Thanks to those of you who read/reviewed/followed. I really appreciate it. As a writer, feedback is the best gift you can get.

Enjoy part 2. It's going to start getting violent herein.

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Twelve Years Earlier

Männedorf, Switzerland

"She really is annoying."

"Meg…"

"Oh, come on, Joanie. You know I'm right," Meg Wilkins answered her friend, rolling her eyes playfully. "I know we aren't in high school, but I feel like it whenever I am within three feet of that woman. I mean a makeover? Is she fucking serious?"

Joan snorted, the sound not one that usually came out of her. As unladylike as it sounded, it surprisingly didn't bother the normally stiff woman. "Well, Meg, you are a bit of a tomboy. It wouldn't kill you to put on a little lipstick. Or even some Chapstick," Joan commented.

"Hush it, Joanie."

Joan glanced at her friend briefly before bringing her eyes back to the road. "You do realize that you are the only person who gets away with calling me that? Not even Arthur could call me Joanie," she told her friend.

"That's because he calls you something else," Meg replied sweetly with a smile, "In bed."

Joan's eyes widened slightly, and she couldn't help but sputter out her friend's name. "Meg!" Her fingers gripped the wheel tightly to keep the car steady.

The other agent laughed heartily at Joan's reaction. Even throughout the farm, Joan was somewhat of a prude, and an absolute perfectionist. Meg loved poking fun at her friend, especially when she knew the blonde would get flustered. Joan may have been a calm and level headed agent in the face of danger, but when it came to her personal life she suddenly became unsure and awkward.

"So back to Lena…" Joan changed the subject. As much as she cared for Meg, her sex life wasn't something that she wanted on display. Still, she couldn't help but happily touch the ring on her finger that had sat there for months now.

"Do we have to go there?" Meg whined slightly. "I know I'm the one who brought her up in the first place, but still…she annoys me!"

Joan glanced at Meg with a smirk on her face. As she was turning her head back to the road, the world exploded. There was a loud bang, and Joan felt the car sliding when she was unable to control the car.

It took Joan several moments to realize that their car had been slammed into. Glass sprinkled her sweater, lap, everywhere that her bleary eyes could see. The back of the car was pinned against a large tree. The car that had hit them was perpendicular to theirs, the front end crushed against her door. Glancing over, she could see two men in the other car, both looking dazed from the harsh sudden impact. Joan felt her heart leap into her throat. A sense of urgency came over her as she recognized the men behind the obviously intentional accident.

Both matched the description of the men she, Lena, and Meg had been sent to eliminate.

Grimacing, Joan looked at Meg. Her partner looked stunned, with a small trail of blood trickling down her temple from where she had hit the window. Otherwise, she seemed uninjured.

"Meg," Joan managed to whisper. She cringed as she reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. There was no doubt in her mind that her left arm was broken from the impact. A sharp throb had instantly settled deep in her arm and wrist. Gritting her teeth, she released the seatbelt, twisting slightly. The pull in her ribs protested the action, but she still managed to turn, glass sprinkling off of her with every movement.

"Meg," she repeated as she shook her friend. "We gotta move."

Meg seemed to snap out of her stupor. "Joanie," she whispered. "What-"

"Move!" Joan harshly ordered, reaching across the console to unbuckle Meg's seatbelt for her. "My door is blocked. We have to go out yours."

With shaking hands, Meg opened her door, pushing the seatbelt away and stumbling out of the car. Joan resisted crying out as she followed, gritting her teeth as every movement sent pain through her chest and arm. Finally, her feet touched the earth and she felt Meg's hand wrap around her arm when she stumbled.

"Don't," Joan managed, swatting away Meg's hand. "My arm is broken."

Meg nodded, dropping her hand instantly. She gestured toward the wooded area. "Let's go, Joanie."

Together, the women took off into the woods. It didn't take long for Meg to pull ahead of her injured comrade. Joan instantly regretted taking off her coat in the car, as the cold stung her instantly through her thin sweater. Still, Joan pushed forward for several hundred yards before she finally stopped.

"Meg," she gasped, wincing at the pain in her chest. Her partner stopped, turning at Joan's pained call. Joan cradled her left arm close to her body. "Meg, we have to separate."

"What? No!" Meg replied with a shake of her head.

Joan struggled to take a deep breath, using her uninjured arm to grab Meg's shoulder. Her fingers wrapped around the other woman's light jacket urgently. "Meg, you know we have to. If they aren't following us, they soon will be. We stand a better chance at survival if we are apart. And besides," she added, nodding to her useless arm, "I'm holding you back."

"Joanie, I'm not going to-" Meg began, then instantly stopped. The blue in Joan's eyes had turned icy, indicating that the woman was getting mad at her arguments. "Okay," Meg finally relented. "I don't like this, though."

"Go back to the safe house, and I will meet you there. We will catch up with Lena, and get out of here," Joan said.

"Okay," Meg said again, pulling Joan into a quick hug. "Be careful, Joanie," she added.

"You too, Meg," Joan replied, pressing her forehead to her friend's briefly before pulling away. "I'll see you soon."

They took off in separate directions, the blonde woman knowing that it was the best choice. Still, as she heard the men from the car shouting, a chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Joan Mackenzie had never felt so vulnerable before. She was a sitting duck, and it was only a matter of time before the men caught up to her. It hurt to walk, let alone run. She glanced upwards. Joan thought about climbing a tree, but she doubted that she could with her injuries. The branches were high as it was, so pulling herself up presented itself as a major obstacle. Her thoughts briefly drifted to Arthur, knowing that if she was caught, the chances of seeing him again were very slim.

That was enough to get Joan moving, ignoring the pain that was racking her body. Hearing the men come closer, she began a slow jog, glancing over her shoulder every few yards to make sure she wasn't being followed.

After the fifth glance, Joan turned her head forward, slowing down. She had to stop for a moment. Leaning against a strong tree, Joan attempted to slow her breathing. Running coupled with the cold was doing nothing to help her ribs.

Joan rested for several moments, finally feeling like she had her breath. She pushed off of the tree, only to see a gun in her face.

Joan froze, but training instantly kicked in instinctively. She spread her hands out, feigning confusion. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered, pretending to be shocked at the gun in her face. Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she laughed nervously. "I don't-"

"Shut up," the taller man said in broken English, roughly pushing the gun against her shoulder. Joan stepped back, bumping into the tree. The shorter man moved closer, cornering Joan. She fought the rising panic at being trapped. She had fought off as many as three men at once before, but that was uninjured and with backup. "Where is your friend?" the man asked.

"My friend?" Joan asked innocently. She glanced between the two men.

The response was a quick whip of the pistol across Joan's face. She hit the ground hard. Joan was unable to keep the cry surpressed as her injured arm and ribs were jarred. Blood immediately filled her mouth, the coppery taste nearly making her gag.

A hand wrapped around her golden locks, lifting Joan slightly. The blonde desperately attempted to brace herself against the ground, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her neck. "Where is your friend?" the man repeated, pushing her back against the ground after kicking her hand away. The frozen earth scraped her cheek, the man's hand keeping her down.

Joan cringed, bringing up her right hand to try to pry the fingers from her head as he yanked her to her feet. "Please, I don't know what you are talking about! I'm just a hiker!"

The man drew back his fist. Joan barely had time to prepare for the fist to connect with her cheek. Stars instantly threatened her vision.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," the man said lowly. "I know you are CIA, and I know you were sent with another operative to eliminate us." Joan set her gaze, attempting to appear confused. "So where is your friend?"

Arthur, I'm sorry, Joan thought. I love you.

She remained silent, seeing the man's eyes darken. He lifted his fist again, and Joan's world instantly went black.

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