Author's Note

Thank you to Tabby for beta'ing. You're a saint.

To Elle: My faithful Elle, you are a dear. I'm glad you liked it. Here's another one for you to devour.

To everyone that fave'd and followed, many thanks to you all as well.

Warnings for some violence and language, also some torture. Possible triggers.

Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Aria groaned as she cracked her eyes open. Her head felt as though it was full of cotton and her body ached dully. The room was dark and her vision was still clouded from sleep, but she could just make out the silhouette of a person standing off to the right of the bed she was on. She felt as though her body was on fire, and sweat coated her skin. Her hair was loose and stuck to her cheeks and neck making her itchy and uncomfortable.

As her mind cleared she became aware that something was binding her arms and legs. She whimpered as she struggled against the bindings, but it was of little use. Her anxiety was skyrocketing, warning of an oncoming panic attack.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep that up." The words filled the darkened room, echoing strangely in her ears. It was the Irishman. She tugged once more at whatever held her wrists, the material sliding across her skin with almost no friction. She would never be able to get them off on her own.

"P-please…untie me. I can't – I can't …" her words faded away. She squeezed her eyes shut and began counting to ten in an effort to calm herself. When that didn't work she tried counting to twenty. The mattress shifted as the Irishman sat beside her. She flinched away as he brushed her hair back, his fingers pausing briefly on her pulse point. Without a word, he rose from the bed and moved away. She heard him moving things about and rustling some sort of plastic for several minutes before he returned. He switched on a bedside lamp momentarily blinding Aria.

She looked away, her eyes shut tight, until she felt a pinch in her arm. She glanced back to find a needle in her bicep and watched as he pressed down on the plunger of the attached syringe, pushing a clear liquid into her body. She looked at him questioningly as her eyes grew heavy and her body became numb.

"What…"talking was becoming difficult; her mind was sluggish and her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

"Shhh…"he hissed. She felt his hand brush against her neck once more as she succumbed to the drug he had given her.

X-X-X-X-X

When she awoke again, Aria was still bound though this time it was with thick, rough steel shackles around her wrists and neck. She was no longer lying on a soft mattress and covered in warm, heavy blankets. Instead, she was naked and lying face down on a dirt floor with sharp rocks digging into her stomach, thighs, and cheek. The air was thick with humidity and oppressively hot. A layer of sweat and grit coated her raw flesh.

She shifted, hoping to ease the pressure on her left thigh and by extension the pain, but the movement only served to grind more dirt into the flayed skin. She wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything more than just lie there, but she had no energy left. Her throat was raw from screaming, and her tears had long since dried up. She whimpered as a cough racked her body, her mouth filling with the coppery taste of her own blood. 'Maybe they punctured a lung…maybe it'll fill up with blood and I'll drown to death. That would be nice.' She mused.

The rusted iron door to her cage was wrenched open with a deafening screech and she cringed away from it. She knew what was coming, knew she should fight, or struggle, but she simply didn't care anymore. Maybe if they thought she had given up they'd just leave her alone to die in peace. Her shackles were removed, replaced with large, calloused hands.

She was hauled to her feet and made to walk. Every time she stumbled, a steel-toed boot caught the back of one of her knees. They were saying something, but she couldn't understand them. 'They sound so far away…' she thought, "like…I'm standing at the end of a tunnel…Maybe I'll get hit by a train.'

Her thoughts were jumbled, and often filled with wishes of death and the peace that would follow it. At least until she ended up in Hell. After everything she'd done she knew that was the only option she had. There would be no redemption for a soul as tarnished as hers; not that she'd want it if there was. She didn't regret any of it. The blood that stained her hands was a mark of pride in her eyes. She had killed, yes, but she had killed murderers, rapists, terrorists; she had killed so that others would live and that was a noble act, wasn't it?

She was jerked roughly back to reality as the men behind her came to a halt. Another rusted door was opened heralded by another cringe-worthy screech of metal on metal. She was push forward once more and into the room beyond. One dim lightbulb lit the space casting shadows over everything it's light couldn't touch.

A metal table sat in the middle of the room, directly beneath the weak bulb and she was made to climb onto it before being pushed down and restrained. Thick leather straps enclosed her wrists, ankles, waist, neck, and forehead. She heard the door shut and a sense of icy dread filled her, weighing her down like rocks in the pit of her stomach. She began to shake uncontrollably.

"This would all end if you'd just admit to your crimes." The voice was cold and gravely, and Aria knew who it belonged to without even needing to look. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to respond with the same answer she had been telling them all for what felt like eternity.

"I-I haven't..I'm n-not guilty.." Instead of the growl it had been during the first few weeks, the words came out weak as her voice faltered and cracked. His only response was to laugh cruelly before waving a bottle before her eyes. Her jaw clenched, but she didn't move. He uncapped the bottle and slowly poured the contents over her face, stomach, and arms. The scent of disinfectant assaulted her and made her retch. She twitched as the countless wounds that littered her flesh burned.

"Last chance…"he mocked, dangling the bottle above her left thigh. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she knew was to come. "You're stubborn. I used to like that about you."

He upended the bottle over the fresh wound where her tattoo had once been and her world exploded. She thrashed about like a fish on dry land as her vision began to fade around the edges. A guttural scream was ripped from her body, and she was certain that she would have vomited if she hadn't been starved for the last two weeks. Sinister laughter filled her ears as the world around her faded away.

X-X-X-X-X

Someone was arguing though she couldn't understand what was being said. Two familiar voices echoed around her, through her. Her body vibrated with them as her pulse beat in her ears. She was warm, too warm, but she was dry and the bed she was on was soft. Instantly, her mind was on high alert. It had to be a trick of some kind. Some new form of torture meant to drive her that much closer to insanity. The words became less garbled as her sleep-addled brain began to clear. She did indeed know the voices though she could only place a face to one.

In her mind she saw him clearly; shorn blond hair, crystalline blue eyes, and a sharp jaw. A carefree smile graced his lips, one that was only ever meant for her. In her memory, he was dressed in desert fatigues, a helmet on his head. His jacket was tied around his waist, his tight black tee showing off his well-built physique and the black falcon that decorated his right bicep. His rifle, an AWM 338 with heavy customizations, was resting on the ground beside him as they lay in the sand, wasting time and waiting for their target to make his move. It was one of her first missions as a new recruit to Black Falcon and officially he was her SO. Unofficially, he had become like a brother to her, keeping an eye on her, giving her tips, and keeping the other team members from harassing her.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?" He yelled.

"What was I supposed to do? This," the other man paused, "wasn't in the plan."

"Why is she even here? What the fuck did you do to her?"

"She attacked me and then decided to roll off a catwalk from two stories up. Don't give me that look, Sebastian. I pulled her back up. It was her own fault she ended up with a dislocated shoulder, a cracked collarbone, and her hands all torn to ribbons." The man growled. "Made me go and get her gloves…then she had the audacity to faint on me."

He was cut off by something, and the distinct sound of someone being kneed in the stomach and wheezing met her ears. Silence filled the room once more, broken only by the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor. Aria whimpered as the bed beneath her shifted and deft fingers began working at the bindings around her wrists and then her ankles. She wanted to open her eyes, to see her Sebastian, but she knew the moment she did that the dream would end and she would be back in that cage again.

Calloused hands tugged at her pulling her firmly against the person they belonged to. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling the blankets snug around her frame, and he began to rock her gently back and forth.

"I'm here, Ari. I've got you. You're safe, I promise. I won't let that idiot hurt you again." Sebastian's voice whispered in her ear. She struggled against him for a moment, knowing in her heart that it wasn't real, that it was all some sort of trap, until he started to hum softly. With her ear pressed to his chest she felt every note of the familiar melody and her body began to relax as she drifted back to sleep once more.

X-X-X-X-X

Sunlight filtered into the spacious bedroom as Aria awoke again. She was sore and stiff, and a little bit groggy. A heavy arm was wrapped around her waist as she used the person beneath her as a human pillow. Her head was firmly wedged between the person's arm and chest, his heartbeat steady in her ear. She lay there for a long while listening to it until the person beneath her began to stir. She moved away a bit to look at them, joy and shock mixing inside of her as she realized who the person was.

"Morning, princess." He grinned roguishly as he yawned and stretched. He was still fully dressed, though his boots had been kicked off at some point, and his slightly shaggy hair was ruffled from sleep.

"S-Seb…"Aria whispered, afraid that it was just a figment of her imagination. He smiled again.

"In the flesh."

"What…why are you here? Where is here?" She asked in a rush.

"Technically, it's my flat, but James uses it more than I do these days. I just got back from Africa last night to find you tied up in my bed having some god-awful nightmare and screaming your pretty head off, and James pacing the floor in the sitting room, ready to rip his hair out." He chuckled a bit at that.

"I'm-"She started to apologize.

"Nope. Don't you dare. You have no reason to apologize to me, Ari. I'm honestly just glad he brought you here. Normally he would have just let someone fall and walk away while they bleed to death on the floor." He shrugged.

Aria had a hard time connecting that image of the Irishman with the one she had met. If that was his usual behavior, then what made her so special? Her thoughts were interrupted as the bedroom door opened and the man in question entered. He was casually dressed in well-fitting jeans and a plain white tee. His feet were bare and his hair was almost artfully disheveled, falling over his forehead and into his eyes. Stubble graced his face, making him look much less like the suave, elegant man she had seen last. It made her wonder how long she had been out.

Aria became very aware of the fact that she was wearing little more that her undergarments. She sat up and pulled the blankets tighter around her as a blush rose to her cheeks. She glanced around for her clothes, but didn't see them. The Irishman, or rather, James as Sebastian had called him, watched her closely as he moved to the closet on the far right wall. He opened the door to reveal a large walk-in closet.

He pulled out a drawer next to the door and rummaged about for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He made his way to her side of the bed and tossed down a pair of black silk pajama bottoms and a grey, threadbare shirt. He stared at her a moment, his expression unreadable, before heading back to the door and into the sitting room beyond.

"Well, that was awkward. Why don't you go take a shower? It'll help with the stiffness. I'll grab you some aspirin, and then start on," he glanced at his watch, "brunch. Waffles?"

Aria couldn't help but laugh as she nodded. He stood up and helped her out of the bed, catching her as she stumbled forward. She wrapped her arms around his midsection and squeezed as well as she could before whispering a soft 'thank-you' and walking slowly towards the door he indicated was the en suite.

Thirty minutes later, Aria emerged from the bedroom in the clothes she had been given. The shower and the aspirin had help immensely, and now she was realizing how hungry she was. The smell of fresh waffles and bacon greeted her as she walked into the sitting room, running her fingers through her damp hair before pulling it back into a messy bun. She followed the scents into the kitchen to find both men standing near the range, talking quietly.

Sebastian was pulling the bacon from its pan as James leaned against the worktop next to him, a half-eaten apple in his hand. Both men fell silent as she cleared her throat and announced her presence. Sebastian turned to look at her and grinned widely, a plate of bacon in hand, and nodded towards the table. A plate of waffles sat in the middle, flanked by butter and syrup, and surrounded by a bowl of fresh fruit and the bacon. A teapot and coffee carafe sat off to the side along with a carafe of orange juice. There were three place settings, and Sebastian had taken the one on the far right side. Years of training wouldn't allow him to sit with his back to the doorway.

James took the seat directly across from him, leaving Aria to sit in the only remaining chair between the two of them. She sat silently until her stomach growled in protest and she rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"I'm just going to get this out of the way; this is incredibly awkward, but I'm incredibly hungry, so can we all just eat and stare at each other later?" She asked as politely as she could manage before helping herself to the plate of waffles. The other two followed suit and before long they had fallen into an almost comfortable, or at least somewhat less awkward, silence as they enjoyed their meal.