Authors note: Yes, I did it again, starting another story while I already have three others running but you know, this just sort off came to me while watching Salt (Angelina Jolie is absolutely amazing). But seeing that I'm almost done with school, and just have one week to go, I'll have more time to write.

Alright, so I'll stop talking now.

Hope you enjoy ;)

Trigger warning: Violence, blood and finally, character death (nothing major)!

...

She was disoriented to say the least, her head slumping against her shoulders, her body slick from the sweat as sand blew up and plastered itself on her skin, like a light blanket of filth. The bare heels of her feet scraped against the sharp little stones that were scattered around the cement floor. Probably laid there on purpose, to add some extra pain. Her body was aching, and it felt like she was in some kind of shock. The messy braid she had put her golden locks in this morning was now completely loose and strands of matted hair stuck to the skin of her forehead and neck.

The slight draft of cool air that flew in from the cracks in the with wooden planks covered window had her shivering slighty. After all, the black jeans and white tank top she had been wearing were now gone, leaving the blonde dressed in only her white boxer shorts and a sweaty, slightly bloodied sports bra.

Apparently she was too heavy to carry for long because her left side suddely connected harshly with the floor, those damn little stones cutting in the skin of her shoulder, nearly drawing blood. The two men who had been dragging her stopped walking, instead dropping her down completely and started shouting at each other in a language Emma couldn't and probably wouldn't want to understand.

Maybe it's better not to know in a situation like this. Even though her training had taught her the exact opposite of such thoughts.

But this was actually happening, and that was something completely different than listening to some old, almost retiring agent talking about it in a dusty room that reminded her of the classrooms in her old high school.

If Emma had the strength for it, she would hit herself on the head right now. How could they have been so stupid? They should've turned around and ran the moment she saw the suspicious glances yesterday, they should've blown the whole operation off and be on a plane back to Los Angeles right now. Safe, and not either dead or imprisoned.

And so now she was being dragged to a cage in her underwear, fighting to stay consious and catch glimpses of her surroundings, maybe even ways to escape. Even though she knew there would be none.

Because really. She was on her own, surrounded by heavily armed and trained soldiers. And Graham, the one who had come with her on this operation, he was... god, he was-

She couldn't even think the words let alone say them. Because even thinking about what she was going to think brought back the nausea and utter sadness she had been feeling.

She had watched Graham being shot through the head. It was like it had happened in slow motion. As if she had actually seen the bullet pierce the soft skin of his forehead and then the hard bone of his skul. The rain of blood and brains caused her to gag yet again and that finally caught the attention of the two guards above her as they stopped talking and instead stared down at her.

Emma squinted against the blinding tl-light that was attached to the ceiling as she tried to catch some of their features. But it was no use.

She felt calloused hands grab both of her aching wrists and her upperbody was harshly lifted off the floor again, though the sharp stones were still imprinted in her skin. Emma even thought she heard some fall as they freed themselves from her bruised skin.

"Almost there." One of the guards said with a heavy accent as he gave another hard pull at her shoulder and Emma swore she heard the bone crack as the ball was pulled from it's socket.

...

"You spy, I know you are!" The North Korean soldier yelled as he raised the large gun in his hands, fingers shaking as he inched closer to the trigger.

Emma looked around, they were on one of the large ships that was currently being used to transport large amounts of heroin and methamphetamine. But more importantly, there was no way to escape. And they were onto them, their operation has been pierced through.

"We're not, I promise you that!" Graham yelled as he raised his hands slightly, looking at the man dressed in a suit that was standing a couple of feet away. "We're really not."

Emma took a small step forwards until she stood next to her friend. "He's right, we just wanna help you out, offer you some more business opportunities, you know?" It was worth a shot because really, Emma did not want to die on the filthy floor of a ship only to then be dumped in the sea. Her parents at least deserved to have her body back.

"You want to help me out with business opportunity?" The man said as he signaled one hand towards the shaking soldier to lower his gun. "How?"

Graham slowly lowered his hands, careful not to tick off the soldier in front of him as his eyes remained locked with the man. "We have connections, connections back in the United States, in Canada, you name it. We can expand this... company of yours on a more global level instead of only going up and down between here and Australia."

"Global?" The accent in the man's voice was heavy. "I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might." Graham smiled and placed his hands on his hips, slowly inching his right hand towards the back if his cargo pants.

Emma held her breath as she noticed the small movements of Graham's hand. This could so easily go fucking wrong and they would be fish food, then the CIA would have to come and collect their bodies, if they would even be able to find them.

God dammit they were in way over their heads. And it would probably be fatal for the both of them.

"And how would you suggest we go about this... opportunity?" The man asked again, folding his hands in front of his chest and looking at them with suspicious eyes and pursed lips as he tapped his shoe against the metal floor, the sound echoing throughout the eerie silence.

"Let me have my phone back." Graham started, removing his left hand from his hip and holding it out, while his right remaind inching to his back pocket. The back pocket where both he and Emma knew was a small gun hidden away. "I can make a phone call right now, call my buddies back in the States and we can arrange it all, the price, payments, route, everything."

The moment the word 'phone' left Graham's mouth, something seemed to click and the man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he squeezed the mobile device in his left hand. "Phone?" He held it up. "You mean this phone?"

"Yes." Graham breathed and held out his hand even further. "Just let me make a call, you'll have your deal, win win for everyone, right?"

"Win, win?"

Emma caught it from the corner of her eyes, a small hand signal, just a little twitch of the man's right pinky and it was enough.

A gunshot went off.

It was loud and deafening, but the scream that followed was way, way worse. And Emma was sure it would be branded in her brain forever.

Graham slumped to the floor, his right hand falling away from his back pocket as he clutched his left knee with both his hands, blood oozing through his fingers.

"You think I'm stupid?!" The man yelled, spit flying everywhere as the vein in his neck bulged. He let the phone drop from his hand, the device falling on the metal floor with a thump and then crushed it with the heel of his expensive shoe, a brand Emma probably wouldn't be able to even so much as pronounce. He turned to the soldier who had just pierced Graham's kneecap and screamed. "He die, take her, maybe we can use her!"

Emma could only stare in horror as the soldier nodded, shakily placed the barrel of the gun against Graham's forehead and pulled the trigger.

The blood and brain matter pooled on the metal floor and Emma didn't even know she was screaming. The body that used to be Graham slumped to the ground, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, cold and lifeless and so, so different.

The heavy, solid object that suddenly connected with the back of Emma's head actually didn't hurt as much as her heart.

...

The guards didn't say anything as they dropped Emma's body down on the hard floor and left her there, locking the cage behind them when they left.

There was a loud silence and the only sound Emma heard was her own laboured breathing as she pushed her slightly off the floor, only to drop back with a pained whimper when the pain shot up from her toes, to her brain and down to her toes again.

"Are you alright?"

The voice coming somewhere from her right scared the living shit out off Emma and the blonde flinched as she willed her body to turn around so she could look at the darkness next to her. The darkness the voice had come from.

"Wha-" Emma coughed as sand made it's way in her airway. "Who's there?" Her voice was soft and groggy and it sounded foreign to Emma herself.

"Are you alright?" The feminine voice repeated and it sounded beautifully low and warm in Emma's ears.

"Yeah," another cough. "I think I'm fine? You?" That couldn't have sounded more lame in Emma's ears seeing that they were both locked up in some cabin in the middle of nowhere.

"Yes." The voice said again and Emma heard bare skin scraping against hard cement, signaling the mysterious woman was moving. "I'm fine."

"Good." Emma said breathlessly and found it within herself to push her body up and resting her back against the metal bars. "What's your name?"

A soft sigh was heard and the voice answered again. "What's yours?"

Emma let out a wheezy chuckle as the response. "I'm Emma."

"Regina."

And somehow in Emma's mind, it fit. That voice and that name. It was just... right.

"For how long have you been in here, Regina?"

"I don't recall." Regina said softly and moved closer to the bars again. "Maybe six months, maybe a year. Time has been lost on me for quite a while now."

A year? Emma thought in surprise. This woman, Regina, has been locked up here for a year?

Emma wanted to ask why, but something in her told her not to. Not now, at least.

"Can you come closer?"

And this time there was no answer, only a soft sigh as the sound of skin scraping against cement filled the air again. The first sign Emma caught of the woman was a tanned and slender hand that wrapped itself around the rusty bar. And then the woman's hauntingly beautiful face came into view. Her cheeks were slightly sunken, her deep brown eyes were somewhat dull and her dark hair was hanging loose around her face.

But she was absolutely beautiful to Emma.

"Emma." The blonde said again and stuck out a shaking hand. One the brunette took with an unsure smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Regina."

...

Seeing that I still have a debate to do for school and I already have three stories running, I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I'll do it as soon as I can, promise! And if you want, please leave review, I love the feedback. ;)