Hi there!

Another one shot based on 6x17... I had to! It was incredible, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry. That letter! Stana was phenomenal, and it's arguably the best episode of the series.

Anyway, this is during the water torture scene. Just my take on what she was thinking.

Thank you to all who read my last one shot. Your response was amazing! Also, like I said, not all of these will be sad and angst. I just had to write this; too good to pass up.

Enjoy!

She's so cold. Her bones are aching and her throat is burning as she's forced face first into the water. Her hands are bound behind her back making it impossible for her to even have a millimeter of control over the situation; she's trapped. Her knees are cut up from kneeling, and she knows she's going to feel ten times worse tomorrow; if she makes it. It's that sliver of doubt, that unknown, that possibility that is making it ten times harder to have faith in the situation. She wants more than anything to make it, but she's a realist; knows her odds. She's just being practical. It's the first time in her entire life that she wishes she was not.

She's struggling and squirming and fighting with everything she has, but as she's pushed into the icy water yet again, she can feel her reflexes failing her. The icy mixture is slowing everything down. Soon, she won't be able to fight. But she continues to at this moment, because she wants to live; has so much left to look forward to. She has him and their wedding and their lives together. She's not yet ready to give that up.

Oh how she wishes that her only worry for today was choosing fonts and center pieces and cakes. Wishes that they at least had a venue. It's now that she's realizing she had taken it for granted, had brushed it off knowing that it would eventually get done. She thought she had all the time in the world to sit down and plan it all out when and how she wanted to. Now, she wasn't so sure. Now, she didn't know if she would even see tomorrow. Now, all she wanted was to pick a font.

She's still underwater, gnashing and jerking when she knows she needs to breathe. The overwhelming desire for fresh oxygen is all she can think about. Just as she's about to take a breath, she's pulled out by her hair, her head thrust backwards as she gasps for breath. She can't help the weak, little cries that escape her lips as she's trying to catch her breath, needing all the oxygen in the world before she's forced back into the tub.

But when she's met with the face of the man she's confronted before, asking her to tell him what she knows, him having the audacity to speak her mother's name, a jolt of electricity surges through her. She jumps at him, wanting more than anything to put a bullet through his skull. But she's pulled back by her hair again, and pushed back, deep into the water that threatens to end her.

The next few moments are a living hell. Her head is violently slapped into the water over and over, her hair choking her and blocking her vision. The turtleneck tightly gripping her neck puts added pressure on her airway. She can't distinguish between air and water as she chokes, hoping for a clean breath. Her scalp is raw as the man continues to pull at her hair, in and out; she can feel it being torn out as some hangs, dripping wet in front of her eyes.

It's upon the last time that she's dunked so violently that she has no more strength to fight. She's been struck in the temple somewhere between point A and B, and everything hurts. The pain is radiating throughout, making her nauseous. She's so cold. Her body slumps in the water, eyes open, breath still barely held, as the water sits motionless around her face. She's starting to accept defeat, knows that she can't withstand this torture any longer. She's fought as hard as she can, and she realizes she can't win every fight. Just as she's about to give up, just as she's about to breathe just under the surface of the water, she can feel the hand of her captor pull her hair once more. She can barely keep her eyes open, exhaustion setting in, her breaths shallow and helpless.

And there he is, in her face, demanding answers. He's blurry, his words muffled by the chill of her torture. It's then that she realizes just how weak she is at this point; she's alone, and cold, and done. She has no ability to focus, has no strength left to fight as her eyes roll back in her head in defeat.

She swears she hears a chuckle as she's thrown to the ground, her head hitting the concrete hard. It sends a sharp pain through her skull and down her spine, but she can't feel it; everything is numb. She continues to move, though. Hands still tied behind her back, she curls into a ball, small wheezes pumping through her, her lungs begging for air.

She can hear them speaking, but cannot decipher what it is. Everything is foggy, and she's still so cold. As they scoop her up again, she realizes that the fight is not over. They still have games to play. But she no longer wants to play; has no desire to participate for one more second. She doesn't know how much longer she can do this. Doesn't see how her body can take much more. But she will, for him. She has to get back to him. She loves him with all her heart and she wants to walk down the aisle and say I do. She has so much still to live for.

So she takes another shaky breath and waits for round two. She's in the belly of the beast, and she's trying with everything she has to crawl out, trying to make it back to him. She will; she has to. She just has to.

Please review!

xoxo