a/n : no pain, no gain, besties!
✯✯✯
PAIN IS A PART OF LIFE.
And in some instances, pain is the only reminder of life.
That's how Spencer's doing right now. If she couldn't feel all the pain - the poking, the prodding - she would have thought she was dead. She never really knew what to believe about the afterlife, but she was certain this was hell.
Madam was not kind, she never was. And Spencer's momentary escape, her small sliver of hope in a better life, only damned her more to the woman.
Immediately after Pietro had agreed to work with HYDRA again, Madam directed the HYDRA agent holding him at gunpoint to bring him to the facility. In separate transportation.
Spencer hasn't seen him since.
It's been five days - she's not even sure he's alive. Half the time, she's not sure she's alive.
It's been five days of pain. The second she arrived back at the facility, the torture began. The whippings came first - 50 swatches down her back, leaving bleeding reminders of everything she wanted to escape.
That wasn't the end of it.
She didn't eat for the next few days but was thrown into intense training, anyway. She didn't see Soldat again, but she would be too weak to stand a chance against him, anyway. She had no will for survival, and these agents brought her to the brink of death.
It's day five of this. Spencer's only eaten half a meal, and she's so tired. She feels nothing but pain and guilt. She dragged Pietro into this. Soldat was right - she should have just run.
Because Pietro only ever made things better. For that fleeting time Spencer did escape, he made her feel safe. Protected. Loved. She couldn't even remember him, she gave him hell, but still.
And even with a gun to his head, telling Madam that Spencer couldn't remember anything, that it wasn't her choice - he saved her ass. Again. He knew she was remembering piece by piece, but he knew that if he said anything, HYDRA would make sure she'd forget this time.
She goes along with it - it's not that hard. Sure, it's hard, because Spencer can remember her dad, and her mom, and her heart fucking aches for them, but she doesn't have time to think about them. Her eyes glaze over. Her brain goes quiet. She fights. Spar after spar. Even if she loses.
"Things like you should never be out of practice long, Merzost," Madam notes, walking up to where Spencer was sprawled out on the ground. The agent stands over her, frozen, but ready to pounce again. It's no use, though - Spencer's eyes are close to crossing. She thinks she's close to death, not even strong enough to summon the strength that's given her the nickname.
Her perfectly polished shoe kicks at Spencer, right in the ribs. She thinks one of them is broken, and Spencer lets out a cry.
Madam presses the toe of her foot against the injury.
"Up," she hisses, and Spencer lets out a heavy breath before turning on her side, using her scraped knees as leverage. "Useless. Can't even fight properly."
Spencer says nothing, she has nothing to say. Soon, though, Madam is grabbing at her chin with a gloved hand, boring into her eyes.
"There it is," she says, after a moment, a wicked grin on her face. "That little spark, Merzost. I knew it was still there-" she shoves Spencer's face away, losing her grip. "Don't worry," she tells her. "It won't be for long."
Madam steps back.
"Fight," she demands. "Again."
✯✯✯
AGENTS ARE DRAGGING SPENCER BACK TO HER ROOM.
Cell. She's been demoted to cell - two walls and two barred openings. Madam says it's to keep an eye on her.
She doesn't fight against their hold. Each one of them's got an arm, and she's so tired, they're practically holding her up.
They throw her against the concrete with no remorse, locking her in before she even gets herself up again.
"Wait," she calls out. They turn, just slightly. "Where is he? The man I came here with?"
She's desperate, but these men are ruthless.
There's no real response, just one of the soldiers spitting on the floor next to her. And then they're gone.
Spencer shoves herself into the corner of the room. She's cold and so tired. She leans her head against the freezing cement.
Her eyes begin to fall closed when she sees a figure in front of her cell.
She jolts awake.
It's Soldat.
His muzzle is off, but his hair is wild. He looks like he's just gotten out of training himself - there are cuts along his cheeks, and his shoulder sag.
Spencer eyes him, carefully, she says nothing.
"Don't look at me like that," he grumbles, and Spencer's attention snaps.
"This is your fault," she hisses at him, her eyes wild.
He shakes his head. "You had your chance."
"I hope they wipe you," Spencer tells him. "You're so fucking annoying when you talk."
"You're no better, Kid," Soldat tells her, and the name echoes in her head.
Kid. She's not a kid. This is not how kids are treated.
She's barely human.
✯✯✯
THREE DAYS LATER, SPENCER WAKES UP TO KICKING AT HER CELL.
It's Madam. It's a surprise, too, because Madam never fetches her herself. She's got two agents with her, but still... something off.
"Get her up," she directs, and the soldiers do what they're told, grabbing Spencer by each arm and hauling her up.
They've got her in handcuffs in seconds.
Panic rushes through her body. This isn't right. She's never handcuffed for sparring - that's basically a death sentence. She must have done something to irritate Madam because she's about to get plummeted to death right now.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," Madam sighs out with a roll of her eyes. "You're not going to train like this - though," her head tilted. "It's not a terrible idea."
Spencer's stomach sinks.
"A little lover boy is asking for you," Madam teases, her tone sickeningly sweet. "Says he won't go on a mission without seeing you. Wretched little thing," she scoffs. "Usually, I don't do well with blackmail, but I do have a soft spot for young love."
She glances down at Spencer who's struggling to stay standing, tripping over her own feet.
"Even if one of them is hardly an attractive partner."
Spencer ignores the comment. She's too focused on the room ahead of them - the cell, really. But unlike her's with the bars keeping her from escaping, it's a complete glass opening, putting the room on display like a dollhouse.
It's Pietro. It's him, but not really - not at all. Pietro isn't supposed to look like this. His hair is unkempt, he's in prisoner's clothes, he's... going insane. He's throwing himself against the walls, speeding around, leaving messy streaks of silver and blue. He's yelling, she thinks. He's shaking.
She knows how containment gets him. She remembers the one time he caught the flu, and Spencer had to fight him to stay in bed. He wanted to walk and stand and move. He hated locked and closed doors that isolated him - almost every door in Spencer's apartment stayed open when he was over.
"We've been trying to break him for a few hours," Madam notes, glancing at Spencer, who's watching, trying to stay calm. "You can't hear it, but he's listening to your screams."
Spencer turns to her, horrified.
Madam turns back to the room, content with her response. "It's a recording, of course," she tells her. "From your most recent punishment. I considered adding the visuals but... this seems to have done the trick."
Spencer swallows, hard. She wants to scream his name, to let him know she's here, and safe, but she can't. She can't break the illusion that she remembers nothing - the sympathy for him is risky enough.
Pietro finally looks up. It shatters Spencer more - the way his eyes are dull, the red encircles his blue iris, the way... he looks so defeated.
This is your fault.
He races up to the glass wall, and the quickness of it has Spencer stumbling back. The HYDRA agents keep her upright, her hands still tied behind her back.
"Bring her in," Madam says, boredly, turning as Spencer is dragged forward. "Soldat!"
All she can think about is keeping one foot in front of the other as the soldiers walk her to the door, unlocking it.
They yell at Pietro as they inch open the door, and Spencer assumes it's to tell him to stand back. Once it's open enough, they shove Spencer forward with so much force she loses balance, tumbling forward.
She prepares for the fall, but Pietro's already knelt in front of her, keeping her steady.
As he rises to his feet, he begins to assess Spencer. She knows it's not going well by the way his jaw clenches and his lips thin out. She doesn't blame him. Her right eye is all bruised up, there are gashes just above her eyelid, and scratches littering her entire body.
"Sit," he tells her, after a moment. His voice is rough and scratchy, so Spencer doesn't argue as he guides her to the only piece of furniture in the room, his bed. She sits at the end of it, her bare feet pressing against the cold of the flooring.
He's in front of her again, but this time, his hand brushes Spencer's cheek. She doesn't mean to, and she knows it's good for the illusion that she can't remember him, but it hurts.
"What are they doing to you?" she asks, in a whisper, but Pietro doesn't give a reply. He just shakes his head, pulling himself up from the ground, and sitting at her side, shoulder to shoulder.
"Did you eat?" he asks her.
"Yes," Spencer lies. Pietro can tell. "You?"
He nods, looking forward. "They want me on a mission," he tells her, avoiding eyes.
"I know."
He looks down at her. "They'll hurt you if I say no."
Spencer nods.
"Here," he tells her, after a moment of silence, scrambling under his terrible blanket to pull out a small piece of bread. "Eat."
Spencer frowns. "It's yours," she tells him. "Mission, remember? So you don't die?"
"I'll be alright," he tells her, softly. "Eat."
Spencer hesitates but accepts it, anyways. He's giving it up, and she's starving so... it's okay, she guesses.
Her eyes glance to the glass wall. Madam is gone, but now, Soldat is standing guard.
Pietro doesn't notice. "Will you be alright? If I leave."
"I don't think I have a choice, '' Spencer replies, quietly, watching the scrutiny of Soldat's stare.
If soldat wasn't there if there were agents behind the door, would she tell him that remembers everything? Part of her is like, of course, you would, Spencer! You could die. He could die.
But the other part is more hesitant. Does he need to know? The only thing that matters now is survival. HYDRA is beyond emotions and feelings. If she tells him if she even gets the chance, will he become too emotional? Will it overpower the common sense that is keeping them in line right now?
Will it shatter him more than he's already been broken?
"What is it?" he pressed, quietly. His eyes are just barely glancing at her, now glued to the floor. "What's happened? Something changed with you."
Spencer shakes her head and purses her lips. She forces that dull expression back in her eyes and levels her voice. "I told you they'd come for me."
It's as serious and low as she can make it sound. Spencer wishes she could say something else - anything. She wishes she could tell him she remembers all of the nights he spent keeping himself awake while she did coursework, just so she wouldn't have to be alone. She wishes she could tell him thank you for remembering her when she didn't even know her own name, and that she loves him so much it hurts.
But she doesn't.
And Pietro doesn't have anything more to say to her on the topic. If he thinks what he did was a mistake, he doesn't voice it.
"I'm not leaving you," he tells her, after a moment of eerie silence. His tone is deep and low, like the words are solely meant for her.
Spencer just looks forward. She acts like the words don't weigh down on her heart and crawl in her throat and make her want to scream.
She swallows it down. She's just... surviving is the priority.
Which she could probably focus on more if Pietro wasn't moving closer to her, his eyes focusing on the back of her neck. Before she can move to stop him, his fingers are curling around her shirt and tugging it down, revealing the sensitive skin.
Spencer hisses when the cold air hits her burning wounds, and she tugs away from Pietro immediately, but the damage has been done. He looks furious. He looks like...
He's left her side in a blur, and when Spencer sees him again, he's against the grated doorway, where the choppy image of Soldat stands.
His hands are gripping the rods, and his voice is terrifyingly low and threatening as he says, "I'm going to kill you."
Soldat doesn't flinch. He doesn't even react. His eyes just shift to Spencer, and he motions for her to come forward.
She follows the action, not glancing back at Pietro as she heads for the door. But his hand is on her arm, tugging her back.
Spencer lets him. She doesn't fight, she doesn't want to. And yeah, she knows she should be pretending to be a little soldier, a little tortured monster that can't remember how much she cares about this boy, but it falters.
His eyes are assessing her, carefully. He's looking for a puzzle piece that's missing. His stare is scrutinizing and watchful, and it makes Spencer want to admit everything.
She forces her eyes away and climbs out of the room.
As Soldat leads her away, Spencer glances once more at Pietro, who's back to his bed with his head in his hands.
Soldat's gruff voice broke the silence. "Don't."
Spencer looks at him.
"I see the way you look at him," Soldat tells her, darkly. Spencer feels her entire body freeze up. He won't even glance her way. "Don't."
It's vague and definitely something Soldat would say.
Months ago, Spencer would have nodded and complied.
Now? Spencer Rebecca Banner rolls her eyes. Like she's going to get advice from a guy who couldn't escape HYDRA imprisonment for a century - as if!