They finally had it, and she wasn't about to let it escape.


Fenton made no move to help her haul the ghost from their jet once they reached the base, but Sam wasn't entirely convinced her sensibilities regarding it hadn't been compromised. She'd once thought it a brother, after all. The betrayal of what it actually was should cut deep, but perhaps it was hard for Fenton not to see her brother looking out from the ghost's lying eyes.

The ghost was conscious again, despite its ectoplasm leaking all over the previously-pristine containment cell on their jet. The other members of their team had paused to jeer, but Fenton had dismissed them with a bark, and they'd gone. Phantom had been their capture; no one else would share that glory.

Sam was only letting Fenton share credit because she'd distracted it in that critical moment.

Fenton took down other ghosts readily enough. She didn't lack skill, not anymore. Sam knew she was still the better shot—she always had been—but Fenton could rival any of the senior staff at this point.

She'd be a good one to train new recruits, if anyone could convince her to step back from the field.

Not that anyone would. She was a Fenton. Her family name was well known now, and not just because of the abomination that had once been her brother.

It made Sam's insides curdle, thinking that she had once called it a friend.

Thinking that she had helped it.

Repeatedly.

"Make the report," she told Fenton. "I'll get the ghost down to processing."

Fenton met her eyes, knowing exactly what Sam was doing. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"You're still a good hunter." Hesitation alone wasn't enough reason for Sam to stab her in the back and report her. Even with that, Sam trusted Fenton more than she trusted the newer recruits. Someone with a sloppy shot would get her killed, and Fenton wouldn't let a ghost attack her.

Besides, she was willing to let Fenton fudge the report for something as small as that. She wasn't willing to swap places and let Fenton take the ghost anywhere while unsupervised, however many cameras were spaced throughout the facility. Getting the ghost to processing wouldn't take that long, anyway. She'd be back before Fenton finished.

It wasn't strictly following protocol, of course. They were supposed to make the reports together. But the higher ups would understand. This wasn't a ghost she was willing to pass off to anyone else. Not before she got it to processing, anyway. She knew better than most how tricky it could be, but they'd be equipped to handle its tricks down there.

"Thank you," Fenton whispered. Her eyes lingered on the ghost for a few more seconds before she turned her back on it and headed off. That technically meant Sam needed to get someone else to help her get the ghost out of the cell, but it was more for redundancy's sake than anything else. She was content to have them watch her work.

The Guys in White gadgetry was simple to use. Intuitive. Besides, a good many pieces weren't unlike the FentonWorks weaponry she'd once used. Considering all the Fentons' designs had been turned over to the Guys in White, that wasn't a surprise. After the raids on Vlad's various secret labs, his technology had been appropriated, too. There were others, of course, but Sam didn't trust anything that she knew came out of the hands of completely inept ghost hunters.

Just because they'd improved since the Merge, out of necessity if nothing else, it didn't mean she'd trust their previous so-called research.

The ghost was still twitching from the electricity she'd run through it before opening the cell, but it was a simple thing to snap on the cuffs, attach a lead chain, and drag it to its feet. "You're coming with me," she told it as it blinked stupidly at her, sagging against the outside wall of the cell. She pulled, and it stumbled into place alongside her.

"Sam," it croaked.

Did it think she was still its friend?

Maybe she should let it. The very idea made her nauseous, but if it thought it could trust her? If it thought she was just doing this for show? She'd get a lot more information out of it than if it knew the truth.

Or, rather, accepted the truth.

"Protocol," she hissed, hoping it would take that to mean she couldn't talk.

It blinked and nodded, but it had never been one to keep silent for long. It barely waited until they were out of earshot of the other agent before it asked, "Where are we going?"

"Processing." She knew she should add I'm sorry or some equivalent, just for the show, but she couldn't force the words past her lips just yet. She glanced pointedly at the cameras instead. It licked its lips and bobbed its head again.

"Do…do I want to know what's involved in processing?" it ventured after a moment.

No. "Cursory evaluation, subject assignment, security recommendations. For your accommodations." She put as much of a sneer into the word as she could muster. Let it think she hated that she was doing this. Let it think that she didn't want to, that circumstances were forcing her to. Let it think her pretense was for a different reason. "It'll mostly be to check a box than anything else. Your reputation precedes you."

"Yeah," it whispered. "I've been a target for a while. We all have."

"You're a bigger prize than some."

"Which will make my escape that much more meaningful," it said. It still spoke quietly, barely moving its lips even when she glanced at it, but it was able to put an impressive amount of force behind the words. It had only slightly turned its face towards her, but it looked…hopeful.

She stamped down on the disgust that rose within her and fought to keep her face and voice smooth. "It would," she managed, which was as close to agreement as she could get. They weren't going to just let it escape. None of their specimens escaped. Some had been destroyed, eventually destabilizing and turning into ectoplasm, but this one would be more resilient than that.

"So not right away, huh?"

It did think she was still on its side. Good. She gave her head a minute shake. "Not yet." Not ever.

"Too risky, I guess."

Was that a note of fear in its voice, buried beneath bravado and false acceptance?

"I'll hold on, I promise. No matter what they do to me."

They. How foolish it was, not to sort her in with the others, if only out of a sense of self-preservation. She could have told it that it was better to assume the worst and be wrong than to assume the best and be wrong.

It would learn soon enough.

Sam stopped in front of the elevator. "Processing is in the first level of the basement," she told it as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

It followed her inside—it had to, as she still had it on a short leash—and waited until the doors had shut again before saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. When they attacked. I…I tried, but…."

"It's okay." When she thought back on it, the attack hadn't come soon enough. She'd done so much for the rebels. Too much.

"Have you seen Tucker?"

Tucker. She still wasn't sure if he'd come around to the right side, but after she'd come here, she'd sent word to have one of the other tech guys screen his communications. No guarantee, of course, if Tucker's skills were better than whoever was trying to hack him, but Tucker was valuable, and she didn't want him taken for questioning unnecessarily. If they hadn't captured this ghost, she might worry more, but since they had? Tucker's hands would be tied even if he did still want to help the rebels. The abomination would have been one of his last consistent points of outside communication, and without a leader, a face, a symbol, something to rally around, the rebels would crumble sooner rather than later anyway.

"Field agents don't associate with the techies."

It lapsed into silence, finally, as they arrived at the floor for processing.

Sam nodded to the agent at the end of the hall as they exited the elevator. "This is where I leave you. With Agent N." Processing was contained, every square inch coated in phase proof finish or built from treated material. It wouldn't be able to escape, even if Agent N displayed uncharacteristic incompetence. "I need to get back to Fenton. Jazz," she amended too late, seeing the look that crossed its face.

"Right," it breathed. "I…. I'll see you soon, I hope?"

"I don't know," she said. Let him think they still kept her schedule in the dark, even though she wasn't among the newest recruits. It was still looking at her, so she twisted her mouth into a smile. The best she could manage, anyway. "Sorry." The word felt wrong. "Um…good luck."

It snorted. "Thanks, Sam, but luck isn't going to get me out of this."

No, it wouldn't, but luckily, she didn't need to come up with a response because Agent N was in earshot. Not looking at the ghost beside her, she said to her colleague, "This is our latest acquisition."

Agent N grinned at her and took the proffered lead. "We caught it at last."

"We did," she whispered, feeling its eyes burning into her. She stood her ground as Agent N took it in for processing. When it looked back at her, something inside her twisted, and she turned away.