A/N: At first I was hesitant to continue the story, but I've gotten great response. I'm 100% in on this story! I'm so glad everyone loves it; I plan on giving the two a little adventure, and hopefully it lives up to everyone's standards and I don't let anyone down. Thanks again for all of your comments, I will continue the story. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but I give you some angst. The ending is a little rushed, and no, Aiden did not get any action, although it was hinted at last chapter, hehe. Enjoy!

Once the two hackers were in Aiden's apartment, Clara immediately excused herself to use his bathroom. When she came out, she smiled at the sight of him. The vigilante had barely got his coats and shoes off before he had collapsed on the large bed, his feet hanging off the bottom and his head barely touching the pillow.

The goth stepped towards his sleeping form and picked up his clothing and shoes, then moved them away from the bed. Clara's jacket followed his, and soon enough, after turning off the lights, she lay next to him. She stayed on top of the covers with him and just stared at him as he slept.

She had been gone too long, had missed his small jokes and remarks, and his voice. It was a soothing voice, low and strong, yet bruised. He had been through a lot, losing his niece, and trying to save the rest of his family. He had been through a lot in general.

Clara had spent her time away doing jobs, none of them close to as entertaining as Aiden had been. At least no one was kidnapped out of the city where she had worked, or no one important. There, she just hadn't felt home, like there was somewhere else she should be. It wasn't until that moment, when she was staring at Aiden, that she realized she now knew why. Aiden was here, not there.

She didn't need to think about it anymore; she was here, back in Chicago. She and Aiden were a team again, and hopefully, he would be able to help her. Hopefully, she could stay, because she wanted to.

Soon enough, Clara felt her eyelids grow heavy as she listened to the calm, dark room. Aiden's breathing was a pace keeper, and in minutes, she had fell asleep to his rhythmic breaths.

The goth woke later slowly, sensing something was off. She was cold, which was a direct giveaway. She always slept under the covers, and she certainly didn't have air conditioning.

Then she remembered that she was at Aiden's apartment, and the thought immediately sent a smile to her face. Aiden Pearce.

Clara blinked; there was no warmth next to her, which meant that she was alone on the bed. She looked up and took in the room around her, dimly lit by the moon and street lights outside. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust, but finally she spotted the man at the open window, leaning out it. No wonder it was cold.

Clara stood, her small form barely making a sound as she did so, but her bare feet slapped against the hard wood floor as she approached him. It was only when she was about to reach out and touch him did she realize he was shaking.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and took a closer look. His shoulders were indeed shaking, but not from the cold. She heard his shaky breaths, saw the small puffs of air that left his mouth when they hit the cold spring air, and could almost feel the worry and anxiety that rolled off him.

"Aiden?" She asked softly, hoping to grab his attention. He bowed his head, his shoulders giving a start. From shock or distress, Clara didn't know.

After a long moment and a shaky sigh, he slowly turned away from the window. He kept his head down as he did so, and it was only until he was completely turned toward her when he met her worried gaze.

She almost gasped at what she saw in his eyes. There was pain, guilt, regret, and most importantly, panic. Then he cringed, and Clara stepped forward to hold him as he supported himself with the windowsill.

Clara didn't know what had gotten him this upset, but she knew that she hated seeing him like this. She knew she would do whatever to make him feel better, and at the moment, the only way she knew how was to show him that she was there for him. Hopefully, he would know that she was going to keep him safe from whatever demons he faced.

Aiden's breaths came out heavier and labored, and Clara immediately knew it was a panic attack of some kind. He needed to calm down, but he wasn't thinking straight. How was she going to help him?

"They're too much," he groaned out, once again cringing at whatever flashes of nightmares he was seeing. His voice was stressed and pained, too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

The goth reached up towards his face and grabbed it, steadying him. "Aiden, look at me. I'm right here," she told him, waiting for the man to open his eyes. His breaths were still struggled, but cautiously, he opened his eyes, piercing blues of agony staring at her.

"Focus on the sound of my voice," she told him, because she didn't know what else to do. He needed an anchor, so why not her. Aiden closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, though it was still ragged. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and Clara thought it was working.

"We're in your apartment, safe. No one is going to hurt you- nothing is going to hurt you. They're just images- they're not real."

He seemed to nod, and his breathing became more controlled, more forced. It was working; whatever he was fighting, he was winning.

"That's it," she whispered with a sigh of relief. "Come back to me."

His eyes shot open to stare at her again, and she gave him a small smile. It seemed to do the trick, because he wrapped his arms around her, and they just stood there. He struggled to calm his breathing, and she tried to sooth him, holding onto him with as much intensity as he was her. She had an idea of what was causing this in him, and part of it was probably because of her. Maybe, if she had come back sooner, he would have been better. She could have been able to help him earlier, and maybe he wouldn't have gotten this bad. Maybe it was her fault.

It took a while to calm him down, his breathing steady and most of his emotions in check. They settled down onto the edge of the bed, and Aiden released her. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he rubbed his face, then bowed his head with his elbows resting on his knees.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," she told him softly, watching his hands as they shadowed his face from the window. In time, he would tell her what was happening in his head, but she couldn't push him. She knew for certain that they were nightmares that kept him up, but did he always have the panic attacks?

Clara turned away, trying to think of something that could take the focus from him. "I had insomnia when I was a child. My father would stay up with me." She frowned, not remembering clearly; she had been too young. She looked around the room for a moment, noticing that it was bare, unlike his last apartment that had a puzzle of his niece's attack, and information involving CTOS across the walls and tables. In this apartment, there was only his equipment, and maybe small clumps of information that was good to have around.

"To pass the time, we use to do crosswords," Clara told him, going back to what she was telling him.

"Is that how you became smart?"

Clara looked down at him and saw the small grin of amusement across his hidden face. He was back, or at least most of him.

Of course, it didn't last long. Clara had to tell him why she was here. To be with him, yes, but also because she needed his help. An organization was about to make the world go dark, and she had been gaining information on it.

And of course, said organization was smart, smart enough to finally, after weeks, sift through her firewalls and track her down. She just hadn't expected them to show up so quickly.

The door to the apartment slammed open, and the two jumped up. Fear coursed through Clara, because she immediately knew it was them, and that they were here for her. And she had dragged Aiden into this.

Aiden didn't move fast enough before the four of them pulled out their guns, aiming them at the two hackers. Clara immediately put her hands up in surrender, because she had seen what these men could do, and it was no point. Aiden hadn't, and so tried to reason with them. He had no idea who they were, which was probably why it was no good.

"Now, gentlemen-" he began, but the man closest to him, the only one in a suit, swung his gun at him. "Don't hurt him!" She told them, but Aiden was already out cold. She took in a deep breath, earning glares from the four men.

The one in the suit pulled out a cell phone. "We have a problem. She has a friend." He pointed his gun at Clara as he listened intently, and after a moment said, "Yes." Then he nodded, and slipped the phone back into his jacket. "Bring him."

Two of the men grabbed Aiden, and Clara watched in horror as they dragged him out. That only left two of them with guns pointed at her, and she knew she was meant to follow. "I won't tell you anything if you hurt him."

The one in the suit took a step toward her, grabbing onto her thin arm with force. She didn't allow herself to show her pain. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we won't kill him. But if you don't cooperate, he might lose a finger."

She was dragged from the apartment, and she tried to remember as much as she knew on these people so she was prepared. She knew they would kill for their cause, so it would be wise to do as they said. The goth was surprised none of the other residents had noticed what was happening outside their homes.

They were all placed into a dark limousine, and Clara almost gasped as she was placed across from Aiden, with one of the men pointing a gun at his unconscious body. It was meant as a warning to her, she knew, but it still rattled her.

This was all her fault. She should have warned him, should have done something, put up extra security walls. But how had they spotted her? She had been so careful, she always had, but somehow they had found her, and at Aiden's. She shouldn't have gone to his apartment, because she hadn't known it was safe. It was all her fault.

The man in the suit shoved her in-between him and the other hired gun, and then they were off. She was still barefoot, and her arms were bare, which left her very uncomfortable under the gazes of the four men. She took the time in the ride to inspect them. They all had pistol, but one had an assault rifle. Though one was in a suit, another was white, in casual clothing, meaning a t-shirt and jeans, another looked like a gang member, dark skin, with baggy denim pants, a vest over a red t-shirt and a red bandana, and tattoos across his arms. The last one was also in more casual clothes, but in a leather jacket and jeans, but with combat boots. Was he ex-military? It wouldn't surprise her.

This organization, VicTECH, she had found out, had many business men involved, including a few drug dealers and weapons groups. These were probably the best men from these smaller businesses involved, thinking that they were going to run into trouble. Instead, they had found a young man and woman in an almost empty apartment. Their superiors will probably hate themselves knowing they had been hacked by a young woman.

Clara grimaced, but at least she knew she had a small chance at getting out of this. She wished she could contact someone, maybe Raymond, but knew she couldn't. Then she hoped that someone else was looking into VicTECH, and would see that she was in trouble. She hoped.