Page 12

Ziva

I lean over my workstation, eyes narrowed as I scrutinize the delicate inner workings of the NeuroMod before me.

My fingers, calloused from years of tinkering, deftly manipulate the tiny components.

A faint hum of machinery buzzes in the background, blending with the muffled voices of my colleagues, reminding me that we are always under the watchful gaze of unseen eyes.

“Careful with that one, Ziva,” Myall’s voice drifts over from his workstation. “Heard it’s been giving false readings all week.”

Glancing up, I catch his eye across the row. A warmth radiates from his gaze, a silent understanding that sends a flutter through my chest. Clamping my lips together, I force down the flush creeping up my neck. I push the feeling down, focusing back on my work.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I mutter, trying to keep my tone neutral.

As I adjust a minuscule wire, my mind wanders to last night—the hidden corridors, the thrill of discovery, the way Myall’s hand held mine in the darkness. I shake my head, forcing myself to concentrate.

Suddenly, a spark jumps between two connectors, leaping between the device I’m working on and my own on my wrist— a brilliant flash that lights up the space around me. The shock courses through my wrist and down my body, leaving a tingling sensation that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

I jerk back, a breath catching in my throat. The NeuroMod’s display flickers, then goes dark. A quick look at my own NeuroMod confirms that it, too, has stopped working—a silence falling over my workspace as the world sharpens into focus around me.

“Everything okay over there?” Myall calls, concern evident in his voice.

“Fine,” I reply quickly, perhaps too quickly.

My pulse quickens as I realize what’s happened.

The dampeners are offline. Every emotion bursts forth—the sharp pang of fear, the thrill of excitement, and the deep ache of longing that pools in my chest. Each one crashes over me like a relentless wave, threatening to drown me.

I force myself to take a deep breath, to appear calm as I examine the device. My mind races. This is it—the vulnerability I’ve been searching for. But I can’t let anyone know, not yet. Not even Myall.

“Think this ones just glitching,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Lena’s piercing gaze from her workstation is fixed on me, curious about the commotion.

Get it together, Ziva. Compose yourself before she reports you.

I grip the edges of the workstation, my palms damp with sweat.

A slight tremor of adrenaline courses through me, likely a response to the sudden influx of emotions.

Each heartbeat resonates in my ears, a steady reminder that I am alive, that I feel everything I’ve long suppressed.

It’s as if a dam has burst, flooding my senses with sensations I’ve never experienced so vividly before.

“Ziva?” Myall’s voice cuts through the chaos in my mind. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Lifting my gaze to meet his, the concern in his eyes hits me like a physical force. My heart races, desire and fear intertwining in a dizzying dance.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” I breathe.

Myall strides towards me, the warmth of his presence enveloping me, and I instinctively back away, my back pressing against the cool metal of the workstation.

The air thickens between us, charged with unspoken words and feelings, leaving me breathless.

His gaze softens, but I look away, unable to meet it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

Cautiously, I glance over at Lena and see that she is still watching me. I know I’d be stupid to discuss what just happened in front of her, as she may be listening.

I turn back to the NeuroMod, my heart racing with a mix of determination and nervous energy. “Just a glitch that requires a closer look,” I mutter, reaching for my tools and deliberately ignoring how close Myall is.

As I carefully prod the circuitry, I sense his eyes still on me. His presence is both comforting and unnerving. I want to share everything with him, but years of caution hold me back.

Myall steps closer once more, his eyes darting between me and the NeuroMod. “Let me take a look,” he offers, reaching for the device.

“I’ve got it,” I say firmly, pulling the NeuroMod closer to my chest. Myall raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push further. Risking another quick glance at Lena, she quickly averts her gaze, pretending not to be watching.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Hesitating, I choose my words carefully. I know I should tell him—about what just happened, but something holds me back. Fear? Uncertainty? The forbidden thrill of being able to feel without restraint?

“I’m not sure yet,” I say softly, not looking up from the NeuroMod, “I think I’ve found something. But I can’t discuss it here. We need somewhere safe.”

I hear him shift from one foot to the other, sensing his eagerness to know more. “I might know a place,” he murmurs. “It can’t be today though cause I’ll need to confirm it. Tomorrow, after shifts end?”

Nodding, I will my heart rate to slow. “Tomorrow.”

As Myall turns to leave my workstation, Lena approaches me with a concerned look on her pinched face.

“What happened here?” she asks suspiciously, glancing at the NeuroMod in my hands.

“Just a minor glitch,” Myall replies smoothly before I have a chance to say anything.

Lena’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t press further. She knows better than to challenge a Compliance Monitor. Still, I can feel her watching me as she moves to walk away.

“It was just a minor malfunction that surprised me,” I assure her with a forced smile. “I’m working on fixing it now.”

Lena eyes the device suspiciously but doesn’t press further. “Well, make sure you fix it quickly. We have a lot of work to do today, and you can’t afford to get in trouble again for your lack of productivity, Ziva.”

Myall and I nod in agreement as Lena walks back to her own workstation.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Myall turns to me with a worried expression. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look like you’re about to faint.”

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to calm down. I can’t let my emotions control me like this—especially not around Myall. But every time I see him, every time he speaks, a dangerous desire grows within me, pushing against the walls of my carefully constructed defenses.

“I’m fine,” I assure him with a forced smile. “Just a bit overwhelmed with work lately and Lena’s constant hovering isn’t exactly helping.”

Myall nods understandingly before turning back to his workstation. But I can sense that he’s still studying me carefully—his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary and I can feel a warmth spreading through my chest.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This is not the time or place for these confusing feelings.

With renewed determination, I turn back to the NeuroMod and start running diagnostics tests. But no matter how much I try to focus on my work, I can’t seem to shake off the strange sensations that are still coursing through my body—leaving me both exhilarated and terrified at the same time.

I pull up the schematics of my NeuroMod on the Sentinel terminal and review the data of my emotional input from the last few minutes since the malfunction.

My eyes scan over the rows and rows of data, searching for any anomalies in my emotional state, but nothing stands out.

I scroll through to read the live data on my current emotional reading.

‘Emotional output is stable,’ it declares.

Even though my NeuroMod is not functioning properly, it’s still sending signals to the Sentinel system that it is working and my emotions are within normal ranges.

A smile tugs at my lips as I read the data again. My emotions may be unchecked, but this—this is freedom. The kind I’ve been searching for.