Brooklyn sat hunched over on the edge of the small cot, her head bowed, dark circles carved under her eyes like shadows that had taken root. She hadn't eaten. She hadn't slept. She barely breathed.
The door creaked. Heavy boots echoed. She didn't look up. She assumed it was the guards again, maybe to switch shifts or drop another meal she wouldn't touch.
Then a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Thought I'd find you sulking in here."
Her head snapped up. Ryan stood in the doorway, framed by the sterile light of the hallway, hands casually in his pockets like he didn't belong in the middle of a military detention facility.
Brooklyn blinked, confused, her cracked lips parting but no sound coming out. She stared at him.
"Ryan? …How... how did you manage to get in her again? They told me… they told I could only get one visitor."
He smirked, stepping in as the guards closed the door behind him.
"Yeah, they said one visitor and they didn't state how often that one could come back."
He meant it as a joke but her eyes didn't even twitch. She stared at him, dead serious, too far gone into despair to catch humor. His smile faltered.
"Okay." he sighed, taking the chair opposite her bed. "Truth is, I pulled a few strings, nothing major. Just enough to see you again."
Her eyes welled, not with relief, but with shame. "You shouldn't have. You shouldn't waste favors on me."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice lowering. "Brook… you look like hell. You haven't eaten, by the look in your face you had no sleep either. You're barely holding yourself together. And what do you expect me to do? Just leave you in here to rot?"
She shook her head, tears spilling now. "I can't eat. I can't close my eyes without seeing it... the squadron, the moment I fired. Every time I breathe, I hear the blasts again. I see James's face. Over and over."
Ryan's jaw tightened. He wanted to shake her, force her to see what he knew. Instead, he spoke softly, steady as stone.
"Listen to me. You didn't do that, you hear me? You didn't. And remember what I told you? When I find something, I'll come back here myself and tell you?"
Her wet eyes lifted, searching his. "You… you found something?"
"Not much, actually." he admitted. "But it's something, I called in Tyrone for a favor. He reached out to one of his sources. But guy was gunned down and even Tyrone barely made it out alive."
Brooklyn's breath hitched, horror spreading across her face.
"You mean someone… someone killed him? Just for digging?"
Ryan nodded grimly. "Which means someone out there wants this buried so deep no one can even whisper about it. And whoever they are, I'm ready to go to war with them to drag the truth into the light."
Brooklyn's shoulders shook, her face falling into her hands. "No, Ryan… no. Please, I don't want anyone else dying because of me. I've already got enough blood on my hands already. She lifted her tear-streaked face, voice cracking. "Let it go. Please, just let it go."
His eyes hardened, voice dropping like steel.
"Sis, you may have given up on yourself but I haven't. Someone killed James. And they're blaming it on you. So I won't stop until I prove you didn't pull those triggers."
"You don't understand." she whispered. "Even if I walk free, they'll never look at me the same. His family, my daughter… everyone thinks I'm a monster."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Then we'll work on showing them the truth, all of it. You're not alone in this, Brook."
For the first time, she looked at him and almost... believed.
Ryan sat back, exhaling, softening his tone. "I've already taken another step. I got someone, a military lawyer. Jones. He's rough but good. And he's willing to represent you."
She swallowed, silent, hands trembling in her lap.
"He's pushing for you to go home until the next hearing, under military guard. But at least you'll be out of this hellhole."
Brooklyn blinked, trying to process. "Home?"
"Yeah" Ryan nodded. "The hearing's in eight days. Until then, you'll have air. And you'll have time to fight."
For a long moment, silence stretched. Then Brooklyn whispered, barely audible: "Eight days…"
The buzzer sounded outside. The visit was over.
Ryan stood, straightening his jacket. He looked down at her, his face a mixture of determination and something gentler, something he hadn't felt in years.
He bent slightly, his voice just for her: "Tomorrow, when I walk out of this place… I'll be walking with you."
Her lips trembled. She couldn't speak. She just nodded, tears rolling silently down her face as Ryan turned and walked out, the door clanging shut behind him.