The clank of keys echoed in the dim corridor, bouncing against the reinforced steel of the cell blocks. Brooklyn sat cross-legged on the edge of the bad, staring at her own hands, pale under the fluorescent light. Another night of no sleep had hollowed her eyes even further.
The door unlocked with a heavy scrape. A guard swung it open and behind him stood Ryan, wearing the same dark jacket and beside him. A new face, a tall, broad-shouldered man with square glasses and the impatient expression of someone who didn't care for wasted time.
Ryan stepped in first, smiling faintly. "Hey, Brook."
Brooklyn rose slowly, cautious as if the moment might collapse if she moved too fast.
Ryan gestured to the man beside him. "Right, this is Mr. Jones. The lawyer I told you about."
Jones gave a curt nod. "Captain Brooklyn Grant." His voice was low, gravelly, the voice of someone who'd barked orders once in his life and hadn't quite stopped. "I don't do pep talks. So we'll keep it simple: I'll argue you that don't deserve to rot in this cage while evidence is still being reviewed. Nothing more or less."
Brooklyn glanced at Ryan, who gave her a reassuring smile.
He held out a folded bundle. "Here, put these on. Can't have you walking in there looking like you got hit by a garbage truck."
Her trembling hands accepted the bundle. Black slacks, a crisp white blouse, and a jacket. Clean. Civilian. Human.
She disappeared behind the curtain in the corner to change, feeling the fabric slide against her skin, washing away a fraction of the dirt of captivity. When she stepped out, Ryan's eyes softened. For the first time in weeks, she looked like herself.
"Better." he said quietly.
The three of them walked down the corridor, the echo of their footsteps heavy with anticipation. Brooklyn kept her chin high, though her heart was pounding.
They pushed through the doors of the hearing room. A long polished oak table stood at the center, three high-ranking officers already seated at the head. The walls were bare except for the flag and the seal of the Air Force.
Vice Admiral Harlow sat stiff, his uniform crisp, his jaw clenched like a vice. Beside him, Colonel Rourke as always, her sharp eyes scanning Brooklyn as if she were dissecting prey. At the center, Lieutenant General Vance, calm but firm.
Brooklyn was seated opposite them, Jones to her left, Ryan just behind her shoulder like an anchor.
"Captain Brooklyn Grant." Harlow began, his tone flat, disdain barely hidden. "We convene this panel to determine whether you remain in confinement pending your full hearing."
Brooklyn wanted to speak, to defend herself but Jones leaned slightly and whispered, "Let me."
He rose, straightening his tie, his voice deep and deliberate.
"Gentlemen and Colonel. We are not here to decide Captain Grant's guilt or innocence. That will come with the hearing. What we are here for is one thing: whether she deserves to be treated like an animal in a cage while evidence is still under review. And with all due respect... she does not."
Rourke scoffed audibly. "Mr. Jones, we've already seen enough evidence to know where this is headed. The black box confirms these transmissions. The logs confirm that she opened fire on her own. So you see, this isn't about cruelty, it's about national security."
Jones didn't flinch. "Colonel, with equal respect, transmissions can be misinterpreted. Especially in classified operations . You and I both know data can be manipulated. And you want to cage my client now, declaring her guilty before the hearing even begins."
Harlow slammed his palm lightly on the table. "She is guilty. And she belongs in an actual prison. Allowing her home is reckless. A disgrace to the families who buried their sons because of her."
Brooklyn's stomach twisted. She stared down at her folded hands, fighting the urge to break.
"That's enough."
Vance spoke, his tone calm but cutting through the tension like a blade.
Harlow leaned back, his lips pressed thin.
Vance looked from one officer to the other before focusing on Brooklyn.
Then he turned to Harlow and Rourke. "If she is guilty, we will decide it in eight days. If she is innocent, then every day we keep her in a cage is a stain on this uniform. I will not be part of punishing someone before judgment is rendered."
Rourke bristled. "Sir, you can't seriously suggest..."
"I can and I am." Vance cut her off, his voice harder now. "My words are final. Captain Brooklyn Grant will return home, under military guard, until the hearing. She will be afforded her rights as an officer of the United States Air Force. Until she is proven guilty, she is still one of us."
The silence that followed was deafening. Harlow's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. Rourke scribbled something furiously in her notes, lips pressed thin.
Jones leaned back slightly, satisfied, while Ryan's lips curved into the faintest smile.
Vance rose. "This hearing is adjourned. Captain Grant, prepare yourself. The next time you sit in this room, the truth will have to speak for you."
He left, his stride commanding, leaving the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Mr. Jones walked out after, then Brooklyn and Ryan followed.
Outside the chamber, Brooklyn stood frozen, her body trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief.
Ryan touched her shoulder gently. She turned, her eyes wide.
Ryan's smile widened. "Told you, didn't I? That I'll be walking home with you today."
Her lips parted but no words came. Just a tear, then another, sliding down her cheeks.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Brooklyn allowed herself a small, fragile smile.