So here's the next chapter. Hope you like it.

Thor's Gift

Chapter Three

When they had gotten back to the compound, the eye-patch man, who had introduced himself as Director Nick Fury, merely gave her orders to not leave Agent Barton's sight. With a sigh, her only retort had been, "Oh goody," before she was pulled away by Barton. That, however, had been a month ago, and she was still stuck at his side but he seemed to have trusted her enough to have a longer leash then what Fury wanted. And so here she was standing on the training pad in front of the Russian ex spy, Natasha.

"You know, Nat," the woman glared at her, but Valerie continued talking, completely ignoring the fact that she hated the nickname. "I still don't understand how any man that sees you doesn't think that you could snap them like a twig." She ducked a kick that Nat sent at her, and then blocked the following punch with ease. "I mean whenever I see a new guy go up to you they're like 'Oww, damsel in distress! Must flirt!'" She blocked a few more punches.

"You're supposed to be on offense not defense, Valerie." Her voice firm and seemed to have a roughness to it, while she continued to throw punched and kicks towards her but always had them blocked or dodged.

"Ok, ok. Fine." Sending punch after punch, with a quick dodge and jump in between, they spared. They had spared many times before since Barton had introduced them a few days after following him around. Valerie thought that it was a way to make her feel more comfortable here, since Nat had been the only woman that she had really seen. There was one other round somewhere but the woman seemed to think she had the plague and would literarily change direction if they were walking towards each other. Valerie didn't really care all that much, she just found it rude and a little silly. Cause either the woman thought that Fury shouldn't have brought her here or she was scared…Valerie hoped it was the last one.

After another half hour of training, she felt eyes on her that weren't Nat's. Turning as she fought, she glaze found who had been staring at them, Fury. Since the last time they had met, where he gave Barton babysitting duty, she hadn't seen him for even a second. She thought that he had been away, but Nat had said that he was still here when she had asked. As she watched Fury watching them, her moves went basic and to Nat's frustration back to defensive. "Valerie! Offensive, not defensive." Nat told her again, only to find that she didn't even have Valerie's attention. Turning she found Fury watching them. They watched as Barton walked to his side and started talking.

With a sigh, Nat stood in front of Valerie taking her attention off them and back onto her. And without saying a single thing, threw a punch. But Nat didn't expect for her eyes to flash, and for a small second thought that what she had done wasn't a good idea. As Valerie grabbed her wrist, the smallest shock hit her, but it soon died down, before she was spun and then tossed on the floor. She went to sit up, and to start sparring again, she soon found herself on her stomach with Valerie's knee holding her down. After three seconds, Valerie released her, and then walked away back to locker rooms.

Sitting on the bench, she rubbed her face, the sweat that she did have evaporated the second the current ran through her body. She shouldn't have let that happen. She could have seriously hurt Natasha, and that thought scared her. Natasha and Barton had become the only people in this place that she trusted to tell her straight forward if anything was going on, and in a way they had somewhat become her friends, which was the first time in years that she had let anyone come anywhere close to that. It had always been one of her fears that she would let someone close to her and that she would hurt them because she lost control for just a second. She knew that she had shocked Nat, and she knew that it could have been worse if she hadn't been trying to gain control while they spared. But she still hurt her.

It was while she had was trying to relax and control her powers that she didn't hear the group of men approach her. She didn't hear them whisper among themselves. And she didn't hear the shower heads in the wash room turn on either. However, when a pair of boots entered her vision as she stared at the floor, she looked up. Surrounding her in a half circle were seven men all in training gear. "Go away," she told them as she stood and opened her locker.

"Now why would we do that when we have such a pretty little girl in front of us?" One of the men said to her and it was followed by a smile she had seen a thousand times, it was cruel and gave her a horrible feeling. When a man put his hand on her shoulder, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it forward. With a yelp, he tried to fight back, but she soon had him flipped onto the floor, where he laid there clutching his wrist. "You're going to pay for that bitch!" Soon she had the rest of the men on her. Usually she could have handled all the men, but since she wasn't in complete control it was harder to defend herself. And she soon found herself over powered, and tossed into the shower room.

Time slowed down, as she found herself falling towards the wet floor, panic flowed through her and the memory of a friend a long time ago that pushed her into a lake and then jumped in himself. And his lifeless burnt body floating to the top minutes later.

Hitting the ground, a scream tore through her lips and echoed off the tile walls. Her body spasmed as bolts of electricity rocketed off her body to the surrounding walls and then back to her, and as they returned to her body burn marks covered her. Screams didn't stop coming, even when she out of breath, there was still a scream. Tears burned tracks down her cheeks. Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched through the pain.

She didn't register the water being turned off, only that the constant bolts that would ricochet off her slowed down, to the occasional burst. The sounds of a fight, of fist against face, and the scream of someone calling out didn't make sense. She couldn't comprehend what was going on. All she could think about was the pain.

The darkness that had been surround her, continued to darken, but a voice reached her ears and it held them at bay. Rough and raspy and yet it held panic in it's very depths. Bit by bit the words that were spoken started making sense, "Val—Open—Eyes!" She felt something touch her shoulder and then a quick yelp as it was jerked away. With the strength that she had left, she struggled to open her eyes, to see who was talking to her when they were danger of being killed. But she could only see a pair of grey-blue eyes look down at her.

She knew who was looking at her the moment she saw those eyes, and with a gurgle she attempted to speak but only whimpers escaped. "Shh—don't try and speak." But she couldn't stop, she had to try. A whimper sounded, but it slowly turned into only one word before the darkness surged and surrounded her completely.

"Clint."

Voices assaulted her ears as she laid in what felt like a bed. She didn't know where she was, or who was talking, but their voices were drawing her closer and the darkness was retreated from the ground they had gained. Slowly she started opening her eyes, only to shut them tightly as the bright lights blinded her.

"Nurse turn down the lights."

Slowly opening her eyes again, she found herself in the infirmary. White sheets hung from ceiling giving privacy to the people laying in the beds. A soft blanket covered her. She seemed to be propped up with pillows, and she found that the clothes that she had been wearing before were gone and replaced with a white tank and by the feel of it jama bottoms. Looking around, she soon found a person sitting in a chair next to her bed. Her eyes still slightly unfocused caused the person to be fuzzy and hard to tell who they were. And as if the person knew, they slide closer to her.

Sitting in front of her was Barton, a look of concern was plastered across his face. He wasn't in his usual attire either. He was also in white shirt and pants, and had bandages on both of his arms, from his finger tips to his shoulders. "What happened to you?" Her voice small and raspy from dryness.

"I had to get you here," he told her bluntly. "No one was willing to do it and the doctor and nurse weren't going to do anything because you still had some charge to you."

Her eyes widen at what he told her. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I had to."

"I could have killed you."

"Doesn't matter," his tone said that was it and it was water under the bridge.

Looking down at her hands, she noticed that her arms, shoulders, and stomach at least what she could see were covered in bandages. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her without blinking. His emotions hidden from sight again. "For what?"

"For hurting you," she told him, "I never wanted to hurt you or Natasha. And yet I had with minutes in-between."

"No!" He spoke, his voice holding command. He took her hand, before he spoke again, "This wasn't your fault. No one thinks that. Not Natasha. Not Fury. And not me." With a slight squeeze, he gave her comfort. "Now get some rest, because when the doctor's release you we're going on a mission."

"Thanks for being here."

"I had to make sure that you were going to be okay." With a smile, he stood and set her hand back down and left saying that he would be back later to check up on her.

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