Chapter Text

Soldiers had ghosts. Soldiers on front lines had haunting ghosts. Fareeha was no different. Squad mates or enemies, their lives circled her thoughts and their deaths weighed upon her shoulders. She saw them, real as day, often enough. They watched her, their eyes intent on imprinting a feeling of guilt, of disappointment, of hatred.

This was no ghost.

Those crimson orbs watched her in the night, sowing a dreaded web which loomed over her consciousness. Fareeha bit her lips. It hurt; she was awake. Those orbs weren’t eyes, she realised. There were too many of them. They drew closer, as the rest of the silhouette came into view. It was of a slim contour, sensuality mixed with danger at every step. It was unmistakably feminine. The stranger lifted a battle rifle, and extended the length of its gun barrel. Fareeha felt the cold metal tapping her temple. What was she to do? This wasn’t a war, and she was a prisoner to her own mind. Any sudden movement and the only thing people will find of her in the morning would be in pieces.

The rifle primed. It emitted a glowing lavender energy, indicating full power. Whoever pointing the gun must know that Fareeha was awake. It was a foolish move to be so close, instead of firing execution style from the entrance, or perhaps even further away judging by the scope capabilities. Nothing made sense. Was she just supposed to lie here and take this bullet to the head?

A loud clack.

“Get away from her.”

The blonde in the lab coat raised a pistol, firmly gripped from back to front. The red eyes turned to her, but she didn’t flinch, only raising her own gun barrel to eye level. The stranger obliged, and presently withdrew into the night, just as quickly as she had come.

“Doctor.” Fareeha found herself able to speak at last.

Angela didn’t reply immediately. Her concerned gaze trailed the path of the silhouette. After checking her surroundings once more, she let down the medical tent’s door.

“Fareeha.” She moved quickly to check on her patient.

“I’m not hurt, doctor.”

“Do you know who that was?” A gravely tone.

“No.” Within Fareeha was guilt. It was difficult for her to say of what she was guilty, however.

Angela unbound bandages to replace them. The younger woman lay there, awaiting further explanations. She didn’t expect her doctor to have any, but her thoughts were too scrambled to focus. She did notice her old wounds no longer aching.

The procedure was finished promptly. Little talking followed, only standing and thinking. Presently, she produced a communicator, and punched the first number on the dial.

“Hello. This is Dr. Ziegler. There’s a hostile presence on site. Please secure the perimeter.”

The briefing was done at that. Angela slumped into the chair by the bedside, sighing.

“Is there something wrong, doctor?”

“I should’ve done that sooner.” The blonde rubbed her temples. “I was shaken, and couldn’t think straight. Someone could’ve gotten hurt during my time diddling about. Thankfully it didn’t happen.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, doctor.”

Fareeha was at odds with her own words. She too was left at a shock by the event, yet there hasn’t been a minute since then that she hasn’t blamed herself for what happened. At the very least, it was comforting to have someone with whom to share the ordeal.

“Fareeha.”

Those words were spoken with a sense of hopeless dejection, slowly trailing off at every syllable, and sent a chill down the younger woman’s spine. She didn’t know how to react, but she must.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I tell you something?” Angela leaned on the cold steel bedside table.

“Yes. I don’t mind.”

Did she?

“I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep. I can barely think straight.” Angela buried her face in her shoulders.

Fareeha was in a daze. Those words sounded like it came out of her own mouth, exactly as she would have said them. She had ghosts. Had the doctor as well?

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

Fareeha could only nod. She should say something. Explain just what she meant. These thoughts were clear, but it took an extraordinary amount of effort to put them into words.

“After I left the force a few years ago, I began to… see things. It’s the same things my comrades see. I’m sure you know what I meant.” Fareeha saw a quick nod. “I took medication for it, of course. It stopped bothering me, until a few days ago.”

“A few days ago? Do you remember how many, exactly?” Angela noticed this singular point of curiosity.

“Ever since I went on this mission, so two days now.”

“Strange.”

Angela sat up straight. She looked drowned in thought. Fareeha, on the other hand, knew not of what to think. She noticed she had been doing that a lot lately. She didn’t use to be like this.

“Doctor?” She decided to speak up first.

“Your timeline matches mine.”

“Yours?”

Angela, even more exhausted, collapsed back down to her chair.

“I’ve been a war doctor for most of my life. I’ve seen things as well. Monstrous things, mostly locked away. They came back, recently, just like yours.”

Listening to those words gave Fareeha a strange sensation. It was one of relatability, of unconditional compassion. She never met someone with whom she could have related so much. She reached out and gently took the doctor’s hand.

“What is it?” Angela was unsure, but she didn’t pull away.

“I have something else to say, if you allow me.” Fareeha spoke slowly.

“Of course.”

“Ever since mother died, I’ve been on my own. I’d like to think I’ve been doing fine, but the last few days convinced me this was not true. I’m afraid this isolation is catching up to me, but I didn’t have anyone who really get it.”

“Fareeha.”

“You’re different, Dr. Ziegler. You knew my mother. You understand what I’m going through. I know we haven’t talked for a long time, but I feel like you’re the one I’ve been looking for. We…”

It was at this point Fareeha realised she has been rambling. She saw Angela, whose slump eyebrows and weary eyes painted a sad expression. Fareeha felt every shred of breath wrung from her lungs. Doubts filled her mind. In this delicate moment of utmost vulnerability, after she finally managed to open up after long years of emotional scars, she feared her efforts rejected.

The doctor’s hand shuddered. She pulled them away, and stood up.

Fareeha could feel herself hyperventilating. Her heart pounded like a piston. She could envision the one person she actually felt a connection to turning around and walking away. This agony was unparalleled, and she half considered jumping out of the bed to clutched on to dear life before her sanity inevitably failed, even if an even greater crash were to follow.

She needed to do no such thing.

Angela wrapped her quaking, slender arms around her staggered patient. It was a gesture to which the Egyptian woman has grown unaccustomed. It ignited inside her a feral reaction, something fierce and primal. A savage flame rioted through her cheeks, as she clumsily returned the tender embrace. It was impossible for her to process this moment. This rapturous feeling urged her to roar, to abandon the burden of being alone, and to discard the last barrier keeping her scars hidden.

“Angela.”

“Yes?”

“Please stay the night.”

The doctor didn’t reply. She removed her heels, and climbed carefully onto the impossibly small bed. Its less than modest size forced them to snug in together in fear of falling off. Fareeha held the blonde woman in her arms, whose face rested buried in her broad, chiseled chest. There wasn’t another word said before they both drifted asleep.

Fareeha awoke the next morning with a soft and pliable sensation within her reach. She didn’t move, for she was used to sleeping completely still in cramped spaces. Lying next to her was that delicate and defenceless form warm to the touch. Memories from last night coursed back to view. She managed a smile. She noticed how deep she had sunk into this stiff mattress. It no longer bothered her. She slept soundly. No ghosts haunted her every waking moment, no rivers of blood digging at her sanity. Everything was peaceful. She was content, a nostalgic feeling. It wasn’t the high after a good fight, the satisfaction of a job well done, nor the joy of meeting an old friend.

She was just happy.

Angela lightly stretched, like she was used to waking up alone. The moment her elbow hit flesh was the moment memories of the previous day came rushing back. Her eyes ran back up and down the toned arms which held her in place for the night. Her hands clasped in front of her mouth, awkwardly trying to hide a coy smile.

“Good morning, Fareeha.”

“Good morning, doctor.”

They missed a beat.

“I should get back.” Angela backed away toward the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

Fareeha reached for the doctor’s wrist. Despite the loose grip, it seemed to have stopped Angela from leaving away for the moment. The blonde turned her head. Her eyes shone with the rays of light peeking through the slits. It was impossible to read.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Did you dislike it, doctor?”

“Truthfully, I haven’t slept so well in a long time.” A long sigh. “But I am your doctor, and you are my patient. I’m glad that you trust me, but this is the farthest it’s going to be.”

Fareeha felt the woman’s hands pulling away from her grip. Angela hastily put her footwear back on and rushed toward the entrance.

“I’ll be back later to check on you.”

Fareeha slowly rolled flat on the bed, arms spread eagle, and stared at the ceiling. She found herself calm after a good night’s sleep. The roaring insecurities have since then been silent, yet remained a tangible sense of dread hanging on her every thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

It was at this moment that images of three barely familiar faces flashed through her mind. Looming dread turned into intense guilt, as Fareeha scrambled for her half-torn shirt by the bedside table. She had been here two days, yet she didn’t possess the slightest geographical clue as to her own surroundings, her mind had unwillingly abandoned the mission, and her focus struggled to distant itself from that gentle warmth which engulfed her the night before.

Before Fareeha could leave, the male nurse from yesterday came into her room, hands holding a bottle of pills and a freshly washed plastic cup.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Hi.”

Fareeha’s attempt at hiding the fact that she was about to storm out of the tent was suspicious at best, but it didn’t seem like the man paid her much mind. He mixed two pills with water, before handing her the cup.

“This is your daily dose.”

She meant to say thanks, but he had already left. It must have been a busy time. After a second to think, she gulped down the medicine, and headed outside.

The blazing sun of Jordan weighed down heavily since the first step. Having lived in Egypt all her life, this heat wasn’t intimidating in the slightest, but it did contrast heavily with her own little world inside that medical tent, an alienating feeling. She had almost forgotten the outside world, absorbed in her recurring nightmares and that one gentle, bright spot in her life. Back to the real world, however, she was surrounded by rows and rows of tents, medical or otherwise. She hadn’t kept up with the news, but it was no secret that a civil war was raging. This must be the refugee camp, she decided.

Hundreds to thousands of locals could be seen weaving in and out of the labyrinth of canvas, mixed with volunteers from whichever global organisation trying their best to contain the panic and despair. Quiet sobbing could be heard in the distance, from those without their wives, their husbands, their children, or anyone else. A massive chain-link fence spanned a mile radius around the camp, with shabbily-dressed and poorly shaven guards patrolling every entrance. Trucks came in and out at a rapid pace, delivering yet more of those displaced by war, and kicking up a mountain of dirt and sand, fogging up her view. Fareeha could feel herself sweating.