The memory did not come gently.
It surfaced as Carla sat alone in the dim light of the Valen Reach safehouse, weapon stripped and reassembled for the third time without conscious thought. Outside, the city hummed with artificial calm. Inside, something older had been stirred loose.
Julie was asleep in the adjacent room. Or resting. With Julie, the line was always blurred.
Carla closed her eyes.
And the past answered.
Eight years earlier.
Border State: Karsyn Corridor.
Status: Unstable. Unacknowledged. Disposable.
Rain had been falling for three days straight, turning the refugee transit zone into a corridor of mud, rust, and exhaustion. Temporary shelters sagged under their own weight. Surveillance drones buzzed overhead like indifferent insects.
Carla had been younger then. Sharper, maybe. Less quiet.
She moved through the crowd in civilian disguise, posture slightly rounded, hair pulled back without precision. Her mission parameters were clear: identify the leak inside the regional intelligence cell, confirm identity, extract if valuable.
No backup.
No margin.
No forgiveness.
She spotted the anomaly near the eastern checkpoint. A woman standing too still, too aware. Military posture badly disguised under a medical volunteer jacket. Eyes scanning patterns, not faces.
Carla adjusted her pace and drifted closer.
The woman noticed immediately.
Their gazes met for half a second—just long enough.
Recognition.
Not familiarity. Assessment.
Carla turned away first, disappearing into the crowd. The woman did not follow.
Smart.
Too smart.
The leak had been feeding insurgent movements for months, destabilizing three micro-states without ever appearing on radar. Carla had traced the pattern through logistics, not ideology. Whoever it was understood systems, not slogans.
Which meant they wouldn't panic.
They would wait.
That night, Carla slipped into the derelict administrative building overlooking the camp. Rain drummed against broken windows as she accessed the internal network node hidden behind a false wall.
She was halfway through the data extraction when the power died.
No alarms.
No surge.
Just darkness.
Carla froze.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her.
"You're early," a voice said. Calm. Female. Controlled.
Carla turned, weapon already up.
The woman from the checkpoint stood in the doorway, medical jacket gone, replaced by a tactical vest that had never belonged to humanitarian aid.
"You're late," Carla replied.
The woman smiled faintly. "Depends on the clock."
They circled each other slowly. Rain seeped through cracks in the ceiling, dripping onto the concrete floor between them.
"You're not the leak," Carla said.
"No," the woman agreed. "But I was watching them."
"Why?"
"Because Command was never going to pull them out," the woman replied. "They were more useful as bait."
Carla studied her. "And you decided to interfere."
"I decided to correct the outcome."
Carla's finger tightened slightly on the trigger. "Who are you?"
The woman hesitated just long enough to be deliberate. "Julie."
No last name.
Carla nodded. "You've compromised my mission."
Julie shrugged. "You were compromised before you arrived."
Before Carla could respond, gunfire erupted outside—automatic, undisciplined. Screams followed. The camp had been breached.
Julie swore softly. "They moved sooner than expected."
"You triggered them," Carla said.
"Yes," Julie replied. "But not alone."
The building shook as an explosion tore through the lower floors.
Carla moved instantly. "We leave. Now."
Julie didn't argue.
They exited through the roof as tracer fire lit the camp below. Refugees scattered. Drones crashed from the sky, blinded by jamming Carla hadn't activated.
"That wasn't me," Carla said as they ran.
Julie didn't slow. "I know."
They reached the maintenance ladder just as a missile obliterated the administrative building behind them. The blast wave threw them both hard against the adjacent structure.
Carla hit first, breath knocked out of her.
Julie landed beside her, bleeding from the scalp but conscious.
For a moment, they lay there, rain washing soot from their skin.
Julie laughed once. "Well. That escalated."
Carla pushed herself up, scanning the chaos. "You said Command wouldn't extract the leak."
"They won't extract us either," Julie replied. "We're off the board now."
Carla looked at her sharply. "You planned this."
Julie met her gaze without flinching. "I planned to stop a massacre."
Carla's voice was flat. "By causing one?"
Julie's expression hardened. "By preventing three others."
Sirens wailed in the distance. Military response incoming—too late, too heavy.
Carla made a decision.
"Come with me," she said.
Julie blinked. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," Carla replied. "You saw the pattern. You chose action."
Julie studied her for a long second, then nodded. "Fine."
They moved through the ruins together, coordinated without rehearsal. Carla covered angles. Julie anticipated movements. It was unsettling how quickly they aligned.
They reached the extraction zone only to find it compromised. Gunships hovered overhead, marking targets indiscriminately.
Julie cursed. "They're cleaning house."
Carla's jaw tightened. "Then we disappear."
They slipped into the sewer network as the corridor burned above them. In the darkness, soaked and bruised, they paused only when the noise faded.
Julie leaned against the wall, breathing hard. "You should've left me."
Carla shook her head. "You would've died."
Julie smiled faintly. "That wasn't your problem."
"It is now," Carla replied.
Silence stretched.
Julie finally asked, "What happens when Command realizes you didn't follow orders?"
Carla met her eyes. "They already have."
"And you're okay with that?"
Carla didn't answer immediately. Then: "I don't work for people who trade lives for convenience."
Julie's smile was slow, genuine this time. "Good."
That night, in a forgotten maintenance chamber, they treated each other's wounds with borrowed supplies. No flirting. No intimacy. Just trust forged under fire.
Before dawn, Julie spoke again.
"You know they'll never fully trust us now."
Carla checked her weapon. "They never did."
Julie tilted her head. "Then what are we?"
Carla considered. "Useful. Dangerous. Alive."
Julie laughed softly. "I can live with that."
Carla opened her eyes.
The safehouse ceiling of Valen Reach replaced the ruined concrete of the past. The rain was gone. The world had changed.
But the pattern hadn't.
Julie stood in the doorway now, awake, watching her.
"You were thinking loudly," Julie said.
Carla exhaled. "You remember Karsyn."
Julie nodded. "I do."
Carla met her gaze. "This feels like that."
Julie stepped closer. "Yes. Bigger. Cleaner. Deadlier."
"And with fewer exits," Carla added.
Julie's voice was steady. "We survived then."
Carla nodded. "Because we chose each other."
Julie smiled faintly. "Looks like history's asking the same question again."
Outside, Valen Reach continued its immaculate performance of neutrality.
And somewhere beyond it, Rose White was watching patterns converge—past and present aligning into something inevitable.
The fire had started long before Norveth.
Carla and Julie had simply learned, early on, how to stand inside it without burning.