Sleep does not come easily at the safehouse.
For hours you toss and turn in a creaky, wooden bed smothered by a scratchy, twin-sized quilt. The air is cool and sweet, but between the blaring chirps of the crickets outside and the gnawing fear in the pit of your stomach, it's impossible to fall asleep. Finally, sometime between when the stars fade and the sun wakes, you fall into light dreams plagued by long white coats and bloody palms.
"Wake up, Experiment 2981."
Your pulse races, and your dreams shift. Hands grab and pull at your clothes, your hair, your arms. Screams echo around vacuous cement rooms. A single, blue eye peeks through a crack in the wall and speaks in a deep voice that teaches you how to count the drops of water.
Hopelessness. Fear.
"I said wake up."
Your eyes fly open, unable to see anything beyond dark figures looming above you. Your heart races as a familiar voice whispers in your ear.
"Good. You still obey."
No, no it's impossible.
Now awake, eyes wide open, a masked face comes into view. You lurch to the side, adrenaline surging through your veins as your arms are pinned to the bed. You ready your lungs to scream when a massive hand covers your nose and mouth. You flail, struggling against the grip that has you pinned to the bed. But before you have a chance to truly fight you are bound at the wrists, knees, and ankles, being shoved up in your bed.
"Quiet. You wouldn't want to wake the others."
Lifting your head, slowly, you come face to face with none other than The Doctor - your caregiver, experimenter, and torturer for the years you were held in the experimentation lab.
"No," you whisper. "You're not real...you can't be real...you're dead."
"Ah, my dear. Don't you know better? Cut off a limb, and two shall take its place," the Doctor whispers quietly in your ear, extending one finger and tucking a strand of hair that had fallen from your braid behind your ear.
You quickly inhale, preparing to cry out for help, when once more a large, gloved hand covers your mouth and nose.
"Now, now. Before you act rashly, my dear, consider your options."
As he speaks the Doctor steps aside, revealing an unconscious Clint bound and gagged on the floor as a single stream of blood trickles down his temple. And behind him, a tiny, frightened Lila Barton - her ruddy cheeks covered in tear stains and her mouth covered in duct tape. A HYDRA agent holds a knife to her neck so tightly that you can see the little girl's skin already beginning to split. You breathe heavily through your nose as the man's hand on your mouth prevents you from talking. Desperately, you grunt and shake your head. He removes his hand.
"Please, please let her go," you cry, your voice breaking.
"That can be arranged, the Doctor croons, running a single, gentle finger down your cheek and wiping away a tear. "But only, of course, if you come quietly."
You shudder against his touch as your stomach churns. "I-if I go with you, you'll leave everyone here alone, unharmed?" you stammer.
"Of course."
"I don't trust you," you seethe.
"Have I ever lied to you?" The Doctor challenges. He smirks as he watches your face fall. He knows he always keeps his word - even if it isn't exactly in the way he would have led you to believe. Like that last recall you witnessed before you were saved. The mother who gave up her son, only to be killed for her efforts.
Yes, the Doctor will keep his word. But you don't trust him to keep it the way you want it to be kept.
"Hmm," the Doctor hums in gentle, haughty laughter. "You've lost your faith in me? Well, my dear, we both know you can do something about that now, don't we?"
Your jaw drops. It had been against protocol to use your powers on any of the HYDRA staff, punishable by death. You had lived in fear of ever violating that rule, intentionally or accidentally, for three years. And now your tormentor invites you to use your Perception on him?
"You heard me," he says once more, his cold, emotionless voice catching like an iron rod in your chest. "Go on. Do it. Now."
You close your eyes, and open your Perception, reaching out for the Doctor's mind. "If I go with you, will you leave everyone here unharmed and in peace?"
"Yes."
You search his emotions...seeking any sign of deception. But his emotions run smooth, like glassy waters. Disturbed only by tiny ripples of content amusement. You're stunned to find he's telling the truth.
"Satisfied?" he asks.
Reluctantly, you close the link and nod. The two HYDRA agents beside you release the bindings around your knees and ankles, and allow you to stand. The Doctor bends down to speak to Lila, gesturing for the HYDRA agent holding the knife to her neck to back away.
"Don't touch her!" you snap. "You promised."
The Doctor simply casts a cruel smile at you before turning his attention back to the small tiny brunette. "Come here, girl. You are going to sit right here on this chair. And you are going to stay still and quiet until the sun comes up. Do not move. Do not cry. Do you understand?"
Lila shakes her head rapidly as her tiny shoulder shakes with silent sobs.
"Good girl," the Doctor says, picking up Lila and setting her in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. "Let us depart," he says, turning back to you. "We have a plane to catch."
The agent at your side pulls you roughly from your bed, giving you a shove. Your footing falters, but you catch yourself just as another shove sends you several steps forward, following after the Doctor. But you ignore the rough treatment, and stop just short of the door to kneel next to Lila, who has started crying aloud.
"No sudden movements," one of the HYDRA agents whispers quietly, shoving a firearm in your back.
"She's a child," you hiss. "She's scared. Give me a moment to calm her, or the whole house will wake up."
The HYDRA official looks to the Doctor, who rolls his eyes but gives a small nod.
"Everything's okay," you say, offering Lila a gentle smile. "I'm going to go now, and I'm taking these men with me, okay? When your daddy wakes up you tell him I went with my...friends," you say through grit teeth.
Lila sniffles and nods.
You lean forward, looking like you're giving the small girl a comforting embrace to the best of your ability, with your wrists bound behind your back, but before you pull away, you whisper a single word in her ear.
"Tahiti."
-----
It's dark. Cold. Steady drops of water hit the concrete floor one after another. Drip. Drip. Drip. It makes you think of Nine, and his bright blue eyes. You had seen them once or twice through a crack in the corner of your neighbored cells. Each time you caught a glimpse of them, you had been reminded of the sky. You wonder what happened to him. But you don't wonder for long before you're too tired to think of anything but the pain in your joints. In your head. In your palms. Everything hurts. Your body. Your mind.
You've only been back in one of HYDRA's godforsaken trial rooms for a day, perhaps two, but you aren't sure how much longer your body can hold out. These trials are unlike any you had been put through in all your years locked up. Especially with the strange serums they've started injecting you with once more. Each one different. Each one painful.
As you sit strapped to a metal chair in the darkness, you think about Lila. Praying that she delivered your message to the Avengers, and that Tony recognized it, and knew what to do. But would such a small child even remember what you had whispered to her in a state of such fright?
"Tahiti".
Phil. Tony had been trying to get details from Fury, but the man had never even confirmed Phil's status, simply saying 'we lost a good agent in New York'. But he's alive. You know he's alive. And you know Tahiti has something to do with it. You need Tony to find Phil, because if anyone can find you now, it's Phil. He's done it once before.
As you listen to the mind-numbing, repetitive drop of water on concrete you feel a slight tickle on your neck. Loki's ribbon.
Oh god, Loki. He probably doesn't even know you're gone. How could he? The Avengers have to know by now. In fact, they're probably already out looking for you. Believing that is the only thing bringing you any comfort. But Loki isn't with them. And it's doubtful they've managed to get word to him.
"I'll see you soon.
"You had better not be lying to me, love."
"I would never."
In the quiet cold, you stifle a sob. You would give anything to simply travel back in time to finish your final words to him. To let him know one last time how much you love him. How sorry you are. How you wish you had more time. When suddenly, a thought occurs to you.
Maybe I can still talk to him.
"Heimdall," you whisper, surprised by the how hoarse your throat is. You try to wet your cracked lips, but your mouth is too dry. So you push through the pain and look up to the ceiling, imagining the blue sky above the balcony at Stark Tower. "I don't know if you can hear me when I'm inside, or how this works, but I'm in trouble," you rasp.
Silence answers, punctuated by slow drips of water on concrete.
"If you can hear me...I know you can't help me," you say, heart sinking as the weight of that truth settles over you like a cold blanket. You know he can't interfere. You had explained the same to the Avengers. But even though he can't help you now, he might be able to help Loki later. You take a breath, trying to control your tears, and keeping your voice quiet to avoid alerting the HYDRA personnel outside your cell. "I just want you to know that...that I understand. And I'm sorry to make you watch. But...I need to ask you a favor."
Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky breath as the salt from your tears seeps through your lips and spreads across your tongue.
"Two favors, actually," you whisper. "Please don't tell Thor. Let me suffer and let me die before letting Thor find out I was ever in any danger. Please Heimdall, don't tell him when there's nothing he can do."
You close your eyes, conjuring images of Thor in your mind. His kind blue eyes. His familiar and friendly smile. How safe you felt in his care in Asgard. But slowly, Thor's face morphs into Loki's. And you feel your heart shatter. Loki's emerald gaze. His soft hands as they cup your face. The gentle, stolen kisses when he thinks you're asleep on his chest. His jests, his tricks, his arguments with the team.
You love everything about him.
"And please keep watch on Loki," you whisper. "I know you can see how his heart has changed. I know you see that he's worthy of going home. And I'm afraid that if I don't...if I don't come home that he'll give up. Please...don't let him give up."
"Quiet!"
A HYDRA guard's voice from outside your cell rings through the empty chamber, bouncing from wall to wall. Desperate to say more - to plead for Heimdall's promise - you're frightened by the promise of what waits for you if you don't obey. So you try again - for the hundredth time since your capture - to meditate. To do anything that might ease the splitting pain in your head or the aching in your joints. But it's not long before the metal door to your Trial Room swings open. Chained as you are, you can't see who's coming in behind you. But you can hear them. Broken, manic sobs are accompanied by the drag of heavy chains along the ground.
"We begin again," the Doctor's voice barks as a hand in your hair yanks your head back, and a needle slides into your neck. You whimper as something cold slithers through your veins, causing the muscles in your neck to constrict. "Hush now" the Doctor croons as he presses down on the plunger. "I've solved that little issue we had last time. Let us see how you perform on this concoction."
The cold turns to fire that licks the insides of your veins. You scream as your body is wracked with pain. But the hand in your hair keeps your eyes on the ceiling, and you pray that Heimdall has heard you as you let your mind sink into hazy oblivion.