It had been a week since her meeting with Heinrich Muller, and the interrogation sessions had grown more and more vicious with each passing day. Each morning, she was plucked out of bed and brought to the same small, cinderblock room. If S.S. Meyer was waiting there for her, she knew she would be in for a long day. Sometimes though, S.S. Wagner conducted the sessions. Those days weren't as bad. He hadn't beaten her since their first encounter, his interrogations much more tame compared to his counterpart's.

She knew it was all part of the game they were playing with her, trying to make her crack. It was the old good cop-bad cop routine. Wagner would escort her to the room, Meyer would torture her for information, and then Wagner would come get her, tending to the fresh wounds issued by Meyer once they'd returned to her cell. She knew exactly what they were doing but the harsher the beatings from Meyer got, the more she found herself longing for Wagner's deceptively comforting touch afterward.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rolled onto her side on the cot, facing the wall. She had no idea what time it was, but morning had to be fast approaching. Staring at the cinderblock, she traced the grooves in the cement with her eyes, trying to distract herself from the day waiting before her.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, her ribs aching as her lungs expanded. She had to keep her resolve ... Be strong and wait for Josef. With each day that passed though, she was beginning to wonder if he was coming back for her at all. She had had to push the urge to give up away more than once over the last week. She'd wanted, multiple times, to tell them everything she knew so that it would be over. She couldn't do that though. She trusted Josef ... She had to ... It was the only thread of hope she had left.

"Time to get up," S.S. Wagner's voice called as her cell door creaked open. Wiping one last stray tear away, Mila sat up, her knees still pulled tightly to her chest. "Let's go," He said, grabbing hold of her arm and hoisting her off the bed. She allowed him to pull her out of the room, her bare feet padding against the concrete floor, as he led her down the hallway. Passing the familiar room where the interrogations were held, they kept going, turning down a corridor Mila had never been down before.

"Where are we going?" She asked, as they made another turn.

"To the showers," Wagner answered matter-of-factly.

"Showers?" Her brow furrowed.

"You haven't washed in over a week," He said, pulling her along. "You're starting to smell."

Her cheeks flushed. If she smelled as awful as she felt, she really did need a shower. She hadn't bathed since the morning of the day she'd been captured. Despite her embarrassment though, she was glad to take a shower. Not just to get clean, but also in hopes that maybe it meant S.S. Wagner would be questioning her today and she wouldn't have to see S.S. Meyer.

Opening a door at the end of the hallway, Wagner led her inside. It was a tiny, tiled room, with no shower curtains, just several shower heads lining the walls. There was a bench to the side with a bar of soap, a towel and a stack of freshly laundered clothes sitting atop it.

"Alright," Wagner said, releasing her arm. Closing the door behind them, he stepped back, pressing his back against the wall.

"You're not going to leave?" She asked.

"And let you hang yourself from the shower head?" He arched an eyebrow, nodding towards the towel. "I'm staying right here," He shook his head.

"I'm not showering in front of you," She argued indigently. The thought of killing herself hasn't crossed her mind, but apparently it had been attempted before because Wagner stood there, unmoving.

"Either take your clothes off or I'll do it for you," He replied matter-of-factly. She gave him a disbelieving look. Surely he didn't think she was just going to strip naked in front of him.

"At least turn around," She said, asking more than demanding.

"Fine," He sighed after considering her request for a moment. "You have three minutes." Crossing his arms, he turned his back to her.

Wasting no time, she unbuttoned her dress, and slipped it off, kicking it away as it hit the floor. Discarding her undergarments, she reached for the knob and turned it, ice cold water springing out of the shower head above her. She gasped, the cold water taking her breath away as it hit her skin. Submerging herself under the cold stream, she grabbed the bar of soap and lathered her hair and body with it, rinsing it off hastily.

Turning the water off, she grabbed the towel and dried herself off, wringing out her sopping wet hair with it before discarding it on the ground. Turning her attention to the clothes folded neatly on the bench, she picked up the camisole and matching slip and put them on, the white fabric a stark contrast to the bruises that littered her skin, all at various stages of healing.

"Alright ... time's up," Wagner said. "I hope you're decent" He added as he turned around. His eyes traveled down her frame, stopping at her stomach. She followed his gaze to her exposed belly where the camisole hadn't covered. Yanking the fabric the rest of the way down, she turned her back to him.

"You're pregnant."

"I don't know what you're talking about," She shrugged off his accusation, grabbing the cream colored, cotton dress from the bench.

"Oh yeah?" He said, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. "Then what's this?" Grabbing the hem of the camisole, he lifted it up, exposing the small bump that had recently began to protrude from her abdomen.

"Stop," She objected. Yanking her arm from his grasp, she turned her back to him, pulling the fabric back down over her stomach. Slipping her arms into the dress, she went to work buttoning up the front, ignoring the feeling of Wagner's staring eyes against her back.

"Who have you told?" He asked after a long moment of silence.

"No one," She answered flatly.

"Who's the father?"

"I don't know," She lied.

"Humph," He snickered. "That's a lie. You expect me to believe you've spread your legs for so many men that you don't know who the father is, yet you won't even take a shower in front of me?"

She grit her teeth at the vulgar comment. Turning on her heel, she reared back to slap him. Catching her wrist before her hand could make contact, he yanked her forward, their noses nearly touching.

"Did I hit a nerve?"

Glaring up at him, she pulled her arm out of his grasp, and turned around.

"Is it that captain from the War Office?" He pressed.

"Go to hell," She shot back, buttoning the last button on her dress.

"It is, isn't it?" He continued. "Captain Fischer," He said Josef's name. "I'd heard the two of you were sweet on each other," He pressed on, obvious to the fact he was flustering her. "Does he know?"

"No," She lied.

"Probably for the best," He shrugged. "Wouldn't want to complicate things."

"No," She agreed flatly. "We wouldn't."

"Was it an accident, or part of your plan?"

"My plan?" She turned to face him, an indigent look on her face. Did he really think she'd gotten pregnant on purpose ... Did it to manipulate Josef into giving her more information. "A baby isn't a bargaining chip."

"It certainly can be," He shrugged. "If a man is naive enough to allow it."

"I'm ready to go," She said, ignoring his comment. Dropping the subject, he reached for her arm to escort her out. "I can manage on my own," She said, recoiling from his grasp.

"By all means then," He opened the door, gesturing to the left. "This way." She walked beside him, his hand pressed lightly against her back instead of tightly around her arm as he led her back down the hallway.

"Where are we going now?" She asked after they'd passed the interrogation room, and her cell.

"S.S. Meyer will be questioning you somewhere different today," He replied, leading her into another corridor she'd never been down before.

Her blood ran cold at the mention of Meyer's name. She froze in place, the anger she'd harbored moments before dissolving into pure fear.

"No," She shook her head, backing away from Wagner. She wanted to flee ... To turn and run back down the corridor as fast as she could. He turned around to face her, taken aback by her sudden noncompliance.

"Come on," He said reaching for her arm. She stepped back again, out of his reach. She was terrified and it showed all over her face ... She was sure of it. She didn't care though ... Didn't care if S.S. Wagner saw the fear in her eyes. She couldn't endure another session with Meyer ... She hadn't known just how much she couldn't bear it until now. "Don't be stupid," He warned. Lunging at her, he gripped her arm, wrenching her forward roughly.

"No," She pulled against him. "Please."

"Stop," He continued to drag her forward, unperturbed by her begging.

"Please don't leave me with him," She pleaded. She didn't care how desperate she sounded. She couldn't go back to S.S. Meyer ... She couldn't. "Please," She gave one last desperate plea as they reached their destination. She was gripping his arm tightly now, willing him not to leave.

"I'll be back to get you," He said, his hard expression faltering for a split second when he looked into her eyes. Averting his eyes from her's, he regained his cold demeanor and opened the door. Pushing her inside, he closed the door in her face.

"Have a seat Ms. Goldstein," S.S. Meyer called behind her. "I've got something new in store for you today."