a/n : here's another one to keep the ball rolling! enjoy!
please react, comment, and vote!
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SPENCER'S HEAD IS POUNDING.
It's nothing new.
It had been pounding for the previous, well... Spencer's not sure. When she thinks too much, there is a shock that ripples through her skull, burning her ears and eyes. Soldat says not to think too much. He says it helps with the pain.
He told her, it's the thing about HYDRA's brain games - they just haven't perfected it. Sometimes the shocks make her forget the past. Sometimes, it makes it hard to remember the present. All the time, it hurts to try to remember anything.
Her body is aching with exhaustion, but she uses what feels like the last of her energy to pry her eyes open, and it's like lifting weights under the weak muscles of her eyelids.
The room around her is not one she's familiar with. Over the last... well, as far back as she can remember, Spencer had visited a total of 6 rooms in the HYDRA facility. Her room. The training room. The medical room. The bathing room. The fighting courtyard. James' room.
James. That's what the Soldat had said his name was, anyway. He also told her that her name was "Spencer", and that he had learned it from the guards. Spencer wasn't convinced that he was convinced it was true, but it could not matter much. Names meant nothing. Soldat and Merzost.
No other names are necessary anymore.
This room wasn't any of those rooms, so Spencer scans it carefully. Her vision is fuzzy and distorted, and her eyes burn against the cool air. She suddenly realizes that there's something lurking in her peripheral vision.
"You're awake."
Spencer jumps - well, tries too. She was acutely aware she was sitting, and when she went to defend herself, she found resistance from her wrists - cuffs. The force shoves her back down. The chair shakes from the shift.
"Don't do that," a voice chides, and it sounds soft but almost a hiss. "You will hurt yourself more."
Spencer doesn't recognize the voice. It's not James' or Madam's or any of the officers she's been trained/experiments/tortured by. But still, it sends the networks in her brain firing, trying to finish the puzzle.
There's a sting in her head. It's sharp and electrifying, and Spencer winces. The pain makes her jolt, which tugs her already raw wrists against the sharp metal.
"Stop, you are hurting yourself," the voice calls, but Spencer tugs harder against the restraints, thinking she could summon enough strength to break them. The reasonable half of her knows she's much too exhausted to gather enough energy to do that. "Do you know how to listen, dragă?"
Spencer stills. dragă. She knows the word. Dear. it comes to her without hesitation, but as her brain keeps filling in her memories, there's a sharp pain that turns into a dull ache. dragă. God, it hurts. Spencer flinches.
There's a shushing sound, and then warm hands on Spencer's freezing arms. She tries to jump away from the contact, but the hands tug her down against the chair again.
There's some shifting. Now, the other person is standing in front of her, hands still holding her arms firmly, and Spencer forces her eyes to look at him.
He's close enough that he's not blurry; the rest of the setting shifts out of focus behind him, but it's like she can see him just fine. She wishes she hadn't been able to, though, because the silver hair and the blue eyes send the neuron pathways in her head firing, misfiring, and there's a fit of pain streaking through her brain.
God, Spencer's been through torture. So much torture. This has got to be the worst of it. The panic, the shocks, and blood creasing at her wrists - and this guy doesn't even look like he's getting a kick out of it. He looks oblivious. He looks...
Concerned?
Another shock to the skull and Spencer flinches.
"Do you remember me?"
Spencer wanted to say yes. No. She's not sure, but she wants to say something, anything, but her brain is burning right now, and his eyes were-
There's a hand at the side of her head, where her hair had fallen from her braid to act as a curtain. "Hey, hey," he soothed, and Spencer was busy fretting about the contact until he locked eyes with her again. "You are okay, Spencer. You are safe, now."
Spencer. Maybe Soldat was right - maybe that truly was her name. But she's not going to take from this guy.
Even so, Spencer stills for a second. She's not sure why but the voice is enough to get to just... pause. She's not supposed to pause at anything. But she pauses now.
"There," the boy sighs out, and Spencer wants to lash out at his relief. She doesn't though. She lets her eyes skip from his feet to his knees to his shoulders to-
Eyes.
Her head stings again, but this time, she flinches through it.
His eyes are still moving, still darting over her face like he's trying to memorize or remember, completely unaware of the pain he causes.
"Stop," Spencer demanded. Her voice is scratchy and raspy and it sounds less like words and more of a cry of pain.
"What?" the boy calls out, his eyes still on her. He doesn't listen or he doesn't care, and Spencer's forced to put her eyes back on the dirty floor. It's wood caked with mud. Another cell. "What is-"
Spencer tugs her hands against the restraints. It digs into her skin and she can feel flashing, searing pain, but she doesn't stop. The chair is shaking with force, and the boy's voice is calling out something, but Spencer doesn't stop until her shoulders are shoved against the chair.
"Will you stop that?" the boy said, frustration clouding his tone. "I will take them off, just...stop. Please."
Spencer didn't reply, but she stills. She's almost frozen in her place as the boy turns his back on her for a second, before turning back with a key.
He moves forward, then stops. He stares at her skeptically.
"If I let you out," he starts, carefully, "do you promise you won't try to kill me?"
It sounds like a joke. A tease. It's so light-hearted that Spencer doesn't respond, she just deflates a little and watches carefully as his hands skim her wrists as he undoes the restraints. She flinches a few times. She didn't mean to, but she notices the look in Pietro's eyes. Concern. Sadness.
The restraints are off. Spencer studies her wrists for a second, and the deep red lines that are starting to slowly fade she waits until they're almost back to normal before she jumps.
Her arms are green by the time her hands hit Pietro's chest, and blood is rushing so fast in her ears she can't even hear his shouts. He's on the ground in seconds, his neck choked by Spencer's green hand, and his body pressed to the ground by her knee against his stomach.
He stays there for a moment, Spencer's hold tightening, her eyes growing dead again.
There's a sudden shift. Now Spencer's back is on the ground, her hands held at her side, and Pietro towering over her.
"That is not nice, dragă."
That stupid name. Spencer doesn't know why, she's been called much worse, but it fills her with anger, absolute rage, and she breaks from his hold, trips him, and throws him across the room.
He tumbled into the wall. It's wood. The whole place is wood. It must be a cabin, or something, furniture placed around, and Spencer almost forgets about the boy until there's a blur at her side, and she's shoved against the wall, her hands restrained against the wood, and his blue eyes inches from his face.
"I do not like this game," the boy states, and Spencer can't even tell if he's serious or not, but judging by the grip at her wrists and how tired she's getting, there's no more room for games.
Spencer's eyes snap back to his. He looks... she doesn't know. Her mind is screaming about sleep and fighting and rabbits, and she doesn't know anything about anything anymore.
His voice is almost quiet when he speaks again. It rumbles. "You are hurt. Stop fighting."
Spencer's resolution gives out. She might as well die here, anyway. It's a dirty cabin or a rusted cell.
The next few moments pass quickly, and Spencer back in the chair, this time, one handcuff to the chair arm.
She tugs at it. Again and again. But she's tired and hungry, and the green isn't coming anymore. It's just that useless kind of terror rushing up to her throat.
"It comes off when you learn to play nicely," the boy notes in front of her. He's watching her carefully, but almost... tiredly. Tired. He has to sleep too, right? Spencer can leave then.
"No more running," the boy says. "I can see it in your eyes - no running. You can't outrun me."
He's right. He's got to have some kind of mutation - he's inhumanly fast. It feels familiar.
Maybe she could outfight him, but she's completely out of energy and will now. She thinks it's over.
It's not. The man walks to the far side of the cabin, where Spencer can barely make out a little kitchen. He opens a cabinet and picks out a bowl.
He comes back to her, moments later, with a bowl of soup in hand, pulling up a chair and arranging himself in front of her.
"Eat," he tells her, and Spencer doesn't even move. She's not dying by poison - not today. Not yet. Not until she at least punches this guy's face in. He must see the struggle in her eyes, because he bargains, "eat. Kill me later."
Again, she stills.
With a sigh, Pietro swallows a spoon full. It's like he can see right through her. He waits for a second or two, then raises his eyebrow.
"Your turn," he tells her, offering the spoon on her no restrained side, and Spencer hesitantly accepts it. She's hungry.
The soup tastes good. It tastes like lemon and warmth, and it's much better than what she's been eating at the facility.
She doesn't give the spoon back to the boy. She eats the whole bowl with no thought to even share with the guy.
If he minds, he doesn't mention it. He waits until Spencer is finished to ask his question.
"What do you remember?"
It's a hard question. Spencer remembers a lot. She remembers James (Soldat) left hook is always less aggressive than his right, that her feet always tumble over themselves when she's tired, and there's a pain in her head when she sees this boy's eyes.
But there's a lot she can't remember.
So she doesn't answer. She lets him sit with his own question.
"Do you remember your father?" he asked, and Spencer paused. She forgot about the word father. She forgot about the whole idea of a father and a mother and a family.
She can't remember anything in particular. But the word feels like amber warmth and brown sweaters and bubbly laughs.
"Bruce," he says, and Spencer looks back at him. "Your father, Bruce Banner. You remember him?"
Spencer doesn't answer. She thinks it sounds familiar. She also thinks she's very tired.
"Your mother?" he prompts, and at the sound of frantic creeping in his voice, Spencer scans his expression. "Nicole," he says when she doesn't respond. His face contorts again - he thinks she's just being difficult. "You know them," he tells her, but it sounds like it's more for him "I know you know them - why don't you answer?" he demands, and Spencer's eyes flicker over to the window. Do you know your name?" they're in the woods. "Spencer, look at me, dragă, I -" it's night outside. "damn it!"
Spencer startles for a second. He sounds a lot like Soldat when he shouts. Spencer's not sure he means to scream - he looks like he regrets it immediately after. His face is shoved in his hands, and Spencer pulls her attention away from her surroundings to watch the way his hands tug in his hair at the dark roots. It reminds her of Madam and her hair, and the way she's always angrier when the top was a different color.
"Dyed," Spencer says, suddenly. It's the first thing she's said to him all night, and his blue eyes shoot up to hers immediately.
The entire cabin is still. Spencer thinks she can hear crickets outside, so she turns to look.
Her words finish themselves. "Your hair is dyed."
He studies her. For a second. And another.
"Pietro," he reintroduces.
She doesn't give him her name. He has it already, and she's not even sure it's real.
✯✯✯
THEY FIGHT SLEEP THAT NIGHT.
Spencer waits for him to go first. He waits for her. It's a nightmare in itself because she starts to realize shortly that neither of them plans on giving in.
"Sleep," Pietro says, after two hours of silence. His voice is gravely, and Spencer's head snaps over to where he's sitting at a wooden table, on an old device. It's almost a computer, but not really.
His blue eyes meet hers. Spencer can't think much about anything except sleep, so it doesn't hurt this time.
"I won't kill you," he tells her, teasing. "It was you who attacked me."
Spencer doesn't reply, but she doesn't not believe him. He doesn't look like he wants to kill her.
She can hear Soldat's voice in her head. "They won't kill you, but they'll hurt you like hell."
"You are tired," Pietro persuades. Spencer's eyes are on the window. "You can't fight me if you don't sleep."
"They'll kill you."
The room stills again.
Spencer looks to Pietro, whose eyes are already on her.
"HYDRA," she says, clearly. Her eyes are back to the window. Her voice is leveled. "They'll kill you for taking me."
"I'll take my chances," Pietro says. "After all, you are very valuable."
"I won't do it," she tells him, her voice a little more firm, and Pietro's eyebrows furrow. "Whatever you want me to do," she goes on. "I won't fight for you. I won't kill."
She repeats the words like a mantra, but they don't belong to her. They're Soldat's, but she has a hard time pinpointing when she heard them.
"I don't want you to kill, dragă," Pietro tells her calmly, turning back to his computer thing. "I don't think the avengers will be happy with that."
The avengers. That sparks something in Spencer's memory.
"You can't trust them," she tells him seriously. His eyes are back on her, searching her face. "Steve Rogers is HYDRA." She can remember the visits, the torture, the way James always stared extra hard when he came around. She can remember that this information also counts as treason but... do what you have to in order to survive. "He'll kill you dead."
"This again?" Pietro groans and Spencer doesn't get what he means. "I am not explaining this again whether or not you can remember the first time."
"I am not lying," she grits out, her jaw set now. "He's HYDRA-"
"Okay," Pietro interrupts. "Captain America is HYDRA. Go to sleep now."
Spencer wants to yell at or hit him, but she's still so tired. She doesn't want to give him any chances to kill her but...
"What are you doing?" she demands. She hasn't spoken so freely since, well, she can remember. HYDRA rewarded her silence, punished her otherwise. But Pietro doesn't seem to mind at all. Not the fighting, not the questions - it's almost like they give him relief.
"Contacting the Avengers," he offers smoothly, not reacting to the way Spencer's face hardens.
She wants to tell him about how Steve's a double agent. All about the things she heard him say in the hallways, the things he told her, the way even James was cautious around him.
But she doesn't think she has that kind of time. Or energy.
"They're going to kill me," Spencer tells him. "And then he'll kill you."
"You? Maybe," Pietro agrees with a shrug. "Me? Never. I am much too important."
Spencer's anger gets the best of her. It's so frustrating to hear him just blatantly ignore everything she's told him, and before she even realizes it, she's broken the metal from the handcuffs.
It clatters to the floor.
Pietro looks over at it, then at her. He stops working, and shifts to face her better.
"Do you want to fight again?" he asks, calmly, almost like he's exasperated with this whole conversation. "Or will you go to sleep?" When Spencer doesn't move to kill him, he says. "Rest. You can kill me tomorrow."
Spencer's irritated with him, but she's even more irritated with herself for being so tired. He's right, and she knows it. She can barely keep her eyes open, and even if she does run, where does she go? HYDRA will kill her. The Avengers will kill her. Spencer's not sure she's got any other option than Pietro right now.
She slowly stands up, picking up the handcuffs from the floor as she makes her way to the couch in the center of the room. She might as well stay there. She doesn't know the other rooms and doesn't have time to survey them.
The handcuffs go barrelling towards Pietro's head, and he catches them just before they hit him.
His eyes lock with hers, and they stare for a moment.
"Don't ever tie me up again," Spencer tells him.
Pietro just watches as she shifts on the couch, careful not to put her back to him for more than a second.
He puts his eyes back on the computer. His message is half typed out - just the coordinates. Nothing more. He's not sure they'd even believe him if he said he found her.
"How'd I get here?" Spencer asks after a moment of silence. Pietro doesn't know if the question is really for him, but his fingers pause on the device.
"Don't you remember?" Pietro presses, but not harshly. It's almost like a nudge. "Think about it."
Spencer wants to kill him just for that comment. He doesn't even realize that thinking feels as bad as direct torture now. It's more than pins and needles - it's like knives and tasers.
"You were on a mission," he breaks after a second, his eyes back on her. "With James Barnes. The Winter Soldier."
Soldat, Spencer thinks, but she doesn't say it. Because when HYDRA gets her back, she doesn't want the punishment for traitors.
"It was in Turkey," he tells her, and Spencer's able to piece the rest of it together.
It was her third mission. They were dealing with an arms manufacturing that was overpricing materials. They were supposed to kill him to send a message.
Spencer was supposed to kill him. But she can remember standing there, choking the guy out, and just... no.
She couldn't do it.
Before her hand could even fall from his neck, a bullet pierced his skull.
Spencer turned back to Soldat, horrified. They'd both be in trouble for how things went.
Then she saw the knife the man had been holding. Right to her side, ready to slice through her stomach. She wanted to spare him, and he was going to kill her.
Heat flared up her neck, but her shoulders were tugged back by someone.
"You don't kill," Soldat said, his voice gravely, his muzzle tugged down. "Let's go."
"He watched me take you," Pietro said, and Spencer's attention snapped back to him. "He didn't even fight - does he hate you, dragă?"
"Stop calling me that," Spencer shot back, filled with more agitation about the new information than the name. Now that he mentioned it, she can remember the rest. They walk back to the transport in the back alleys. Someone grabbing her from behind, locking an arm around her stomach. The way Soldat stared but didn't move to stop it as a needle pricked her skin.
Then she remembers this boy. She had seen him, during the fight. She fought him during the fight.
"Where are they?" she demands, and Pietro stares at her quizzically. "The rest of your friends that attacked me."
Pietro's eyebrows furrow. "That is not how it happened," he told her. "But, if you care, I left them behind. For security. For you."
"It's not for me."
"Go to bed," Pietro argues. "Take the chance that I will kill you in your sleep, or know that I will annoy you to death awake. Your choosing."
Spencer didn't reply. She knows her choice, as much as she hates it. But even worse, she knows he won't kill her. Truly. She can see it in his face and she just... knows. She feels almost safe with him.
And besides - if he tries to kill Spencer, she'll kill him first. Soldat's not here. She knows better than to hesitate now.