**Havana Shadows**

Prompt: R6 siege fanfiction ash after a mission in cuba starts having a case of Havana syndrome she asks doc about it

Ash sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the patterns on the worn carpet swirling beneath her feet. She stared out the window at the palm trees swaying gently in the twilight breeze of Havana. The vibrant colors of the sunset spilled into her room, an almost surreal backdrop to the turmoil brewing in her mind. The mission had gone according to plan, but now, even more than gunfire and tactics, she was overtaken by something she couldn’t quite place—a simmering sensation that made her skin prickle and her thoughts scatter. It started a few days ago, just after their operation to retrieve critical intel from a Cuban militia. At first, it was a lingering headache, the kind that could be brushed off with a few painkillers. But as the hours turned into days, the symptoms grew more insistent: a fog settling over her brain and a buzzing in her ears, as if the very air around her was charged with static electricity. Her team had returned to their safe house, basking in the aftermath of their success, but Ash felt like a ghost in the room, disconnected and floating. “Hey, Ash, you good?” Bandit asked from across the table piled with take-out containers. He was shoveling down some black beans and rice, oblivious to the tempest inside her. “Yeah, just tired,” she replied, forcing a smile. Deep down, Ash knew she wasn’t just tired. She could see the shadows creeping around the edges of her vision. Waves of nausea rolled in as she glanced at her teammates laughing and recounting stories from the field. Their camaraderie felt foreign to her, a life she used to immerse herself in fully but now felt like she was participating in from behind a glass wall. She excused herself, claiming she needed some air, and stepped out onto the balcony. The warm Cuban night enveloped her, but the air was heavy with something she couldn't define. A soft humming sang in her ears, almost melodic, like whispers from a time long gone. Ash shivered, the sensation evoking a profound sense of unease. The following morning, Ash walked into the makeshift medical bay, where Doc was reorganizing his supply kit. He looked up, and their gazes locked. “You look like hell,” he said bluntly, which was why she appreciated him; there were no sugar-coated words or pleasantries between them. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Ash admitted, taking a seat on the exam table. “I’ve got this headache that won’t quit, and it feels like my brain is swimming in molasses.” Doc raised an eyebrow—his expression shifting from casual concern to something more serious. “Have you experienced any unusual sensitivity? Sounds, lights? Sometimes it can be disorienting.” “Yes,” she answered, a wave of worry washing over her. “And not just that; there’s this constant ringing in my ears. I thought it was just fatigue, but it's been getting worse.” “Interesting,” Doc murmured, leaning closer. “You might be experiencing symptoms akin to what’s been dubbed ‘Havana Syndrome.’ A collection of signs like headaches, hearing loss, fatigue—some believe it’s caused by exposure to directed energy.” “Directed energy?” Ash repeated, incredulous. “You mean like… a weapon?” “It’s an open question,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “but there seems to be a correlation in intelligence personnel experiencing unusual symptoms during operations in areas like Cuba. Something to do with environmental factors and certain frequencies.” A frown creased her brow. “You think I could be affected by something like that? We were just trying to grab intel, not walk into a warzone with covert technology lying in wait.” “You’d be surprised,” he replied, tone serious. “I’d recommend a full examination, just to be safe. We need to track your symptoms, make sure this isn’t causing any long-term effects. In the meantime, let’s set up loud noise barriers around your work area. Too much exposure could exacerbate it.” She nearly laughed but bit it back. Since when did a tactical operator need to worry about sound waves? But there was no denying that she felt vulnerable—like a wild animal trapped by an unseen hunter. Over the next few days, Ash followed Doc’s recommendations, trading her familiar rhythm for an arrangement of noise-canceling headphones. As her team continued their debriefs and strategies, she worked in isolation, feeling a tug of anxiety constantly at her chest. She recalled past missions littered with chaos and danger, yet never had she felt so ironically confined by something intangible. During one particularly late night, when her eyelids felt like lead, Ash decided to clear her head with a walk along the beach. The moonlight bathed the shore in silver, and the rhythm of the waves created a serene contrast to her chaotic thoughts. As she wandered further down the shoreline, a distant sound, almost like a whisper, pulled her attention. She hesitated, feeling the weight of unease nestled in her bones. Was it just the ocean, or was there another presence buzzing around her? Ash stepped forward, drawn by the sound, her instincts commanding her to investigate. But as she took a few steps into the shadowed stretch of sand, she was enveloped by a disorienting dizziness. She steadied herself against a nearby palm tree, taking deep breaths—but the whispers grew louder, resonating from within her. Confused and disoriented, Ash turned back towards the hotel, where safety and familiarity awaited her. The following day, she returned to Doc, this time armed with a determination fueled by frustration. “I want to know what’s happening to me,” she demanded, her voice strong, slicing through the haze of uncertainty. Doc nodded gravely. “We’ll do a scan, and get you a full evaluation. It might take time, but we’ll figure this out together.” As she sat there, watching him work, Ash couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lingering just outside of her reach—and in the tangled dynamics of their world, she had become the unwitting bearer of a quiet yet profound threat. And, in true Ash fashion, she wouldn’t stop fighting until the secrets of her condition—and this strange Havana Syndrome—were uncovered.