A/N: Wooow what about that final episode, I'm like crying. It's like the fix decided to come to life but we have to wait a whole month and a half to have any resolution and I'm dyingggggggggg.

Additional question: anyone interested in a McG fic? I don't think I hide it very well that he is my favorite character behind Jaz (even over Dalton). I know we don't have a lot of backstory for him, so I might dabble with playing off of that.

When the commander forwards them the details and gets them to flight to Moscow, she reveals bittersweet news: the men who have taken Jaz are essentially nobodies in terms of intelligence or terror. On one hand, Dalton is confident that they can be overpowered with ease; on the other, he is even angrier and more frustrated - how can amateurs cause them all such grief? The man they had mentioned, Boris Zhakov, seems to have no relation to US intelligence and can barely be found on any systems at all, spare for a few social media references on pro-Russian Ukrainian separatist blogs. None of it makes sense, and the more information that they don't get, the more it all seems like it's for naught. At the moment, it seems like it's just the luck of the draw that the group had been misled and thought the Americans were the cause of their problems, and Jaz was the one caught in the deadly crossfire.

As they flew in the night sky towards the Russian capital's skyline, Dalton couldn't get the bloody images of Jaz out of his mind. Truth be told, he wasn't even confident she was still alive. As much as he would like to have faith in his teammate, he had witnessed stronger men succumb to less abuse; also playing on his thoughts was what was possibly happening to her once the camera stopped playing. To hit her was one thing, but if they touched her...

"Top, pilot says thirty minutes until touch down. You have a plan?" McG remains tentative with his words. They went over a vague plan prior to flying, but Dalton said he would think over the method of action as they went along. McGuire seemed to be gently nudging him to give some sort of direction: they were all a little lost here, and Dalton was the plan guy. Nothing happened without his approval and they were aware that, when it came to Jaz, he would surely want to be in charge in order to ensure her rescue.

"Noah reported that they have two guards and an estimated eight men in the compound, so ten total," he nodded, looking out the window at the sprinkles of lights beneath them. "Simple enough on paper, but if they get any warning we are in there, chances are they'll kill Jaz if they haven't yet.

"Preach, I want you on lookout - If there is any change around the building, any movement in or out - you make sure you tell us immediately." He cast the older man a look, waiting for affirmation, before continuing. Preach nodded his approval. "I'm going to take out the guards outside first, and as soon as I give the signal, I want you and Amir," he paused, pointing his finger between McG and Amir, "to split off and take out as many as you can. I'm going to follow behind and check doors for Jaz."

"Top," McG hesitated, unsure of challenging any part of his plan. "What if we are compromised? Are you still sticking with the same plan?"

The question was laced with another unasked remark: if we are compromised and they kill her, are you going to retrieve the body?

"Yes, McGuire. If we have to improvise, we improvise, but I can tell you this - we are not leaving Moscow without our entire team with us, Jaz included." He was firm in his statement, his eyes seeming to threaten anyone else who dare pose alternative. While he understood the concern of his team member and friend, he also gave them the conditions before they left: he had asked their decision and, despite the risks, they had all agreed. There was no more question of if they were getting Jaz out of there, not after they left the ground. Now, as they prepared to land, it was only a question of how they would save Jaz.

xxx

Dalton feels anxious: it's all going too well. Last time he felt that way, he let his guard down and Jaz got taken.

They landed just past midnight right outside of Moscow and set in motion their plan to enter the compound holding Jaz late at night. Hopefully, they weren't counting on a full blown assault and extraction - from their research (thanks to Noah and Hannah), they found out that this wasn't a group invested in the trade of hostages. Despite their apparent knowledge in kidnapping and torturing their enemies, there were no previous mentions of the sect doing anything else than small-scale violence in the name of Russia. An American hostage was completely against their mold and the team only hoped that was in their favor - they wouldn't be expecting a team to be expelled so soon if at all. It had only been the day before that the stream was shown to them but Dalton and the team has decided in tandem that there was no better time to attack than the present.

"Left wing cleared, Top." Amir's voice whispers into the mic, disrupting his thoughts. He is still lingering near the door by the bodies of the guards he killed. "Heading around to meet with McG. There were two on my side so six more in total."

"Copy that."

Dalton took a second to let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. If the plan worked, he would find Jaz behind one of the thick steel doors. As much as he wanted to see her, safe and alive and with him, he was terrified of seeing the damage done to her in person. Still, he knew he had to do It, had to find her if they had any chance at all of seeing her alive again.

His feet are as silent against the hard floor as he can manage as he tentatively steps towards the first of a set of doors, pistol drawn up in case anybody happens to wander in his direction. Anticipation itches at his throat as his hand teases the door, a moment of consideration before he decides to brashly thrust his shoulder into the upper region as he twists and pushes at the knob: it swings open without a creak and reveals an empty room, void of even a seat or an article clothing; there is no way that this is the room she was in, he knows.

"Make that four targets down," McG says clearly, interrupting his disappointment. He shouldn't have expected her to be behind the first door, but he was surely hoping. "Hey, Top..."

The whisper trails off on the mic and the noise becomes flooded with shuffles and sound of movement. It is as if McG is adjusting the mic on him and it's rubbing against the cotton of his shirt. Finally, after a minute or so of hushed movement and eager ears waiting on an explanation, the voice of McGuire returns with an unexpected proclamation:

"I think this might be it. It has a window like the video."

Dalton is still in the doorway of the first room he was in, feeling like his boots weigh thirty pounds on his feet. He wants to run, he wants to stay; he wants to find Jaz, but he wants to avoid the pain - he knows it's selfish, but he can't help it. Words can't seem to find their way from his lips to respond and, as he's found himself several times within the past forty-eight hours, he is at a loss for words. McGuire seems to sense he won't be getting an answer, so he pushes on.

"I'm heading in, Top."