A/N: Thanks guys for all your kicka** reviews! Ya'll rock! So, here's the next chapter. To get the best effect, I recommend turning out all the lights, turn off your TV, and make sure it's the dead of night before reading! Oh, and if you have any spooky music, that would be good too! Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

Chapter 4: Wrath of the Wraith

Alexis landed the jet as she had so many hundred times before, except that she really wasn't the one landing the jet this go-around; however, muscle memory was a strong force to ignore. Usually she was reluctant to leave the confines of the cockpit after a flight; this time, she couldn't wait to pop the hatch and escape this seemingly demonic piece of machinery. As the jet rolled to a smooth stop, Alexis attempted to open the cockpit. It wouldn't budge. She looked out the glass and saw several of her crew rushing to help her down.

"Please, would you let me out now?" she asked quietly, her voice quavering slightly.

A sharp flash on her radar screen drew her eye. She leaned over and watched as a single word materialized across the screen.

Remember. Tell no one.

She swallowed and nodded her head. "How could I forget," she mumbled, relief flooding over her body as the hatch slid open. With shaking steps, Alexis climbed out of the jet and allowed Crowbar to help her to the tarmac.

"Well, Captain, how'd she fly for you?" Crowbar greeted her cheerily as Alexis's feet touched down on the concrete. He failed to notice the especially pained expression on her features as he voiced the one question she was dreading.

"O h, um, well Crow, I have to say that she can almost fly herself," Alexis replied with false cheer.

"Great! Great! Good to hear! We'll see how things go for the rest of the month before we bump you back up to Code One status."

"Uh, sounds great Crow. Say if you don't mind, I really need to get to the flight room and debrief. I'll catch up with you later." With that Alexis quickly trotted off, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder as she went.

"Well, I'll be damned," Crowbar mumbled under his breath, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"What's wrong Crow?" McFarland asked, walking up behind the crew chief.

"Huh? Oh, nothing Scotty. I guess Spades really wanted to get her debrief done. Let's get this bird put up and give it a shakedown."

"Yes sir."

Crowbar cast one last puzzled look at his retreating captain before turning his attention back on the jet and his crew.

For Alexis her post-flight debrief couldn't have finished quicker. She felt jumpy and exceptionally nervous. When people walked up behind her or spoke unexpectedly she would jump slightly as if shocked. Her feelings of unease only intensified when the in-flight camera footage appeared to be nothing more than fuzzy tv static...for both aircraft. For once, Coldstone was just as dumbstruck as she was, albeit he for very different reasons. Since in-flight cameras cannot be accessed by the pilots, and both cameras appeared to malfunction simultaneously, the matter was written off as an electrical failure due to "atmospheric anomalies." By the end of the brief, Alexis wanted only to retreat to the safe confines of her room, bury herself in a good book, and pretend the entire day never occurred.

After her debrief concluded, she entered the dining hall and retrieved a tray for dinner, settling herself in one of the far corners of the large facility. Her position allowed her a complete, unobstructed view of the entire room with no fear of anyone sneaking up behind her. Finally some semblance of normalcy. Taking a deep breath, she began eat her food, allowing her taxed body to relax for the first time in several hours. A slight darkening over her tray made her look up warily. It was Coldstone.

"Mind if I sit down, Captain?" he asked.

"Look Coldstone, if you came to pick a fight with me about what happened earlier, I'm not interested," she said, putting her fork down with slightly more force than necessary. The lieutenant ignored her heated warning and took a seat directly across from her. He looked up and met her cold, jaded eyes.

"I didn't come here to fight. Something's up with you, Spades. You're not acting like yourself."

"What's it matter to you?" she snapped.

"Hell, I don't know? Maybe it's because you're in my squadron? You were my wingmate today? I have to keep flying with you in the future and crazy, insane, illegal combat maneuvers are apparently on the table? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"You never struck me as the caring type, Stoner. Why the change in heart?" she asked, taking a bite from her baked potato. He ignored answering her question and jumped straight into another statement.

"You weren't flying like you normally do, Spades. If we're going to talk about 'types,' you're not the type to pull kamikaze stunts like that and you're definitely not the type to go around acting the nervous fool. Now would you mind telling me what in the hell is bothering you?"

His irritation drew a small smile. "I appreciate your concern, lieutenant, but last I checked, I don't take orders from you." Abruptly, Alexis stood and took her tray with her, leaving Coldstone alone at the table. She walked over to a trashcan, deposited her meal and immediately left the dining facility. She wanted desperately to tell him. She wanted to confide her fears, her suspicions, her worries. She hated him as a person, but as her wingmate she did owe him an explanation. He was right in that regard. Volatile, unpredictable flight maneuvers would undermine every ounce of trust they should be building as a functional squadron. But the ghostly green words were an ever-constant reminder in the back of her skull. What would happen if she did? Now was not the time to find out. For now she needed space-she needed room to think and she couldn't do it with him pestering her over questions she couldn't even answer herself.

Coldstone rested his elbows on either side of the tray and ran his hands irritably through his spiky, sandy-colored hair. After several seconds, he slammed one palm down on the table and cursed under his breath. Spades was the one pilot in the whole squadron he had yet to best in an exercise. Her talent was extraordinary, that was something that could not be denied. However, whatever had happened today, Coldstone knew it was not his superior's motive operandi. Risky, yes? For fuck's sake all fighter pilots took risk; it was the name of the game. But today? No. That was downright suicidal. He couldn't even follow Spades in her suicidal dive and not risk blacking out. How the fucking hell did she manage it? Something happened. Something wasn't right but he just couldn't place it.

After leaving the dining facility, Alexis made her way quickly to her apartment. Never had the door to her sanctuary looked more inviting. She unlocked the door, let herself inside, and then leaned against the door as if that would prevent all the problems of the world from entering. She sighed heavily and laid her head back against the door and slowly sank to the floor. She sat for several long minutes with her head on her knees, replaying the events of the day. Did it really happen? Had she really been threatened by a malevolent spirit? She needed to tell him, someone, anyone really. But fear held her back. How crazy would it be to tell someone that you thought an inanimate machine was haunted? It sounded absurd, ludicrous. So ludicrous in fact, Alexis had no doubt Command would ground her, revoke her flight status, and probably send her off in a straight jacket. That was unacceptable. She had worked too hard and sacrificed too much to get here. Alexis gave another shuddering sigh before struggling to her feet. She had to have imagined it—all of it—she had to. No. Deep down she knew she was lying to herself. She knew exactly what she saw and what she experienced. And now she was lying to her wingmate. How was she going to get out of this? How much worse was this going to get?

Several hours later, Alexis still didn't feel any better about her situation than she did before. Slowly she peeled herself off the bed then walked into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold, running water. She patted her face dry with a towel, grabbed her keys and then exited the room. She hoped she wouldn't meet Tomcat on her way out; her roommate would most definitely demand an explanation, one Alexis was not particularly willing to give. Fortunately, luck was with her.

It was a crazy, insane idea. What if she went to it? What if she confronted this thing head on? Just the thought of approaching her jet, alone, in the hangar again made her spine tingle uncomfortably, but it just might be the only way to make this whole thing stop. On one hand, she didn't want to push her luck with this…ghost, but on the other hand she really didn't want to wait around either.

Darkness had settled over the desert and the moon bathed everything in sight with a beautiful silvery glow. It was a stunning sight to behold. But unfortunately, the young captain was too preoccupied with her mission to take notice. Alexis approached the hangar slowly and reluctantly. Her eyes were wide with worry and every nerve felt as if it were on a hair-trigger. No one was in the hangar bay. Well, that could be good; at least she didn't have to worry about looking like an idiot in front of someone. On the other hand, if things went south, there would be no witnesses to her most assuredly, outlandish story. She felt a strange sense of déjà vu as her eyes alit on each and every jet chocked within the building. She walked down the center aisle, her booted footsteps echoed loudly in the confines of the hangar. Much sooner than she wanted, Alexis found herself facing her haunted jet. It sat there innocently enough, engines silent, cockpit lights off, the soft glow from the hangar lights giving the jet a soft, peaceful air. She knew better.

Alexis set her jaw and positioned herself just to the right of the nose, allowing her to see the cockpit and, if necessary, the ability to jump to safety. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then opened them again, slowly releasing her breath in a shaky effort to settle the butterflies within her stomach. Didn't they have people that got paid to do this type of thing?

"I want to talk to you," she began, directing her voice to the large metal bird.

Silence.

"Look, I know you're there…or at least, you were there earlier today."

Silence.

I should have known. Come to talk with a ghost and I get the silent treatment. Big surprise. "Listen you...whoever you are, I don't know why you're doing this but I will not be intimidated by you! What exactly is your problem anyway? I mean, why me? What have I ever done to you? Hell, I don't even know you! So, what's the deal? Why all the threats and intimidation shit, huh? Is it some sort of ghostly-right-of-passage? Gotta scare the shit out of the living before moving on to the next level?" She knew she looked absurd, sounded insane, and probably needed that long session with a therapist but oddly enough it felt good too. It brought to mind the old adage "confront your fears." Alexis didn't think whomever said it meant it quite this literally, but if it worked so be it! However, the confrontation still appeared to be one-sided.

Silence. Uncertainty and fear slowly morphed into boldness and irritation.

"Urrrrrgggghhh! You know! Forget it! I can't believe I'm out here talking to a jet anyway. If you're even still here, you're just a ghost and ghosts can't seriously hurt people anyway, so go on! Hit me with your best shot!"

Alexis whirled on her heel and stormed out of the hangar, feeling strangely better about having vented some of her frustrations, even if she was yelling at a supposedly inanimate object. Maybe now that she had shown this demon she wasn't afraid, it would leave her alone.

But little did Alexis realize she had just thrown gasoline on a burning ember. The cockpit lights within her jet briefly illuminated and bathed the entire interior with an unsettling green glow. By this time, Alexis was already a good distance away from the hangar or otherwise she would have heard the manic, cackling, disembodied laughter echoing within the metal construct.

Several days passed in an uneventful haze and Alexis was beginning to feel that maybe...just maybe...things would return to normal and all previous events were a fluke. She had flown her jet at least twice more and she had maintained complete control of all her avionics.

Even Crowbar and his crew noticed the distinct lack of unexplained events. At first the crew was extremely edgy, believing that something was building to a head and a major incident would occur, but as the days ticked by and nothing mischievous happened, everyone was beginning to relax and settle back into an old groove. It was just as Starscream wanted it.

A1C Scotty McFarland was busying himself with checking the cockpit's interior circuitry. He absolutely loved his job, which was being an Avionics Technician. Ever since he was a boy he had a fascination with two things: airplanes and electricity. So, when he graduated high school it seemed a natural transition to put the two loves of his life together and join the Air Force as an Avionics Tech. It was a challenging occupation and one that required his utmost attention.

Scotty ducked his head and began to fiddle with the snake's nest of wiring that hung loosely under the jet's console. His slender fingers were carefully tracing a yellow wire, his intent to find its terminus and ensure that there was no fraying or chafing of the bright, protective covering. With his bright, redhead tucked under the console, McFarland failed to notice the hatch beginning to slide back over the cockpit. Soundlessly it slid into position until with a faint click, it locked into place.

Scotty banged his head on the bottom of the console as he tried to see what had caused that mysterious click. He immediately took notice of the closed hatch and snorted to himself. Those guys! They were always playing tricks on him! He tried the latch to unlock the cockpit, but it wouldn't budge.

"OK guys! You can let me out now! A little help would be appreciated!" he shouted loudly, his voice slightly muffled by the glass. Two other techs were walking by and noticed Scotty tapping on the glass. They laughed to each other and pointed at Scotty tapping from within the cockpit.

"You can let yourself out, McFarland! You're not that big of a dunce!" one called to him.

"I can't. The latch is jammed. Give me a hand would ya!?"

"You were the one dumb enough to lock yourself in; get yourself out!" the tech turned to his partner and was beginning to walk away.

Suddenly he heard a loud slapping sound coming from Scotty's jet; he looked over his shoulder to see the young redhead banging wildly on the glass. His eyes were bulged and if the tech didn't know any better he would have guessed that Scotty was faking asphyxiation and faking it rather well, he might add. He looked to his partner. "Do you think he's faking?"

The partner glanced back at the cockpit. He immediately took in the bulging eyes, the rapidly changing color of the face and the potruding veins on the boy's forehead. "If he is, he's doing a damn good job!" The second tech rushed to the jet, his friend hot on his heels.

"How in the hell…!?" the first tech exclaimed. "What the devil is going on here!? Is the cockpit…depressurizing!?"

"It sure as hell is! Call Crow NOW! You there!" the second tech hollered to another specialist. "Help me! We've got a man trapped in here; he's suffocating!"

The third tech immediately dropped what he was doing and rushed to the jet. Already a steady crowd of onlookers and helpers were beginning to crowd around the plane. Their babbling voices filled with concern and confusion. Crowbar shoved his way through the crowd and all but leaped up the maintenance stand, the two techs helping him to climb up. Together the three of them tried to shove the cockpit glass back into place, but it held fast. Inside Crowbar watched the panicked expression of Scotty McFarland as he feebly beat on the glass, his strength dwindling with the oxygen supply.

"This isn't working! Someone get me an egress axe NOW! We're taking the glass off!" Crowbar shouted. "Hang with me Scotty! Damn it, man, stay with me!" Crow urged the younger airman. The crew chief watched in horror as the boy's eyes finally lolled to the back of his head, his neck and body going limp as he slumped in the pilot's chair. "SCOTTY, damn it, son! Don't you die on my watch, you hear me! DON'T DIE ON ME NOW!" Crowbar slammed his fist against the impervious glass as if his anger would be enough to shatter it.

The seconds dragged into an eternity. "I got it! I have the axe!" A voice shouted from the throng. In the distance sirens could be heard, the wails drawing closer and closer. A hand stretched up from the milling mass offering the egress axe. Crow snatched the axe and in the same movement slammed the pickhead side of the axe into the emergency egress point. As he drew back for a second swing, the canopy opened with an audible click followed by the swoosh of air entering a vacuum. Crow dropped the axe and quickly reached in to pull the limp body from the pilot's seat. Flashing red and white lights reflected off wan and concerned faces. Crow gently maneuvered Scotty's body down off the jet and into several waiting arms down below. Within minutes, Scotty was strapped to a stretcher, wheeled into a military ambulance and driven off to the on-base hospital. Everyone within Hangar Seven Alfa stood dumbstruck as the magnitude of the event struck home. Only Crowbar seemed to gather his wits about him as he turned and barked at the two techs who had first realized the problem.

"You two! In my office now. I want to know exactly what happened, understood!?"

"Yes, sir!" the two techs chorused and quickly followed the crew chief out of the hangar. The shock was beginning to wear off and all the maintenance personnel were slowly dispersing, although many stood around and talked in hushed whisperings. This type of accident had never occurred. However, no one felt the magnitude of what had just happened more than Captain Alexis. She had just entered the hangar to speak with Crowbar when she saw all the commotion centered around her jet. With wide, terror-stricken eyes she watched numbly as Scotty was dragged from the cockpit and handed down to the waiting paramedics. She felt her heart freeze within her chest and the blood in her veins turn into ice water. She saw his closed eyes, his slack face, and his unresponsive limbs. What she saw made her simultaneously sick, angry, afraid, and painfully guilty.

It hadn't left after all. It was all her fault. She shouldn't have tried to provoke it; she should have listened! And now because of her impetuous provocation from days previous, sweet, innocent Scott McFarland was strapped to a stretcher—one of her crew, her teammate, her subordinate.

A sudden wave of nausea swept over her body and assaulted her senses. Wheeling wildly, Alexis made a break for the restroom and arrived just in time to violently vomit her breakfast. She hurled and gagged, the nausea threatening to overwhelm her weakened body. She gripped the ceramic bowl as if her life depended on it, her knuckles white and strained. Finally, she stopped retching, succumbing every few seconds to the dry heaves as her stomach tried to empty itself when there was nothing left to empty. With bleary, tear-stained eyes, the captain groped for the toilet tissue and wiped the spittle from her lips. She sat in the floor of the bathroom stall, trying to steady her nerves and her stomach. Over and over again, the horrific scene in the hangar replayed in her mind's eye. She couldn't stop seeing Scotty's body strapped to the stretcher—pale, lifeless. She may have been a combat pilot, but Alexis had never seen combat. Death was relatively new to her and knowing that she might ultimately be the cause of one sickened her. Shakily and using the stall walls for support, Alexis stood to her feet. As much as it nauseated her, as much as it hurt to think, as frightening as the prospect was-she knew what she had to do.

When Tomcat had found out what happened to McFarland, she had hit Alexis with a barrage of questions and concerns. It was almost too much for Alexis to take, but she endured knowing she would have to face a similar set of questions from the safety officer and her flight commander. Fearful to breathe a word about her haunting problem, Alexis pleaded ignorance for Tomcat's benefit as much as her own. Finally, her friend's impromptu interrogation ceased and Tomcat decided that rest and sleep would be more fulfilling than questions or answers. Alexis had never felt more relieved.

She donned a light-weight running jacket, sneakers and her keys before slipping out the door undetected; it was exactly 2250. She quickly made her way to the hangar, dread and fear threatening to force her to make another pit stop at the bathroom before continuing. She approached the gaping opening of the building, fear constricting her throat and making it difficult to breath.

Nary a breeze stirred; hardly a mouse skittered. It was as silent and quiet within the hangar as a graveyard. Alexis pulled her jacket close before entering the building even though there wasn't so much as breeze to give her goosebumbs. She walked with halting steps down the center aisle, her emerald eyes darting fervently from side to side. Even though nothing stirred within the hangar, she could feel an ominous presence within, pressing down and around her like a massive weight. She felt claustrophobic and just a little nauseated, but this was something she couldn't back out of, not now.

"He-hello?" she called. Her jet was chocked just where it was earlier today, just as if nothing had ever occurred. A dark, jagged-edged slit marred the smooth metallic skin just under the cockpit glass. It was a violent and stark reminder of what had occurred just a few hours previous.

The silence continued-thick, heavy, suffocating. Off in the distance Alexis heard a sign creak mournfully. Seconds later, a shrill scream echoed over the desert as a coyote found its late-night meal. Once again Alexis felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

Suddenly she heard a raspy chuckle resonate within the hangar. She whirled around trying to pinpoint its location, but the laugh seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It grew in volume and in madness until Alexis thought her ears would begin to bleed. She clasped her hands to her head in an attempt to stifle the evil sound.

Finally it died down until only a chuckle could be heard. Alexis unclamped her ears and spoke to the disembodied voice. "Who's there!? Show yourself!"

"How does it feel Alexis O'Conner? How does it feel to have the blood of another on your hands?" the voice asked.

She remained silent; she didn't know what to say. Horrible guilt still lay on her chest like a lead weight.

The voice chuckled once more. "I thought so. So weak and pathetic, yet you call yourself a soldier. Disgusting."

"You've made your point. What do you want from me?" she asked, resignation and fear plainly evident in her voice, despite the strong words.

The voice did not respond and Alexis was beginning to think it had left once more, but fear kept her rooted to the spot. When it was not forthcoming, she whispered a prayer under her breath, "Please. I just don't want anyone else getting hurt."

Still nothing happened and Alexis felt that the conversation was over. She took one last, searching look around and began to back out of the hangar. She had taken no more than five steps when the hairs on the back of her neck and arms raised. Goosebumps ran up and down her limbs. She shivered involuntarily and paused, the unsettling feeling stopping her in her tracks. After several long seconds, she regained her composure only to turn and walk smack into a body directly behind her.

Blistering red eyes met her terrified green ones for the second time in that haunted hangar. She felt a scream beginning to build in her throat, but a large hand clasped firmly across her mouth. She struggled violently, kicking and elbowing the mass with little effect. She tried to scream, but her sounds were muffled by the hand. Several moments later, she fainted.