"Anne, we've got a team running outreach in the community over the next two days. Did you want to join them?" Muriel asks after the morning meeting has ended and the group has dispersed, leaning her hip against the table where Anne's empty coffee sits. Over Muriel's shoulder Gilbert shoots her a wink, his wide smile brightening his expression as he heads towards the clinic area.

"You mean, go out and meet the refugee population?" She sits up, eyes widening at the opportunity. She remembered telling the woman that she had wanted to get out and interview some of the community to help personalize the lives they were working to help save but she wasn't sure she'd get the chance given that she was isolated here in the clinic's camp. Now that door was opening before her.

"Well, yes. See what our team does, get a feel for what life is like where they're living. You can meet some of the local population and talk to them about their experiences. It might be helpful for your readers to understand it's not just a bunch of foreigners out here acting like cowboys - that we're actually filling a pretty large gap," she pauses and looks around, leaning a touch closer. "Most of the people in this clinic don't get to go out into the community. It's mostly the local staff with one or two outreach people so you get to see what's going on without the filter of these fences."

Anne doesn't hesitate to agree after that, realizing the woman was handing her access to a group who was largely disadvantaged in the world. She could have conversations that she wouldn't get anywhere else, especially not through official channels.

"Great - they're leaving at 10 if you need to go prepare. I'd recommend boots and definitely don't forget your ID and passport, you'll need them if any authorities request them. The group should be able to drop you back in time for dinner but if not, pack a couple meal replacement bars and a few extra water bottles just in case," Muriel recommends as they walk together towards the admin tent.

Eventually Anne breaks away and ducks to her tent, collecting some things for her go-bag and then beelines towards the kitchen area where she tucks some food and water into her backpack. Mentally double checking her list, she hurries to the gate to catch the convoy of vehicles and settles into the backseat.

The ride into the heart of the camp is bumpy, full of chaotic traffic and people crowding up against the vehicles. She watches all of it eagerly, soaking in the sights of life that pass her by and the living conditions that seem to be hanging on by a thread. Little shanty structures are built up along muddy slopes, tarps pulled tight across roofs to keep the rain out. The team inside of the vehicle chats idly as they move further and further into the dense community.

"You see that flag?" Sera, the woman beside her says and points into the distance towards a hill with what looks to be a brick and mortar building standing upon it.

"Yes - is that where we're going?"

"Yes. We change out the flags to let people know we're here and then we wait for people to make their way to us. If they need more substantial treatment then we tell them about the clinic and how to get there. Most are just interested in check ups but we try to help them with other issues that may come about." Anne listens intently as the woman continues on, discussing the health patterns of the population and the range of issues that have presented themselves.

Arriving at their destination they pile out of the vehicle, the group quickly getting to work in setting up their impromptu station. Anne attempts to help, raising the flag and helping to lift boxes from the vehicle as instructed by the group leader. When everything is set she takes the opportunity to connect with the translator, listening to their story and requesting permission to take notes. The man nods enthusiastically, explaining his desire for the story of his people to get out.

"We're silenced here," he laments, his arms crossed over his chest and his head shaking. "There's no hope, no school. We can't contribute so we're just here living. It is no life."

The people start appearing onto the road out of the small walkways and alleys that spread throughout the camp and soon the team is too busy to talk, flipping into action mode with the arrival of their clients. Anne observes as best she can, following the translator around and letting him introduce her. In some cases she's asked to leave and she goes quickly, hovering near the vehicle until she's called back for the next person all the while scribbling things into the pages of her notebook.

So entranced in her work Anne misses the arrival of the authorities, their SUV pulling up beside their van and a group of armed men spilling out of it.

"Anne, put your notebook away," Sera instructs, her hand gripping Anne's shoulder as the men move into their makeshift clinic area. The head doctor moves to address the leader as the men filter through the group, shouting commands in a language she doesn't understand. She tries to tuck her bag under the table to avoid it's notice, listening aptly as instructions are given to them to stay where they are.

"Papers." A man with military garb requests, his gun held at his side as Anne looks up at him with wide eyes.

"Yes sir," she breathes, bending over to grab her backpack from under the table. The man yanks it from her hands, dumping the contents over the plastic surface and then discarding the nylon sack on the ground. Anne keeps quiet as he pushes the contents around, lifting her ID up to inspect it more closely.

"Wear it," he instructs and tosses it to her, moving on to her passport and checking her visa. When her papers have been reviewed she breathes a sigh of relief, watching as the man turns away for a moment. She nearly thinks she's in the clear when another man comes towards them, lifting her notebook up between his fingers and shooting her a pointed glance.

"What is this?" He questions, flipping through the pages as her heart beats erratically in her chest.

"Notes - I write for my organization," she replies lowly, her skin going pale at the look he sends her.

"You are journalist?" He presses, tucking her notebook in his pocket. "This is not the visa for journalist. You cannot be here." With a step towards her, Anne recoils into Sera and shakes her head, fear racing through her.

"I'm not a journalist. I'm not," she insists. The translator steps up to her defence, arguing her case in the local language as the man reaches for her shoulder. Roughly, he turns her around and pulls her hands together behind her back.

"We don't allow journalists."

"I'm not - I'm not a journalist," Anne cries as the man tightens a zip tie around her wrists. The plastic bites into her skin and she yelps, looking wide eyed towards the group leader who is arguing emphatically with the man in charge. No one moves as she's lead out towards the official's vehicle, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she's shoved onto the leather seat and the door is closed behind her.

Tears burn her eyes then as she tries to lean forward and lessen the pressure on her wrists, her heart beating out of control as she waits alone in the vehicle. Cursing herself for not having a better story, for leaving her go-bag behind, Anne tries to keep herself together as the time draws out. She thinks of Gilbert, of his wide grin and his knowing gaze. How she hadn't said goodbye before she'd left today.

"You, out!" One of the armed men cuts into her thoughts, the door beside her opening abruptly and a hand clasping her shoulder. She's forced out onto the road, stumbling to the ground as boots step around her.

Shifting to get her knees under her, Anne watches as the men pile back into the SUV and slam the doors closed. Hands grasp under her arms and lift her back to standing, guiding her into the clinic area as voices criss cross around the room.

"It's okay Anne," Sera says soothingly, kneeling before her as someone cuts loose her wrists. The woman takes her hands in her own and rubs her thumbs over her knuckles, squeezing tightly as a blanket is wrapped around her shoulders. "They're gone. They didn't understand at first but we were able to explain. You're alright."

The wave of relief washes over her and she hiccups out a breath, pulling the blanket tighter around her shaking shoulders despite the heat of the day. Adrenaline pulses through her veins and she feels lightheaded with it, the acute fear of being detained slowly starting to ease.

"We're going to get you back to the camp now. You'll need to fill out a report," Sera explains as she starts to gather her things from where they've been scattered around the table. Anne nods absently as she palms the pen in her pocket, the one thing that had always provided her such solace now almost a threat to her.

"Did they keep my notebook?" Anne asks eventually as they settle back into their van. Sera nods, a sorry look on her face.

"But you remember things, yes?" Anne nods at that, focusing in on the positive. She could still write about this. She could still tell their stories, even if she didn't have her notes. That's what she would do even if they obviously didn't want her to.

The trip back to the camp speeds by in a blur and soon Anne is stepping out of the van, grabbing her bag and following the group leader towards the admin tent. Inside the dome the man explains what had happened to Muriel, their gazes flickering towards her as she sits calmly in a chair before her computer. Eventually she hears the van start up and pull away and she turns to see Muriel watching her with a steady gaze, a brow lifted.

"Do you need anything from me or do you just want to start writing?" Muriel asks lowly, understanding the look in Anne's eyes. It was determined and angry, full of the drive that had brought her on this mission in the first place.

This moment was where she could be the victim of her experience, where she could get lost in the fear and anxiousness she'd felt, or she could fight through it. It was up to her to rise above it. She had to take this chance to be the voice that fought on behalf of all the people who lived with this fear daily. She could do that for them.

"I think I'll start writing," Anne replied quietly, turning towards her computer and tapping the keys to login.

She writes into the early hours of the morning, pouring every conversation, every thought and observation that she remembers from her day into the file that she's created. Her notes bloom from scribbles in a stolen notebook into a spawning document that spurs and gives voice to the silenced. Her mind functions on a single track, focused, and she uses that focus to block out all the wonderings that had managed to distract her for the last few weeks.

When she finishes she sits back in her chair and rubs her face, the emotions of the day finally coming to the surface and spilling into her exhaustion. Forcing herself to her feet she wipes at her cheeks and exhales, leaving the admin tent and walking pointedly towards the accommodations area.

Gilbert's tent is dark and silent as she passes and for a brief moment she debates waking him, debates asking to curl into his embrace for the comfort she so longed for in this moment. But she couldn't do that. She knew that neither of them would get much sleep if she went to him, if she explained why she had come calling as such an early hour.

So instead she lets her feet carry her to her own tent, slipping off her shoes and tucking herself into her cot to let a restless sleep eventually overcome her.


Morning comes over the camp too soon and Anne's alarm rattles her awake, her fingers pressing at buttons on her phone to cease its harassment. In her haste she almost misses the text from Muriel giving her permission to sleep in, to join them when she felt ready. With a sigh Anne rolls over and lets her mind doze once more, the dreams abating for those few more hours.

She doesn't hear the zip of her tent or the settling of dishes beside her cot, her slumber uninterrupted until the mid-morning sun warms her space beyond comfort. Groaning, Anne eventually sits up and takes in the sight of the breakfast set for her, the Powerbar with a makeshift bow wrapped around it next to a cold cup of coffee and some buttered toast. Gilbert.

Lifting the tray onto her storage unit she nibbles at the food while she gathers her things for the shower. She could do with a rinse, even just to get the trace of yesterday's dirt off of her skin. That and at least the remnants of stress that still clung to her.

Making quick work of her routine Anne eventually tracks her way to the admin tent, slipping inside to see Muriel sitting on the phone, her hand pressed to her brow as she angrily speaks into the line. For a moment Anne debates leaving, turning towards the door once more before Muriel captures her attention with her palm clapping against the desk. A finger points her towards her desk and she settles into it, setting down her coffee as Muriel finishes up the call.

"That was HQ - apparently they're receiving word of what happened yesterday and they would like to speak to you today," she states evenly, her hands clasping together.

Anne shifts, chewing her lip as she debates what to say. "Was I in the wrong to go out there? Am I being sent home?"

"No, not at all. But they would like to do a wellness check this afternoon. And Gilbert has been asking about you, quite pointedly, I may add - "

"I'm sorry. I'll talk to them. All of them. Explain it - " Anne interjects, closing her eyes as the woman sighs.

"Anne, dear, you're not in trouble here. I'm telling you so that you can place your priorities in order. I would like to ensure you are able to complete your work but if you're having difficulty, or you need someone to speak with, we can make those arrangements. I realize yesterday was challenging," she pauses, watching as Anne closes her eyes and lets her face crumble. "But you're strong, Anne. I read what you worked on last night and it painted the picture that the people are telling us every day - the detentions, the intimidation - it gave the situation life."

"I know. And I'm fine, really. It was just unexpected - I didn't feel prepared to answer their questions and I think that was my fault," Anne mumbles, wiping the stray tear from her cheek. With a shaking exhale she shifts and looks towards the ceiling, centering herself. "I'm fine. They didn't do anything and I got my stories. That's what's important."

"Indeed. Well, if you need to rest anymore today, or you need someone to talk to, please let me know. HQ will be contacting you at 13:00, alright? Be sure to take their call."

Anne nods and turns in her chair to face her computer, opening her email and reading through the new messages until she's steady enough to get back down to work.

"Hey Anne-girl," a soothing voice breaks into her consciousness sometime later and she looks up to see Gilbert standing in the door of the admin tent, a wide smile on his face. Getting to her feet, Anne looks around the empty space with surprise as he steps inside, pulling her to him in a hug that tethers her back on earth.

"Gil," she murmurs, her face pressed against his chest as his hands hold her tightly.

"I heard you had a rough day yesterday," he whispers, leaning back so he can look at her more closely. His eyes search hers for a moment before she cuddles back into him, seeking his steadiness.

"It was fine. I'm back here now, with you." Her answer drifts around them and he sighs, placing a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Do you want to talk about it? I've got some time before lunch break is over." Shaking her head, she steps back and links her fingers with his.

"I'd rather we just go get some lunch. I know how upset you get when you don't eat properly," she chides, shooting him a smart look that causes him to laugh.

"Oh how well you have come to know me. But Miss Anne, I think you've forgotten my favourite way of greeting?" He tugs her hand and leans down to capture her lips with his, the chaste kiss making her body thrum as she lifts her hands to his chin to steady herself. "That's much better…" he stills, grasping at her arms as his brow furrows. "What is this? I didn't know you were hurt too."

His light mood dissipates and his expression shutters as he sees the marks on her wrists, the cuts from the plastic bindings bright red in the day's light. Slowly, he lifts her wrists closer for inspection, his fingers carefully brushing along the marks.

"It's nothing," she says quietly, attempting to pull herself free from his grip. He reluctantly lets her go, giving her the space she needs to process the moment despite the concern that floods him.

"Anne," he whispers, voice tight. "Why didn't you come find me yesterday when you got back? I could have - "

"It's not a big deal, Gil. I've got it under control," she lies, her voice shaking.

"Oh, Anne-girl…" His eyes close and he holds out his arms, exhaling when she steps into his embrace. His breath slides against her ear, steady and comforting, and before she realizes it she's letting loose more tears, relief filling her as his arms tighten and hold her to him. They stand there for a time, rocking on their feet until she's once more dried her eyes and is able to pull back from him.

"Let's get some lunch. I don't want this to be how we spend our last few days," she states and watches as he nods, reluctantly agreeing to go against his better judgement. If he had his way they'd spend the lunch break talking through everything, making sure she was processing the situation so that it wouldn't haunt her the way some of his co-workers were haunted. But he didn't press it - he had to believe that she knew what she could handle - and so he let her take the lead if only because they only had two more nights before he left and neither of them were ready or willing to speak of the change that would come then.