Rogue agents 1: The prima ballerina (Completed)

A lamb

*Karolina*

The Duckling's engines hum a steady rhythm as we cut through the sky toward Zarqa, a destination that feels more like a question mark than a country to me. I've never been there, never even considered it until now, but here we are, flying into the unknown because of a sigil Sebastian spotted.

Beside me, Ryan's still tense, his leg bouncing with a nervous energy that's new to me. He's been cracking dumb jokes the entire flight, each one more ridiculous than the last, like he's trying to fill the cabin with laughter to drown out his own unease. But I can see through it. His usual easy charm is strained, his smiles don't quite reach his eyes, and it's clear he's trying to ease his own tension more than ours.

I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it gently. "Hey, you okay?" I ask, keeping my voice low so the others don't hear over the drone of the engines.

He looks at me, his eyes flickering with something I can't quite place. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he says, but his smile is too quick, too forced. "Just thinking about what we might find in Zarqa, you know?"

I nod, but I'm not convinced. Ryan is not good at hiding his feelings, it is clear to anyone that it is more than he says. But I also know he won't tell me what's bothering him until he's ready. So, I let it go, for now, and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

As we fly closer to Zarqa, the landscape below changes, becoming more rugged, more desert like and less familiar. It's a stark reminder of how far we are from home, from anything we know. The uncertainty of it all should be terrifying, but there's a part of me that's excited too. Maybe it's the thrill of the chase, the hope that we're finally getting closer to answers.

Ryan shifts beside me, his body still tense. He starts another joke, something about camels and desert mirages, and I can't help but laugh, despite the situation, mostly because the joke is so dumb. It's a small moment of normalcy in the midst of our chaos, and I cling to it.

But even as I laugh, I keep an eye on him, watching for any sign that he might open up. Because whatever's bothering him, whatever he's hiding, I know it has to do with Zarqa. And until we land, all I can do is be here for him, offering silent support and waiting for the moment he decides to let me in.

*Holly*

The relentless hum of the Duckling's engines finally begins to change pitch as we descend towards Zarqa, and I can't say I'm sorry to see the end of this flight. The journey has been long, and Ryan's nervous energy has been grating on my nerves the entire time. His constant stream of dumb jokes, each more forced than the last, has done nothing to ease the tension in the cabin. If anything, it's only made me more on edge.

As we get closer to the ground, Ryan's leg starts bouncing even faster, a clear sign of his anxiety. "You know, maybe I should just stay on the Duckling," he says, his voice trying for casual but landing somewhere near desperate. "Keep an eye on things here."

Part of me wants to agree wholeheartedly. The thought of a few hours without his nervous chatter is almost appealing. But before I can voice my opinion, Sebastian cuts in, his voice firm.

"Holly doesn't speak Arabic, and my own knowledge is limited. My speech is very rusty," he says, his eyes fixed on Ryan. "You're the only one with a good knowledge of the language."

Ryan's shoulders slump slightly, and he nods. "Yeah, that's true," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "And this country has a local dialect too, one that I happen to speak."

I sigh, the last vestiges of hope that I might get a break from his energy slipping away. As much as I want to leave him behind, I can't deny the practicalities of the situation. Without Ryan, our chances of navigating Zarqa effectively are slim to none.

The Duckling touches down with a gentle bump, and as we taxi to a stop. Ryan's nervous energy might be annoying, but it's clear he's just as invested in this as the rest of us. And if his knowledge of the local dialect can help us, then I'll have to put up with his jokes a little longer.

As we unbuckle and prepare to disembark, I catch Ryan's eye and give him a small, tight smile. "Let's get this over with," I say, my tone more resigned than enthusiastic.

He nods, but he seems oddly deflated. "Yeah, let's do this," he replies.

As we discuss our plan of action after landing in Zarqa, the suggestion comes up that Karolina should stay behind with Tommy and the Duckling. It's a logical thought; after all, while none of us believe anyone here would recognize her, it might still be safer for her to remain out of sight. But Karolina's quick to shake her head, her determination clear.

"I'm coming with you," she says firmly, her eyes meeting each of ours in turn. "I want to help, and I'll be safer with all of you than here with just Tomm… Sorry Tommy."

Tommy grins, “No offence taken.”

There's a moment of silence as we all consider her words. I can see the resolve in her eyes, and I know there's no changing her mind. Sebastian nods, a silent agreement passing between us. "Alright," he says. "you can come with us, but you need to do as we tell you."

With that settled, we start to prepare for our journey into the city. I rummage through a trunk filled with clothes and other useful items Tommy has been smart enough to bring along, and I quickly find two scarves. They will work like the kind worn by women in Zarqa to cover their hair, a nod to local customs that we'll need to respect.

"Here," I say, handing one to Karolina and keeping the other for myself. Ryan steps in, his nervous energy momentarily replaced by focus as he helps us arrange the scarves over our heads the way women here do. His hands are gentle but sure, adjusting the fabric until we look the part.

"Thanks, Ryan," Karolina says softly, giving him a small smile. He returns it, but I can see the tension still lingering in his eyes.

With our disguises in place, we set off on the short walk to the capital city. As we approach, the skyline unfolds before us, a fascinating blend of the ancient and the modern. It's like something out of Aladdin, with its sandstone buildings and bustling markets, but interspersed with sleek, contemporary architecture that speaks of progress and change.

We're barely inside the city limits when two soldiers spot us. Their eyes lock onto Ryan, and I can see the recognition in their gazes. My hand instinctively goes to the scarf, making sure it's still in place, as I watch the scene unfold.

The soldiers start laughing, pointing at Ryan and exchanging words in Arabic. Ryan's face tightens, his jaw clenching as he refuses to translate their words for us. Curious and a little alarmed, I lean into Sebastian, whispering, "Did you catch any of that?"

He leans back, his voice low and careful. "If I got it right, they were saying something about the sacrificial lamb having returned."

My stomach drops at the ominous phrase, and I glance at Ryan, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression is unreadable, a mask of forced calm over what I can only assume is a storm of emotions. Whatever history he has here, it's clear it's not a happy one.