A/N: Hey all. Thank you again for being so patient with me. I do appreciate all your reviews, likes, and messages. Please, keep them coming.

Here's the next chapter. Reviews make for happier days. Enjoy!

"Jane? Jane!" I heard the muffled cries. Once the ringing in my ears subsided, I blinked my eyes open. "Jane? Jane?"

I grimaced as I slowly tried to push myself off the cold floor of the shed. I let out a pained groan as I sat down. "What happened?"

"You've been knocked out for a while...are you okay?" Marta asked as she examined my face, clearly concerned about me.

I blinked a few times, trying to get my vision to normalize. "I think so."

She furrowed her brow at me as she looked me over. I did the same to her. Her face was pretty mangled. It was amazing to me that she was even able to speak.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

She stopped fussing over me. "More of the same."

I looked at her. "Are you sure?"

She sobbed. "It was bad this time, Jane...I don't know if I can take much more."

"What happened?' I asked again.

She stifled her cries. "They beat me for a while, then pulled a tooth out..."

I could tell which side from the puffiness of her jaw. I recalled the amount of blood she was spitting out at the table earlier and kicked myself that I didn't put two and two together. But how would I have even thought that they'd do this?

She sighed. "What happened to you? What'd they do to you?"

I shook my head. "I don't know...they asked questions again, then Lange... I guess knocked me out."

Marta glared at me. "That's it?"

I was taken aback by her shift in attitude. "What do you mean, 'that's it'?"

"He hit you once and you're knocked out?" Marta asked, seemingly angry that I wasn't hit more than that. Her face fell and her voice softened. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." she sighed. "I'm just tired of this...of answering his questions and getting tortured. I don't know how much longer I can take this."

I nodded slowly. "I understand, Marta. But we can't turn on each other. That's what he wants. He's close to breaking...and we can outlast him. I know we can. It's just going to take some time."

"Maybe for you," she stated. "You're being honest with him. You might be able to get out of here alive."

I swallowed. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?" she inquired. "You've got nothing he wants."

"Except the location of where he is, who he is, and what he's looking for," I pointed out. "He can't let me live with that sort of information."

She thought about what I was saying. "Maybe you're right."

We sat there in the cold, no longer speaking about it. I couldn't shake her attitude from earlier. I could understand being frustrated with the situation, but I'd never take it out on her, no matter how mad I was. Something didn't sit well within me about her anger. I worried that she might take Sauer up on his offer, tell him whatever she could to get him to free her, and I worried that the blame might shift towards me. I wanted to think that I was wrong, that she'd never do that to me, but I didn't know her - not really. I tried to chalk up the feelings I was having towards her as the strain of being prisoners, being tortured, and feeling that breaking point draw closer, but I wasn't sure what to believe anymore. I'd never felt more confused that I did at this moment.

The next morning, Marta and I sat on opposite sides of the shed. We hadn't spoke since the night before. No one had come for us in the morning as they had before. I was drawing closer to the edge of paranoia. There had to be a reason that Sauer wasn't grabbing one of us for more questions.

Marta broke the silence. "I want to apologize to you."

I looked over at her. Her bruises were less swollen as they had been, but the color was still pretty severe. The swelling in her jaw was noticeably less too. I waited for her to continue.

"I shouldn't have treated you that way. I'm so so sorry," she cried. I saw the tears fall down her bruised cheeks. "I just don't know what else to do...I'm scared."

I nodded in agreement. I was scared too, but I had reached the point of feeling like I wasn't going to survive this war.

The thing is, you're already dead. Once you learn that, then you can act like a soldier should.

The words echoed in my head. One of the men in Easy Company had repeated them to his friends when he regaled them with the story of his conversation with Speirs. For whatever reason, the words were resonating with me. I was connecting with them on a whole new level. Maybe I had reached my breaking point in believing that I was already dead. The men had to already believe that about me...I couldn't blame them if that was the case. I had been missing for so long, it was only natural for them to think that I was.

Then my mind wandered to Roe. If he believed me to be dead, I wondered what that would do to him. Would he move on or would he still be thinking of me?

"You're thinking awfully hard about something, Jane...and something tells me that it isn't about forgiving me," Marta pointed out.

It broke me from my thoughts. "Sorry." I looked up at her. "Of course, I forgive you, Marta. Everyone has a different breaking point. We all handle our stress and fears differently. I get it. Just know that I would never do anything that would hurt you," I stated.

She smiled a crooked smile, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you. And I you."

I forced a smile on my face, trying to be reassuring. I asked, "Did you have any ideas on what we can do moving forward?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure there's much else to do, but ride the wave."

I nodded at her words. We both realized that there was nothing more to be done except pray that we'd survive somehow.

She cleared her throat. "What are you thinking about?"

I blinked at her. "Honestly, I'm wondering if those that I know...knew...are thinking about me. I'm wondering if my parents think I'm dead. I'm wondering what will happen if everyone thinks I'm dead and suddenly I come waltzing back into their lives."

She nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. I wonder the same thing, even though I haven't been gone as long as you have been." I furrowed my brow at her comment. She added, "Just guessing since you've been here longer than me, and with the state of your fingers when I found you, you had to have been here for a while."

I smirked, realizing how silly I was being. Sauer wanted us to turn on each other. I couldn't fall prey to his games. "Yeah...I don't know how long I've been gone. I've lost track of the days."

Before Marta could keep her conversation going, the door open and we were once again, engulfed in the freezing air. It felt like it was getting colder outside. The soldiers pointed to me and motioned for me to come out. Reluctantly, I did as ordered.

They pushed me along the path towards the house. Small flakes of fresh white snow began to fall from the sky. I shivered at the breeze that blew through the town. A big storm was coming and it wouldn't bode well for us inside that small shed.

As I crossed the threshold into the house, I walked from habit towards the dining room. I was stopped by the guards and redirected back to the office where Utzig used to be. Confused, I entered and looked around.

The entire room felt different. When Utzig was in charge, the room was well guarded by men, papers and photos littered the desk, and the fire was always roaring behind him. Now, it was cold and clean, not a piece of paper to be found. I suddenly began to wonder what had become of Utzig.

Sauer entered the room and motioned to the chair that sat before the desk. I was nudged forward and followed the order to sit, even though I didn't want to. Sauer sat on the edge of the desk before me. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "So...what have you learned?"

"That a storm is coming?" I retorted. I didn't know what he wanted me to say to such a random question.

He smirked briefly. "I was asking for an update with our friend, Marta, Jane. Did you happen to learn anything new from her?"

I furrowed my brow at him. "No."

"She hasn't said anything? Have you even bothered to ask her?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "Look, I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not in the habit of being a rat."

He let loose a hearty laugh. It was kind of terrifying to see him show that much enjoyment from something I said. He stifled his laughter and looked me dead in the eyes. "Do you think that she would do the same for you, should I ask her the same question? Do you think she'd turn on you to save her own skin if given the opportunity?"

I shrugged. "She might, she might not. I really don't know. It's not like we're friends."

He seemed unfazed by my comment. "I guess we will just have to see what she does when I ask her." He stood up and walked around the desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to me, but I shook my head. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Jane. If you were to get some answers from Marta for me, I'd make sure that you survive this place."

I shook my head. "I don't believe you."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm giving you my word."

I scoffed. "Your word is about as useful as bull in a china shop."

He chuckled at my terrible attempt at a metaphor. He asked, "What can I do to get you to trust me?"

I didn't hesitate. "Nothing."

"I've been good to you lately, Jane. I haven't had Lange beat you, I've kept you out of harm's way-" he stopped to take a drag off his cigarette. "I've even given you food and drink. Maybe I should move you back into the house before the storm hits so that you're nice and warm. Would that help?"

I shook my head. Inside, I knew what that would mean in Marta's mind, or at the very least, what I would think if it happened to Marta in my place. I would think that she had accepted the offer and was going to pin whatever nonsense he wanted to hear on my shoulders just to save herself. I wouldn't give him the luxury of taking advantage of me.

He sighed. "I guess I can't blame you for being leery of me, Jane. I'd probably do the same to you if I were in your shoes." He motioned for Lange to leave the office, leaving just the two of us in the room. I immediately tensed up, unsure of his next move. "To be honest with you, Jane. I don't want to be here. I was ordered to be here. I don't enjoy doing this to people. I have a reputation, one that I must live up to..."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was spinning a lie...or was he? His face seemed genuine. I was beginning to become confused, unsure what to believe. A part of me - a rather large part of me - was hearing his words and knowing that it was a lie, an elaborate act that he was putting on for me to lower my guard so that he could take whatever he wanted from me. But the other smaller part of me wanted to believe his sincerity that he was showing me on his face and tone of his voice. There was a whole new war brewing inside my head and I wasn't sure what to do anymore.

He must have seen it on my face because he stood up and said, "Just think about it, Jane. I'd hate for us to have to escalate this further if we can just help each other out. I really don't want to hurt you anymore."

He motioned for me to walk with him towards the door, and once there, the guards took me back to the shed, where the air was colder and the snow was falling harder and in bigger clumps than it had been when I first entered the house.

Back inside the shed, I sat down, huddling against my knees for warmth. Marta asked, "What was that all about?"

I could see her looking me over for new cuts or bruises, but there were none to be found. I swallowed as I said, "He wanted to talk."

"What did you tell him?" she asked, clearly concerned.

"Nothing. I have nothing to say to him," I replied.

She tilted her head at me, almost as if she didn't believe me. "Then why do you look conflicted?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure what to believe anymore. He's telling me one thing, turning around and saying something different, and I can't tell what's the truth."

She nodded. "Be careful, Jane. This is a common trick used to get information from prisoners. They will bait you and friend you, make you feel safe. The moment you do is when they get everything from you. He's the enemy, remember that!"

Maybe she was right. My mind was scattered. I was beginning to fear that Marta was my enemy and that perhaps, Sauer was not, even though I knew that wasn't true. I couldn't find myself in the waves of confusion. I could feel myself slowly going mad.