"Ready or not, here I come!"

Meghan's yell was met with silence, her voice echoing up and down the deserted street. Not a single thing moved anywhere around. She opened her eyes and warily looked about, until far away whispers and laughter caught her attention. A smirk played on her lips and she took off in the direction of the sound. She would hear them again, slightly further each time, and pump her legs to catch up. They wouldn't know what hit them!

Her legs carried her with glee as she excitedly ran down the road, pausing every so often to survey the area. The occasional deteriorating streetlamp was the only source of light for as far as she could see, which wasn't much. The dark pressed against her, ever expanding, encroaching ever so slowly. So, she kept running, from lamp to lamp. It was like another part of the game! Just like those video games she had at home, she had to stay in the light before the dark got her!

Minutes went by, and still she ran. The voices became quieter, and farther away as time rolled on. Where could they be? House after house passed her by, seemingly going on forever. How long was this road? Was it straight the whole time? Meghan slowed to a stop, brow furrowing as she looked this way and that. How far had she gone? The buildings lining the street were foreign, every last one as dead as the ensuing silence.

"Hello?" She called out.

No answer came. Meghan cupped her hands around her mouth. "Is anyone out there?"

Nothing. No noise at all; quiet to the point where her ears started to ring at the complete lack of sound.

"Guys, this isn't funny!" Meghan wrapped her arms around herself. She stood rooted to the spot, in the middle of the dimly lit road that stretched on endlessly in front of her. Even the streetlights seemed to be on edge, flickering in and out, the beams of light tightening when she wasn't watching.

Finally, another whisper pulled her from her trance, this time near one of the buildings. Meghan frowned. They weren't supposed to go to the houses! Slowly she treaded up the walking path toward the door of one of the many non-descript structures. The windows revealed a lifeless interior – much like with all the others, no one seemed to be home.

Meghan stood several feet from the door, rubbing at her arm with worry etched on her face as she stared at the house. She'd lost whatever sound she thought she heard, at this point she didn't even know if there'd been one. A small light clicked on next to her, making her jump. She tilted her head as she knelt to pick it up – a flashlight. Had it been there the whole time? She pressed the button a few times to test its functionality, and the little torch dutifully did as she asked.

A sigh escaped Meghan's lungs as she shone the light along the front of the house. It couldn't show her what she wanted either. Just as she turned to face the road once more, the door of the house softly clicked open. It creaked along its hinges painfully sluggishly, calling out into the dead of night for someone, anyone, to make it stop. The space inside in the doorframe was just as dark as she guessed it would be, like an impenetrable wall of shadow.

The back of Meghan's mind tingled as she stared into the abyss, the sensation growing stronger the more she looked. Something was beckoning to her, drawing her in with a voice as soothing as the gentle waves on a dusk beach. Her legs carried her toward the threshold, and no part of her had the will to make them stop. The closer she got, the more she felt like a soft blanket was surrounding her, imploring her to relax and let go. With a final step, she crossed into the house.

The deep, cavernous hum that greeted her was startling, appearing as suddenly as a lamp being switched on, and dominating everything around her. The resonant rumble rattled her bones and made her skin crawl as some hidden presence traced down her arms. The blanket she'd been promised turned to lead, the oppressive sound fraying every last nerve she could feel. The magnitude of difference between the silence outside and the ominous booming drone within jarred Meghan so severely she dropped the flashlight. It clattered to the floor with a sharp crack, the bulb inside weakening for a moment at the impact. Meghan whimpered and bent down to collect it, backing up as she did so. This place was not somewhere she wanted to be.

Her backside collided with the door, earning a surprised yelp from her. She frantically jiggled the handle, rattling the door in its place when the stubborn golden knob refused to cooperate. When had it even closed behind her, much less locked her inside? Had the alluring feeling from a scant minute ago been that intoxicating, or had the sinister nature of what lied within been that shocking? As slow, shuddering exhales took over her body, Meghan slowly panned around the immediate area with the flashlight. The small metal tool was her beacon, the only thing she could cling to inside this terrible place.

Where was she? Who had locked her in? What could she do now?

Sweat beaded on Meghan's forehead as she returned her focus to the room around her. By all accounts it was a completely normal entryway, with completely normal furniture and a completely normal layout. Cute yet functional furniture lined the walls, pleasant pictures hung in frames, and a not a single thing was out of place. There wasn't even dust on anything nearby. The house was completely and utterly normal.

Except for the dense weight she felt pulling her into the dark waters of fear.

Meghan gulped hard, tightening her grip on the flashlight. "H-hello? Is anyone home?" She received no response as the walls ate her words, the syllables fading away into the ether. She took a tentative step forward, and then another. She jerked her hand to flick the light switch for the hallway light, as if she expected it to burn her. A singular ceiling light crackled to life, its dull glow reaching no more than a few feet from where it sat.

A soft thump from elsewhere in the house spooked Meghan. Her arm seized up, and the flashlight fell from her tense grip to the ground again. She scrambled to retrieve it and bolted back to a standing position.

"Hey"

The sharp whisper at her ear caused Meghan to yell out, eyes snapping shut as she trembled. She waited, for whatever was there to get her, to take her away…

But nothing happened.

Cautiously she pried her eyes open again and swiveled around. Nothing. She whined, but she continued on. Another light switch rested on the wall opposite a large television, with a pair of couches arranged in an L shape facing it. She flipped the switch up, bathing the room in the exact same muted glow as the hallway light. Another step forward. In front of her was a kitchen with off-white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances surrounding a black marble island. To the left was a quaint dining table with a matching set of basic wooden chairs, all resting in front of a sliding glass door. Meghan slid her hand against the pair of switches wired to the adjoined eating space and let out a soft sigh at the sight of it. Finally!

Torrents of raindrops pattered against the glass. When had it started raining? She jogged to the door and yanked on the handle. The sturdiness of it caught her off guard; she barely had time to correct herself to avoid falling to the floor. Meghan placed her torch on the dining table and secured both hands to the accursed handle and tried again. It didn't budge. She gritted her teeth and pulled once more, the nerves in her hands howling in pain at the strength of her attempts. The door still refused to open. She growled in anger, snatching the flashlight from the table and slamming it against the glass. The returned force of the strike sent the metal tube sailing from her grasp, hitting a chair and snuffing out the bulb.

"No!" Meghan scurried back and collected her lifeline, tapping it with the ball of her wrist. "No no no no no…" Finally, it turned back on, but it could only muster half the energy it had before. Meghan ran her hands up and down her face in exasperation. What the hell was that? Why did her swing bounce off the door? What was this place?

"Please, is anyone here? I need help!" Her words were thick in her throat, feeling like broken glass sliding across her skin. The kitchen light blinked off and back on, then again a few seconds later. Meghan watched the light switch, but the light stubbornly stayed on. She dragged her feet to the island and leaned against it to collect herself. Whatever was happening here was taunting her, taking pleasure in her pain.

When the sink abruptly turned itself on, she almost didn't react, until she looked at the water coming from it. It was viscous and brown; the mere sight of it made Meghan's stomach lurch. She stumbled over and twisted the knob to stop the disgusting sludge water from overflowing onto the floor. She sighed again and lifted her head to stare out the window above the sink…

And saw the reflection of a face in the glass. Her eyes shot open and she let out a howling yell, whirling around to find—

Nothing.

Meghan's chest heaved as she struggled to recollect the lost air, hands locked in a white-knuckle grip on the countertop. Back and forth she looked between the reflection in the window and the empty room, expecting that same shadowed figure to be standing right over her shoulder. And she could swear that every time she saw herself in the window, she looked older and older—

She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that it hurt and snagged the flashlight from the island, holding it at the ready. Whether by light or by might, she would vanquish this beast.

"Here"

The same voice from earlier grabbed her attention, but this time it was far away, muffled like it came from behind a wall. Meghan's gaze was drawn to the door she'd passed between the living room and the kitchen. She'd already seen the other exit from the kitchen that led into a laundry room connected to a garage, so the last one must be…

No.

There was no way she would be going down into the—

"Is anyone there?"

A soft gasp pulled itself from Meghan. "Daniel? Is that you?" Hope grew in her eyes at the sound of his voice. "I'm in the kitchen!"

No response.

"…Daniel?" She called out.

The untouched door cracked open, just enough to reveal a sliver of the brickwork lining the stairway downward. Meghan raised her torch again and padded her way to the door. She pushed it open with her palm, until it bumped against the opposite wall. A hazy glow emanated from a corner of the basement she couldn't see. She stepped down one board, then another, and another. What took her by surprise before anything else was the nearly instant drop in temperature, to the point where she was puffing out clouds of steam before she even reached the bottom. As her boot touched onto the cement floor, the door behind her slammed shut. She screamed again, lip quivering from both the cold and the fright.

Down here, in the crushing darkness, the grave, arcane rumbling sensation pressed painfully against her eardrums. The pressure grew unbearably intense, constricting and mashing her sanity into a compromised puddle. Against her better judgment she peered around the corner and shone the light at the rows of metal storage racks before her. Nothing on them was particularly surprising, all things one would expect in a basement. A thought occurred to her.

I should look for something to use in case—

The torch sputtered and crackled, and Meghan lost her air as it turned itself on and off repeatedly. She remembered that the ceiling lights did something similar upstairs, but this time… She smacked the flashlight with her other hand, praying that it would find the will to stay alive. It couldn't do this to her now!

A thunderous footstep echoed across the cramped basement. Meghan's eyes shot up and behind her.

The stairs…

Slowly, painfully slowly, Meghan pointed herself in the direction of the stairway. The flashlight gasped in time with her uneven breathing, bathing the room in fleeting light, frame by frame. The footsteps continued, trudging ever closer toward her. The presence reached the landing with a final stomp, the bass-filled slam killing the last remnant of life left in the bulb. Meghan stood rooted to the spot, as if her feet had been nailed to the floor. She could only exhale in choppy breaths, the resulting steam being all she could see in front of her. Three more slow, deliberate footfalls brought the presence to stop mere feet in front of her. Tears leaked from Meghan's eyes, scorching her cheeks as they too fled from whatever was with them in the basement. Deafening stillness followed, the presence clearly taking sick pleasure from her anguish.

The torch in her hand whined as, by some miracle, it was revived and again bathed the room in dull iridescent light. Meghan looked ahead of her, prepared for the worst…

But again, nothing was in front of her.

Meghan shook her head violently. She had well and truly lost her mind, that was the only explanation. The flashlight seemed to agree with her, flicking three times. She growled and flailed the infernal thing around until it resumed its constant beam. A tired sigh left her. The hairs on her arms stood on end, probably from the cold—

Hey

Her gaze snapped upwards as she let out a scream. Before her was none other than—

"D-Daniel?" Meghan's thoughts flew everywhere in an instant. How could this be? Where had he come from?

Was he even real? Was anything real?

She lifted a hand to reach out to him, stopping just short. Her fingers curled back to her palm. Something was off. The air around him was cold, very cold. Daniel stood there, stock still, hands clasped behind his back. His head was cocked to an angle that looked unsettlingly awkward, face sporting a wicked grin that did its positioning no favors.

"Daniel, what's going on?" Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper, all courage stamped out.

The flashlight flicked again. What remained when it turned back on made Meghan flinch backward roughly, into one of the metal shelving units. The face of what once was her husband was grossly maimed, even missing in some spots. Ugly, gnarled burn marks and oozing red flesh covered his upper body. Parts of his jaw were gone, and one eye was pushed way out of its socket. She could only watch as the figure in front of her brought its hands forward, decayed and bony digits looking just as gruesome as the rest of the body.

Sheer terror seized control of Meghan. She couldn't move a muscle, couldn't summon even a semblance of a sound. The figure shifted forward, gliding along the concrete sluggishly until it was the only thing Meghan could see.

But still, she could not move.

In an instant the figure vanished from view, but Meghan's limbs refused to respond. A choked sob escaped as the deathly cold vice of the presence's hands wrapped themselves around her throat, constricting tighter and tighter—

Meghan shot up from her bed as a strangled yell tore from her throat. Cold sweat soaked her forehead and neckline, her lungs gasping for air. She clutched at her chest in an attempt to calm her hammering heart, wincing at the sharp pain resulting from every beat.

Minutes ticked by as she calmed herself, little by little. The stabbing became dull throbbing, and her breathing had slowed to an even rhythm. She fell back onto the mattress, head hitting the pillow with a soft whump. She looked at the clock next to her.

4:02AM

As her eyes focused, she noticed the shape of a person standing in her doorway, arms crossed. Meghan propped herself up on an elbow and squinted in the dark.

"Same one?"

The voice spoke with an air of experience, while also laced with sleep. She'd heard the exact question before.

She groaned. "Did I wake you again?"

Mike shrugged. It wasn't an answer, but it told Meghan everything that she had to know. For the third time in the last ten days, Meghan's nightmares had been so severe that she'd probably woken half the building up.

"S'alright, lass. I shooed 'em away, told 'em to get back to their bunks."

Meghan rubbed at one eye with her wrist. She sat up from the bed. "House was a little different, and… it was my husband this time…"

Mike's face softened, though he hadn't been mad at her. He uncrossed his arms, stuffing his hands into his pockets instead. "Not that it's my business beyond losing a bit of sleep, but maybe you should sit down with Jack and talk about things. Whatever's eatin' you is doin' it bad, and it won't be long before it starts to take a toll on yer ability to perform."

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "I'm fine, Mike, they're just dreams. I don't need to bother anyone with it, and I certainly don't need to lean on Jack to fix it."

Mike simply looked at her, jaw shifting as he deliberated. "It isn't shameful to ask for a helpin' hand every now and again, you know. It doesn't degrade you one damn bit. Part of why we're a team is precisely so we can lean on each other." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, you don't have to talk to Jack, but for God's sake talk to someone before this becomes a bigger problem. We all know you're the toughest bitch on God's green earth, but every suit of armor's got its cracks, Meghan."

Meghan didn't return his gaze, but Mike knew he'd hit a sensitive spot. Not wanting to push the envelope further, he sighed and disappeared around the corner. "And call your husband, I'm sure he'd have something good to say to ya."

Her door softly clicked shut, leaving the room in a dark silence. Meghan rubbed at the back of her neck as she stared at the floor. She looked at her nightstand again, and gingerly picked up her phone. One by one she slowly pressed the softkeys to bring up Daniel's cell number. She stared at the screen while her mind raced, contemplating the idea of just locking it and going back to sleep. Her thumb hovered over the button, but Mike's words resonated in her head. With a final sigh, she instead pressed the "call" button. Several seconds went by as the phone rang and rang, until the other line picked up and, after a moment of waking himself up, Daniel groggily spoke.

"Hey, sweetie. Missed you earlier, sorry about that. Bit late isn't it?" Meghan heard the sounds of bedding being ruffled. "For both of us?"

Meghan's eyes misted up as she opened her mouth, but no words came forth.

"Meg? You there?" Daniel said, more alert this time.

Meghan sniffled into the phone. "Hi Daniel… I'm sorry I called you so late. Do you… have a couple minutes to talk?"

Daniel answered immediately. "Of course, hun. What's up, are you okay?"

She smiled despite herself, he was always quick to check on her. "I will be. I just… need some advice."

Meghan lost track of how long they talked for, but the sun had already started to peek above the horizon when she returned her phone to the nightstand. Exhaustion claimed her for a few more hours after the phone call, but when she did make herself decent and joined the team in the morning's activities on base, no one said anything.

She ventured out to the observation deck overlooking the range, watching as the occupants of the lanes honed their skills. She took note of the footsteps approaching from behind her, glancing at Mike as he stopped alongside her. Meghan gave him a shallow nod before returning her eyes to the range. A ghost of a smirk grew on Mike's face. The two stood in comfortable silence for the better part of an hour, unspoken respect being shared both ways.

It would be hard, but Mike was right. Meghan couldn't hope to survive the weight of the world on her own, and shouldn't be so foolish as to try. Luckily for her, she had the best team one could hope for to get her back on track. The world needed her, and it needed them to be at their best. She couldn't let them down.

She wouldn't allow it.

A/N: A bit of an interlude, inside the mind of the our intrepid hero! I was part way into the next proper chapter when this little chestnut popped into my head! Ten points if you can guess what the inspiration was :D

I hope you enjoyed!