"They are, Jean-Pierre soothed as convincingly as he could.

"You don’t know that!" Jo snapped, immediately regretting her tone. "I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to snap at you. We’re running out of time here."

"It’s all right, I know how you feel."

"Where are Victor and Edith?" Jo asked, looking around.

"Everyone is where they’re supposed to be." 

Jo smiled weakly, unable to still her racing pulse and shake away that ill feeling. She thought of the men and women with her, waiting in the dark and wondered how many of them would live to see another day. Her thoughts soon drifted to her wife; what she was doing now, what could be going through her mind. 

A pang of regret stabbed at her heart, their last goodbye was unpleasant, filled with harsh words they didn’t mean. Now, she wanted nothing more than a chance to apologize and hold her like she would never let go. Breathing deeply, she shook her from her head, needing to focus on the present situation. 

A lot hinged on the success of their operation tonight; somewhere in the compound was vital information that could greatly aid the advancing troops. And to her, it was also personal. A dear friend was in need and they had to get to her before it’s too late. She couldn’t decide what was worse, finding her dead or broken beyond recognition. 

She shuddered against the cold night air, as fear hardened like a rock in her throat. Casting her eyes upwards to the sky, she said aloud, "Come on, Dana, don’t fail us now."

**************************************

Her head pounded viciously, certain that the inside of her skull was now nothing more than a pile of mush. Each breath taken hurt, reducing them to short gasps. The strain on her shoulder burned as she dangled a few inches off the ground, hands bound to a hook on the ceiling. 

The throbbing on her left hand remained where they pulled off her fingernails with pliers, ripping away the flesh and leaving them raw and bloody. She could only wonder what her face looked like now, swollen and dried blood running a trail from her forehead down to her chin. Her sleep-deprived mind could barely focus on anything; her tormentors were always at hand to wake her up should she lose consciousness, using whatever means possible.