A/N: Obviosuly, we don't know what Aiden is actually feeling in the game, but I did my best to make the emotions and what not seem as real as possible. I literally wrote this chapter two hours ago, so I hope he's not too OOC. I also listened to Battlestar Galactica music while writing it, mostly Kara Remembers, but it didn't really help. Bear McCreary is an amazing artist, though. More to come later in the week!

"Stop!"

The word didn't sound right. It was muffled, twisted, and wavering. The end of it was clipped, cut off by a humming.

Aiden blinked, doing his best to focus, but it was difficult with the pounding in his head. The man had only punched him twice, but it didn't feel that way. Aiden tried to spit out more of his own blood, so that he could at least breath, but he didn't know if he succeeded or not, because the action caused more pain to spread throughout his head.

It felt like someone was putting a low setting of a blow torch to his face, burning his skin away and then scarring his skull underneath. He fought to push the pain away, to remember what was happening, but he couldn't see the room around him. Blinding white lights clouded his vision, causing pain, this time behind his eyes. Aiden closed them, trying to maybe push the pain away. For a moment, it seemed to work, but then he let out a soft cry as it sent more flames throughout his head once again.

He buried enough of the pain to ask himself why he got himself into these situations. Why did he endure this much pain, which produced scars and bruises, and left him questioning his sanity? Questioning everything about himself? Sometimes, he didn't even know how it all started, didn't know which event triggered him to enter these missions. Wasn't he just the vigilante that saved people from abuse, losing loved ones, and having a poor life?

Yes. He saved lives, and most of the time, one couldn't save lives without risking their own. He did endured the pain for a reason; to save others. But what about Clara? He didn't know what she had gotten into, not completely, but now he was a part of it. Unlike previous missions, now someone else's life was in danger other than his own. He had to think about saving her now, too, along with himself, and whoever else that had gotten themselves dragged into this.

As he was slowly pulled from his thoughts, the white light dimmed, enough so that he could take in his surroundings. His head still pounded, and he couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing through his head, but he could at least see. Aiden blinked, focusing on the area around him, and the first thing he noticed was that everything was sideways. He thought for a moment on what it could mean; was his chair knocked over, and was he still strapped to it? It took him awhile to realize that his cheek was touching the top of his shoulder. He blinked again, hard, focusing on lifting his head, and not on the pain that radiated through him with the motion.

There were a few men nearby, guards, but they stayed far enough away that they wouldn't interfere unless their boss, this man in white, was harmed. He took in a breath from the struggle of keeping his head upright. Man, the guy had a swing if he could make Aiden this uncoordinated. And he was older, too. It made him feel slightly weaker, but the vigilante was slowly recuperating. The pounding seemed to have dulled some, along with the effort of keeping his eyes open.

Clara was still strapped to a chair across from him, and, fortunately, she was unarmed, or at least she looked it. She was glaring up at the man in white that was now slowly pacing in front of her. He thought that maybe the man was talking, and that was what the low vibrating he heard was, with small pauses between. Then he saw her mouth move, and felt another vibrating in his ears, cutting off the first and replacing it with a slightly higher pitched one.

Aiden looked up, hoping that Clara was fine for the moment. He looked for any means of escape, and found only two that he could see: the shadowed doorway that looked to lead into offices, where these men had come from, or past the graveyard of machines and drugs through the bay doors. There were enough broken lights and shadowed areas that, if he did escape from his restraints, he and Clara could easily slip past the guards toward the bay doors and find a way out.

He looked down at his wrists, thinking of way to cut zip ties. The most obvious was a knife, or scissors, both of which Aiden didn't have on him. The next possible solution was to break the wooden chair, which would have been easier if his feet were free. Plus, his shoulders were held back against the chair, which made it even more difficult. Maybe if he could make his way over to Clara when this man left-

He gaze found its way back to the broken lights about ten feet away, cutting off his current thought, because a new one had popped into his head. Broken lights could mean many things, and one of them beings broken pieces of glass or plastic. He looked to the floor underneath the shattered light, hoping to find the piece of plastic that had covered it, or at least a piece of it. It could have a sharp edge.

He squinted, searching in the dark for what he imagined to be a clear rectangle, and it didn't help that doing so was hurting his eyes. As he searched, his gaze landed next to a machine, on a side table with tools scattered across it. There; it wasn't sharp plastic, but it would do. He wondered why someone would need a tape dispenser when they were working with a machine, but he was just glad he had found it. It would have a sharp end that would hopefully cut these zip ties.

Now, Aiden just had to figure out how to get over to the machine. The tape was sitting in the middle of the shadows, and even if Aiden managed to move his chair that way, it would take forever to maneuver through the machines, stools, boxes and columns. Forever meaning at least ten to fifteen minutes, because the tape was at least twenty feet away. And how would he get over there with these goons watching him? It wasn't a solid plan, and he didn't know if it would work.

He turned his attention back to Clara and the man in white when he began to hear their murmurs. Just as he looked to them, the man was looking at the goons, and he tilted his head in a gesture of get moving. All of them moved to the offices at once but one, who shifted his gun, which Aiden just realized he had. It was a rifle, and could easily take them out in seconds. Damn. He didn't know if they'd be able to get out of here at all without these men dumping them somewhere or killing them.

The man in white said one more thing to Clara, and Aiden caught a small piece of it, before he followed his men. It was hazy, and he didn't even know if he heard correctly, but it sounded bad. "… worth it… struggle while I kill him."

It was another few minutes before Aiden could actually hear, but he did catch Clara trying to talk to him. He had blinked and tried to speak, but he knew it had come out all garbled and quiet, mostly due to his now swollen jaw. It would die down in a few hours, but for now, he didn't think he could talk properly.

So Clara didn't either, and they both did their fair share of looking around. She was probably trying to find her own way out, but Aiden already had a plan. Make the goon disappear, get the tape dispenser, cut his and then Clara's restraints, and then make their way towards the bay doors. He calculated that, if he could actually do it, it could take up to a half an hour, depending on if the shadows would provide good enough cover, maybe less since he now felt stronger. It was always possible that they got caught, too.

Suddenly, Clara turned to him and spoke quietly. "I told him, Aiden."

He looked to her, lowering his brow in question.

Her pale blue eyes seemed to shimmer as she relaxed, defeated. "All of the information I have on him that could bring him down." She glanced at the man standing guard, who had pulled out a cell phone and seemed to be texting. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Well, part of it. I split it into three drives. When he gets back, he'll ask for the rest, and when he gets it, he's going to kill us." She shook her head, and Aiden felt that he understood. All the hard work, and now it was for nothing.

Aiden had been in near-death situations before, and it didn't bother him, not until he was about to die. But now, Clara was facing it with him, and he was fearful. He had already lost her once, and he didn't think he'd be able to do it again. He already had nightmares of Nicole, Jackson, and Lena, along with the day that Clara had supposedly faked her death, and he couldn't add this to the list. And now he was paranoid that he wouldn't just be pummeled with nightmares, but PTSD as well.

Aiden woke to his name being called. His eyes fluttered open, desperately trying to adjust to the light that shown down on him. He didn't remember falling asleep, but there was no other explanation. Even beat up this badly, Aiden had never passed out so easily before. He was angry at himself that he was so stunned by the beat down.

Clara was shifting in her chair, trying to move it. Seeing that he was awake, she tried to point with her head. "Behind you; that pole looks like it's connected to a furnace. Maybe it's hot enough to burn these ties off."

Aiden looked around for the guard, then tried to look around his shoulder. With one jump, he managed to turn his chair enough that he could spot what she was looking at. "Erm, 's too far away." He glanced around once more. "Where's he?"

Clara let out a frustrated sigh. "You're right." She, too, glanced around. "He went that way," she said, looking off toward where the drugs were. "There was a commotion. He went to check it out."

It couldn't be that easy, could it? Aiden couldn't think about it; he had a limited time to get to the tape dispenser.

His first few tries at shifting his chair were weak, but then he got the hang of it. He felt Clara's gaze on him, which only pushed him to perform the task. He was doing this for both of them.

It took a few minutes to reach the shadows, and by the time he reached them, his attempts at moving his entire chair in the restraints were weaker. His muscles were already tired, but he pushed himself. He got dizzy, and almost managed to fall over an abandoned toolbox, but eventually he got to the table where the tape sat. Thankfully he hadn't fallen on his way there, or he wouldn't have been able to make it to the table.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was panting, sweat clung to his back, and the pounding in his head had returned as he stared at the table. Two more shifts of the chair, and he was facing the table correctly. The tape sat near the edge, taunting him. He attempted to kick the table, to jostle the tape over the edge, but it just shifted all the papers on the table, and Aiden thought angrily about why wouldn't this VicTECH clear out the building? Why leave this stuff around? But it would be Aiden's savior, and he had no idea why he was angry at the tape.

He kicked out again, and when a pain jolted up his foot, looked down and remembered that he didn't have any shoes on. Aiden reached out with his hand instead, hoping he could pull the table down, but regretted doing so, because the corner it the arm of the chair, and he toppled over, followed by the rattling of papers and the clanking of metal.

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, and when he opened his eyes, the world was sideways, but all he saw was the tape that lay right in front of him. He thought of nothing else but the situation at hand, and how lucky he was that it had landed in his reach.

The grinding of the chair against cement was loud and almost ear piercing, and he waited for a gun to appear at his temple at any moment. But it must have only been loud in his ears, probably because he was close to the sound, because he didn't hear any footsteps. And then the tape was right at his fingers, and if he wasn't gentle he'd move it further away, but he didn't have to worry about it because the dispenser was safely in his hands. With it in his hand, Aiden let out a huge sigh of relief, knowing that in just a minute they could be out of here.

He shifted the item in his grip, so that the teeth were pointed at his wrist. Once it was in the right direction, Aiden worked his wrist, awkwardly scrapping the dispenser against the plastic that bound him to the chair. He pushed, adding more strength, hoping it would help, but it was still completely awkward and after a moment his wrist cramped, and he almost dropped the tape already.

Aiden closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Focus, Pearce, he told himself, feeling the air enter and exit through his nose. People are relying on you. He didn't exactly know how many people, but he believed Clara when she said that VicTECH hurt a lot.

He opened his eyes again and got back to work. After his fifth scrape across the plastic, he thought the metal was going to snap off the dispenser, but he felt the anxiety he didn't know he had release a death grip on his stomach when his wrist suddenly fell to the cement and he heard the snap of the plastic.

The rest of his restraints were easily removed, and he stood with only one cut to his wrist, a clear head, and a grin on his face.