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The cold concrete stained with her own blood was all she could muster to look at.
Her body ached, hours of ‘interrogation’ visible on her skin. As well as evidence of her struggle to escape the bonds that held her. Rope rubbed the skin on her wrists and hands raw, although it was drowned out by the more prominent pain in her broken hand. She tried to focus on the pain to stay conscious.
In her line of work, this type of situation was to be expected, albeit extremely feared. This wasn’t the first time she had been attempted to be kidnapped, but it was the first time anyone succeeded. It all happened so fast—one moment she was leaving a conference with a local company in Berlin, the next she was running down an alley and was knocked out with a metal bat.
Despite the added strength to their bodies, they were still human. Nation or not, they could be hurt.
And fuck did she hurt right now.
The ringing in her ears subsided slightly and she could hear the murmured voices of her captors, attempting to shift her focus onto what exactly they were saying. But their speech felt like it was jumbled up and she couldn’t understand a word. She wasn’t even sure if they were speaking a language she knew. Trying to decipher what exactly was being said made her head hurt more than it already did.
She was pulled out of her train of thought when she heard footsteps approach the pole she was tied to. She kept her head down until whoever walked over had grabbed her jaw and lifted her head violently. The light from a single bulb hanging in what she thought could be a basement made her eyes burn. She instinctively closed them.
“Have you had enough yet? Are you ready to tell us what you know?” A gruff voice had cut through her confusion. She willed her lids to pry open slightly, her blurred vision subsiding as she looked him in the eye.
“Fahr zur hölle.”
That earned her a swift kick to the stomach. Tears pricked her eyes and she keeled over coughing, dark red drops sputtering from her lips.
She tried to recall her training. This wasn’t the first time this happened to a nation, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. She could hear one of the men’s heavy steps behind her.
“Do not give into whatever methods of torture your captors may employ, stay calm.”
She could hear a chain clinking.
“Your body is stronger and has more stamina. Resist.”
Footsteps approached her once more.
“Most importantly, do not give them whatever they have taken you for. Remember your country. Even if you peri—“
A white-hot pain from her hand being squeezed shoots up through her arm and shoulder, causing her head to jolt up. Suddenly a chain is held against her neck, keeping it there. Her breath struggles in her throat as her lungs desperately claw at her chest, begging for air. Her forced up perspective gives her a view of a man holding a hammer, already stained with dried splattered crimson.
She shoots him a fierce look through lidded eyes, and despite her lack of oxygen, manages to keep her face straight.
Before he or Monika can think about whatever they were gonna do with that hammer, another voice breaks the silence, which was otherwise only filled with muffled groans or strangled breathing.
“This isn’t working.”
The two men surrounding her sighed, the one behind her releasing his hold on the chain and she once again slumped over, coughing and sputtering to regain her lost breath. The one in front of her had abandoned his post as well. The corners of her vision darkened and threatened to take her, but she would not let her resolve slip. Not yet.
Someone will come. They’ll notice she’s gone.
And if they didn’t…
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
She could hear rustling to her right, where they had discarded her coat and belongings. She could hear whoever was looking through them non-verbally beckon the others to it. After a minute, another man made his presence known to her. This time, she wasn’t forced to look at him. He simply spoke flatly at her.
“You may not care about what we do to you,”
She heard a familiar metal jingle.
“But what about her?”
Her gaze shot up and her blood ran cold. In his hand was a small silver heart shaped locket. The clasp was open, revealing the small photo of an auburn-haired smiling woman.
Felicia.
The flashing look of worry and horror in her eyes betrayed her thoughts.
‘Don’t you dare fucking lay a hand on her.’
“You don’t want this as much as we don’t want this, so how about you tell us what we wanna know.”
She swiftly looked at the ground once more. Her thoughts raced and her heart rate spiked. Despite the burning in her throat and chest, her breath quickened. She bit her tongue and stayed silent as possible.
“It’s really a shame, y’know,” He looked back at the locket. “She seems like quite the beaut.”
His voice sounded like it was hiding a smile. “Didn’t know Italians were your type, although it makes sense in retrospect.” He turned to the man next to him. “We have connections in Italy, don’t we? I think we could call this favor in.”
Monika spoke before she could stop herself. “Don’t.” A desperate plea.
“Don’t what?” He crouched down to her level.
She wanted to bite her tongue until it bled for letting it slip.
“Answer me.” He gripped her hair to make her face him. Her eyes flickered to the locket. They were getting under her skin and peeling it back. Ripping her resolve at the seams.
“Don’t give in.”
“Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in.”
He sighed. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” He let go and stood back up. “But I have time. She, however, won't have much.”
“If you lay a hand on her I’ll—“
“You’ll what?”
She looked on the verge of coming undone.
“I guess you’ve made your decision.”
Her mask slipped and cracked.
“No. No no no please—please don’t hurt her. This is between us, she has nothing to do with this.” They started up the stairs, her desperate pleas falling on deaf ears. “You can do anything to me—but if you lay even a single hand on her I’ll—I’ll—“ She heard the door close and she couldn’t hold back her screams.
“Please!—No!” She was sobbing and thrashing against her confines. Attempting to bolt to the stairs only ended with the rope binding her hands stopping her and causing her to fall, hitting her jaw on the concrete. Despite the pain, she made futile attempts to crawl. Skinning her already bruised knees.
A gunshot rang through the building and she froze.
No.
They couldn’t have had her here already.
No.
They couldn’t have…
The sound of a struggle could be heard upstairs. Thuds and the shouts of commands and the heavy steps of boots making themselves known.
The door swung open with a slam against the wall, breaking the already splintered wood. Monika lifted her blurred gaze to the source of the sound.
There, standing in a bulletproof vest, was Felicia.
She quickly holistered her gun and almost tripped down the stairs in her hurry.
“Monika!”
Monika’s mind was lagging far behind her. She couldn’t tell if this was real, if the woman in front of her was actually here.
“Monika!” She knelt down and fretted her hands over her, trying not to touch the fresh wounds on her body. “Oh, mio dio—Monika I’m here! I’m here.”
Monika looked up, tired blue eyes peered into deep amber.
“Felicia…”
“Oh—Let me—“ She grabbed her army knife and started to make quick work of the ropes.
“Felicia…” She shifted to lay her head on her shoulder. “Felicia, are you okay?”
“Am I…” She gaped at her. “What kind of question is that!? I should be asking you—you’re bleeding!” Finally the ropes were cut and her hands fell limply at her sides.
“They were gonna…they were gonna hurt you…” Tears couldn’t stop falling from her.
Another figure bounded down the stairs
“Felicia! I told you not to rush in like that—oh my—“ Amelia stopped dead in her tracks. She grabbed the radio on her vest and barked an order to get a stretcher down there.
“She’s here! She’s alive, get down here stat!”
Monika’s adrenaline had finally given out and she slumped against Felicia, nearly knocking her over.
‘She’s okay…’
Monika had woken up to a blaring white light, her eyes fluttering to adjust to the brightness. She could make out the tiled ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor to her right.
The aching in her body had dulled and she turned her head to take in her surroundings.
She was in a private hospital room, the window was opened and she could see she was in one of the top floors. The table next to the window was lined with charts, paperwork, and a vase of cornflowers. Her eyes moved to fix on the figure next to her.
In a patterned armchair leaning onto the bed sat Felicia, arms crossed under her head and taking a nap. She was lightly holding her hand and it was a pleasant contrast to the rest of the sterile cold room.
She smiled, and lightly petted her thumb over Felicia’s hand. The action caused her to stir awake. She blinked and quickly got up.
“Monika! Oh, you were starting to worry me! It was taking you a while to wake up!” She began ranting. “I’m so sorry for falling asleep on you but I was so tired and I didn’t want you to wake up alone—oh no I’m talking too much—How are you feeling?”
The fast speech was hard to keep up with, but she managed.
“Tired…how are you feeling?”
“How am I—how am I feeling?” She could almost laugh at the absurdity. “You just—you looked like you went through hell and you’re asking about me?” Tears threatened to fall.
“Did I…upset you?”
The dam broke and she sobbed as she pulled Monika into a tight hug.
“Please Monika, don't scare me like that ever again!”
Monika lightly held her back to return the embrace. She was becoming an incoherent mess, mumbling praises in Italian and a mix of ‘I love you’s tumbling from her lips between sobs. Felicia began to pepper kisses on the corners of her mouth and cheeks.
“Felicia! Don’t manhandle her! She’s still injured!” Julia had walked into the room and had to practically pry Felicia away from her. “Oh, Julchen! She’s awake!”
At that moment, she could care less about the dull pain. The only thing she could bother to care about right now was Felicia’s loving embrace.