Time passes more slowly since Jaz had been taken. After collecting all the information they could from the room she had been taken from (there is little there that they can find placing the assailants there, not even a hair from a head other than Jaz's), Dalton and McGuire had met back up with the rest of the time in their designated base for the mission. Almost immediately, there is a helicopter sent to pick up their initial target. The American was thankful, telling them, "I can't repay you enough for this!" Usually, Dalton would shrug it off and tell them that they didn't owe them anything - serving the people was what they had signed up for.
This time, though, everything is different. Anger courses through his veins and he has to bite back his tongue from muttering an agreement with the man. If Jaz is lost for good, there is no repayment, not with money nor praise, that can make up for it. Rationally, he knows the man means no harm: he doesn't even seem to fully grasp that one of their team members is missing, far too overjoyed at rescue and the thought of the reunion he has in store with his family. He couldn't blame him for being a little careless with his words, but he couldn't hide the slight sense of resentment as he let the man leave without even a nod goodbye.
Until Campbell contacts them, they have nothing to do but wait. The hours pass painstakingly - what feels like six hours is actually only one, and Dalton wants to jump out of his own skin and be anywhere but there in the cramped room. McG and Preach play cards in the corner, an attempt to add some normality to a situation that is enough to drive them all mad. While they maintain a weak conversation full of half-hearted quips at each other and sad shared glances, Amir sits in silence by himself in the corner with a book in his lap. For once, Adam finds himself gravitating more to the newest team member than his old friends. He pushes himself from the fold-up chair he has sat on and slowly makes his way over, eyeing the book in Amir's hand - the title isn't English and he can't make out what it says - before taking a seat next to the man on the couch.
"I hate doing nothing."
Dalton seems to shock Amir by speaking, causing him to lose his hold of the page he was on. The new member purses his lips before placing the book closed on his lap and turning to Dalton.
"We all do, but there's nothing to we can do help until we get some information." Amir seems rational and composed, the complete opposite of how Dalton feels at the moment.
"I know," Dalton sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's just - it'd be awful if it was anybody, but there's something harder about it being her."
"She's your best friend, of course it is."
Dalton is almost shocked by his response: was that how the team saw them? There was no denying he and Jaz were close in terms of friends and partners, but they never treaded around the concept of 'best friends'. It wasn't long ago that she had another best friend who broke her heart by walking right into the line of gunfire.
Before Dalton gets a chance to reply, the laptop that sits on the table between McGuire and Preach sounds the familiar beep of a video call. Within a second, Dalton is off his seat and scrambling over to the seat next to McGuire, his finger stabbing at the button until Campbell's face pops up on the screen. Strangely, there is a black box in the bottom left corner of the screen, blocking out a portion of the DC control room behind the director.
"Dalton?" Her voice is loud and welcome over the speakers. She must have information if she is calling. "Make sure the team is all there. We're receiving a stream from the Moscow area: Noah's picked up a general location but the signal is bouncing off a few different towers."
A stream - a video from the kidnappers? From Jaz?
While this pricks Dalton's ear and he knows that even the location is useful to them, a sinking feeling begins to enter his gut. Once again, the worst possibilities flood his mind.
Campbell barely gets out another word before the blank, black box in the bottom portion of the screen morphs so that it takes up the entire surface of the laptop, clearly the work of their team in DC as the live stream begins.
As soon as a color image makes its way the screen and the bloody but familiar face of Jaz appears in the center of focus, Dalton feels rage.
He feels fire in his heart and rage in his soul like he never has before. It's not like he hasn't witnessed terrible things that pull at his heart; he's seen women, children, friends die for no good reason other than the fact that there are some terrible people in the world. He's seen men he trained with for months torn up on the battle field and walk off pieces of the former self - sometimes, that seems even worse than death, especially for a soldier that once felt like they could hold the world in one hand.
Seeing her chained to a chair felt like hands tightening around his throat: he had to remind himself to breathe, to not let his emotions get the the best of him.
"Fuck." It was a whispered swear falling from McGuire's lips, and if Dalton could find it within himself to speak, he would agree.
She is clearly alive, but she is in worse shape than he imagined she would be in. Though the brightness of the camera against the backdrop of the room seems to make the wounds look even worse than they might actually be, he can tell by the grimace on her face that she is in pain. There is blood on her skull and a few obvious cuts and bruises on her face, but especially jarring to Dalton is the focused views of her leg: ankles chained, pants removed, what looks like fresh, sweltering burns snaking their way up the tan skin if her thighs. He is enraged by her pain, her torture, her exposure.
Truthfully, he doesn't focus on the words booming from the speakers. The Russian accent doesn't make sense to his shocked-brain, and it's not until he hears the rough, but familiar, voice of Jaz that his ears finally tune in.
"Don't listen to them!"
Her voice is strained and it feels like it physically cuts through his heart.
"They'll kill me anyways! Don't risk it, don't think about giving them the -"
The camera must fall against the floor, but somehow, it remains angled towards Jaz on the chair, giving the team a perfect view of the man seeming to smash the life out of their partner. With the first punch, Jaz's head swings dramatically to the side: it's the type of thing you would see in a movie, except Dalton is aware that there is nothing fake about the way his fists pound against her face or the red blood that gushes from the worsening lesions. She has no defense, no chance to even lift her hands to cover her face and no chance to run away, and for the next sixty seconds or so, Jaz is merely a punching bag strapped to a chair for easy practice. It doesn't take long for her to appear to lose consciousness and, in this case, that's a good thing - Dalton can't imagine the pain that she must have been feeling, the pain she will fill when she wakes up.
When Jaz passes out, he has a slight hope that the abuse will stop. It seems that way for a second - after a minute or so, the man draws back and shuffles off screen. The team can't bare to look at each other, unsure if that was the end of the torture they would witness or if there was more to come. Unfortunately, their question is answered moments later when he reappears with a red-hot piece of iron in his hand, dangling it close to the existing burns on the top of her legs.
It is at the moment when the tip of the iron scorches the first bit of skin that Dalton finds himself escaping the confines of the room. He can't watch anymore, physically unable to plant himself in one spot and bare witness to the cruel treatment of Jaz.
Part of what attracted him to her the most was that Jaz was somewhat of a walking contradiction. Small but strong, wise but willing to push the limit of logic. She remained cautious enough to ensure the safety of the team, but was reckless in the moments that needed action fast. She was hardly ever serious but offered the best advice, even if it was done in a roundabout way. Unfortunately, Dalton feared her contradictions could only get her so far: the combination of beauty and strength, intelligence and cunningness, ambition and recklessness - it was a recipe for trouble and she seemed to be inviting it.
Why did she have to warn them? She should have known they would know better than to go waltzing in without a solid plan. He knew she said it for their sake, but he couldn't help but be angry at her behavior, far too willing to risk herself in an effort to help. Still, if she was in front of him now, he knew he wouldn't be able to yell at her: all he wanted to do was grab her and never let go, to protect her from anything like this ever occurring again.
He isn't sure how long her torture goes on and, when he returns to the room after a long series of pacing and planning, the camera is back on the frowning faces of Campbell and Hannah. Jaz is erased from the screen, but the image of her bloodied, head lolled to the side and closed eyes, is scarred upon his brain. He doesn't ask any details about what happened after he walked out - in this case, he knows the truth can be even worse than the images that his mind forms.
Without a word to his team, Dalton sits at the table and turns the laptop so it is facing him head on. There is a tension in the air - while it is clear they've all been shocked and hurt and angered at what they've witnessed, he senses the worry aimed in his direction. He recalls Amir's words - 'She's your best friend.' The others don't have to say it to him for Dalton to realize they are all thinking the same thing.
Still, he speaks with resolve when, after clearing his throat, he speaks to Campbell bluntly and states what they had all been expecting him to say: "We're getting her out of there."
"No, Dalton. The team is compromised; we'll have to send in another group to get her out." She shakes her head sadly on the screen but seems strong in her statement.
"You think another team knows how she will handle it like we do?" Dalton questioned, voice raising despite his usual regard towards authority. He seems to catch himself and inhales harshly before continuing. "Director Campbell, you know I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think we could do it. It's personal, sure, but there is no one who is going to do a better job. Just give us twenty four hours."
Back in DC, Patricia finds herself at the desk with her fingers digging into her temples, the stress of the job getting to her. While she trusts Dalton, she can't be sure that he - and the rest of the team, for that matter - wouldn't let their emotions control their actions if faced with a difficult situation.
"Adam, just think about it," she says, voice stern but gentle. "She may only have those twenty four hours. There's no telling how long they'll find her useful to them. Whoever goes in needs to be clinical and get the job done on the first try." The line is silent for a few moments, so she continues. "Think about what Jasmine would want - you know she would want whatever is the best for the sake of the team."
"With all due respect, Director Campbell, I think I know Jaz and what she would want a little more than you and the rest of the guys at DC. I give you my word that my team can get her out of there," he says. Then, quieter, "We won't fail. You have my word."
"It's not me you need to be making promises to, Adam. This is about Jaz and the rest of your team."
Dalton glances around the room, finally looking to his team for some input. He's been around McG and Preach enough to read their faces: a nod from McGuire confirms what he already knows they're thinking. They want to get Jaz.
"Amir?"
The newest member's eyes flash down for a second and he taps his fingers against his thigh as he thinks it over. Though he and Jaz had patched things up, Dalton still can't be sure if he is willing to risk everything for someone he barely knows. He is a good soldier, but he is neither reckless nor stupid, and Dalton can't be sure that going for Jaz isn't the most reckless thing any of them have ever done.
Ten seconds pass before Amir finally looks at Dalton. "Yeah, of course," he nods, giving his consent. Dalton lets out a breath that he doesn't know he's holding.
"You heard that, Campbell?" He stands up, adjusting the mic in his ear to be sure that the message comes through. "Its settled. You send us the location and all you know - we're getting Jaz out of there tonight.