"Time to get up," S.S. Wagner's voice called, as a hand grabbed Mila's arm, pulling her off the cot where she'd been dozing. She blinked away the exhaustion from her eyes, following along as S.S. Wagner led her towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"An old friend wants to see you."

"An old friend?" She furrowed her brow, her mind immediately going to Josef. She hadn't heard from him since the first day she'd come to this horrible place, and despite wanting to hold on to the small flicker of hope she still had, she was beginning to think she wasn't going to.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the door to the interrogation room opened. Her eyes fell on a tall, broad shouldered man seated at the table, his jet black hair peppered with gray.

General Eichmann's eyes met her's as the door slammed closed behind her.

"Hello Ms. Vanderwall," He said pleasantly. She stared at him, blinking in disbelief. What was he doing here? "Please, have a seat," He said, gesturing towards the chair across from him. Without a word, she crossed the room and sat down.

"I am sorry for the way you're being treated," General Eichmann said earnestly. "What the Gestapo does is a nasty business," He added, eyeing the bruises scattered up and down her arms.

"Sir, if I can be frank," She began, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to hide the blue and purple marks. "Why are you here?"

"I knew there was something about you from the moment we first met," He commented casually. "I knew you were different ... special," He smiled softly to himself. "I suppose what I've come here to ask you is, why?"

"Why?" She furrowed her brow.

"From what I've been told, you had every opportunity to flee ... To leave the continent entirely," He propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Yet you stayed ... Why?"

"I felt as though I had an obligation to stay," She said matter-of-factly.

"An obligation?"

"Yes..." She trailed off, dropping her gaze from his. "I suppose you think me ignorant and naive."

"On the contrary," He shook his head. "I think you're exceptionally smart ... You'd have to be to walk into a room full of high ranking German officers and fool every last one of them day after day, myself included," He smirked. "The decision you made took a lot of courage."

"What?" Her eyes glanced up to his.

"We're all fighting for what we believe in here Ms. Vanderwall," He began matter-of-factly. "Just because you're fighting for the other team, doesn't mean your decision to stay and fight wasn't brave ... I only wish we'd been on the same side," He added with a sad smile.

"Sir, I want you to know..." She trailed off, trying to find the right words. "I want you to know it was never personal. You were very kind to me, and despite the circumstances, I was always thankful for that."

"I know," He nodded.

"I suppose this is goodbye then," A pang of guilt shot through her chest, though, why, she didn't know. At the end of the day, General Eichmann was still the enemy, no matter how kind he'd been to her. After all, he hadn't known her true identity.

"I suppose it is Ms. Vanderwall," He nodded. Pushing back his chair, he stood to his feet.

"Its Goldstein, sir," She corrected him gently.

"I know," He smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot," He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded scrap of paper. "Captain Fischer asked me to give this to you." He extended the paper to her. She eyed it hesitantly before taking it. She turned it over in her hands, but didn't open it. "In spite of himself, he cares for you," General Eichmann said, watching her as she examined the letter.

"I never meant to hurt him," She said, more to herself than to General Eichmann, keeping her eyes trained on the note.

"I know ... Jobs like this, though, tend to leave collateral damage in their wake," He said, giving her a knowing look. She met his gaze, nodding in agreement. "Goodbye Ms. Vanderwall," He smiled. She watched as he turned on his heel and disappeared, the door thudding closed behind him.

Turning her attention to the paper still clutched in her hand, she unfolded it and began to read.

'Mila,

I am writing to ask one last thing of you before we say goodbye. If there was ever any affection in your heart for me, tell them what they want to know. I can't stand the thought of the pain you must be enduring, a second longer. End this for the both of us.'

She swallowed down the nauseous feeling in her throat. Was this a trick? It looked like Josef's handwriting but someone might've forged it. She took a breath and continued to read.

'I want you to know, despite all the suffering you've caused me, I care for you. Suffering, after all, is stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. It has bent and broken me.'

"But, I hope, into a better shape," She finished the line from Great Expectations Josef had quoted almost word for word in the letter. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to make sense of his words. It had definitely been him who'd written it. The reference to the book he'd gifted her at Christmas solidified that in her mind. But why?

She read the note over again before folding it, and tucking it into the waistband of her slip. Smoothing her dress back down, she headed for the exit, her eyes meeting S.S. Wagner's when she opened the door.

"About time," He said, pressing his hand against her back. She walked beside him in silence as he led her down the hallway, to her cell. Her mind was raising with a million thoughts. Josef had explicitly told her not to tell them anything. Why the sudden change? What did he mean by, 'before we say goodbye?' Did he have a plan for getting her out of this place? If he did, she didn't understand how giving up the only thing keeping her alive at the moment could be part of it.

Despite the cryptic wording of the note though, her gut told her to trust him ... So she would.

She would trust him.