She had never felt anger like she was experiencing. She had caught the first flight out of Gila while Alex had hired another car and gone his separate way. They had walked for over an hour back to the main road before finding a taxi to take them back to the airport. Alex had said nothing to Clara and she in turn had said nothing to him. She didn't want to talk to him nor did she want to look at him.

Once they arrived, he had climbed from the taxi, pulling his sunglasses from his eyes as he watched her exit the other side. He looked on over the roof of the vehicle, calling her name once, but being ignored. She was already walking into the terminal, no doubt determined to get away from him. She hadn't seen him raking a hand through his hair at the sight of her going, letting out a large breath.

She hadn't dared look back at him, knowing that if she did then she might just yell at him for how he spoke to her. She knew that he was under stress, but he had no right to slam her against the wall or tell her what to do. But he was right. She wasn't going to get involved.

Storming into the airport, she booked the first flight back to Chicago. She had sat and waited in the terminal with patience, counting down the minutes until she could be back home. She tried not to let her mind wander to Alex, but it was impossible. He was occupying her thoughts too much.

She drove home slowly, crawling through traffic before pressing a hand over her mouth. Tiredness washed over her and she realised she hadn't slept in over a day. It must be nearly two days. She managed to get parked in her driveway, pulling the key from the ignition and then moving from the vehicle, grabbing her satchel from the passenger seat.

Fishing in the bag for her keys, she dragged them out and locked her car before moving up the steps to the front door. She unlocked it and walked in, tossing her bag down before locking the door once more. She moved at a sloth like pace through the living room, hands running through her hair before feeling how slick her locks felt.

Needing a shower, Clara moved into the bathroom, shedding her clothes and dropping them on the floor. Turning the water on, she kept a hand underneath the flowing water to check the temperature. It was still cool, but all she wanted was to get into the shower. She stood under the water for a while before washing her hair.

Once she had finished, she went into her bedroom and grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and then a long sweatshirt with the Harvard logo on it, reminding her of her college days. Those were easier times. How good it would be to go back to them. She went into the living room and turned the television on, settling down on the sofa and closing her eyes.

Slowly, she slid down the sofa, her head resting on a cushion as she let sleep come over her, the TV making a noise in the background. She felt herself begin to drift off before she heard a noise. It sounded like a creaking noise. Opening her eyes, she sat up and peered around. It was probably just the house. She used to tell Theresa that when the house made a noise at night it was just the house settling down. Her six-year-old sister had always been scared of each noise she heard. She grew out of it eventually and Clara only wished she could go back to the days when her sister still needed her.

Clara leant back against the sofa before she heard another noise. She stood then, jumping to her feet as she peered through the doorway to her kitchen. Her eyes remained on the open door as she looked to her coffee table. Grabbing hold of a vase that sat there, she held it in her sweating palms before moving forwards and into the kitchen.

She launched herself into the kitchen, vase in her fingertips. Her eyes flitted around the room, looking everywhere but seeing nothing. And then she felt it. She felt something on her waist. She jumped forwards before they could trap her. Stumbling forwards, she ran to the other end of her kitchen table, turning around to see a man stood there.

He wore a sharp suit, his blond hair neatly coiffed on top of his head. He had a stoic looking face, except for the small smirk on his lips. She was doing her best not to look too terrified, but then she saw that he held rope in his hands. He had rope.

"What do you want?" Clara snarled at him.

"You've been snooping, Clara," he spoke and she shook her head. "We know that you were with Mahone in New Mexico. What were you doing with him?"

"Taking in the scenery," Clara said and he laughed, pointing to her.

"You're funny," he said. "Unfortunately we don't tolerate that kind of attitude in The Company…so I need you to tell me what happened…everything you said."

"Why?" Clara wondered. "You're just going to kill me, aren't you?"

"No," he said with a tut. "I mean, you're going to wish I would kill you, but I've been ordered to leave you alive and too scared to talk. It seems your ex-husband is out of the country…so no one to threaten you with."

"Why keep me alive?" Clara demanded from him. "You've had no issue in killing off people who go against you before."

She didn't move from where she stood on the other side of the table, instead the man flexed the rope in his fingertips. She watched him make the movement before he moved his neck from side to side, cracking it.

"Because we need Alexander Mahone to do a job and killing you…well…we see how attached he is to you."

"You have his ex wife and son," Clara said. "They are the ones who matter and you have threatened to kill them if he doesn't do his job."

"We have," he informed her. "But we wouldn't kill them unless absolutely necessary. We know how much he loves them. We also know how much he cares for you…his little partner in crime. You see, hurting you would send him a message. Do his job or we will do worse than this to other people he loves."

"You're twisted," Clara snapped at him. "I said that I would stay out of this. Besides, Alex has nothing to do with this."

"He brought you along," the man said. "Now, I want you to tell me why and what happened."

"No," Clara said with a shake of her head.

It was then when she launched the vase towards him, watching it hit him and then fall to his feet and smashing on the ground. She ran around the table and tried to get to the back door, but she wasn't quick enough. He grabbed hold of her then, the rope in his hands slipping over her head and tightening around her throat.

Gasping for breath, she fought the rope, but it made no difference. She continued to gasp for breath until she felt her eyes roll back into her head and darkness engulfed her.

…

Alex had, once again, been so close to capturing Scofield. But this time Burrows had been with him. He had deciphered the code of Bolshoi Booze, the tattoo on Scofield's body. If he turned it upside down then it read out numbers instead of letters. It was a set of coordinates and it had led Mahone into the middle of the desert.

To make matters worse, Alex had heard from Pam. He had spoken to her, telling her how he felt bad for everything that he had done to her in the past. She had listened to him as he made up his excuses and he wondered if she believed any of them. He wondered if she believed him when he said that he wanted to be back with her. He wanted to be a family with her once more. He didn't know if there was ever a chance of that happening, but he was fighting for it.

His mind had been occupied on that conversation, telling his wife how he loved her, when he found the brothers in the middle of the desert off of Country Road 17. Alex had shot at them from his hiding place above the open desert, but he didn't know if he had hit anyone. They had sped off in a car before he had a chance to do anything further.

Instead he had rushed back to his own vehicle, cell in his hands as he demanded for an alert to go out on the car that they had used to get away in. He gave the location and continued driving, his cell ringing as he picked up the call and was told about someone in a hospital who might pique his interest. He had been someone who Scofield had met with, but he had some previous convictions for drug smuggling. Alex had listened to him with intrigue, standing by his hospital bed as the man told him that Scofield intended to flee.

He had demanded a deal. He wanted his medical bill covered and all his charges would be dropped, but he would be deported from the country. He had said that he did not want to be deported, demanding citizenship instead. Alex had fought off the urge to laugh, instead arching a brow and looking at him, wondering if he was serious.

Alex had felt himself grow bored with what he was hearing. Instead he had walked around the bed, disconnecting the machines attached to the man's body. He had slammed the door on the nurse who demanded to come in and see what was happening as the machines beeped. The man had squealed in the end, giving Mahone all the information he needed.

Apparently Scofield was flying out of New Mexico. Alex had demanded that they be intercepted if they go near the border, plus he had demanded for the plane to be shot down if necessary. He had the details of the jet and he knew that the brothers would be in it. He could sense it. It all made sense.

Alex had seen the plane fly overhead as he drove down the long road, his mind focused on the jets that were supposed to be following the plane. He had stopped driving in time to see the jets fly over, climbing from his car and knowing that they would find the plane faster than he could.

He climbed back into his car after a moment or two, beginning to drive once more, but this time he swore he saw two familiar figures in the distance. He didn't know if the heat had gotten to him or if they were actually Burrows and Scofield.

But then he had followed the car and he knew. It was them. He only hoped it was when he drove his car into theirs, the noise of the crash enough to deafen him for a moment before he climbed from the vehicle, fire coming from both of the vehicles as he searched for his gun, aiming it at both of the men.

"Don't move," Mahone demanded from them as they both knelt on the ground and he swore he heard the sound of the doctor's voice on the phone.

"You almost did it," Alex said. "Both of you get up and turn around."

"No," Michael snapped. "You can look at us when you murder us."

"Kill me," Lincoln stepped forwards, "but my brother did nothing. Let him go."

"I don't want either of you," Mahone said, the wild look in his eye enough to tell Michael that the man was becoming increasingly unhinged. He looked around for any sign of Clara, but he didn't see her. "I just want my life back!"

"So you will kill two innocent men to make sure that happens, huh?" Michael demanded.

"I'd kill anyone to get it," Alex had said.

He didn't get a chance to shoot. Instead he was apprehended by the border patrol who demanded that he drop his weapon until they knew that he was an FBI agent. Everything happened quickly then. The brothers were cuffed and put in the back of a police car while Alex sat in the passenger seat. It was only when he heard his cell begin to ring did he pull it out.

A familiar voice spoke down the line and he knew who it was. Agent Kim. Mahone ordered for the vehicle to be pulled over before he climbed out the car. He looked around in the darkness, nothing in sight except for the police cars in a convoy.

"What is it?" Alex demanded from the man on the other end of the line.

"You're not doing this right, Alex," Kim spoke. "First, you decide to bring along your own assistant to find the brothers, and now they end up in custody. That isn't what we planned."

"I get that," Alex said. "And I am working on it."

"Not fast enough," Agent Kim declared. "You see, we thought that you could do with a little incentive."

"Don't you dare," Alex snarled down the phone. "Don't you dare touch my family."

"Who said anything about your family?" Agent Kim wondered. "They're fine, Alex, but that friend of yours isn't looking so well. She told us everything…how she flew with you to New Mexico…how she saw Scofield get away. Apparently she doesn't know anything, only that you have to kill them. She doesn't know why. We just need to make you see that this is your problem and your problem alone. Now you know what will happen if you drag anyone else into this."

Alex felt his blood run cold and shudders run down his spine. He gulped loudly, turning around on the spot, his hand going through his hair as he closed his eyes.

"What did you do to her?"

"She will be fine," Agent Kim declared. "We did consider killing her…but we scared her enough to stay away and keep quiet. We threatened the same fate for her ex husband if she dared to speak."

"What did you do to her?" Alex repeated, each word a harsh and deliberate snap.

"You'll just have to find out."

…

Alex knew he was being reckless. He was being foolish and he knew full well that he should not be going back to Chicago. He had caught the first flight out of New Mexico, demanding that the brothers stay locked up until he returned along with the transportation from Chicago where the brothers would be returned.

He anticipated that he would be gone for about forty eight hours. He had said that no one was to let the brothers out of their sight and had made that clear. Touching down in Chicago, Alex took a detour, driving as fast as possible towards the suburban area where she lived.

He had tried to call her, but she wasn't picking up his calls. As he pulled up at the side of the curb, he climbed from the vehicle and ran up to her house. He found the front door locked and so ran to the back patio doors that led from the kitchen. They were open wide and he looked inside, the sight enough to make his eyes widen.

A chair had been knocked over in the kitchen while there were shards of glass by the doorway. It looked like there had been a smashed vase. Alex placed a hand to his gun, holding it tightly in its holster before moving further into the kitchen and towards the doorway to the sitting room.

It was then when he saw her. She was laid on her front, cheek turned to the side and her eyes wide open. She wasn't moving, but she was breathing. He could tell that from the way her body moved up and down. Rushing to her side, he knelt on the floor, hands hovering over her back.

"Clara," he whispered her name. "Christ…"

Bending down once more, Alex let his hand go to her back, but she visibly winced and grunted in pain. She didn't move, but her hands by her head balled into fists and she closed her eyes tightly as Alex watched her intently. She was dressed in a grey sweatshirt, the bottom of it stained red with blood. Her legs were bare and he could see the marks on them. There were slight cuts all over them, the raised skin red and dried blood on them.

"Clara, what did they do to you?"

"Go away," Clara whispered, but Alex ignored her.

It was then when Alex took his initiative and lifted her sweatshirt up, peering up and lowering it with haste. The cuts span up her back and Alex swore he had never seen such a sight before. He noticed that her ankles and wrists were bruised. Clearly she had been tied up.

"I need to get to you a hospital," Alex told her in a small voice. "Clara, you need to get to a hospital."

"No," Clara mumbled.

"How long have you been like this?" he demanded from her.

"Just go away," Clara complained once again.

"I can't," Alex said, his voice breaking slightly, "because you're like this…in this state…because of me…because…"

She didn't know what he was doing as she felt his hands move towards her, moving to wrap around her waist. He heard her sob lightly as she bent her head and her hair fell in her face. Alex didn't know what to do to help her. He knew that he had to get her up, but it was proving difficult, as he didn't want to harm her injuries.

"I told them nothing," Clara said in a small voice, knowing that her house was still bugged. "I told them that I had gone with you because I wanted to help…but they got away…"

So she had said nothing of what she had discussed with them. Alex knew that she thought the brothers were innocent. She knew that. He knew that. She knew there was some kind of conspiracy theory. It just didn't make sense why they didn't kill her. She was useless to them. She held no value. Alex couldn't quite grasp it.

They seemed to think that if they killed her then he would not be as focused on the job. He knew to an extent that was right. He did care for Clara. It was impossible not to care for her after everything they had been through. He knew what they were trying to do. They were trying to scare him. They were telling him that things could get worse if he didn't do his job properly or dragged other people into his mess.

"It's okay," Alex promised her in a low voice. "Everything will be okay."

"I want no part in this," Clara said in a small voice. "I don't want to help…"

"It's fine," Alex informed her. "I just need you to get up and I need to get you to a hospital."

He had kept his arms encircled around her waist, holding her upright as her side leant against his front, her head resting just next to his shoulder.

"If I go to hospital then they will want to know how this happened," Clara said to him. "I can't go to hospital…I just…I don't want to stay here."

"Got it," Alex mumbled to her and then slowly moved to his feet.

He steadied Clara to her feet too, holding her by the waist as her legs continued to feel weak. He couldn't blame her. She looked terrible. She looked horrific. He said nothing to her, instead making sure she was steady on her feet before he peeled his jacket from his shoulders, draping it over hers to offer her a bit more warmth.

He helped to pack a holdall for her as she sat on her bed, watching him go through her things. She failed to care. He stuffed them into the bag before she slid on a pair of yoga pants, the only item of clothing not to rub against her injuries. Alex wrapped an arm around her waist again, her bag in his other hand along with her satchel. He helped her into the car before driving off, looking to her occasionally and seeing her staring out of the window.

He came to a hotel not far from headquarters, going in and telling her to wait for him to come back out. He checked her into a suite before going back for her, once again aiding her from the vehicle, his arm around her waist as she leant against him, too weak to stand on her own.

He could feel people watching them as they moved through the lobby of the hotel and towards the lift. Alex led the way until they came to the room. He pushed the key card into the lock and it lit green. He held the door open and Clara moved inside the room, collapsing into a heap by the bed as Alex knew they could now talk freely.

"Talk to me," he urged as he saw tears continue to fall from her eyes.

Kneeling in front of her, he tried to calm her, his hands moving over hers as she shook her head.

"He broke into my house," Clara said. "I didn't hear him until it was too late…I thought he wanted to kill me…but he said…he said that was not an option…that you were too attached to me…that…that hurting me would keep you on track to do your job...he said you should never have brought me with you to New Mexico...dragged me into your mess, but I told him I wanted to go...they did this to let you know what they were capable of…that they could do worse to me…or your family."

"Son of a bitch," Alex mumbled.

"They said that if I dare talk about…about them…you…Shales…then Tom would suffer a worse fate," Clara continued. "I told them that killing me would change nothing…that it wouldn't do anything to you."

"No," Alex said with a shake of his head, his hands squeezing tightly onto hers. "That's not true, Clara."

She blinked profusely then, wondering what he was talking about before he looked her in the eye, his gaze even and face determined as she watched him back, feeling his hands run up and down her forearms that were still covered with his jacket and sweatshirt.

"Why?" Clara asked in a small voice.

"Because I do care and they know it," Alex whispered. "You're…I haven't had a friend in a long time…or someone who even cares about me…so yeah…I guess I do care and they know it."

She said nothing to him then, choosing to keep silent as Alex dared to move a hand to her cheek, wiping the tears from them before pushing her hair behind her ear. He moved to rest against the bed then, sitting next to her as she dared to move a hand to his arm, holding it lightly, almost as though she was telling him this wasn't his fault. If only he could accept that.