A/N: Welcome to the second chapter of this story, part of me wants to change the title, but not sure to what yet so bare with me for a while. I'm disappointed that the first chapter only got 2 reviews, but that doesn't mean I'm not grateful to Torilovesu and camierose for reviewing. Thank you so much! =) And thank you for all those who added this story to their favorites and are following the story – don't be shy, please review! Hope you all enjoy this chapter.
Chapter Two:
Something to Remember
Myka woke suddenly, feeling tired but alert.
Her stiff body hurt all over. It tingled, and, weirdly enough, seemed to hum, and she felt hot – abnormally hot. She flexed her fingers, and tried to wiggle her toes.
Her limbs seemed to work just fine.
She blinked slowly, staring into space. Everything was blurry. She couldn't make out shapes. Was she going blind?
She felt fingers touch her arm, and her body convulsed as a shock seemed to spread throughout her. She cried out in pain and grimaced – it was like she was being electrocuted! The hand that had been touching her pulled away, and just as suddenly as the convulsion began it ended, "…okay…" she heard a voice say, but it sounded as though they were talking to her from an end of a tunnel. She let her head loll to the side the voice was coming from and could just barely make out the silhouette of a figure, hovering over her, but couldn't make out any facial features.
She felt extremely tired and weak all of a sudden, like all she wanted was to sleep.
"… are you?" the voice asked. She closed her eyes. There was silence. "What's your name?" She heard that loud and clear, it sounded closer than before, but still distorted.
"Myka," she replied, automatically. She was exhausted and in pain.
"I'm agent Phil –" the voice began to say, but Myka passed out before he could finish.
The next time she woke up it was to an annoying sound.
Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…
What the hell is that noise? Myka wondered, groggily as she felt herself waking up. She kept her eyes closed in hopes of going back to sleep despite the oddly familiar noise. It was loud, sharp and insistent. Ugh, shut up, she wanted to say out loud but her mouth felt like cotton, throat burned like hell and she had such a headache!
It seemed to rival any headache she'd ever received from a long night of drinking.
How much did I drink last night? Turning her head away from the noise, she groaned, grimacing. She vaguely remembered Miguel offering her a glass of cranberry vodka, but had rejected it. She didn't like drinking around her parents. It wasn't because they disapproved of it; she just wasn't comfortable drinking around them yet.
Besides she'd driven home last night, right? She couldn't even find the confidence to get behind the wheel after two drinks – the whole don't drink and drive thing had been beaten into her brain since she could remember – and she felt as though she'd had a lot to drink.
Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…
Unable to ignore the persisting noise any longer, Myka tried to stretch her arm out, hoping to shut the alarm off and go back to sleep, vowing she wouldn't leave bed until her nasty hangover passed – she'd have to get up for water though – but found that she couldn't move much. She felt weak, and it was then that she noticed the dull prick in the crook of her arm, and something attached to her chest.
Brows furrowed, she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it when bright lights blinded her. She quickly shut them, but not before she caught a glimpse of a white ceiling and from beside her, she heard movement. She tried again after a moment. This time it was less painful. Despite her eyesight being blurry, she realized she wasn't in her room or anywhere familiar for that matter.
Why had it taken so long for her to realize that?
She also realized there were rails on the hard, uncomfortable bed she was lying in and there were lumpy pillows underneath her head. Confused, she scrunched her face and noticed, for the first time, something was taped across her face, under her nose. She made a move to take it off.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a warm hand grabbed hers, pulling it away from her face. There was a tingle – the fingers had shocked her. The hand pulled away, quickly, shaking it. Her eyes followed it to a figure standing beside her bed. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, and when it did, she found herself looking at a man with dark hair, wearing a suit and tie. His blue eyes scanned her face, curiously.
What?
"You're in a hospital wing," the man told her with a quiet but firm voice as though picking up on her confusion. "Do you remember what happened?"
She tilted her head in his direction, frowning. Hospital? What – how? She racked her brain, trying to think – to remember. She remembered spending the evening at her parents' house, having dinner, eating cake, saying goodbye, getting in her car – her car.
She closed her eyes, remembering the tree falling over. "Car… accident," she told him, licking her chapped lips. Her voice sounded hoarse and unrecognizable.
The man kept his face neutral; his eyes shifted for a moment and then met hers again. "A car accident?" He repeated, and she nodded. It had been a car accident, right? "Do you remember anything after that?"
She thought again, but could only remember bits and pieces. There was a lot of rain, thunder and lightening. "No," she whispered, coughing suddenly. The man moved away to grab something beside her bed.
"Here," he said, putting a cup of water to her lips. "Drink slowly, it's going to hurt."
Maybe she should have taken his warning a little more seriously, but she'd been so thirsty! The first sip was the hardest; it burned all the way down. She had to move away, sputtering with a grimace. Thankfully, the man was patient, waiting for her to continue drinking. It was easier after that, soothing almost and she drank until there was no water left in the cup. She glanced up at the man, "thank you," she said, feeling a lot better and more awake. She tried to sit up just a little, and glanced around the room.
The room was mostly bare. There was a door to the left of her, near the edge of her bed, and a table on the other side of her with a plant, some magazines and a pitcher of water. She was surprised to find that there wasn't a clock or windows, but instead a mirror right behind the man in the suit. She could barely see her reflection, but from what she could tell she looked pale and her hair was sticking up in odd angles. She patted it down, feeling self-conscious.
And then a few thoughts occurred to her. Who was this man and where were her parents? If she'd been in an accident, shouldn't they be here?
"Where's my mom?" She asked him, quietly, touching her throat. It still hurt.
The man furrowed his brows at her, "Your—" he began, but stopped when the door to the room opened.
They both turned their attention to a man with graying black hair, wearing a long white coat with a stethoscope around his neck, enter the room. He smiled at her. "I see our patient is awake. Thank you for keeping her company, agent Coulson. I'll take over from here," he said.
Agent? Myka wondered, staring at the man beside her in confusion. When he moved to leave her side, she reached out for him. "Wait –" She faltered. Why did she want him to wait?
He looked down at her hand, which was now holding on to his elbow, confused, but then he patted it, almost carefully, giving her a tight-lipped smile. "You're in good hands," he turned to the other man, giving him a curt nod. "Doctor," and left the room without another word.
She stared after him as the doctor approached her.
"How are you feeling?" He asked her, grabbing a chair and pulling it over to her bed. He reached for something inside of his coat.
"Okay," she told him, shifting her eyes away as he shined a light in her eyes.
"Eyes are sensitive as expected. Nurse, please take note of that," he told a woman standing by the doorway. She hadn't even noticed the woman standing there. To her, he asked, "Do you have any nausea, headache, other pains?" He moved to look at something she couldn't see.
"Just a headache," she told him, feeling uncomfortable. She wished the other man – agent Coulson – had stayed, but then shook her head at the thought. She didn't even know him. She looked down at her hands, wriggling her fingers. "How long have I been out?"
She felt okay for someone who'd been in an accident. Tired, and a bit disoriented, but okay.
"For some time now," he answered, vaguely after some silence.
She didn't like his answer, but decided to drop it for the time being – there was a part of her, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that told her she didn't want to know, and maybe she really didn't.
"Your vital signs are good… but there's…" he trailed off, and she waited for him to continue, feeling somewhat anxious. Was something wrong with her? He never finished his sentence.
"Can I see my mom?" She asked him, as he sat back down. The nurse handed him a folder. He began writing in it.
"What's your name?" He asked, ignoring her question.
She furrowed her brows, but answered anyways, "Myka Benitez." Why he wanted to know her name was beyond her, didn't he already know it? Maybe it was to make sure she remembered it?
Either way, this whole situation was starting to piss her off.
"Why wont you let me see my mom?" She asked again, feeling more anxious. In the background the persistent beeping noise picked up.
Heart monitor, she realized. Not an alarm. She really was stupid sometimes.
He turned his head to glance at the heart monitor. If Myka hadn't been looking, she would have missed the worried look on his face as he turned away from her because when he looked back it was gone and he was giving her a reassuring smile. "We'll talk about that later, let's focus on –"
"No," she cut him off, frustrated. "I want to see her," she demanded and she didn't care if she was overreacting or acting like a child. Something about all of this didn't seem right. First there was an agent watching over her, the doctor wouldn't give her straight answers and now he wouldn't allow her to see her mother?
Myka remembered that when she was really young, she fell out of a tree. Hit her head so hard, it knocked her out cold. When she woke up a couple of hours later, her mother was hovering over almost immediately, scolding her and thanking God that she was okay. So why wasn't she with her now? "Where is she?" She asked out loud. "What aren't you telling me?"
The doctor stared at her. "Ms. Benitez," he started. His voice was low and soft, like he was trying to be soothing. It wasn't working. "You've been comatose for quite some time. I'd like to run some tests to make sure that you're okay before we discuss… other matters."
"Okay," she nodded because it made sense. "What happened… to me? Did I – was I in a car accident?"
He gave her a solemn look, "We were hoping you could tell us. You don't remember?"
She shook her head, closing her eyes, willing herself to remember. She had told the agent that it had been a car accident but she wasn't so sure now that she was fully awake and aware. She remembered avoiding the fallen tree… burning, pain, a bright light and falling but it didn't make sense. "No, I don't remember."
"Well that's not uncommon. With most patients, after a traumatic accident, it's … normal to experience some amnesia. Most recall what happened in a matter of days… some not at all."
She processed all this.
"How long was I out?" She asked, quietly.
"I don't think—"
"How long?" It couldn't have been more than a couple of days, right? From what she saw, she looked okay. There were no burns, no scratches. No broken bones.
There was a pause. "Five months."
Myka's mind went blank.
"Five months?" She repeated, almost in disbelief. How as that possible? She looked away from the doctor as he began to talk about running some tests on her, wanting to make sure she didn't have any long term brain damage and then she completely went deaf, wrapped up in her own thoughts.
Five months. She'd been comatose for five months. She'd probably lost her job, not to mention she missed her finals, which meant she had to start the semester over. Maybe if she explained what happened, maybe her mother had – oh… her poor mother. Her mom must have been going crazy with worry, wondering what had happened to her, if she'd ever wake up. Myka felt her eyes water at the thought.
She felt sick.
"I want to see my mom," she told him, quietly. "She needs to know that I'm okay – that I'm fine. I'm fine, right?" Myka asked, feeling a bubble of panic start to form. Her body started to tingle. She wanted to cry, but forced herself not to.
"Ms. Benitez - Myka, please, calm down – you're starting to have a panic attack."
"How can I not?" Myka shouted. "You're telling me that I've basically been dead to the world for five months and you want me to be calm?" She raised her hand, pulling the wire taped across her face off. She needed air. Fresh air.
"Now dear, you don't want to do that," the nurse, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, rushed to her side to stop her.
"Don't," Myka slapped the older woman's hands away, continuing to free herself of all the wires she could. There were a lot more than she realized. "I just want to see her. Why is that so hard to understand?"
She couldn't understand why she felt this desperate need to see her mother.
"Stop," the doctor order, grabbing her wrists before she could pull out the wires that were connected to the heart monitor, which was currently going berserk. It sounded louder now. The doctor pushed her back into the bed. "I need you to calm down," he said, speaking loudly but slowly. When she didn't stop resisting, he asked the nurse to get help.
The older woman ran off, shouting for assistance and it didn't take long for others to come to aid the doctor.
"I need you to hold her arms and legs," he instructed to the men in uniform, over her cries. "Be careful, don't let her hurt herself." There had to have been at least half a dozen of them, Myka hadn't counted, she was too busy struggling from them to do so.
"Let me go," she pleaded, kicking at the man grabbing at her legs but he successfully pinned them down as the others had with her arms.
All these men for a tiny girl, she vaguely wondered at one point. Miguel would be proud… or horrified. She didn't care. She was too scared to care.
"Myka, I'm going to give you a sedative," the doctor told her. "It'll help you calm down."
"No, no, no – wait!" She pleaded, moving away from the needle he was preparing. She didn't want to sleep again. What if she didn't wake up? It was an irrational fear but she was aware that she was, in fact, having a panic attack. She wasn't breathing properly, and she felt hot. And her body was tingling, almost vibrating.
Wait… this wasn't a panic attack.
"Wait – wait," she pleaded, trying to assess what was happening to her but the panic she had been feeling hit her hard. "Stop!" She cried out, and her voice seemed to echo throughout the room. It was loud enough to cause everyone in the room to stop for just a moment.
And that moment seemed to move in slow motion.
The tingling sensation Myka had been feeling since she'd woken up, spread through her entire body and was so intense that she had to close her eyes. She couldn't breath.
Her fists clenched, gripping the sheets tightly. Even her toes curled.
She felt like a soda bottle that had been shaken, bubbles ready to explode. And then she did.
She felt her back arch, head lift a little from the mattress and she screamed, and then there were more screams that she knew weren't her own.
Then there was silence.
Myka slumped back into the bed, exhaustion overtaking her. She passed out unaware of what happened, or of the hidden camera in the room that had recorded the whole ordeal before it malfunctioned.
Director Fury looked away from the television monitor. Its signal had been distorted. There was only static now. The camera had been fried by what the girl had done. He looked back into the room, observing from the two-way mirror as agents approached the area, cautiously to aid the fallen.
Fury couldn't tell how badly they were hurt from where he was standing. His good eye shifted to the girl.
"Sir?" Agent Coulson stepped forward, awaiting orders.
Without turning away from the girl, Fury said, "Get me Natasha Romanoff."
