WARNING: This contains spoilers for episodes 6.01 and 6.02.

This is for anyone who is feeling the same as me after the first two episodes of series six (yes, I was a bad girl and watched the later BB3 episode!). He's my favourite character – he'd so better be alive! –Sobs-

I probably won't continue this. It's just something to revitalise my muse and keep my mind of Spooks for a while. This nothing to do with 6.03 onwards (to my knowledge).

Try listening to 'Our Farewell' by Within Temptation while you read this. It helped me write it!

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NOTHING BUT SILENCE

By Sergeant Scarlett

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Jo shifts in her sleep. Insomnia. Again. It is forever haunting her now. She sleeps with the phone next to her. With the window on the catch. With the curtain pulled back to let in that slip of silver moonlight, even though it is blurred from a think layer of misty cloud. These things comfort her, but they do not take away the tears that stain her pillow.

She listens to the eerie sounds which keep the night, but there is nothing but silence now. Nothing but bittersweet, intoxicating, painful silence. It hurts, more than she thought it would. Much more.

The world is tumbling down. Brick by brick, stone by stone it hits her where it hurts most – the chest, slightly to the left, below the breastbone. She inhales a sharp breath. It doesn't help.

Jo flips open her phone. She scrolls down to his last text. She is always reading this.

Dinner tonight? I was thinking Indian, some good red wine, early to bed…

My place or yours?

Z x

The screen is fogging up. She can't see his last words anymore. She furiously wipes her eyes to read it again. And again. And again.

He is lost. He is not coming back.

Not now. Not ever.

And yet, she finds herself wishing for it to all be a lie. For him to waltz casually through her door, sweep her into his arms, kiss her with all the life in him and say, with the infamous twinkle in his eye:

"What's for dinner?"

With a strangled cry Jo throws her phone to the wall, where it smashes apart. As it lies in tattered pieces on the floor, she collapses, hugging her knees to her chest, sobbing heavily.

He is out there somewhere. He could be being tortured right this very moment. Blood gushing from fresh wounds, his arms bound behind his back, on the brink of death… It couldn't bear thinking about. Jo imagines him lying face down in a pool of his own crimson blood, breathing heavily, his attacker stepping closer. He grabs the back of Zaf's head and hauls him against a wall.

Zaf screams. His voice rings in Jo's head like a siren. Jo screams. She places her hands over her ears in attempt to block out his cries. He is in her head. He is in her very core.

While on the Grid she had tried to behave as normal. As soon as Adam had come in announcing that Mehan and Zaf had been taken, Jo wanted to run. To find him. But no. She had to work. She had to work to find him. To bring him home safely. To hear his voice again.

The hostage tapes. Two of them. They tugged hard at her heartstrings; Jo felt them nearly snap.

He looked vulnerable. Scared. He'd sacrificed himself for Adam.

"Go Adam," he said through choked back tears. His voice broke. "Go!"

Adam had retold the events very reluctantly. Jo stopped herself from crying then.

"He lives, or I come for you. We all come for you."

There is nothing but silence now.

She longs to feel the warmth of his embrace.

Uncontrollable sobs escape her, her eyes blackened from smudged mascara.

After what seems like an eternity, the door flies open.

Adam Carter pulls her to her feet and drags her out of the door. She only catches one thing.

"We found him."

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Three-thirty. AM. Harry, Adam, Ros, Malcolm, Connie and Jo gather on the Grid. Malcolm is cleaning some video footage. Harry says Zaf's broken voice can be heard on it.

They wait in hopeful silence. The tapping of Malcolm's keyboard is almost unbearable. Jo doesn't look at the screen just yet. She finds she can't bring herself to.

The team are impatient. Adam is the first to voice this.

"How much longer is this going to take, Malcolm?" he snaps uncharacteristically.

Malcolm sighs. "As long as it's going to take," he retorts.

Moments later, he announces it's ready. The team hold their breath in painful anticipation. They gather around the computer.

Malcolm hits play.

The video displays some underground facility. It is lit by a dim light bulb.

"Get away from me!"

Jo feels her chest tighten as his voice is heard.

He is on the screen. Bound to a hard-backed chair; his shirt ripped off; a long bloody gnash across one eye. Pale; scared; broken.

"They'll come for me. Mark my words. And when they do, you'll wish you were burning in hell."

A masked man moves into view as another man delivers a harsh hit to Zaf's cheek.

"We want unlimited access to all of the United Kingdom's security services data. Twenty-four hours, or he dies. His head will be sent back to you via First Class Mail. Twenty-four hours."

The screen goes blank.

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Reviews are much appreciated :)