Diana Winters had sat in the CIA's suffocating interrogation room a million times. But never on the other side of the table.

Almost everything within the building had changed. Taren, the desk clerk that she'd been close friends with was gone and replaced with a short bald man who she didn't recognize. The cameras were higher tech and ever shifting, studying everything from gait recognition to the way her hands shook as she walked in the building.

Everything in the building had changed except for the interrogation room. Still stale and sterile.

Opposite to her a clean shaven man sat. He studied the shifting polygraph machine from a grey laptop on the metal table that sat between them, separating them.

She didn't recognize him from her time here. Maybe that was on purpose.

Ties and cables were around her index finger and around her chest. Cameras around the room studied her body language while the cables studied her heart rate.

"Is your name Diana Winters?" The man's voice was somewhat nasal despite his obvious boredom. He was slightly balding at the top but his grey suit was immaculately clean. Not a wrinkle in sight.

"Yes." He kept his eyes trained on the machine, watching for changes that he wouldn't find. Diana Winters was many things, but she wasn't a traitor.

Not like the people who had given away her asset and her locations. But justice would find them.

"Did you give away any intelligence concerning finished or abandoned investigations or operations?"

"No." Her voice rose but she tried to keep it from breaking.

Diana had given her morals, her psyche to keep the information safe. There wasn't a thing they did in Chechnya to make her break.

The man took a pause, reading the unmoving responses to her polygraph test. "Did you give away any intelligence concerning ongoing investigations and operations?"

"No, sir."

His monotone voice broke, overridden with interest and skepticism. "How are you so sure?"

"Because I gave my blood, fingernails, skin and toes for it." Her voice shook with anger. Was he really questioning her loyalty? Was she really questioning her loyalty?

Diana stared past the one-way mirror, into the room behind. In the reflection of the mirror Diana saw a face. Perhaps her own? The eyes, the nose, the cheeks seemed individually familiar but implacable on the canvas of the face she no longer recognized.

She scowled, don't show weakness.

The man didn't react to her rising voice, only continuing down the line of questions with an air of unfounded haughtiness.

There wasn't a change in her polygraph.

"Thank you for your time today, Agent Winters. For now, you need to focus on physical recuperation so we're going to put you on a two month paid sabbatical. You're also going to need to meet with a therapist monthly."

Scoffing, Diana stood. "You're putting me on leave?!"

He nodded like it was no big deal, like that had been the decision from the very beginning.

The agent walked her out of the interrogation room and down a white hallway. Then, in the middle of it, he stopped.

"Stay here."

"What? Why?"

He didn't respond with information, "That's an order." She watched him walk away with snarling eyes, douchebag.

She heard the heels clicking before she saw Amanda. The moment she heard them, her mind knew who it was. There was no trepidation in Amanda's steps. She walked as though it was the top of the world.

Diana turned towards the clicking and threw up her arms, "Amanda, what the fuck is this? Why are you putting me on leave? I'm fine." Her voice emphasized the last phrase. I have to be fine. I will be fine.

She shook her head, "Sorry Winters, but this wasn't my call. It came from above."

"Who?" Diana interrogated. Most likely the same people who had leaked her location in the first place. Those fuckwads.

Diana impatiently tapped her foot against the ground. Anger tormented her heart, ramming it against her fragile bones.

Ignoring her, Amanda continued, "Take care of yourself Winters. No one needs to lose you again." Amanda smiled, her blue eyes lightening as she did.

“This is my life, Amanda. Please.” Diana pleaded, the light around her seemingly darkened.

“Go home Diana. Kiss your parents, hug your brother and sister. Be grateful that you’re not buried six feet beneath Chechen dirt.” She fixed the American flag pin on her lapel.

Amanda left her standing in the middle of the ivory cage, her heels echoing down the halls.