You guys. . .are awesome! Thank you so much for all the reviews, alerts, etc! I'm glad some people like this so far =)

Anyways, here's the next part! Cap isn't in this one. . . But he will be coming up soon. Like I mentioned earlier, though, I'm a little rusty with writing the Avengers, so let me know if anyone seems too OOC or anything.

Enjoy!

Warning[s]: Some Language. Frustrated Barton.

Entry #2. Storm Bait.

I wake up to bright lights in my eyes. Not sunshine bright, but operating room bright. White. Fluorescent. Like blunt knives scratching against my brow. Scowling, I scrunch up my expression as I attempt to swat them back.

". . .the hell? Go away."

In seconds, the lights have gone. Blurry shadows slowly, agonizingly, take shape in the space above me. It takes longer than that to remember. . . What even got me into this mess to begin with.

Like, the explosion. Like, the wounds on my hands. Like, the man in the dark suit, wanting to kidnap me. Oh, right. Forgot about that part. Forgot about that almost meltdown, too. Shit. Which means, Agent Barton knows. I bet my contacts are already dissolving, so. . . My disguise is pretty much shot.

"Miss Henley?"

I groan in repsonse, digging my sore palms into my retinas. Apparently, my hands got better. I mean, not completely, but the sharp pains are more tolerable than they were. I can already see the thin scars across raw, pink skin when I cover my expression with them. Sometimes, those electric currents go a little haywire, but. . . Damn. Nothing like that.

Seriously. I don't shoot lightning bolts. I don't have amazing regeneration powers. I don't really do anything, yet. . . Maybe, it was stress that made everything short circuit. I don't know.

"Sloane?" I mutter, trying to ignore the sour, rusty taste in my mouth. "You touch my brother, I swear. . ."

He sighs. I don't think it's Agent Barton. But, who else is here? Am I even at my house? I thought I was on the grass. . .or the sidewalk. I better not be in the emergency room, or someone is going to get hurt.

"It's okay, Miss Henley." He attempts to reassure. "No one has gotten to him, I promise you."

Gotten to him? What the hell does that mean? I struggle to sit up, heat gathering along my arms, my wrists. He gently takes my shoulder. . . Or, he tries to, but yanks his hand back again when I accidentally shock him.

"Watch it there, Sparky." Someone warns.

I glance towards the other voice, ears twitching in recognition. It can only be. . . Yep. Agent Barton approaches us with his hands in his suit pockets. He manages a tight grin, gone in another blink as he stops next to us.

"Don't worry, kiddo. Sloane is with Kaidan Lane. His cousin, yeah?" He nods. "We got him out. No problems."

Um. . .okay. I keeping squinting as I massage my aching temples, because. . . Yeah. I have no idea what is going on here. Sighing, I give another glance to the man kneeling beside me. He looks like a doctor. Or, he's acting like one. Worn expression. Dark eyes. Slight, understanding smile.

"I know this is. . .horrible." He admits, sounding sheepish. "But, we only want to help you, Miss Henley. You hurt your hands. . ." He moves to study them, which sets the alarms ringing in my brain.

No. No one touches me.

I quickly cross my arms, blushing beneath both their intent stares. Horrible is kinda an understatment, buddy. I know that my eyes are probably. . .nothing like they have ever seen. I'm gonna have to buy more contacts. Gloves, too. I can't. . . Shit. I can't believe that this, whatever this is, is actually happening.

"Okay. No. I gotta get some things straight." I tell them bluntly. "First. I know Barton, but I don't know you." I give the other man. . .a glare slightly less harsh. "You work with this SHIELD company, too?"

He hesitates, then removes his glasses. His clothing is pretty ordinary, in comparison to Barton. Slacks. Sleeves. Boatshoes. He doesn't seem the government type. But, hey. You never know with these people.

"Uh, no. I don't work with them." He slowly admits. "I'm a scientist, not an agent. Dr. Bruce Banner."

I have no clue why, but that simple revelation helps me calm down. His brown eyes are open, honest. I try to draw strength in them as I sort though this swarm inside my thoughts.

"You sent Sloane to Michigan." I repeat. "What does he know about this? What does he know. . ." I swallow. ". . .about me?"

Barton shrugs. "Nothing. You don't want him to know, right?"

I immediatly shake my head. "As long as he's okay. . . I don't want him knowing anything. Not that it matters, considering I don't really know anything. . ." I scratch my neck, heaving this huge sigh. "What do you mean, you want to help me? I'm not broken, guys. I'm only. . .having a really shitty day."

"Hey. I was gonna explain the situation to you." Barton raises his brows. "You wouldn't hear me out. Not to mention your laser lights show that knocked out the power in the entire block. . ."

Dr. Banner looks up at him. "Clint." He admonishes.

Barton shrugs again. "What?" He tries to play innocent, blue eyes wide. "Come on, I'm telling the truth, Banner. You know. . ." He gestures to the street lamps above us, which happen to be broken. Glass covers the pavement like glittering blankets.

". . .more or less a couple details." He adds lightly.

Yeah. Wait. . .what? I stare at the smoking street lamps with this unpleasant sensation crawling beneath my skin. Damn. I really did that? Um. . .oops. I screw up the power at my house, sometimes. . . But, the whole block? Really? Huh.

"Fine." I mutter. "Whatever. You can tell me the truth now, okay? I'm listening."

Dr. Banner smiles, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, Henley. Really. But, we don't have a choice, either. We have to take you with us." He seems pretty sincere, too. I don't know why I believe him. . .

But, I do. He helps me up, when the realization hits me square in the chest. I look over at my house, stomach clenching, because. . . I might not be coming back here again. So, not only have I lost my sanctuary, my lame science class, but. . . I'm also losing my true home. All in one damn day. How shitty is that luck?

"Um." I stop, some distance back, while the men are walking towards a slick, black vehicle in my driveway. "Can I take some things with me? Not everything, but. . ." I shrug, because it really isn't their business. "Some things? Is that okay?"

Barton and Dr. Banner exchanges glances. I roll my eyes. "Seriously, guys. I'm not gonna run again." I cross my arms over my shirt. "But, I'm also not going anywhere without my backpack. So. . . I'll be right out." I don't wait to hear their answers as I turn.

As I reach my doors, they swing open. Barton grasps them with a strange expression, his tight, awkward smirk making another reappearance.

"Hey. . . I'm sorry about earlier, Lee." He shrugs. "Orders are orders, though." He rubs his neck, lets the doors swing shut behind us.

I turn on some lights and try not to think about it. "Yeah, I know." I mutter. It's not okay, but, I get his position. He casts some glances at the movie shelves, the video game cabinets, while I move down the hallway. Seconds later, I hear his clothing whisper near my shadow, never too close, yet never wandering away.

Well, I can see why he is some secret government agent. He has those stealth skills down to a damn science.

"It's a nice place." He hums conversationally.

I don't want to do this. I really, really, don't. "Stop." I mumble, pushing into my quiet, empty bedroom. "Please."

His brows draw together as he leans against the doorway. But, he lets me be as I take my spare bag to my desk. While I shove in some books, music, extra socks, he studies the posters strewn across the walls. Most have to do with the universe. Stars. Comets. Planets. Graphs. Charts. Space has always been my passion, as much as I love blowing things up with my chemistry sets or messing with scrap metals.

I glance at the sleek, silver telescope set up near the windows. Sloane actually bought that. It was the best birthday present I have ever been given. . .

Scowling, I brush at my eyes. Yeah, the last thing I want is to cry with the secret agent watching me. Shit. I quickly go to my dresser, where my gaze lands on a photograph that I have stuck to the mirror. Two kids, sticking their tongues out at the camera. One has blue hair. One has green spikes. Sloane has his glasses on, too. It was so long ago, even though. . . I still have those lame blue streaks growing out above my shoulders.

I shove the picture into my bag, gulping down slow, deep breaths. It's pretty heavy in a couple minutes, so I have to carry my worn scrapbook. But, it won't get bent this way, either. Eventually, I approach Barton again.

"Set, kiddo?" He asks.

His blue eyes look like dark ocean waves in the gloom. I try not to look at them as I return to the hallway, because I think I actually will start crying. So, I ignore the question, opting to change the topic.

"Your boss wants me, since. . ." I point to my own gaze. "Right? With you guys watching me, you must have access to the college security system on campus. You probably know about. . .everything." I conclude dully, losing the energy to even be angry.

What's the point? I can't do anything about this, anyways. Might as well attempt to get along with the kidnappers. . .

"We only know what we've seen in the tapes." Barton admits. He seems apologetic. Even, a little guilty, when he averts his stare and tightens his lips. "Your eyes are something new, though. You've been wearing contacts."

I blow out a breath. "I kinda have to, buddy. You think I honestly wanna attract attention with glowing green eyes?"

He snorts. "Yeah, point taken." He pauses, then, adopts a more serious look when we reach the doors. "We know that you've never been sick. Not even once. We know about your intelligence, despite your pretty lousy attempts to remain below the radars. We know about your. . .talents, with machines. Which is really the main reason the bossman wants to see you." His tone hardens. "SHIELD needs your help."

I stare at him. He opens the doors into the sunlight, and I'm staring at him with rocks settling in my stomach. I don't move. I can't. Hearing him. . .makes it so much worse. Knowing that the government has been aware since, I don't even know. Maybe, they've always known.

"What do you mean. . .my, talents?" I ask, voice hoarse. "You. . .you guys. . ." I struggle to remember how to string letters together. "You've been listening?" I manage to rasp, ignoring the buzz in my pulse as panic begins to stir.

Barton nods. HIs shoulders twitch, like he might be trying to repress a sigh. "Yeah, we sorta have to. You were unlike anything. . ." He clears his throat, smoothing his expression over. "You were unlike anyone that we've ever taken an interest in."

It sticks like a blade between my ribs. It was an accident, yeah. . . But, he must think it, since he let it slip out. "Unlike anything, huh?" I grunt, elbowing past him, suddenly desperate to get outside.

"You can say it, you know. You don't think I'm human." I almost choke on the words as the humiliation vibrates through me.

I know that I've never been close with people. I know that I've kept alone, kept to my experiments. . . I know that I'm strange, but. . . How can I not be human? What rights do they have to assume otherwise?

"Hey, Lee. I didn't mean it like that." Barton matches my pace easily, expression twisting with some dark, unknown emotion. "Come on, though. You can talk to computers! How is that actually possible?" He attempts to argue. "You interact with anything that has wires or electricity. . . You even have wires as veins! Does that honestly seem human to you?"

Dr. Banner was on the phone, pacing near the vehicle as we were approaching. As soon as those words are outta that big damn mouth, though, he stops completely. He shoots Barton a steady glare and snaps his phone shut.

"I guess cooperation was asking too much." He sighs heavily. "How is this productive, Clint?" His question has a thick, silent strength to it. Like, he can be demanding without even having to raise his voice. "We're on edge, yeah. You don't have to beat her over the head with this, though. She has no idea what's happening."

I wrench open the back door in the vehicle, clenching my teeth as the tears burn. "Yeah, believe it or not, but the damn robot has emotions." I spit, then slam the door when I climb inside. I'm shaking. I am literally shaking. Everything is screaming, swarming with static that shoots through my limbs, condenses inside my palms.

On the lawn, both men are exchanging words and wide, sweeping gestures. I don't listen to them. I can't even hear them, not with this white noise crackling inside my ears. So, I'm a science experiment to SHIELD. I'm not even human to the people that they sent to collect me.

Fuck. . . I can't. . .

It burns. Everywhere. I shake my hands out on instinct, cascading greenish sparks across the leather interior. Really, I want to rip this damn car apart. But, yeah. I bet more violent explosions are only gonna make this worse. I mean, these guys are above everday badges. I can't do anything that might put Sloane in danger. . .

Shit. I lean over my knees, hiding my tears in my palms. When the doors eventually open, I'm breathing a little easier, headphones blasting music to calm my trembling nerves. No one says anything else as Dr. Banner begins to drive.