most of the favourable vote.