Fallout || Stranger Things [2]

thirty || prisoners and presidents

The air in the private meeting room tucked deep in the Pentagon's belly hung stagnant as only Tatum lingered in place with Owens flanked at her side.

"One more thing?" Tate repeated the Secretary of Defense with a raised brow. She sent a cursory glance towards Owens.

Owens nodded gently but no words came.

The Secretary unclipped a walkie talkie from the waist of his suit and held down the talk button, a soft static clinging to Tate's ears. "If he's ready."

Gray eyes panned the flourescently lit room as an unsteady fog hung overhead. Both Owens and Rictor stood dead still while Tate's fingers fiddled together silently.

A steady three tap knock echoed from the back of the room but when Mr. Rictor began walking, he headed straight for the wall.

A worn hand donning an old family ring pressed flat against a wood panel. With a soft push, the panel popped open.

A tall, gray suited man stepped through the new entryway, a red power tie secured high on his throat. On his lapel, a single pin.

"No," Tate murmured, the single sylable nearly catching on her tongue as her eyes widened. The pin grew closer as strong strides headed for Tate, burning back in her face as her mouth hung open.

"Tatum Rivers," the voice boomed. A pair of designer loafers stopped just in front of her as a hand extended. "It's an honor to meet you."

The teen's mouth struggled to form words, only soft noise exuding from her as she put a shaky hand out. "Mr. President," she managed to choke out as he shook her hand with a firm grip. "I...Me? It's an honor to meet me?"

President Reagan flashed a bright smile. "Are you kidding? The girl who foiled the Soviets twice and kept us from supernatural invasion? The honor is all mine."

Dr. Owens set a light hand on Tate's shoulder, ignoring her soft recoil of surprise. "I'll give you two a moment."

"Thank you for all your work, Doctor," Reagan said as he gave Owens a tight handshake. He glanced over his shoulder to Rictor lingering near the hidden doorway and nodded once. His gaze returned to study Tatum as the men left the room. "Please," he finally said as he pulled out a cushioned desk chair and lowered himself down. He crossed one leg over the other, a criss-cross pair of red socks poking out at his ankles. "You'll have to forgive the secrecy, although I'm sure you understand it. I'm not even supposed to be here but I couldn't give up the chance to meet you in person."

Tate slowly pulled her same chair out and sat at the end of the table. She held her limbs close, an unforgiving nervous chill keeping her bones locked up.

"I'm afraid you can't tell anyone," he told her, motioning one pointed finger between the two of them.

"About you?" Tate asked with a quirked brow.

"Even the others," Raegan agreed as he leaned an elbow on the table.

She paused. "You're not going to meet them?"

The President gently shook his head. "I don't mean to sound rude but they can't tell me what you can."

A catch, she thought. Of course. "And what are you hoping I'll tell you, Mr. President?" she asked, letting her back soften into the chair.

"Things that won't be in the mission files currently on the way here from Japan." Reagan held gazes with Tate, such depth to them she wondered what all he'd seen. "Things I won't write down or repeat to anyone. For my ears only."