Pandora

8

       Like usual, Bruce carried the conversation with help from Natasha and, this time, Clint. Right away, Pandora noticed the archer lightened the mood and eased any awkwardness, thought that didn't stop her from rarely participating. In fact, it made her more on edge with how casual they were, even though she attempted to escape the day prior. On top of that, she was aware they most likely saw the Hydra brand on her back, or at the very least knew about it.

       "Is this what you'd do with your mother?" Pandora piped up after a comfortable silence fell over them and looked to Bruce. "Sit, make food, and talk?"

       Taken aback by the personal question coming from her, he anxiously fiddled with his spoon. "Mostly. Yes," he paused, a solemn sigh escaping him, and Pandora curiously furrowed her brows at his change in expression. "She died from alcohol poisoning, but making breakfast was one of the few good memories I have with her, and it's how I'd like to remember her."

       Munching on her food, Pandora hummed, "Oh."

       Running a hand through his hair, Bruce shrugged. "Hopefully we can also make some good memories," he cheekily said and chuckled as she rolled her eyes, shoveling more food in her mouth. "Yesterday must have taken alot out of you," he motioned to her almost empty plate.

Cheeks stuffed, Pandora lowered her spoon and consciously tried to stop eating so fast. Smiling, Bruce noticed her carefully sip from a bottle of water in front of them for the first time. A part of him hoped that he was finally getting through to her, and he glanced back at the camera, knowing Fury was watching over them since he had to sign off on allowing them back into the cell so soon.

"Did you do any tests when I was sleeping?" Pandora asked, intently gazing at Bruce.

Frowning, he opened his mouth to answer, but Clint beat him to it, "No."

       "Yes," Bruce speedily corrected, feeling their questioning stares on his back. "There was someone who came into monitor how quickly you're healing after we returned you here - and you both know I'm going to be honest with her to show we aren't Hydra," he glanced over his shoulder, scowling at the two spies.

       Shrugging, Clint shifted his crossbow in his hands. "You're in charge, boss."

       Gracefully nodding, Bruce turned back to Pandora as she stared at her now empty plate, a glossy look in her eye. "...Did Hydra ever conduct tests on you while you were sleeping?" he tentatively inquired, and when she didn't answer or even text to his question, he knitted his brows in concern. "Pandora...?"

       Memories flashing through her mind, Pandora tightly shut her eyes against them as if that would stop the flashback. Hydra was ruthless and impatient when it came to gaining answers about her powers. Whenever exhaustion would take hold, Hydra would strike, and Pandora's momentary rest would end while liquid would be shoved down her throat, causing her to roughly wake.

Thrashing in their hold, she had tossed them aside like dolls, attempting to spit what she hadn't swallowed out of her mouth. Dark veins appeared around Pandora's eyes and she growled, only to stumble back as a wave of nausea washed over her. Hitting a wall, the black veins retracted and were replaced by black dots clouding her vision as whatever she had swallowed started to take affect. Scrambling to their feet, the Hydra agents harshly grabbed Pandora a hauled her of the cage.

Sight blurry, she suddenly found herself in a room with bright lights and was strapped to a bed. Lazily lolling her head to the side, avoiding the pill a gloved hand was attempting to put in her mouth, Pandora felt the same hand grip her chin and force her mouth open. Pill slipping down her throat, a moment passed before sharp burning sensation tore through her insides. Excruciating screams broke through her lips from the pain that would eventually knock her out.

Then, Pandora would abruptly wake up in her cage, staring at the concerned face of Strucker as he examined her. He'd brush a hand through her hair that stuck to her sweat and dirt stained forehead.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, helping her sit up, and she shook her head, feeling as if she was swallowing cotton. "I'll talk to them. Everything will be okay now that I'm here," he softly reassured, crouching next to her.

"Pandora? Are you okay?"

Pulled back into reality by Bruce's voice, she snapped her attention to him. Glancing at the meal they shared, she frantically shook her head and clamored to her feet. "Get out," she quietly ordered, hardened gaze landing on him.

"You were - and I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Bruce stammered, baffled by how she went from docile to violent in a instant.

"I said get out!" Harshly slamming her fist into the wall, leaving a massive dent with a crack trailing up to the ceiling, Pandora glowered at them as black veins slithered around her eyes in warning.

Immediately, Natasha and Clint hefted Bruce up, ushering him away. Storming to her corner, Pandora sat down and watched the leave. Gaping, wrenching from his friends grasps, Bruce whirled around with a frown, motioning to the cell as the other agents returned to their posts.

"What was that? Why did we leave?"

"Did you not see the damage she did to that wall?" Clint laughed in disbelief, thankful it wasn't their heads. "Should were fortify the other two cells just in case she tries to run again?" he asked Natasha.

Arms crossed over her chest, she firmly nodded. "I think we should, but if we do, Pandora could be alerted to it and try something."

"I'll talk to Hill about it, see what she thinks," He hummed in thought and left, jogging down the hall.

"Stop talking about her like she's some mass murderer that needs to be locked up," Bruce exclaimed.

Sympathy shining in her eyes, Natasha shook her head. "We're just trying to keep everyone safe, including her, because if she gets out again, you and I both know we're going to have to hurt her to get her back."

Irritably huffing, he briskly walked off. "I don't agree with that," he muttered.

"If she wasn't a flight risk, then maybe we could house her in one of the vacant rooms here," Natasha called. Catching up, she reminded him: "That's where you come in, but first we have to actually get her to a point where she doesn't run."

Running a tired hand over his face, Bruce heavily exhaled and halted in the middle of the hallway. "I know that, but I don't have to like it."

"At least she seemed a little more talkative with you today, well for her." She sent him an encouraging smile, though he turned his back to her.

"And then she spaced out and practically broke a wall. I don't even know what I did to cause her to act that way."

Hand on his shoulder, Natasha sighed. "You didn't do anything, Bruce. Hydra did."

"I just want to help her," Bruce frustratingly proclaimed, placing his hand over hers.

"I know you do," she said, resting her chin on his hand, leaning close to him. "And you will, you just have to give her some time."

"But what if Hydra has caused too much damage?" He voiced concerns out loud, "What if we're too late?"

Vehemently shaking her head, Natasha pulled away and walked around to properly face him. "Its never too late, trust me on that. If she really wants to be helped, she'll learn to trust you eventually."

Face scrunched in worry, Bruce silently followed her back to the surveillance room to talk to Fury. All the while, he mentally debated if Pandora would ever trust anyone again and if she did, how could they be sure it'd be him?