Avengers 1. Psych the Avengers Out

"_Target approaching 5__th__ St_," came the whisper in her mind.

She stopped and looked up at the corner street sign. 5th Street. Her blood ran cold. She shook her head and kept moving, pulling her coat up around her ears and up onto her head to block out the rain and the voices.

_Three blocks until she reaches us._

Now she was afraid. She had to shut her imagination up and get home. But home was three blocks away. She stopped and fiddled with something in her pocket, trying to pick up stray thoughts. But there was nothing, only the relentless pounding of the rain on the concrete.

Heart rate accelerating, she turned left and headed two blocks away. And there it was. She could almost hear their confusion as if they were standing right next to her. _Target has… changed course,_ came the thought. At the next corner she turned back the way she had come. _What is going on, why isn't she going home?_ She bent to tie her shoe, waiting for the inevitable. _What did the boss say her power was again?_ She tensed the muscles in her legs.

_Shit! Mind-reader!_

But by then she was gone, tearing down the street at a break-neck pace, hood flying back off her head, hair slicked to her neck.

_She's on to us!_

_Shit, gotta catch her!_

…_not paid enough for this_.

Her pursuer's thoughts exploded in her head and she tried to block them out. She turned down the 6th Street alley, sneakers splashing water up her ankles. Hurdling a trash can she heard, _almost caught up_, and blew around the corner and ghetto hopped the fence. Seconds later she heard a man curse as he encountered the links.

_Now!_

She dove to the side as the soldier sailed past. She lashed out a leg and took his knees out and kept moving. She skirted Tenth Street when she caught a sly thought about a trap. She had to fight her way past two more soldiers on 11th. Luckily, they telegraphed their fighting strategies as she flew past, leaving a broken wrist and a torn ankle ligament in her wake.

But by the time she rounded the corner, she was surrounded and they were starting to figure out not to think their motions out loud, or at least, not as loud. But thankfully they were untrained at blocking their thoughts. Her movements were a blur as she turned to block strikes and blows.

She couldn't block everything; she was only one person on ten. But no guns were blazing, no knives stabbing towards her which made it easier to move. She could focus solely on the fists coming at her face. But it also made her blood run cold because no heavy weaponry mean that this wasn't an eliminate mission. Clearly they didn't want her dead. It was a capture and take down mission. She refused to go back in a cage. She'd have to escape which meant taking them out or breaking free. It didn't look very likely that that was going to happen.

But she needed to focus now as a fist caught her cheekbone. The thoughts were jumbled and rushing at her.

_Focus on taking her down!_

_All at one, our thoughts will overwhelm her._

_Left hook to the chin to drop her._

_Take knees out._

_Finish this!_

The last one came from one of the first voices so she suspected that was the leader of this operation. She stepped out of the way of the left hook and jumped the sweep kick but caught a punch to her right temple and a roundhouse kick to the stomach. It doubled her up just long enough to have another kick take out the backs of her knees, sending her to the ground. Then they were on her like a pack of wolves.

Two of them twisted her arms behind her back while a third clamped handcuffs down on her wrists. She head-butted one of them and got a blow to the stomach from another soldier for her efforts. On her knees with her hands bound, there wasn't much she could do to stop it.

"You little bitch!" the man she'd head-butted shrieked. His hook caught her jaw. As he reared for another punch an authorative voice boomed, "STOP!"

A shadow approached her. She could only faintly see the person coming at her since one of her eyes was swelling up. Dizzy as she was, she decided looking at the ground was probably the best idea. Two shiny black shoes stopped in front of her. A hand grasped her chin and pulled her face up, forcing her to look at him.

She found herself looking at a dark-skinned man with an eye patch and a stern expression. "She's the one," he said and let her chin go. "Let's get out of here, people before the neighbors wake up."

He turned and started to walk away, trench coat swishing and dripping with rain. She heard him think, _now that was too easy_. And she grinned to herself as the soldiers hauled her to her feet. As soon as the soles of her sneakers touched the pavement she moved.

Using the men holding her as leverage, she shot her body down and back. There were twin pops as her shoulders dislocated and she pulled her hands in front of her body. She wiggled her shoulders as if stretching as gave her neck a pop, giving the befuddled strangers a grin worthy of the trickster god himself. Everything became a weapon then. The dumpster was an obstacle, the fire ladder a deterrent, the water a method to blind opponents. To men quickly learned to stay away from her legs as she lashed out. An elbow to the gut, fingers in soft tissue, heel to the stomach. She was a blur. But it wasn't enough and she knew it. She just wanted to give them a fight.

The white hot spark of pain in her shoulder and the echoing discharge of gunpowder was the first indication that she wasn't going to get out in one piece. She staggered, vision blurring as the soldiers moved away from her. The dark-skinned man held the gun level, wisps of smoke curling off the barrel. She reached her hands to her shoulder and pulled out the dart, blood pouring down her arm. Her vision was swimming and she hissed in pain as the dart fell from her fingers, dripping the neurotoxin that was now pumping through her veins.

"Do not make me shoot another, miss," he said quietly. She gave him a glare and ran. The second dart missed her, as did the third. But by then the toxin had slowed her movements just enough that the fourth dart pierced her thigh and she staggered, falling to her knees. She viciously yanked the dart out with a snarl.

No, she pleaded silently, no, not again.

"Bring her," the man said. Head swimming, she was barely able to throw a punch as two soldiers lifted her under her arms. Weakly, she tried to kick. No, no, no! she thought and flailed in her guard's arms.

One of the soldiers crossed her fading line of vision. The man she'd head-butted smiled at her with a sadistic gleam in his eye. " Sweet dreams, sweetheart," he sneered and slammed his fist into her face.


	2. Psych the Avengers Out - 2

_Fury dragged us up here for her? Doesn't look like much._

_Apparently she gave them a good fight. She put two of Fury's men in the hospital._

_Still, I don't see why I needed to be pulled away from Malibu._

_Quit your whining Tony, it's grinding my last nerve._

_Are you sure it's your last nerve?_

_Stark, I'm warning you…_

Groggily, she came to. There were two voices talking not too far away but her addled mind really couldn't make much of it. She kept her breathing slow and even so as not to arouse their suspicions and did a mental check of her situation.

She was lying on her side on a cool metallic surface. Her thigh was burning something fierce as was her shoulder. Most likely an after effect of the neurotoxin. Her left eye felt puffy and she suspected she'd have a hard time opening it. No injuries she'd sustained would slow her down when she found an escape route. Good news. The voice had been coming from behind her so she slowly opened her eyes. Just as she'd suspected, her left one barely opened.

Still not moving, she surveyed her surroundings. There were clear walls around her and judging by the section she could see, the cell was circular in shape. There was no furniture. The ceiling was approximately seven or eight feet tall; she couldn't tell through her swollen eye. That would impair her depth perception in a fight. She filed that away for later. Time to focus on the now. There was light coming from fluorescent tube bulbs over her head. Her surroundings were sparse, definitely a holding cell. Not sound-proof since she could still hear the two men arguing. How tiresome. But worse still, she couldn't see a way out.

She really didn't want to deal with those two bickering idiots but maybe she could glean some information from them. Softly, she moved her arm in front her and pushed herself up, turning to face the two arguing men. One of them looked like a classy business man, trim in a grey suit with dark hair and a close-cut beard. The other was taller with sandy hair and the physique of a serious body-builder. They were so engrossed in their banter that her movements had gone unnoticed. She assessed her odds. She could probably get past the business man assuming her was what he appeared, but she didn't like her odds of getting by the bigger one. As she stood they finally noticed that she was awake.

They all just stood there for a moment, sizing each other up. "She's even shorter than I thought, " the dark-haired man remarked, shattering the silence. The other man snorted.

"But she sure doesn't lack in the other departments. Look at that muscle," he remarked. The girl blushed furiously and fixed him with a scowl. "Sorry, love, where are my manners," he said placing a hand dramatically on his chest. She quirked and eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest with s get-on-with-it look on her face.

"This, my good lady, is Captain Steve Rogers," he said, gesturing to the sandy-haired man who continued to stare at her like she was a museum exhibit, "And, I," the dark-haired man said with a flourish, "Am Tony Stark, the one and only."

When she failed to look impressed, Tony sighed in frustration. "How come all of the good looking ones are so hard to impress?" he bemoaned to Rogers. The captain shook his head with a small smile.

"Sorry about him," Steve muttered. She caught his trailing thought as he lounged back against the railing along the edge of the catwalk he was standing on. _Hope Fury gets here soon. I can't take Stark much longer._

She also caught snippets of Tony's thoughts. _Stubborn chick, I like that_. She rolled her eyes. _Wonder what Fury wants with her._

Just then, the door to her prison opened up and the dark-skinned man with the eye patch walked out onto the catwalk surrounding her cell. He was followed by a couple of soldiers, all dressed in navy. The girl simply regarded him with a cool gaze, arms still crossed across her chest. She assumed this was the famous Fury.

"Miss Strong," he addressed her. "Good to see you're awake."

"Director Fury, I presume," she replied quietly. Steve and Tony glanced at her. There was no surprise her in her voice, not even a hint of it. Clearly she knew that Fury liked to do his research ahead of time, so she wasn't surprised he knew her name. Why else had he tracked her down if he didn't know who she was?

"I assume you've already met Stark and Rogers, no?" he asked and she nodded. "Perfect, I always hated the pleasantries." He turned away from the console he'd been standing at and came to stand in front of her cell, hands crossed behind his back, legs wide. "Shall we get down to business then?" he asked, holding out a hand to his agents. One of them put a manila folder in his hand which he opened. She stared at him, nonplussed.

"Where were you last night, Miss Strong?"

She cocked her hips, put a finger on her bottom lip, other arm still crosses and put on an exaggerated look of thoughtfulness. "Let me see…," she said, adding a coy tone to her voice_. Feisty and has attitude. Nice_, came Tony's thought across her mind. She almost smirked but didn't want to let them know sooner than necessary. Besides, Fury had probably come up with some big crescendo to tell them about her power himself. She didn't want to take his big moment away from him, no, she thought sarcastically.

"Miss Strong, your cooperation will make this smoother," Fury said, his voice authorative and demanding. She was growing tired of his rambling. She opened her minds to his thoughts slowly. _She's gonna be a tough one to crack_. She yawned and put a couple fingers over her mouth.

"No offense, Director," she yawned, " But since you already know where I was and what I was doing, can we move on to the part where you tell me why I'm here?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Steve raise an eyebrow. She saw a grudging respect in his eyes. Tony looked highly amused. Fury looked slightly pissed.

"But maybe your boys need a refresher?" she asked innocently with a flick of her head towards Stark and Rogers. Sighing, Fury turned to them.

"Last night, Miss Strong broke into Walden Biochemical Firms," Fury began. "She sabotaged one of the key experiments being performed. An operation funded by SHIELD," he glanced meaningfully in her direction and she let out a small "ah" for his benefit before he continued. "We lost five years worth of research and have to start over from scratch, which I presume was Miss Strong's goal."

"Bravo," she said mockingly. Fury gave her a glare.

"It would be wise of you to drop that cocky attitude Miss Strong," he said threateningly. He nodded to the soldier standing at the control panel. The soldier turned a knob and suddenly a high pitched siren scream blasted through her cell. It was somewhat muted to those outside the cell but still piercing. Stark and Rogers covered their ears as the girl did the same. She closed her eyes tightly and silently began counting to herself, measuring her breaths in and out. After about thirty seconds, fury motioned to the man to turn it off.

"What the hell, Fury?" Stark asked. "A little warning would have been nice."

"Apologies, Mr. Stark," Fury said dismissively. "Now, Miss Strong, that siren can be modified to infrasonic and ultrasonic frequencies which will not affect any of us but….I have a feeling it would affect you. Am I right?"

She gave him a scathing look.

"You stole something else from Walden Biochemical last night as well," Fury said, pacing in front of her cell. "Something you didn't think would be noticed if it was taken." She simply continued to stare at him, refusing to confirm or deny his words. "You also stole two of these."

He held up a vial of liquid. It was clear with a faint skein of blue floating within. Stark looked on, intrigued, while Steve regarded it with a puzzled look. "This is extremely rare, it is not, Miss Strong?" Fury questioned. "Considering that only one of these was found in your jacket pocket when we apprehended you, I would like to know where the other vial is."

All eyes were on her. She shrugged nonchalantly. "Beats me." Fury pointed to the soldier, who twisted the knob and punched a release button. Stark, Rogers and all those outside the cell could hear nothing. Inside, the girl twisted her head and clamped her hands over her ears as the ultrasonic pulse ripped through her mind, shutting down her ability to think. She dropped to her knees and tried counting and focusing on her breathing. In and out. She squeezed her eyes shut and begin counting again in Spanish. After what felt like an eternity to her, the noise stopped abruptly. As she shakily climbed to her feet, she saw Steve's expression. But she didn't want his sympathy; right now she had a game to play.

Her thoughts were still slightly fuzzy from the high frequency, which she knew was Fury's intention. "Miss Strong, I don't believe you understand the implications of the product you have stolen," Fury said.

"Then why would I have stolen it?"

"Why indeed, Miss Strong?"

"Go ask your lackeys, I'm sure they know."

"Miss Strong, you are trying my patience," Fury remarked. Stark smirked. "You can tell me where it is, or I can have you strip searched."

_Oh, yes, please._ Tony, of course.

_What is so important about that vial? Why does the ultrasonic affect her so? Fury has some motive here_. Smart boy, Steve.

"We can go with the strip search if you really want," she said flippantly. Tony's eyes widened to the sides of dish plates. So did Steve's. _Way to call that bluff, kid_! Even Tony's thoughts sounded impressed. Fury blustered a bit in shock. He pointed to his lackey who sent another ultrasonic pulse through her cell, cutting it off quickly. She wobbled slightly as she stood up from her knees. Her fingers grazed her temple, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Stark and Rogers.

"Why did you take these vials, Miss Strong?" Fury asked, his voice low and threatening.

"Curiosity," she said with a wink.

Another ultrasonic pulse brought her to her knees again. When it ceased, she looked up at Fury from her good right eye. "Is that all you got?" she said with a laugh.

Just as Fury was about to order another round from the ultrasonic pulse, Steve grabbed his arm. "She's not going to answer you this way," he hissed in Fury's ear. "She's holding on to some idea tight and won't back down, I've seen this before," he whispered. "Let me question her."

"I doubt that is good idea Captain, seeing as she can read minds."

Rogers and Stark stared at Fury in disbelief. "However, your idea has some validity," Fury said. "Guards," he ordered. "Bring her out, she's spending the night with Stark and Rogers."

"Really, Steve?!" Stark yelled.

The guards sent another pulse spiraling into her cell. On her knees, it was relatively simple for them to handcuff her. Her face was scrunched up in agony as they brought her out. Fury stepped close to Rogers as they brought her out. "You have three days. She's shrewd, agile, and tricky. We need that vial back. Don't let your guard down. She can read everything you think like a book. Three days."

"Understood," Rogers said.

"Really?!" Stark complained.

Fury took a handheld device from his trench coat and held it next to her ear. She cringed as the ultrasonic pulses rendered her limp in the guards' arms. She looked exhausted.

They dragged her over to Stark and Rogers. She grinned up at them with a gleam in her eye. "This'll be fun," she laughed and passed out.


	3. Psych the Avengers Out - 3

_Stark, that's not a good idea!_

_Oh go find someone else to deal with your codes of conduct, Captain._

_She's a mind reader, Stark, it's not the best idea to-_

_Oh, can it Stars and Stripes!_

The door to the bedroom was thrown open and Stark waltzed into the room with a flourish. The girl was lying on the bed, sprawled across the sheets, hair laying in straggling lines over her face. She was dressed in simple black pants and a white tank top. Her feet were bare and on her wrists were slim circlets of silver metal.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!" Stark sang and jostled the girl's shoulder.

Immediately she was up, hands clawing around his throat.

She'd moved faster than either Rogers or Stark could have thought was possible. She was on the bed one second, flying through the air the next. Her momentum carried them off the bed and onto the floor, her hands clamped tightly around Tony's throat. Rogers took a moment to respond. The he was grabbing onto the back of her shirt and hauling her backwards. It took much more strength than he expected to pull her off of Stark.

Rogers finally succeeded in pinning her arms behind her head in a firm hold as Stark sat up warily regarding the girl while massaging his red neck. "Get your hands off of me!" she growled at Steve, pulling hard against his arms. Unfortunately his muscles were oversized due to his being a super-soldier and she only succeeded in making him tighten his grasp.

"See, Stark, I told you this wasn't a good idea!" Rogers yelled. He let a small "ow" as she viciously stabbed her heel down into his foot. Given that she was barefoot, it didn't really help her situation much.

"Well I didn't expect her to go all Xena Warrior Princess on me, now did I?!" Stark said indignantly in response. The girl stopped pulling against Rogers momentarily and let out a small laugh, barely more than a quick snort of breath but she had a small grin on her face. Tony gave a laugh as well and she tried to hold back a giggle. Suddenly Tony and the girl were both laughing with a bewildered Steve holding onto the girl.

"Care to explain that one?" Steve asked quizzically. Seeing the look of puzzlement on his face, Tony gave a brief explanation. "Ah, I see," Steve said with a puzzled look. Clearly the Captain still didn't understand it_. These modern references are so confusing,_

came his thought.

"No worries, most of us don't get them either," the girl said. Shocked that she had answered his thought, Steve momentarily relaxed his grip on her arms. She pulled away with a quick twist and ducked as Steve tried to grab her again. She sprinted past Tony, who was still trying to get up and leaped through the door.

Out in the hallway, she quickly looked right then left and decided on the left and blew down the corridor. She could hear Steve running after her. No time to look back and see if he was gaining; that would cost her precious seconds. She passed a living room with a blond-haired man sitting on the couch. He gave her a puzzled look as she flew by. "Don't just sit there, Thor, help me!" she heard Rogers yell.

She skidded around the corner and heard another set of heavier footsteps join Roger's. Great, just her luck. She mounted a staircase, taking them two at a time. She emerged on the roof and ran towards the edge, to discover that, oh great, this wasn't some house or apartment. No, this was a tower. So much for that escape route. She heard Steve pound out onto the roof behind her and spun to see him coming at her, followed by the blond-haired man.

She opted for the one strategy he probably wasn't expecting. Attack.

As he raced towards her, she ran at him full tilt. Baffled by her response, he slowed momentarily and it was enough for her to leap over him with the aid of the tower railing. She landed hard on her sore shoulder and rolled, shooting herself between the blond-haired man's legs as he made a grab for her. _Who is this one?_ She heard briefly before she straightened and dove for the stairs only to run full tilt into Tony.

Rookie mistake, she berated herself as she fell backwards unceremoniously to land on her back. She jumped into a crouch but Steve was on her, pinning her to the ground with a flying tackle. Then suddenly, a high pitched whining filled her ears and she grunted in pain as an ultrasonic pulse ripped through her skull. On the edge of her consciousness she could feel the silver circlets on her wrists vibrating slightly; dang, Stark was good.

Steve slowly pulled his weight off from on top of her and she stayed on the ground, fingers pressed to her head. "Tony, that's enough," he said to Stark quietly. Stark nodded and released his finger from the button on the small handheld device he held, a replica of the one Fury had used on her.

"Sorry, honey, didn't think you'd react so violently and you seem like one for action first, and questions second," Stark said, holding a hand out to her. Ignoring it, she pried herself to her feet. Her lip was bleeding slightly and she touched two fingers to the bottom of her left eye, assessing the increased swelling present.

"Sorry about your throat," she rasped, giving him a wary look out of her good eye. "I just don't particularly like waking up from being knocked unconscious in a place I don't know. Don't have great history with that."

"If I may interject," said the blond-haired man, "But what is going on?"

"Great, introductions!" Stark said brightly. "Thor, this is our guest for the next three days, a certain…." He let the last sentence hang with a meaningful glance at the girl. She bit her lip, debating whether or not to tell them anything else about her. Surely Fury had told them all about her, right?

"Strong," she said with a glance at Thor. He was big as well, on par with Rogers for sure. She didn't care for the change of the odds out of her favor. Another person in the facility to get past. Cooperation would probably be her best option right now.

"Yes, you're strong," Thor said with a confused look. "But I believe that Tony was asking for your name."

Stark snorted. "Her last name is Strong," he clarified.

"Well then what is her given name?" Thor asked.

The girl sighed, chewing on her lip still. "I can just get the information from Fury you know," Stark said with a smirk and a cock of his eyebrow. Rogers looked at her expectantly.

"Alright," she sighed, "Jay. My name is Jay."

"Jay Strong," Tony mused, "Kinda a strange name for a girl," he remarked.

"It's short for Jaycee," she said quietly, looking at the ground. She suddenly seemed shy and unsure of herself and Steve couldn't discern whether it was an act or if she was giving up or she was actually just shy.

"Well, Miss Jaycee Strong," Tony said, "Unfortunately, you have to stay with us for the next three days. Honestly, I'm fine with just letting you go so I can get back to my house in Malibu," Here Steve shot him a scathing glare, "But I think fury would give me more grief for that and as much as I'd love to let you go, dealing with Fury is much worse. Shall we go downstairs?"

He headed down the stairs without waiting to see if she was following him. Hesitantly, she looked at Rogers and Thor and decided that her chances of getting past them were pretty slim. Her thigh and shoulder were still sore from the neurotoxin and her eye was swollen closed, eliminating her depth perception entirely. Thor nodded towards the door and reluctantly she followed Tony back inside the tower.

"This, my dear Miss Strong, is Stark Tower," Tony said with a flourish. He'd decided she needed a tour. After countless hours, they were finally done. They'd passed kitchens, living rooms, offices, bedrooms. Clearly the upper levels of the tower had been modified for living. Along the way, Rogers had whispered to Tony how if probably wasn't wise to show a prisoner of SHIELD all the exits but Tony had simply waved the ultrasonic device in front of his face and said "Chill."

They stopped back in front of the room she had woken up in this morning. Thor left them there, sure they could handle her themselves. Stark pushed her in. "Ah, my cell," she said a bit sarcastically. Steve had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. Tony on the other hand… not so much.

"At least it's comfortable. Should be, since I designed it," he bragged. "Now, what's in that vial you stole?"

His sudden change of subject didn't shock her as much as he'd hoped but she had been subtly reading his mind. Steve looked more disturbed than she did. When she gave no reply, Tony looked at her, 'Really, nothing, no response, not even denial?" he asked perplexed. Then a slow realization dawned on his face. "You were reading my mind, weren't you?"

She merely gave him a look and walked over to the small sink set in the corner, to assess the damage to her eye. Man, I look like Quasimodo, she thought. Stark watched her quietly. "You know," Rogers said gently," If you tell us about the vial, we can let you go."

"You and I both know that's not how this works," she said quietly without turning around. "Remember, I don't need to read your mind to know that."

There was a strained silence as she gently probed her eye and Rogers and Stark debated what to do. "You might as well start now,' she said huskily. She turned to look at their startled and confused faces.

"Start what?" Steve asked.

"Whatever methods you'll use," she said, looking them in the eyes in turn. "Pick your poison, electricity, knives, sensory deprivation. It seems you're awfully fond of the ultrasonic pulse emitter, maybe that'd be a good place to start."

Realizing she thought they were going to torture her, Steve was at a total loss of words. Clearly she'd been through this before. Otherwise she wouldn't be standing there placidly, waiting for them to do their worst. She looked exhausted, drained, beat up and worn down, standing in front of them without revisiting, but with a determined look in her eye. He'd been right when he'd spoken to Fury yesterday. She was holding onto something tight and she wasn't about to be cowed by two men.

'We're through here for today, " Stark said.


	4. Psych the Avenger Out - 4

There was an awkward moment when Tony left and Rogers was left standing with Jay. She was idly spinning the metal circlets around her wrists. Rogers suspected she was subtly looking for a way to remove them but he was confident enough in Tony's skill with technology so he wasn't worried that she would find a way to break them. But he chastised himself, reminding himself that she was tricky and she was shrewd. If they even thought about the layout of the tower or the way security worked… well, she'd probably pick it straight out of their minds.

Instead of leaving so unceremoniously as Tony had, Rogers sat on the edge of her bed. She raised an eyebrow. "There are bandages and ointments in the bathroom cabinet if you want," Rogers offered. "Your eye doesn't look too good, kid."

She snorted, "No kidding." He could see she was still skeptical, her eyes sliding towards him every other moment as she pulled a bottle of cream from the cabinet.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" When she gave him a sarcastic look, he revised his tact. "Just questions about your life, not about the vial or anything to do with the Biochemical break-in and Fury."

"Can't guarantee I'll answer, Captain," she replied, turning away from the mirror and crossing her arms across her chest. She looked tired and beat up, like she'd gotten into a bad street alley fight. Which, if he'd heard right from the soldiers in Fury's employ, she basically had. She was probably starving and disoriented even if she didn't show it.

"Should I ask Jarvis to prepare a dinner for you? You look tired and hungry." She cocked her head just like she'd done in the cell when Fury had been interrogating her. She regarded him through slightly narrowed eyes, a calculating look on her face. He realized that she was trying to read his mind. He'd assumed she could do it at will but it seemed like she had to focus. He thought about a nice dinner meal and a nice conversation with her, focusing on the details to try and convince her.

"Pot roast? Kinda old fashioned, don't you think?" she said with a wry smile. He gave her a gentle smile in return. He stood and held out a hand to her.

"I am kind of old fashioned," he said, holding out his arm as though he was going to escort her to a dance. She unfolded her arms and gave him a frank look.

"You don't need to think so hard to conceal things from me you know," she sighed. "I don't read minds unless it benefits me and the person isn't projecting their thoughts." Slightly shocked by her honesty, he nodded and she slipped her hand onto his arm. Her fingers looked tiny next to his large biceps and as he pulled her hand closer he realized that her fingers were not slim and delicate. They were rough and calloused and thick from a life of work.

"Come on," he said with a smile.

They ended up in the kitchen she'd run past earlier. Steve had introduced her to Jarvis, Tony's artificial intelligence mainframe and she had seemed impressed. Jarvis had cooked them a full pot roast dinner with grilled vegetables and mashed potatoes and Steve could practically see her drooling as he placed the plate in front of her. They sat on stools at the island and she dug in with gusto. He watched in amazement as she attacked the plate with the ferocity of a starved wolf.

She caught her eye at one point and she stopped mid-bite with an embarrassed flush in her face. "Sorry," she mumbled and he laughed. She smiled a small smile back. She seemed to be more comfortable in his presence but he kept his guard up. He wanted to trust her but he was trained to be cautious and he knew she could be playing him. He'd seen Natasha Romanoff at work; it didn't pay to trust a woman with a motive.

When she'd finally slowly to a more human pace, he glanced up and met her eyes. "How old are you anyways?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that indicated she wanted him to guess. "Um… twenty-five?" he guessed. She shook her head in amusement. "How about twenty-seven?" She shook her head again. "Just tell me please, I feel like I'll insult you."

"Nineteen," she said. He gave her an incredulous look. She gave him another small smile and this one was genuine, not the fake one's she'd pulled for Fury and Stark when she was bluffing.

"Only nineteen?" he asked. A nod. "Okay, next question," Steve thought aloud. "Is mind-reading the only thing you can do?"

She gave him another one of her calculating looks. "How do you mean?" she asked.

"Like, are you fast or strong or telekinetic, is there anything else you can do with your mind? Any other superpowers, abilities?'

Her look was shadowed as she bit her lip. He was beginning to understand that she chewed on her lip when she was thinking hard or nervous. Her eyes were always guarded, never open to him or anyone else. But he was starting to see the small things that signaled that she was planning or thinking.

"Not that I know of," she said quietly. "Mind-reading is enough," she whispered.

"What do you mean, mind-reading is enough?" Steve asked, concern edging into his voice. She looked stricken.

"Look," she started quietly, "I can't read minds at will per say. It requires concentration. It isn't as simple as looking at you and saying to myself, 'I want to know what he's thinking.' It's more complicated than that. I can pick up thoughts people are projecting, thoughts they want to voice but don't. I can look into a person's memory only if they aren't guarded and trying to keep me out. I can only sense vague thoughts, emotions really most of the time. I could read you and Tony so well because you aren't used to having to protect your thoughts from someone."

Rogers digested this information. "So this mind-reading thing doesn't come naturally? You have to focus?" She nodded.

"So if I blank my mind and think of something different than the thing you want to know, you can't find that?" he inquired. She frowned and shook her head slightly.

"It's not that simple. I can get into anyone's head, it's more like how much resistance they apply back at me. It's kind of like lifting weights. When I try to read someone's mind who is open about their thoughts and doesn't know I'm there, then it's kind of like lifting a set of twenty pound dumbbells with your biceps. But if the person is trained to protect their thoughts and is more guarded about what they express, it's more like trying to squat three hundred pounds. I can do it but it strains me and leaves me sore the next day. Honestly, I'm not really sure how it works either but that's the best explanation I can give you."

Steve looked at her for a moment. She looked tired and ragged, and he realized that the ultrasonic pulses probably were affecting her more than she showed based on her explanation. After a moment he said, "Why are you being so honest with me?"

She looked up at him then and the pressure of her gaze was like nothing he had ever experienced. "I don't suffer any disillusions Captain Roger," she said, her voice frigid, "Fury already knows these things and more if he's been investigating Warren Biochemical. I don't have anything to lose by telling you this. It will help you understand at least."

They sat in silence then for a while, the only noise coming from the sound of cutlery tinkling on the porcelain plates. Steve had a lot to think about and his opinion of Jay was changing. He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes as they ate when he thought she wasn't looking. After a time, she sighed and looked at him with a candidness plain on her face. "I can tell you want to ask me something Captain. You're almost yelling it at me."

Guiltily, he met her eyes and nodded sheepishly. He had been thinking about that and now he understood what she meant about projecting his thoughts. He'd been thinking so hard about the questions cycling through his head that they must have been painfully loud to her. So he thought his question precisely in his head. _If I let you, can you read my memories?_

She bit her lip and nodded. _Amazing_, thought Rogers. The wry look returned to her face and he grinned, chagrined. Aloud he said, "Since you told me about yourself, I thought it would be fair if you learned a little about me." Now she was chewing her lip.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," she whispered, looking down at her plate and pushing her fork into the mashed potatoes that remained, drawing with them. He was kind of surprised that she wasn't being as feisty as she had been earlier but he supposed she was probably pretty tired and she didn't seem like she enjoyed her powers anyways. Come to think of it, she really didn't seem to like being able to read people's minds at all. She just used it when it was convenient for her but not mindlessly.

"I give you my permission," he said looking her directly in the eyes. She chewed her lip a little more and shook her head. "Jay," he said and took her hands, "I give you permission, it's okay, I'm just curious."

Slowly she nodded. "Alright," she said tentatively. She turned on her stool so that she faced him. She brought her hands to either side of his head and placed her fingers against his temples. Her touch was feather-light, barely perceivable. "Now," she said, her eyes focused and bright, "Try to relax. Think of what you want me to see. Don't resist, just let the memories flow."

Steve tried to do as she asked. It was harder to clear his mind now that he had been told to consciously do so. He heard her voice whispering, _calm your mind,_ and somehow he knew that she was inside of his head. He had a moment where he wondered if he was being foolish to trust her like this but then he suddenly was seeing something he hadn't seen in a long time.

_The firefight was intense, bullets pinging off of armor and ricocheting off of trees. There were fires blazing through the trees, snow falling heavily on the ground and the barking yells of someone screaming hoarsely in German. There was the flash of a dark great jacket with a swastika on the sleeve, a knife flashing downwards, a shield of red and silver with a shining star in the center. _

_Then the scene changed and there was a man with a red face and holes where his nostrils should have been. A plane crashing through the ice and a desperate good-bye. Laser fire streaking through the sky, an alien ripping a blue mask off a man, screaming people in the subway. The images were flashing across his mind and he couldn't stop the flow. Iron Man falling, the Hulk roaring, a shot to his stomach that left him winded and bleeding. _

_Then it was back to the past again and men were falling around him in droves as a machine gun spewed bullets, ripping flesh and bone. Saw people he knew, fires raging again and felt the shock as a bullet ripped into his arm. He yelled in pain and heard someone else screaming, 'Steve, think of something good!' Bewildered, he looked for the source of the voice but saw nor heard nothing over the rage of the battle. 'Please Steve!' it came again, sounding desperate._

_He breathed in just as his training had taught him and focused on something else. He thought of first meeting Bruce Banner on the Helicarrier and how-_

And then he was back. Jay was sitting in front of him, her hands still against his temples, eyes glazed and unfocused. He grabbed her wrists and said her name softly. She didn't respond and he saw with horror that her pupils were dilated to an unnatural size and there was a small trickle of blood coming out of the corner of her mouth. "Jay, answer me kid!" he yelled, taking her hands off his head and holding them between them. She was shaking violently, hands vibrating in his grasp.

"Come on kid, answer!" he yelled and grabbed her head between his hands, shaking her gently. She snapped back into focus suddenly and wrenched her head out of his grasp. Unbalanced, she toppled off the stool before he could catch her, his fingers just missing her shirt. He jumped off his stool and knelt by her side. She was breathing heavily, ragged breaths sounding as if she had just been fighting a battle. "Jay? Are you okay?"

He offered her a hand to help her up which she pushed away. She grasped the edge of the island to pull herself up. Upright, he could see the heavy dark circles under her eyes.  
Her head was lolling a little bit and she still didn't look completely focused. Rogers supported her shoulder as she shakily sat down on the stool.

"Jay," he said quietly, "What did you see?"

She had both hands pressed against the countertop, knuckles and wrists white with tension. She wiped at the blood dribbling from her mouth and cursed under her breath. "Jay," he prompted.

She looked at him then, and he had never seen a more haunted look in all of his life. And in that moment he knew that everything he had relived, she had seen. "I-I'm sorry, Jay," he said, "I didn't know it would affect you like that."

"It's alright," she mumbled, eyes on the ground. "It's not the worst I've seen. Although, your emotions were stronger than I was expecting."

"My emotions?" he said, intrigued in spite of himself. He couldn't curb his curiosity even though she didn't look like she wanted to answer, let alone had it in her to answer.

"I can feel emotions when a person is feeling them strongly," she said in little more than a whisper. "If someone is angry or upset or afraid, I can feel that emotion as strongly as they are expressing it. As a soldier, I didn't expect your emotions to come through as strongly." Her eyes never left the ground as she tried to steady herself.

Rogers slowly got down from his stool and reached towards her. She flinched away from him involuntarily. "Please don't," she shook her head as if in pain. He pulled his hand back. She straightened her back and shoulders with a deep breath in and tried to give him a shaky smile, but it never reached her eyes. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, Jay," he said. "I didn't know that my memories would do this to you." She placed a gentle hand on his forearm and met his gaze.

"No worries, Captain. Like I've said, I've seen worse," was her dark reply. She walked away from him then, hugging her arms to her chest protectively. "I assume I'm confined to my room for the night?" came her question.

"Yes," he breathed. Rogers watched as she walked away, down the hall and into her room, the door clicking closed behind her with a strange finality. He'd check on her later, he decided. The soldier side of him was telling him to make sure this hadn't been an elaborate act and that she was locked in her room for the night. But the other part of him that had made him the choice for the super-soldier serum, was telling him to give her space for a moment. There were so many things they both needed to think about.


	5. Psych the Avengers Out - 5

When Thor returned to Stark Tower later that night, he was surprised to find Rogers sitting at the kitchen island, slumped over a tumbler of faint amber liquid. He approached quietly, and Rogers shot a look over his shoulder and grunted, "Hey big man." Thor pulled a stool up and sat down next to the captain and they both stared at the countertop for a while, neither really knowing what to say.

It was Thor who finally broke the awkward silence. "I was under the impression that drinking libations was a past time of Stark's," he said with a hint of a smile in his voice. Steve gave a snort of laughter.

"Thought I'd give it a try," he said, tipping his glass and looking at the sloshing liquid with distaste. "It seems to work well enough for Tony. Guess it's not really my thing." He gave a small laugh.

"Would this perhaps have anything to do with our most unusual guest?" Thor asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. Steve looked at him and shook a finger in his direction.

"You're sharper than you look," he joked and Thor begrudged him a smile, tapping his temple with his pointer finger. Rogers felt his grin grow. He was glad it had been Thor to find him like this and not Tony. That could have been really awkward. He sighed, knowing he should answer Thor's question.

"She's….different," he started. "Honestly, that's the only way I can think of to describe her right now. She's going to seriously shake things up at S.H.I.E.L.D., that much is for sure." He muttered the last part to himself but Thor caught his words.

"She seemed… fierce," Thor said, fishing for the right words. Steve cocked an eyebrow at him.

"She managed to surprise three of us, Thor. That's not something a normal person can do. She has abilities…abilities that could make her a valuable asset or a terrifying enemy," Rogers said, his fingers curling more tightly around his glass. Thor noticed how his eyes tightened at the corners when Rogers said the word "abilities."

"Do you think she is a potential threat?" Thor asked, concerned.

Steve thought about that for a moment carefully before replying. "I've seen some of the things she can do but she doesn't seem to want to use her abilities. She seems unsure about her powers even though she seems in complete control of the rest of her life. She's strong-willed and I'm worried Fury is pushing her too far and she'll resent S.H.I.E.L.D. as a result. She's a wild card and that makes me nervous. She would be an amazing ally; the ability to read minds has incalculable uses. But if she were ever coerced or forced to do something against her will that would negatively affect people, the effects could be devastating. Imagine. She knew how to get past all three of us earlier by reading our minds. She'd be unstoppable if someone trained her to read tactical maneuvers from a commanding officer's mind. The only thing working in anyone's favor right now is that fact that using her abilities tires her out because she is untrained. But that could change."

Thor absorbed all of this knowledge quietly.

He looked at Rogers haltingly, "Do we know how she came to be this way?" Steve shook his head.

"My guess is that it's all mixed up with this Warren Biochemical nonsense. It seemed personal when Fury was talking about it to her in the interrogation room. S.H.I.E.L.D. is invested in Warren Biochemical in some way that makes her actions important to them." Steve rubbed a hand over his face slowly. He stood and placed his glass in the sink and washed it out, drying it with a rag.

"Could she have acquired these abilities through medical or biological experimentation?" Thor asked and Steve turned, a dark look in his eye. He opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted.

"Actually, gentlemen, she was an experiment. Number thirteen to be exact. Cliché but we'll go with it."

Thor and Steve turned to see Stark exit the elevator. Steve was secretly glad that he had just finished rinsing his glass out. Stark was twirling a holofile in his hands and slid it across the counter to rest in front of the other two Avengers.

"While you were playing Mr. Sociable Host, good captain, I was doing some research," Tony said as Thor and Steve tried to make out what was written on the screen. "Seems like Warren Biochemical is a front for a genetics lab."

"What does that mean?" Thor asked.

"It means they are experimenting on humans," Steve said quietly, with no small amount of anger in his voice.

"Not just that," Stark said. "They're experimenting with mind control. They're trying to make a mind-reader."

"So is Jay a success?" Steve asked.

Stark looked at him and both Thor and Steve were surprised to see the anguish that flitted through his normally cool gaze. "No," Stark said quietly, "She was square one."

Jay couldn't even begin to try and sleep. The metal circlets were driving her crazy and everything was sore. She'd ransacked the cabinet in the bathroom, trying to find something, anything to try and prize the bands off of her but Fury had made sure that this place was more secure than Fort Knox. She hissed in frustration. It would almost be a blessing now to have someone blast her with an ultrasonic pulse to stop the raging of her mind and knock her out.

She slumped back on the bed, exhausted from the past few days. She hated being trapped. Granted this wasn't a prison cell or worse but, it was still a cell nonetheless. She longed for a window. Not being able to see the sky chaffed at her like a finger picks at a scab. At least if she could see the sky, she could calm down and maybe wipe some of these images from her mind.

Steve's memories had left her feeling raw and exposed like a nerve and his emotions hadn't even been that potent. She could hear the pop of guns and feel the freezing impact of a ship breaking through the ice. She pushed her fingernails into her palms until there were little half-moon crescents of blood on her palms. She couldn't stop the memories of another life from overwhelming her right now, she was just too tired to do anything but lay on the bed and wish for it to stop. She wanted to know what was happening out in the rest of the tower since she was sure Stark was up to something. He probably had her whole history by now. No matter really, she still had some secrets.

She wondered why Fury wanted her. It was more than the Warren Biochemical break-in, she knew that. The break-in was the excuse to bring her in. She really hoped he didn't expect her to become one of the Avengers. No tights for her, no thank you. But all things considered, she couldn't see where she fit into the plan, if there even was any plan.

She turned over, trying to get comfortable despite the bruises and failed miserably. Maybe she would be able to sleep it she could just find a comfortable position to rest in. No such luck.

There came a knock at her door and she flew backwards, crouching against the headboard as the door creaked open. She felt her eyes widen and adrenaline hit her system again even though her system should be used to this by now. She couldn't believe she had any adrenaline left in her after these past few days. Her pulse quickened as she readied for a fight.

Thor poked his head in the room with a look of trepidation on his face. Seeing her crouched against the headboard made him give a weak smile. "I'm not going to hurt you, Little One," he said and she cocked an eyebrow at him, her stance not relaxing an inch. "If you want, Stark has requested your presence in the other room but it's not pressing if you need the rest."

Slowly, she lowered herself onto the bed, eyes never leaving him. This was an enemy she wasn't sure if she could get past, even with her mind-reading skills. He was big to start. And then he was a demi-god. She didn't like her odds. She wanted to escape the moment the door opened but she held herself back.

"Would you prefer to rest? I can leave you in peace," Thor said with such politeness that she snorted.

"Leave me in peace?" she asked sarcastically. "It's a little late for that."

Jay followed Thor out the door. Might as well get this over with since she couldn't sleep anyways.

He led her out into the kitchen to find Steve and Tony arguing heatedly. They stopped abruptly when they saw her but she had heard Steve's trailing thought. _… no one deserves to have that done to them_. Her face closed off even more than normal.

"Hey, lovely lady, looking a little better," Tony said by way of greeting. She gave him a look that he ignored as he twirled the holofile in his hand. He slid it across the island counter to her. "Care to explain?" he asked.

She picked up the holofile and wasn't surprised to see her name and Warren Biochemical's logo on the screen. She was slightly surprised to see a picture of the operating room though. Clearly, Tony knew how to access files from secure areas. A sharp, painful memory flashed through her and her fingers tightened on the holofile and she blinked rapidly to clear the blurriness that crosses her eyes momentarily. Jay knows they are watching her every movement so she yawns to try and play it off that she's exhausted. Which she is. And she probably didn't fool them at all. Now she's thinking too much.

"You're supposed to scan through it like this," Stark says, snatching the holofile out of her hands and dragging his thumb across the screen. She lets out a dejected "oh." "Aren't you kids supposed to understand all of this new-fangled technology?" he asks. She shrugs.

As she thumbs through the files and photos, each Avenger watches her closely. Steve goes into big brother mode which baffles him. He only sees the dark bruises under her eyes and how she can barely stand upright. In his opinion, this mess can wait. Thor regards her quizzically. How did a mortal come by these powers? What does the company have to do with her and Fury? Stark simply has a calculating look on his face, arms crossed and gaze dark.

She rubs her forehead but turns it into a hand combing through her hair. She looks up at the men around her with tired eyes. "What exactly did you want to know?"

"Well," Tony says, spreading his arms and then clapping his hands together. "You, Xena," here she rolls her eyes, "are a former test subject of Warren Biochemical, an escaped experiment I might add, who had slipped off the radar, completely gone without a trace, only to pop back up to break into the place that was your prison for most of your adult life. It's an interesting biography to be sure. But the only thing I can't find from those files is motive. Why?" He turns to her with an eyebrow raised. "I wish I had a pipe to smoke right now so I could look more like Sherlock Holmes," he says.

She regards him coolly, not impressed by his attempt at humor. "So is your interrogation strategy, tire her out until she's punch drunk and ask her the same questions every hour with a different attitude?"

"If it works," Tony answers with smirk.

She exaggerates her yawn.

"So is it working?" Tony asks with his billionaire sass in his voice.

"It's giving me a killer migraine," Jay says massaging her temples. "Look, I can't tell you why, that's kind of the point. So if we're done here, can I please go back to bed?"

"Stark, maybe..," Thor starts, pushing himself off the wall and uncrossing his arms, but Tony cuts him off.

"What I'm interested in most," he says, advancing on Jay, "Is why you took this." He twirls the vial she stole in his fingers. Her eyes narrow as he comes toe to toe with her. She doesn't back down, even as he towers over her and there's only an inch of breathing room between the two of them.

"Why would you take a vial of liquid that mutes your powers?" he asks, bringing it up to eye level. The room is dead quiet, not even a hair stirring. She doesn't break eye contact with him and there seem to be sparks in her eyes, they are so bright and sharp. "Why," Tony asks quietly, "would you steal a drug meant to render you temporarily useless?"

She stares him down. "Why do you drink?" she asks quietly, venom lacing her voice. She turns and walks away. Tony grabs her wrist but she viciously yanks it away and shoots him a scathing look. Suddenly, he rushes her, and she lets out a snarl as he pins her to the wall. Steve and Thor move towards them but Tony brandishes the vial which they now notice is connected to a syringe. Tony holds it inches from her neck and she bares her teeth, the muscles in her neck flexing as she strains to hold him back.

"Tony," Steve says, slightly shocked by Stark's forcefulness. "That's enough." When neither Tony nor Jay move a centimeter, he reaches to pull Tony back but Thor stops his hand with a warning glance.

"Go ahead, Stark," she laughs without humor. "Test your theory. See how long it lasts. How long can you take me out for?" She twists her face into a sneer that doesn't reach her eyes. It looks sickening and wrong on her face. "Come on," she goads, eyes alight with anger and pain. "So it, Stark," she sneers.

With a vicious stab, Stark jabs the syringe into her neck.


	6. Psych the Avengers Out - 6

Psych Part 6

Steve and Thor both give shouts of dismay as her lips part slightly, giving her a shocked look. Steve roughly pulls Tony off her as she slumps to the floor, eyes hazy and dazed. Thor kneels in front of her and takes her head in his hands. Her eyes flutter closed and she slumps into the wall completely. Steve is screaming at Tony, something like, "What's your problem you bastard?!" Thor cocks her head gently from side to side and then places it against the wall. He turns and crossed his arms to face Stark who is basically being throttled by Steve.

"What the hell was that for, Stark?!" Steve yells.

"There had better be a good explanation for this," Thor says darkly, gesturing to Jay.

Tony brushes Steve's hands off of him. "Both of you," he says shaking his head. "Still all brawn and no brains." He squats down in front of Jay and feels her pulse and brushes her hair out of her eyes. He slides some kind of device around the side of her head that has too many blinking lights and components for Steve and Thor.

"What is that?" Thor asks at the same time Steve asks, "When did you make that?"

"EEG. Short for Electroencephalography. Measures her brain activity. Made it while you were eating pot roast," Starks says as he pulls up a screen on the holofile that shows brain wave patterns. "Look at that Jarvis," he mutters, eyes rapt on the screen. "Her brain activity dropped right off. It's like she's comatose. Well, compared to the rest of us."

"Tony," Steve prompts, warningly.

"Oh go lift weights and let me be the intellectual," Tony mutters.

"Tony!" Steve takes a step towards him.

"Fine, fine," Tony growls, throwing up his hands. "Xena, here, is square one, yes? So obviously something up top in her is what these maniacs are after. Now you know Fury; he holds his cards close to his chest so there's more than one motive here. Yes he wants her since she corrupted or destroyed a good deal of the research being done at Warren Biochemical. But why would S.H.I.E.L.D. be interested in what they are doing in the first place? Fury says he doesn't delve into that kind of stuff but it seems off to me."

Steve has a contemplative look on his face. "You think he's after something else?"

"Captain, he definitely is," Stark snorts. He points to Jay, slumped against the wall. "Why make a drug that takes her out? I mean, why manufacture a chemical that inhibits the activity of one of the greatest assets you can have? She _reads minds_, dear Captain and Thunder Head. If I was Fury, I'd want her on the team ASAP, so why is he so interested in a drug that mutes her?"

Thor and Steve exchange worried looks. Tony sighs, "Maybe if you two spent more time studying than working out, you'd have already come up with those questions. Thus it falls to me to impart my great wisdom on your puny minds," he sighs dramatically, "Such a burden."

Steve rolls his eyes and Thor tries not to smirk.

"So from here…?" Thor asks, turning slightly to look at Jay. "You just rendered her unconscious with that drug so care to explain what that move was about?"

"Well, she asked me to didn't she?" Tony asks, fake bewilderment in his tone. Steve looks ready to blow a gasket so Stark wisely keeps talking. "To be honest, it was about time someone gave her a break. If that break had to be administered by me in the form of a drug then so be it. The point of the matter is, she has been running on pure adrenaline and heightened brain activity for the past three days, maybe longer and her body and brain need a break and you and I both know that she really doesn't seem like the type to go down quietly or willingly." Thor nods in weary agreement.

"And the plan from here?" Steve asks.

"Let her rest. Fury and his goons will be here soon enough," Stark says, "Take her down to the lab level, I've set up a makeshift infirmary and we let her recharge. She'll be a handful when she wakes up without a doubt but for now, we monitor her brain activity and try to figure out Fury's motive."

"A plan by Stark, where we wait?" Rogers asks incredulously. Stark gives him a wry and cool look. "I'm impressed."

"We'll take watches," Tony says, ignoring Thor and Steve as they chuckle at his expense. "We've seen what she's capable of and know what to expect. She'll be stronger and more cunning after a rest but I think she'll also be less inclined to attack first when she's not bone tired."

"And how are we getting her down there?" Steve asks.

"You lift weights. Rock paper scissors with Thunder Head and I'll meet you down there."

As Tony leaves he smirks as Thor asks, "What is this rock paper and scissors?"

Thor ends up having to carry Jay down to Tony's makeshift infirmary, more because he didn't understand the concept of rock, paper, and scissors than his inability to best Steve. He's kind of surprised by how light she is. Her body is a taunt wire beneath his arms, not skinny, but supple and strong. He wonders how she could have such a physique after years in a laboratory. Then again, her time out on the streets since her escape is probably the reason she is completely corded muscle. He has no experience living on the streets of course, but he's seen street fighters before and they are a tough and resilient lot.

He lays her down on the cot Tony has set up and ponders her for a moment. The feralness reminds him of Sif in a rage but he's disturbed by her cunning. It reminds him of his brother, locked away in a cell on Asgard, the ever-present smirk on his face. She isn't unlike him in many ways and it worries Thor. To think of what this girl would be capable of if she ever turned out as Loki had… it scares him. It's not horror scary, it's the kind of scary associated with something unsettling, a realization that a nudge could send her spirally in the same direction his former brother had gone.

Tony takes over and hooks Jay up to an IV to try and stabilize her nutrition levels. Her bones are sticking out in her ribs, something Thor had noticed when carrying her down here. Clearly, she hasn't eaten correctly in days. Tony hesitates for a moment when looking at her brain waves and then hooks the device wrapped around her head to a read out on the screen next to the cot. He reluctantly straps her wrists down to the cot.

They could leave her unrestrained but all three of the Avengers realize the error that could become if she manages to overwhelm the one on watch. Steve also seems reluctant to have her restrained but he takes the role of practical leader and makes sure the wrist locks are tight. She's still wearing the circlets on her wrists from Tony, but Steve has decided that you can never be too careful with Jay.

"I'll take first watch," Thor says, breaking the unnatural silence that had fallen over them all. Tony and Steve agree and Steve heads off somewhere to go think. Tony watches the Captain leave and notices the way Rogers is running his hand through his sandy hair restlessly and the stress lines pulling at the corners of his eyes. Tony finishes setting up the equipment which humms and whirrs a quiet background noise. Thor has no idea what any of it does but he trusts Tony's abilities at this point.

Tony straightens, popping his back with a satisfied sigh when he's done and eyes Thor with a critical gaze. Thor returns the look with an eyebrow cocked, an answering question in his eyes. "Make sure she doesn't pull a fast one on you, Point Break," Stark says before heading out, leaving Jay and Thor alone.

Thor watches Jay for a time before distracting himself with some of the books Tony had left on a side table. The imaginations of some humans amused him. He steals glances at the sleeping woman when he gets a chance or finishes a paragraph. The monitors beeping and showing fancy patterns of light haven't changed so he assumes that's a good thing. The book fails to keep his interest after a time and he places it down on the table, spine up to keep his page.

Jay looks peaceful, the first time she's appeared that way since he's met her. The lines are gone from her face, lines he didn't know were there until they disappeared. He sees faint scars peeking out from underneath her tanktop strap, small white lines on her skin. She shifts slightly in her sleep and he sees something he hadn't noticed before. The skin of her shoulders pulls in places and moves with the muscles underneath. But this isn't what captures his interest. The faint marks of scars show from the edge of her shirt, originating on her back somewhere. There are not a small number either. The marks are not large and painful looking; instead they are small and seem to multiply as he looks. The lines crisscross on her shoulders, forming a macabre quilt on her skin. He pulls back, feeling as though he has invaded her privacy, but cannot shake the image of the marks on her back from his head.

She murmurs something in her sleep and Thor cocks his head to the side, listening. Her eyebrows pull together and her forehead creases with deep lines of agony. She arches her back, shoulders flexing and arms straining against the restraints. Her body relents after a moment and she sinks back down onto the cot, forehead smoothing out momentarily as something calms her sleeping mind. Then she bites her lip hard and her face crinkles in pain again. The silent pain that is flitting across her disturbs Thor. These expressions and mannerisms he associates with agony and suffering but she doesn't utter a cry as the muscles in her neck flex, her collarbones standing out starkly from her chest.

The bouts of agony and relaxation continue for several minutes and Thor doesn't know whether or not to call down Tony and Steve. But after a time, the contractions of her body stop and she melts down into the cot, body languid and relaxed as whatever demons were tormenting her finally lose their hold. It reminds him of a candle guttering out, all the wax spent.

The hours until Steve arrives to relieve him, pass without incident.

_She tells herself to relax, that she can survive this. It's a needle, not a gun. But sometimes the substances in the syringes can be more deadly and painful than a bullet wound. She tries to stop herself from thinking these thoughts but they come to her anyways, unbidden by her conscious mind, only a meandering thought from her fearful subconscious. She tries to quell the fear by pretending she is getting an injection that will make her taller. Yes, that's it, she'll be as mighty as a giantess when this is over. If the injection isn't poison. She sighs as the pessimist in her takes over, the fear overriding her ability to hope._

_She hates how the room is so stark white. Everything is in straight lines and the entire place is devoid of color and life. She feels like the only source of warmth in the room comes from the auburn waves of her hair but she can't see her hair anymore since they cut it all off the other day. She knows not why, just that they deemed it prudent so she doesn't argue. Her head has felt scratchy, like worn sandpaper since they had shorn every last curl off. Or maybe she had imagined that too as she turns her head to the side and see a wave of auburn curls. She doesn't know. The line blurs more and more each day between what she knows and what she imagines._

_She hears the door open and close again and gives no indication that she has heard. Her only defense against any of the things that are happening or will happen to her is her indifference. It frustrates the scientists here to no end and it gives her a small muster of satisfaction, although it is little since she stopped feeling anything but the faintest of emotions a long time ago._

_The men above her are saying things that sound scientific and impressive but she stares beyond their faces and stills herself into indifference. No reactions, no words from her lips. That is the one thing she can control, her voice. It's not enough to make her feel powerful but it's enough to keep her from giving up. She has schooled herself not to hope; there is no place for that anymore in her existence. She can't even call it a life; it's just an existence now. She is here and that's all that is real as far as she can tell. Hope is a feeling and those are not real to her. Not anymore._

_The needle pricks the inside of her arm but she doesn't move. It doesn't hurt anymore. There is enough scar tissue that no nerves run to the inside of her elbow anymore. She feels the sluggish liquid enter her blood vessels. Most people think you can't feel the liquid going into your body but she knows better. It swells under your skin and moves like a tiny serpent until it finds your blood and enters, and like a snake, slithers through your body until it either kills or heals you. She tries not to hold her breath as the substance worms its way through her body. How long will it take if it's poison? She idly starts to count seconds as the scientists scratch on their clipboards with pencils._

_Two minutes and eight seconds have passed when the scientist bends over her, gently feeling her face underneath her eyes, probing her flesh for a reaction. "Her pupils are fine," the scientist says. The pencils scratch across the clipboards once more. The scientists normally leave her now but this one stays, hovering over her. "Still not reacting, dear?" the male voice reprimands. She barely blinks as the scientists grabs her chin tightly and pulls her upwards to face him. The stench of cigarette smoke and weak mints fans her face. _

_She knows it irks him that she refuses to react and she knows what will happen next if she refuses to speak. But this is the only shred of control she has over everything that is happening to her so she wills her tongue to stillness and stares beyond him. The other scientists have left now; she knows he wouldn't be doing this if they were there. "I would love to hear a scream, love," the man says, his tongue flicking across her ear. He pulls back and the prick of a new needle burns her skin on her forearm. The fire-poison, she thinks to herself as the uncomfortable heat starts to spread in her arms. She might have to bite her tongue today to stay quiet. The poison seeps into her chest and she wants to scream in agony. Her back arches, her face creases in pain but she refuses to cry out. Her tongue is the stilled clapper of a bell, the silenced song of a caged bird._

_When the contractions stop and the scientist leaves, frustrated, she stares at the ceiling with tired eyes. She will not speak, not even when alone. But she silently mouths the words to herself, the only words she needs to remember. She mouths her name silently and lets herself fall into a tired repose._


	7. Psych the Avengers Out - 7

Jay wakes up slowly this time. No rush of adrenaline to her system, no sudden jolt straight into a fight. She lets it happen; feels the muscles slowly lengthen and twitch, ready for a new day. She wants desperately to stretch her whole body long to get all the kinks out of her sore body. Her muscles still feel tense but much less so than before. She wonders how long she slept.

Her eyes open last as she surrenders her body. The long muscles of her back elongate deliciously and she feels good for once, not all tense and wired up. She blinks a couple of times to adjust her eyes to the fluorescent bulbs above her head. She arches her back to crack her vertebrae and shoulder blades. She probably looks like a satisfied, sleepy lion on the savanna, just like she saw on that show the one time she watched TV.

She spots Steve sitting on a chair next to her cot, feet propped up on a stool, newspaper held loosely in his hands. He acknowledges her with a nod and a knowing smile as she sits up and pops her arms around in circles to loosen them up. She scrubs sleep from her eyes as he turns the paper and resituates the paper with a shake of the thin pages. "Sleep well?" he asks, sounding purposely disinterested. She cocks her head to the side and regards him.

"How long did it take me out for?" she asks. _Right to the point_, Steve's thoughts ripple across her. Jay is just happy that she can hear his thoughts again. As much as she doesn't care for reading minds, it's comforting to know the drug didn't change her permanently. As much as she doesn't want this curse of an ability, it's been with her for a long time and it helps to know the scientists hadn't managed to find a way to eradicate it from her completely.

"About a day and a half," Steve says and watches her to gauge her reaction. She doesn't give anything away. So Tony was right, she's far more guarded with her emotions and responses now that she's rested. Her eyes look clearer too, not the bright color he'd seen when she fought or was riding on adrenaline, but a clarity that shows she's in full capacity of her thoughts and actions. He's seen her react on instinct and wonders with trepidation what it will be like to interact with her when she's in full health, intelligence at max capacity.

"Guess it was a good dose then?" She says sarcastically, easing a crick out of her neck with practiced movements. Steve folds the paper and sets it down on the small table next to her bed.

"I suppose it was," he answers, noncommittally. She notices his tone; he can tell just by the way she moves her head. He's realized that she has a way of moving her head that indicates when she's thinking or noticing something that maybe the rest of them aren't.

"You're thinking hard, Captain," she snorts, "I can see the smoke pouring from your ears in waves. Like a great bellows." She idly pulls at the wrist restraints. "Any chance I'm going to get out of here soon?"

Steve sighs and runs a finger through his rumpled sandy hair. "Fury called Stark this morning to say he'd send Agent Barton over to pick you up tonight. Seems the Director found some way to talk to Warren Biochemical. Their only terms are that you are present." Steve watches her carefully as he says this. Her eyes widen and her breathing rate speeds up just slightly, but enough for him to notice, especially since he's been watching the screen's readouts of her vital signs on and off for the past day or so on his watches. It's been interesting to see how her brainwaves have increased in activity as the drug wore off and she woke up.

"So he's turning me over," she says, her voice flat.

"No, not necessarily," Steve says quietly. She looks at him with questioning eyes. "Fury is invested in Warren Biochemical for reasons he has yet to reveal and he wants you on his side in a deal with them-"

"So I'm a bargaining chip then?" comes the snide remark.

"You didn't let me finish," Steve says calmly. "Fury won't be giving you to them under any circumstances." Here Jay's brow furrows in a confused and deep frown. "He knows what happened there to you just not what exactly they want you for now. You're an asset to Fury, yes, I guess a playing chip or pawn but he's not willing to give you over to those scientists after what Stark has dug up on them recently."

"It's more than just the vial," Rogers continues, "They have been chasing you for months now, right? Ever since you escaped?"

Jay nods warily. "What is Fury's motive then? He's not interested in me just to keep me from Warren Biochem." The last sentence is a statement. Steve sighs again.

"No, he doesn't. My best guess? You'd be a very powerful addition to the Avengers."

Jay snorts out a laugh. "No he doesn't," she says with a surety that makes Steve want to rethink his theory. "I'm the same thing to Fury as I was to Warren Biochem. An oddity to be controlled and tamed to someone else's purposes." They lapse into silence.

Jay sighs after a while and lies back down. Bloody uncomfortable to be sitting like that with her wrists held down and nothing to lean her back against. Steve wishes he could undo the restraints because to be honest, he likes this girl. She's spunky and fierce and for some reason that makes him like her even though he normally cares for the more docile types who just want to settle down and have a family. He remembers the night they ate dinner together and the same nagging questions come back to him that have plagued him the entire time she was sleeping.

Hesitantly, he asks, "That night we had pot roast. The first night you were here?" She acknowledges that she remembers by meeting his eyes. "Was that all just a set up to gain my trust?"

Jay fixes him with her piercing gaze. "What else did you think it was, Captain?" she says coldly.

He doesn't answer.

"Everything I do in my life is about survival, Rogers," her voice is artic. "Every move is calculated and straight forward to achieve a goal that lets me exist for another day. Eating pot roast with you? Sharing memories? It gained your trust didn't it?" Her voice is harsh and sharp, driving the point home into him. "I did what I had to to try and earn your trust. A weak spot, someone who would have been more lenient with me. Someone eventually, I could get by. A means to an end."

She trails off, the sharpness of her voice fading. Steve lets it sink in. The venom in her words had been unmistakable but he could hear a thin film of desperation there as well. It wasn't because she actually had cared for him that night; he wasn't naïve enough to believe that. It was the way she was saying the words, vehemently and with a forced emotion. She wants him to believe she really doesn't care about anything other than her survival. Which he knows is most likely true, but he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes tighten at the corners as if she feels bad for being so harsh with him. It makes him wonder what exactly is going on in her head.

"Well," he says with as much ice as he can, "I'm glad we cleared up that."

He sees a flash of self-loathing flit through her eyes but it so brief he can't believe it was actually there.

The silence lapses into awkwardness and just when Rogers decides he should probably try to make conversation, Stark sweeps into the room in his grandiose way, saying "Ah! Fair Juliet awakens." Jay rolls her eyes.

"You do that just to annoy me, don't you?" she asks. Stark gives her a wink. "How can you put up with this guy on a regular basis?" Jay asks Steve. He just shrugs.

"Okay, Xena, time to take a look at those vitals and brainwaves," Stark says jovially. He pulls up a couple of overlays of her body on the screens as she grumbles something under her breath about "over-caffeinated rich-boy scientists with hormonal imbalances" if Stark hears her correctly.

"Wow," Stark says, studying the screen, "Right back up like I'd never even knocked you out," he muses.

"I need to pay you back for that by the way," Jay growls.

"Oh, don't get your pretty little head in a twist now, "Stark says, "See how it makes the brain readouts go crazy? You need to get a hold on those emotions kiddo." Jay decides she'll kick him hard. Where it hurts.

"Anyways," Stark says as Steve stands to join him, "Your brain waves are back to normal. Well, normal for you. Makes the rest of us look like chimps but yeah, normal."

Jay regards to readout of her brain activity with controlled indifference. She's seen holograms like this so many times she could map her own brain patterns and chemistry out in her sleep. Not that she understands what it all means because life as a lab rat doesn't involved neuroscience education but she wishes she understood it all so she would know when someone was tampering with her brain.

Suddenly, Jay is hearing something inside of her head that she knows isn't being spoken. The words slide into her brain with ease_. Bat….car… hinge…..bolt._ She shakes her head in confusion. What nonsense is this? Stark is staring rapt at the screen. She opens her mouth to ask him a question but more words filter in. _Tower….suit….scotch….party….playboy. _"Ha ha!" Tony yells exultantly.

"Stark, I really don't appreciate your random thoughts in my head," Jay growls as she realizes what he's doing. He's thinking hard on random words so he can see how her brainwaves respond on the screen when she picks up his thoughts. She wants to hit him and thinks about each little way she's going to tear him apart.

"Whoa," Stark says, amazed, "What did you just think about so hard that the waves coalesced into a focused line?" he asks Jay. She gives him a wicked smile.

"How I'm going to disembowel you."

"Oh," Stark says. "Well, then I guess I had better not piss you off anytime soon, eh, Xena?"

"Good idea."

They regard each other for a moment and she gives him the evil eye as he pretends to study her as an artist would a painting. The brainwaves coalesce on the screen again and Steve begins to feel worried as that sly smile lights her face again. Tony, to his credit, doesn't break eye contact until he can't stand it any longer. "Now we have proof that women can stare daggers into your brain," he concludes as if he's just proven some scientific theory. Jay grins.

The elevator door pings and the three of them look up. Director Fury steps into the room.

"Security breach," Stark says and Jay has to fight down a laugh.

Fury sweeps into the room, Agent Barton not far behind, and an underpaid S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in their wake. The temperature in the room seems to plummet, the look on Fury's face is so icy.

"I thought you said Agent Barton was coming tonight?" Steve asks with a nod at the Hawk.

"There's been a slight…. Change of plans," Fury says with an exaggerated pause. Jay quirks an eyebrow at them, the smile not having left her face. "Some new and rather convincing evidence has been called to our attention and quite frankly, we could use Miss Strong right now if you're done playing high school experiment with her."

Tony holds up a finger. "You gave us three days. Technically it hasn't been three days yet." Fury scowls and Stark catches a confused look from Jay out of the corner of his eye. He twirls the holofile in his hand. "Let me play just a little longer?" He asks with a fake smile that he knows is sure to piss Fury off. Jay looks at him with an intense gaze of concentration and Stark puts all of his effort into thinking his thoughts.

_He's lying. You're safer with us at the Tower. _

Jay cocks her head in that way that means she's thinking and Tony is glad she is so in control of her emotions. _Stall. Try to figure out his motive. _Jay gives an imperceptible nod.

"Do I even get a say in the matter?" she asks Fury, putting on a grin that she knows will annoy the Director. "Something about informed consent?" She says with mock confusion.

"You fall outside that boundary," Fury says coolly. "Barton, get her on her feet. I assume those ultrasonic circlets are still in place, Stark?"

Jay shoots Tony a look that says, "good plan genius" and tenses as Barton approaches her. "What boundary is that?" she asks Fury as Barton unlocks the wrist restraints, his own sonic transmitter in hand. Damn, they really weren't taking any chances with her. Stupid S.H.I.E.L.D.

"The boundary where I care whether or not you have a choice," Fury says. "I don't care what you want or what you did, Miss Strong," he says, bringing his face close to hers, "But until I benefit from any of the interactions with you and Warren Biochemical, I do not care if you get a choice because you have none."

The room is quiet, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent shifting nervously in the background. Steve has an assessing look on his face as he observes Fury. Something is out of character, something deep and something wrong. This is far bigger than expected.

Barton hauls a stony-faced Jay to her feet and marches her towards the elevator. She pulls from his tight grip on her upper shoulder but he holds firm. She scowls at Fury, her eyes murderous. _Oi, this one is a handful._ Jay places the unfamiliar voice as Agent Barton's as he bodily pushes her into the elevator. Fury stands calmly with hands behind his back as the doors close and she wishes so badly that she could wipe that pleased look right off his face.


	8. Psych the Avenger Out - 8

In the elevator, Jay puts as much distance between herself and Barton. She eyes the sonic pulse device in his hand with distaste and wishes it would shatter into a billion pieces. She presses herself against the wall to stay as far away from Agent Barton as possible. He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes with a smirk on his face.

"Don't like my company?" the Hawk asks with a fake macho tone.

"I'm afraid I'm not overly fond of it," Jay retorts.

"Why not? Not into the bad boy type?" he jokes.

"I like the power hungry super villains if you must know," she says with a feigned resigned sigh.

He laughs, he can't help himself. "Really? Not what I would have chosen for you."

"Oh? And what would you have picked? Yourself?"

"Well… If you're suggesting, then yes."

"Sorry, arrogance and egotism is not a turn-on for me."

"Really? I find that hard to believe if super villains are your type."

"Guess I'm just picky."

He grins and glances at her again. Despite her joking, there is a strange sort of look in her eye. He can't place it at first but then it dawns on him. She's putting up a front for him. The mocking, joking, rebellious kid routine. Inside she's probably still planning on how she's going to throttle him before they get to the exit. Fury had warned him about her and he'd seen the footage of her from the Tower feeds. She'd surprised Rogers, nearly choked Tony and was far too crafty for her own good.

Soon enough the elevator came to a stop and Jay sighs next to him. "Upset to be leaving my company so soon?" he jests.

"You wish."

The doors have yet to slide open and he sneaks one last glance at her before they leave the elevator and she meets his gaze with raised eyebrows. "Something you wanted to say?" she asks cockily.

He considers for a moment, noting the cynical look she's giving him. "No, let's go."

"Pity, you seemed like such a nice guy," Jay says with a sarcastic laugh.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Agent Barton asks.

"It's sort of my way of apologizing," Jay says. "I'm not really good at apologies."

"Apologizing for what?"

"This."

Her elbow flashes upwards and clocks him firmly under the chin, pushing his neck back and his head slams into the metal elevator wall with a crack. She uses the momentum to swing around and ram her shoulder into his stomach. Momentarily winded and disoriented, Barton barely manages to grab her collar as she ducks to take out his knees. His palm comes up under her chin but she twists and it hits her collarbone instead. She kicks the sonic pulse device out of his hand and it clatters against the metal walls. His hook catches her in the stomach but she manages to crush the device under her heel with a savage sort of satisfaction a vicious, feral grin on her face.

The elevator door pings open and they sprawl out onto the concrete floor of the parking garage. His kick sends her rolling but she grabs his ankle and pulls hard. He doesn't go down but it unbalances him just enough that she has precious few seconds to roll out of reach and come up into a crouch. He's standing across from her, knees slightly bent, at the ready. She opens her mind to his thoughts. He's a highly trained assassin and this may not have been the best fight to pick but she'll be damned if he's going to win. It's about high time that she opened herself up to the possibilities of her mind.

They circle each other, eyes wary and focused. _Feint right….., come from underneath…., Target the left, she's right handed._ Jay barely has time to congratulate herself before Barton is coming at her swinging. She barely blocks the strike to her right before he's coming up from underneath with a strong hook. Jay steps backwards, momentarily throwing Barton off balance and uses his momentum to push him forward and down so that he crashes into the ground.

She doesn't wait for him to get back up. One thing she learned about self-defense a long time ago was that when you take someone down and then you have the chance to run, you run. No need to finish a person off if you can get away. She sprints away, past rows of expensive cars. The black S.H.I.E.L.D. sedans and SUVs are sitting closest to the elevator and she wishes she had a way to slash the tires. She hears Barton grunt behind her and skids around the corner, desperately trying to think of a way to buy some time.

He'll catch up if she doesn't get a move on, she knows that. She wishes she'd memorized the layout of the parking garage but that hadn't been part of Tony's grand tour. This was worse than a maze. And seriously, how many fancy cars did one man need?!

"I could use some help down here," she hears Barton say over a walkie-talkie. She should have known they would have brought more than one S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with Barton and Fury to deal with her. Let's hope it's not too many, she thinks to herself as she tears around another corner.

Barton hasn't rounded the corner yet and for a moment, she debates hiding. Could she pull it off? Doubtful, he's a spy and they would scour this place to its concrete bones to find her. Her best bet is to keep moving. Her shoes slapping the concrete sound awfully loud to her ears and her blood is already thundering through her head. Focus, she commands herself.

More footsteps join Barton's as she bursts out into the city streets. Crap, crap, crap, pound her shoes on the pavement. She doesn't know these streets. If she did, maybe then she could lose them. On a whim she chooses left and flies past gawking pedestrians. She shoves them aside when she has to, vaguely feeling bad for it but there is no room for regret when you're running for your life. She hears Barton closing in and curses the day she was born.

Up ahead, the road splits again and unfortunately the light turns green and cabbies and cars whizz past the sidewalk. She can't turn, there's some sort of festival down to her left and right along the sidewalks and straight is now blocked by insane New York City drivers, people waiting to cross and a hot dog cart. Barton and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at her back. Not great options. The crowd is too thick to try to get lost in; she won't make it far before a hand grabs her from behind. With a muttered apology to the cart tender, she tips a hot dog stand down into Barton's path and shoots straight out into traffic.

Horns blare and brakes screech as she barrels across the crosswalk with as much speed as she can. She hears Barton swear colorfully as he encounters the tipped over hot dog stand and doesn't give it more than a fleeting thought as she vaults the hood of a taxi that had shrieked to a stop in front of her. The street seems to expand in length as she screams in an adrenaline fueled race to the opposite sidewalk. The agents are crossing the street, Barton in the lead but she has no time to stop and turn around to see how far behind they are. That could cost her priceless seconds, something she really can't afford right now. The sweat is streaming down the undersides of her long-sleeved shirt even though it's positively frigid outside. Not that she's noticed in all the excitement.

She almost makes it. Right before the sidewalk edge, her foot skids in the slush on the street and a passing car clips her leg. A bolt of agony jolts up her spine and she staggers up onto the safety of the walkway. Passerby gave her a wide berth as she hobbles into the crowd. "Shit!" she curses and drags herself into the nearest store in a last ditch attempt to lose her pursuers. Barton was only paces away before she'd dared the crossing and he'd make it any moment now.

Shivering with cold and pain, she ducks into the racks of clothing and moves as quietly as she can. She hears Barton enter along with Fury's goons and tries to quiet her breathing. Why couldn't her ability be something like a chameleon's camouflage? That would be so much more useful right now. Yet she still opens her mind as Barton orders, "Spread out and cover all the exits. She won't get far with nowhere to run." She spots him over the racks of winter jackets and ducks as his eyes swing her way.

She can hear the thoughts of the agents, those are easy enough to read. But she can't hear Barton's thoughts and that worries her because he's the only real threat to her. The agents she knows she can dispatch, even with a bleeding gash in her leg. It's Barton that she needs to avoid. Her heart is pumping traitorously in her throat, so loud she swears it will give her away. He's a trained killer and normal tricks won't work on him. This is a game of cat and mouse and she really despises being in the role of the rodent. Although she supposes this is more like hawk and mouse. The familiar sensation of being hunted creeps into her veins and puts her on edge. She vows that if she ever manages to get away from all of this, she will never let them find her again.

An agent rounds the racks of pants only two rows over and Jay tries to quiet her heavy breaths. She can't drop him and run or the Hawk will be on her in an instant. Swallowing, she notes the fitting room is just three racks over to her right. The agent is approaching from the front, and any moment now, he's going to spot her. She drags herself to the other side of the rack of coats and scans left and right. Clear. She crawls to the neck rack over and hunches under the thick fabric of down jackets, her leg burning in pain. She holds her breath as the shadow of shoes peeks under the jackets and then moves on.

Jay carefully peaks one eye out between the heavy coats. Barton is on the other side of the fitting room. She sucks her breath in, cheeks pulling tight to the bones. If she can make it to the fitting room and get inside, she might stand a chance of getting out of here. When he turns around, she scrambles to the next rack, jeans hiding her from view. Only one more rack to go and then the carpeting in front of the room. She can make it. She has to.

As calmly as she can, she tries to open her thoughts up again. _Where is she? _Barton. _Damn it, Fury is going to rip me one if I don't find her. _She stays still as a pair of feet passes her rack and stop in front of her. Her breath sounds harsh and loud in her ears. The voice almost startles her into falling over. "Permission to use tranqs, Agent Barton?" the agent standing next to her asks.

His answering reply is much too close for comfort. He has to be within twenty feet of her. "Only tranqs, this one needs to come in alive," Barton sighs. _I was hoping to avoid it though._

Jay presses a fist into her mouth to quiet her breathing. Staying crouched like this for so long is sending glassy spikes of pain up to her brain and her breathing isn't the smooth, quiet tone she'd like it to be. She counts to ten as slowly as she can, willing the agent to move so she can make the last move towards the fitting room. He doesn't budge so she counts again, slower hoping he'll move. He's screwing with her whole plan and it's pissing her off.

Finally the agent moves but she stays still, trying to pick up his thoughts in case he's still close by, in case he suspected she was right beneath him. She tells herself she'll count to ten six times and then make a break for it. She pulls the coats aside and sees no one. It's gotten quiet and she doesn't like that. Jay rolls out of the protection of the coats and tries to step to the last rack but her leg spazzes and collapses underneath her.

"There!" someone yells and she curses, trying to pull herself to her feet. A quick glance over her shoulder shows her the fast-approaching form of Agent Barton. She curses colorfully and tips a rack of coats into his path and drags her leg after her, trying to find any route out of here. Her desperation is mounting, all thoughts of hiding in the fitting room wiped from her mind as the agents close in from all sides. She wills herself to stop thinking and just react, thinking will cost her too much time right now. She opens herself up to her instincts and dives as tranquilizer darts fly past her head.

By then, Barton is on her and she spins on the floor to meet his punch. She blocks the punch but his kick slams into her ribs and she flies backwards, crashing into a display of shirts. He follows closely but she pulls the display down on top of them and her foot catches his arm as she twists away from the wreckage she caused. She rolls backwards and slips as the shirts snag her leg and blood seeps darker into her jeans. Agony shoots through her as another kick connects with her ribs and she barely manages to hold her own as Barton comes at her in a flurry of movement.

She keeps the fighting close so the agents won't get a clear target for fear of hitting Barton. But she's losing, there's no denying that. She is tiring rapidly again and she curses the car that hit her. Distraction allows Barton to catch her jaw in a hook and she crashes to the ground but twists as she falls and takes Barton's legs out from underneath him. She stumbles to her feet and kicks his knee out with her good leg as he tries to rise. An inhuman snarl escapes her as she does so and Barton sees the look of a desperate animal in her eyes. The kind of animal that will bite its own leg off to get out of a trap.

She turns to run but the sound of a gunshot echoes in her ears and a tranquilizer dart hits her in the side. Dazed and in pain, she turns to see an agent holding his gun trained on her. She hisses as he takes a step closer and Barton rises to his feet. She sinks to one knee and on hand curls protectively around her side as the other braces her against the tiled floor of the aisle. She doesn't want it to be like this, an endless cycle of running and tranquilizers. Why does freedom have such a steep price?

Her eyes meet Barton's. "Sorry about your chin," she rasps and collapses.

There is a moment of silence as shocked shoppers gather. "Nice shot," Barton says, clapping the agent on the back and walks away.


End file.
