The trees are but a green blur as Megan stared through her window, of her own car that she felt like was stolen from her. Struggling to remain clear-headed and think of something other then that, other then this. Whatever 'this' was.
Until now, she had taken the beauty of the highway for granted, she realized, though it only dampened her mood. The mountains were amazing, their jagged edges smoothing into slopes and valleys as they rose high into the sky, the peaks looking like floating fortresses as fog had rolled in around them.
Morning, she realized. She felt numb, the pain having ebbed into a steady throb that she no longer noticed - well, she noticed, but she wasn't focusing on that at the moment.
Megan Coast was no stranger to pain. All throughout her childhood she seemed to have a big surgery every year or so, and always was spraining her ankle or breaking her arm in between. Whether it was a cyst on her knee or a fractured elbow, she had always been perfectly comfortable in a hospital, having been so used to it.
She wasn't weak, necessarily, she used to be extremely athletic and her friends would joke that she was training to wrestle with Hulk Hogan. Friends. Amazing what 6 hours of driving and thinking dark thoughts can do to your entire perspective. Her office, her house, Kodiak, it felt so strange. She hadn't slept, not trusting this nameless man a single bit. She wasn't sure if he was planning on hurting her or not, it would have seemed like he would have done that if he was, but she wasn't going to make any decisions yet.
Good lord, she was judging him, she had seen him put a gun under the seat and slip one in his pocket, who was she to judge him? She was practically a prisoner as far as she was concerned.
What did he want with her, anyway? She didn't have drugs or in any kind of gang-related business.. then again.. Tabitha, her Aunt, she was a bit of a shifty character.. No, it couldn't be related to her. She's on death row in prison and she didn't know of anyone else.. Come to think of it, her dad's side of her family did have some odd history. Why the hell would anything happen to her, though? They all were in a different state or in jail, why would she be involved? Were they even involved at all?
She didn't even realize she was starting to doze off, even while she became increasingly suspicious of her own family.
--
He should have left her in that town.
He kept watch, making sure she wasn't going to try anything, he knew for certain that there was no way she could overpower him, though remained suspicious.
He didn't really think she would be of much help, she seemed too stubborn, though she did have the nerve to try and come at him, even with a bullet in her shoulder, he shook his head and decided he would focus on driving for the moment.
She hadn't even moved when they went on the ferry, he almost expected her to start screaming and escape on the boat, but she hadn't moved a muscle during the short ride to the mainland. He glanced towards her, she seemed to have nodded off, as she was a bit more relaxed and her arms were no longer crossed and her fingernails weren't digging into her sleeves like they were before.
He spotted a Tesoro up ahead, and swerved in there, stepping towards the phone booth and ripping off the map that had been taped on it, before sitting back in the truck. Megan still hadn't moved. It was almost suspicious, the fact she seemed to have lost the will to fight, though he didn't buy it.
Part of him wanted to tell her to get out and leave her there at the Tesoro Gas Station, though he didn't. It didn't seem like it was the best thing to do.
--
Pamela Landy stood, tense, speaking with the team down in Langley. She hung up and looked around, holding her dark coat to her and shivered with the cold. They were here, in this god forsaken place called Alaska, for those documents. Once they had them, it was back down south. She wondered why Russia couldn't have kept this cold, cold and bitter place.
"Let's go." A voice roused her from her thoughts, and she gave a nod, glancing towards the briefcase the man was carrying, giving yet another nod and following him into the black van. Back to the airport, finally. 12 hours was more then enough.
--
They strode into the square building, stopping at the desk. Another one of her assistants was waiting - impatiently, as two men were sitting at the desk, furiously typing guesses to the password.
"My apologies, the receptionist who normally works here hasn't come back to work yet." A hispanic man said, nodding sheepishly, the blonde who was typing had a grim expression and was obviously flustered as to what kind of a password it was.
Finally, after several minutes, he gave a triumphant grin and entered a few lines for the log.
"The receptionist.. Did you say this person is gone?"
"Yeah, she left this morning and hasn't come back." The blonde shrugged. "Don't worry, I apologize it took so long but we aren't the best at hacking passwords." The woman didn't move, before glancing towards one of her assistants, who nodded and began moving towards the hangar with the hispanic. The blonde turned to go but Landy waved her hand for him to wait a moment.
"Who is the receptionist?"
"Uh.. Megan.. Coast..? Her name's on that plate right there." He gestured to the metal nameplate, the words MEGAN COAST engraved into them in golden letters.
"Thank you." With that, Pamela Landy strode towards where the plane awaited her, armed with a name that she was certain would help lead them right to Bourne.