"Aiden!" Jemma called, wincing at the pain in her shoulder from falling on the floor. "Aiden! Please, let me go!" She had been pulling at the zip ties that held her to the chair for hours, and her wrists were rubbed raw. She was tired, dehydrated, hungry, and aching, but still she didn't quit. She wouldn't stop as long as she could. Minutes or possibly hours passed after that before Aiden appeared, opening the door. Jemma started to yell, but he pulled out a gun and aimed it at her head.

"One syllable and I'll shoot you right between the eyes," he warned. Jemma closed her mouth and shrank back into the chair. "That's a good girl," Aiden smirked. He came over with a small try, bent down in front of Jemma, and placed it on the floor next to him. "You've got a nasty cut," he said, gesturing to the gash on Jemma's thigh.

"It's nothing," Jemma said, and she was almost telling the truth because it didn't really bother her anymore, but that's because she had pushed the pain out of her mind.

"It looks bad," Aiden said, his demeanor softening. "Let me see what I can do," he said, reaching for the bottle of alcohol and bandages.

"You don't need those," Jemma said. "You could just heal me yourself."

"Oh, I know," he sighed. "But that means you would get to be pain-free, and I'd rather you sit here with that pain in the back of your mind. See how long you last." Jemma glared at him, rolling her eyes. "No," Aiden said, shaking a finger at Jemma's face. "No, you don't get to do that."

"Do what?" Jemma asked, tilting her head.

"You don't get to act like I'm a traitor or something," he said. "I was never a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. I was never on the team, so don't even look at me like this is my fault."

"Aiden, be reasonable," Jemma huffed. "This is quite literally the definition of something being your fault."

"Shut up," he growled, tearing the hole in Jemma's jeans to make it larger.

"Just let me go, Aiden, and I can talk to Coulson," she sighed, breathing harder. "He'll see what he can do to let you go now that you can control your powers fairly well."

"That's never going to happen," Aiden chuckled. "I'm free for the moment and I'm going to savor it."

"Aiden—"

"Stop talking."

"Please, Aiden—"

"I said shut up!" Aiden snarled, shoving the rag soaked with hydrogen peroxide into Jemma's wound, and she inhaled, hissing loudly at the stinging. "Don't make me put my hands on you."

Jemma bit her lip, her jaw clenching. "You bloody bastard," she whispered, blinking tears back.

"Watch it," he shoved a finger in her face. "I don't want to get rough."

"Why not?" she asked. "You've already kidnapped me, wounded me, and now you're planning on doing what? Using me as leverage?"

"What makes you think this has anything to do with you?"

"Well," Jemma said, looking around the small room. "Judging by the fact that it's only you and me in here, I'd estimate an accurate hypothesis is that you're going to use me in whatever sadistic plan you have in your head."

"I love you Jemma Simmons," Aiden said, even though his face said otherwise. "But you're only a pawn in this game of chess. There's someone I want, and someone I intend to get."

"Who?"

Aiden laughed. "I'm not stupid, Jemma," he said.

"Fine. I'll guess," Jemma shrugged. "May." Aiden only rolled his eyes. "Coulson. Mack. Fitz. Yo-yo. Daisy."

"Enough!" Aiden snapped, throwing the try of medical supplies across the room. "Not another word Agent Simmons."

"Oh, I do believe I've struck a nerve," Jemma squinted, tilting her head.

"Shut up!" Aiden shouted, punching Jemma across the face.

She felt the pain from the explosion and what it did to her body multiply tenfold. She screamed, her back arched, her head thrown back, and her body rigid. "Aiden!" she screamed, thrashing in the chair. "Aiden, stop! Stop! Please!"

Finally, Aiden touched his hand to her knee and the pain stopped. Jemma slumped forward, her lungs working rapidly. She was sweating, and the gash in her thigh that had been cleaned was dripping blood once again.

"Next time," Aiden exhaled in her ear, "it'll be a lot worse." With that, he got up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Jemma was alone again, but the radiating pain in her body caused her to not care. "Oh, Daisy," she cried softly. "I'm so sorry. I hope you're alright."