The smell of cheap Russian liquor assaulted her nose as the door to her cell slammed shut. The fluorescents over head hummed, filling in the following silence. She stared up at him with a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. There was no fight in her, it had been subdued with a narcotic she had no name for. It signaled the imminent visit from the man sauntering slowly towards her.

"Subject 159," he addressed in his thick accent.

"Master," she croaked, the name falling from her chapped busted lips like the last leaf of autumn. Every cell in her body was bracing for the coldest winter to come with his touch. He held his hand out to her, and a new dread filled her limbs, making them feel like sand bags. She had hoped that he'd just hit her and be done. He took her hand and heaved her up, his hand snaking around her waist. The smell intensified, gagging her, but she didn't dare make a sound. Her eyes watered from the intensity of the stench, or the dread, she wasn't sure. Either way, she did not allow the tears to fall, as she glared down at the hairs on his chest. He wore only an open shirt.

"Look at me, little doll," he crooned, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to stare up at his face. He was much older than she, with a tattoo of a snowflake on his cheek. To this day, she hated the snow. He smashed his mouth down on hers and pulled at the meager clothing covering her slight form. In these moments she retreated into herself, became vacant, and robotic. Making the appropriate sounds and movements to end the hell she was being put through. He bit at her flesh, and his nails scratched her skin, but the pain was nothing compared to other things. Her head smacked the concrete walls harder than really healthy. Eventually, he finished, leaving behind the bitter stench of alcohol. She sat, naked on the concrete floor, and every emotion buried deep gushed forward and she screamed.

Lily jolted up in bed screaming a short sound before it was cut off by a distinctive nausea. She scrambled out of bed and burst through her door, running across the front room to the bathroom, where she fell over the toilet, to throw up every last bit of the food she had eaten. Cheese fries were a lot less appetizing the second time around. The sound of her heaving woke Natasha and she ventured into the bathroom to hold back Lily's hair. She spoke words of comfort to the woman, trying to help ease whatever pain she was in. The smell was still in Lily's nose, the smell of cheap alcohol. It seemed to leak from her pores and invade her senses. Once she was sure she was done vomiting, she heaved herself up to the sink, and grabbed mouthwash from the medicine cabinet. The taste of him clung to her tongue.

"Honey, you wanna dilute that," Natasha advised.

"I can smell him," Lily choked out, as sobs ripped through her raw throat, making it sound hoarse, and broken.

"I'll make you a bath," Natasha nodded, turning around to walk to the bath tub. It was a spa, with jets and all of the cool accessories a girl could hope for. Natasha knew none of that mattered right now.

Lily rinsed out her mouth with concentrated mouth wash, not Listerine, or Colgate, this stuff was no joke. After the third rinse, her mouth begun to peel, and it sung with a pain she paid no mind to. After the rinse, she brushed her teeth until her mouth tasted of her own blood. Natasha came back around the corner to see Lily spit crimson into the sink.

"Whoa! Hey!" she yelled, hurrying to grab the toothbrush, Lily fought with her crying out unintelligible words, "Dammit! Stop it!" Natasha snatched away the toothbrush and threw it on the sink, "Rinse your mouth!"

Lily followed her instructions, using the cup that had once held mouthwash. After her mouth was clean, and she tasted only iron, she turned and fell into Natasha's arms.

"I know, c'mon, let's get you in the bath," Natasha murmured, pulling the smaller woman along until they got to the big spa. The water looked like a melted galaxy, and smelled like the sweetest garden. A half of a dozen bath bombs made this possible. Natasha helped the semi hysterical woman into the bath, helping her undress first, then offering her a hand in to the high waters.

"I know, hon. It's hot," she warned. Lily stepped in without speaking, only sniffling every now and again as her breath hitched. Natasha sat on the side with her feet in the water, " sh, sh, sh, I know, you're scared, and that it hurts, everything hurts, and it's just like your back in that hell hole, but I promise you are safe," she cooed. Lily sat so she could rest between Natasha's legs.

"D-does it ever stop?" she asked.

"… yeah, you get stronger. And then nothing can touch you, nothing can hurt you," she promised grabbing the sprayer from its place on the wall, "c'mon let me wash your hair."

As she began the process of washing the young woman's long locks she sung a soft Russian lullaby( mp3/berceuse_ 3) that used to help Lily sleep when she first was saved from the facility. The song now made her rest her head on Natasha's thigh and hum along quietly.

Sleep did not return to either woman. Lily silently sat on the couch, staring at the city portrayed on the fake windows in front of her. It was just a screen, and soon she grabbed the remote and changed it to show a green forest. It was more calming than the icy city Chicago was this time of year. Natasha had gone to talk to Steve. She didn't want Lily to be alone while she went to tell Fury that Lily needed the day off. She banged on his door impatiently, rousing the man from his slumber. His clumsy steps could easily be heard on the other side of the door. He wrenched the door open, revealing his tired face and his bedhead.

"Lily needs you," Natasha spoke shortly, " go take my place so I can get her the day off. "

"What happened?" He asked, concern taking over his features.

"The nightmares are back," she sighed, running a hand over her tired face. It was without make up, and the shadows under her eyes were unmistakable, " she woke me up at like three, vomiting in the bathroom. It's bad this time, Steve, I mean island bad."

"Island bad?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Back then, she would take these boiling hot baths and sit in them for hours. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't drink, she wouldn't talk, she would just sit! I don't want that for her again! What they did to her it-" Natasha cut off unable to find a word terrible enough to describe the trauma Lily had gone through, "she needs someone to keep close to her. I've been holding her since about dawn, but she's in no shape to talk to Loki. The last thing anyone needs is for him to use her trauma against her."

"I got it. I'll go right over."

"Come on, I'll have to let you in."

She let him into their shared room, and walked him in, " Lily, Steve's gonna sit with you, while I go talk to Fury."

"Okay," Lily murmured back, her voice was still hoarse, but at least she was talking. Steve took the place beside her, unsure if he would be allowed to touch her or talk to her. There were times when she did not want him to do either, and they usually came after nights in which she'd had a terrible nightmare. Those days she stayed with Natasha mostly, speaking quiet words, and seemingly hiding from the world under her friend's embrace. To his surprise, she closed the small distance between them that the couch allotted. Automatically, he lifted his arm to rest it over her shoulder. She nuzzled in close so that her cheek rested on his chest. The shirt she wore he recognized as one of his own, and it fell off her shoulder, and swallowed the rest of her small form. They sat silently for a while. Lily took in deep breaths, staring at the forest scene displayed before her on the window-like screen.

"You smell nice," she murmured.

"So do you," he complimented, stunned by the fact she was talking to him.

"Really?"

"Like a nice garden… one that isn't fertilized with manure."

Lily let out a short laugh, "Thanks."

"No problem. So is it a new perfume? Body wash?"

"Bath bomb, and maybe the body wash too."

"What's a bath bomb, and why does it sound so violent?"

"Pfft. A bath bomb is simply something you put in your bathwater to make it look cool, smell nice, and do good stuff for your skin. It's named a bomb because it fizzles a bit in the water."

"Bombs don't fizzle."

"It's a relative term, Captain," she rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile settled on her lips. It disappeared quickly but it was nice that she smiled at all. Steve wordlessly held her closer, and she stared off, deep in thought. Would there ever be a time when she would forget the five years of hell that seemed so prevalent now? She couldn't even imagine what that would be like. What would a week without debilitating nightmares feel like? What would it be like to share herself with others without countless doubts coming to sneak up on her? It all seemed like an irrevocable part of her. Still, she looked at the screen portraying a beautiful forest, and she only had one complaint.

"I miss the sun," she sighed, turning her face so she could obscure her vision against his chest, "I miss a lot of things," she spoke quietly, "I want you to know… that I know that you wouldn't hurt me. None of this is your fault, and when I have trouble letting you touch me it's not because I'm afraid of you. It's just… a lot sometimes."

"Does it help to talk about it?"

"It helps to explain myself. It helps to be understood. You see, they kept me in the that facility after I had my power by playing mind games. They had me convinced that all I was good for was killing, and serving them in whatever way they needed me to. If you can't read between the lines, they meant that I was a weapon and a whore, that's it. It took so long on that island to undo all of that. Clint and Natasha worked so hard on me. They were patient and they helped me unlearn the majority of it but still I know what I'm capable of. I know that if I wanted to I could use my body to open up so many locked doors, and I could bring this world to it's knees. Logically, I know that I could. But just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. What would I even do with the whole world?!" she threw her arms in the air and let them fall down heavily, "but after I let go of that way of thinking it lead to this," she gestured wildly, " A broken cry baby, and sometimes I'm okay. But right now I am not okay! I want nothing more than to hide under Natasha and pretend that people with Y chromosomes don't even exist. But I don't want you to feel bad because I'm… I'm fucked up."

"I'm not really any help, am I?" he asked softly trying to hide the tenor of hurt from his voice.

She looked up at him with watery eyes and bit her lip before sighing, "Emotionally, you're doing wonders. You're making me laugh which is a miracle but physically… I want to run from you. And I'm trying to remind myself your okay, and you won't hurt me, and things are different now, but I just… I don't trust you the way I trust Clint and Natasha, and I am so sorry, but you don't know. If you knew, you wouldn't be here, you wouldn't want me." she brought herself away from him and grabbed one of the couch pillows to cry into.

"I can try to find, Barton, if you want?" Steve offered, wondering if he should touch her, or just let her be for the moment.

"Please. I'm so sorry, Steve. I really am, I'm working to be better."

"It's okay. I'll give him a call… and for the record , I'll want you no matter what."

"You don't know that," she sighed, moving away from him so she could huddle on the far corner of the couch. It wasn't his place to be upset with her because she was still afraid. It would be selfish, and uncalled for… and yet, he felt upset by the entire situation. He could be patient and understanding, yet she wouldn't let him in about everything in Russia.

"You don't need to know," she spoke to him, from across the couch, "You still believe in humanity…It would be cruel."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"If I asked you, would you sit down and tell me all about the war, any war you've been in?" she demanded impatiently, "Would you tell me about everyone you killed, and everyone you watched die?"

"…No."

"Because you don't want to relive it and I don't need to know."

"You wanna know about it all?"

"Not really, no." she shook her head, "Just call Clint. I tried to do this and humor Natasha but it's not working… it's not working." she murmured, and Steve couldn't help but to here a double meaning in her words. He pulled out his phone and called Clint, apparently interrupting his people watching in the rafters. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door making Lily jump lightly, pulling her out of her thoughtless reverie. Steve got the door and let Clint in, deciding it was best to just leave. Lily watched him go, a blank look on her face. As he disappeared behind the door she let out a long breath.

"He's mad at me," she announced as Clint came to sit by her.

"He's just frustrated."

"Hm, well I'm sorry my trauma is such a burden on him," she said in a snarky tone, letting her upper body fall heavily on the pillow beside her.

"Don't be that way, Mouse."

"Maybe this was just stupid. Maybe I'm supposed to be alone," she rationalized.

"No one's supposed to be alone."

"What there's someone out there for everyone? Love is just a chemical reaction. I wasn't made to be loved," she grumbled.

"Bull, more than just Rodgers loves you, you know? Nat loves you, that woman would go to the ends of the Earth for you."

"It's because I'm a kindred soul."

"Maybe, but what about me then?" He asked.

"What about you?"

"I care about you, Mouse," he spoke softy.

"Because you owe me a life debt."

"No, because you are a good person, and you worked just as hard as we did on that island, and you never gave up on yourself. You never wanted any of this, I know, but now you have it, and you have got to find the good in that."

Lily considered that quietly for a few minutes. They were both silent, just watching the forest on the screen across the room. He was right. In her mind she made a list of the good: She had Clint, he acted as an older brother and he was good for going on adventures with. She had Natasha, she ensured Lily was never alone in the after math of her trauma, she was a kindred soul. She had Tony, a bit rough around the edges, and if she filtered out the cocky exterior there was just a caring nerd of a man with a great sense of humor. Bruce was someone who understood what it felt like to be dangerous and out of control, and his gentle nature made her feel safe in his presence. Lastly, there was Steve, and sometimes he made things complicated, because affairs of the heart were always so, but last night had been nice, and he understood the prospect of having a good time without doing anything exceedingly extravagant. He reminded her of home. If people were not enough… she was pretty well off and while money can't buy happiness, it can buy food and financial stability which is pretty nice.

Lily leaned over on to Clint with a soft sigh, "I hope Steve likes roller coasters," she spoke thinking of her emotional states and their varying nature.

Clint laughed a little at that, "Yeah I hope so too."

Come the next day she felt normal enough to do her job. She sort of resented taking a day off. It meant there would be no gently bringing up the subject of royalty. Loki sat on the couch once more and had The Two Towers in his hand. He was reading quite contentedly, and as Lily sat in the arm chair that she had the last time they talked he spared a glance in her direction.

"What king am I supposed to be observing?"

"Theoden, and there will be one more, but if I told you I think I might ruin some plot points." she admitted, "but Theoden for sure."

He sat the book face down on his chest and turned his head to look at the girl- his warden, "You did not come yesterday. The red haired one, Natasha, delivered my meals. She isn't as polite."

"Yeah, she doesn't like you. That's nothing new though. I had other obligations. But now I am here. How far are you into The Two Towers?"

"The wizard Saruman had been captured."

"Oh you are a quick reader. Well alright, Theoden is an important character for you… so is Wormtongue and Saruman. You lack honor. Which is why Thor was chosen for king, despite his flaws. He sought glory in battle and conquest not by slighting others. "

"I am dishonorable."

"Extremely."

"You know nothing." he hissed at her. She tilted her head curiously and looked at him.

"Then let me know."

"I was everything my father asked me to be. I was strong, my fighting was barely matched by Thor. I was the better of us two and had I been of their blood and older I would have been king."

"But you are not of their blood, and you are not older, so what makes you so entitled."

"Because I am a better ruler."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why are you better than Thor? I've actually met him, and he seems rather nice."

"Oh yes, father banished him to the this puny planet and he was somehow redeemed, but before he came here, he was a brute, an arrogant brute who sought only for his own glory. Everything he did was to make himself look better. If your idea of a good king is one who serves his people then Thor was no better than I. He wanted to be renowned-"

"Like Beowulf."

"What?" he gave her a look both annoyed and confused. She stood and went to the far side of the room where the box of books was located and pulled a thick book from its ranks it was an Anglo-Saxon book of legends.

"Anglo-Saxon warrior called Beowulf. He reminds me of Thor. The guy was basically known for how great he was, and all he talked about was how great he was, and the people ate it up," she spoke opening to the page where Beowulf began, "Shouldn't take you too long to read, and I think you'll find the comparison sound."

"If your description is right then it would seem so," he grumbled, "I lived in his shadow."

"And you resented him and your father for that, because they never gave you a chance. I can understand that, but what of your mother… or I guess your adoptive mother."

"What of her?"

"She gave you your magic, to me that seems like she was trying to help you out."

"… I suppose she was. She…understood," he spoke slowly, not really wanting to delve into the topic, but he knew he couldn't very well refuse.

"If you are reluctant to talk about it, I could learn through a touch. It would not cause you pain, I promise… unless of course you don't cooperate."

"You will get the information either way?"

"Yes. Your choice lies in your compliance."

"I will comply then," he spoke in a resigned voice. Lily stood and went to where his head rested on the arm of the couch. Her gentle fingers pressed on his temples and she closed her eyes, concentrating on accessing the part of brain that held his memories. It didn't take long for her to find it, and then search through all of the memories for the ones concerning his mother. She opened her eyes and projected the first memory she found into the room around them. It was only an illusion but the scene laid before her was absolutely beautiful. From Loki's past stories about the beauties of Asgard, she ascertained that the memory was set in the gardens.

"Loki," a warm voice spoke and a beautiful woman came into view. She sat amongst the most beautiful flowers in a gold dress, "what's the matter?"

Loki ambled slowly forward, eyes trained on his feet, "Thor and father have left me… they said I was too young," he pouted.

"Would you like to join me instead?" she offered. He looked up at her and frowned a little. It wasn't quite as good as going out with his brother and father to hunt, but it would have to suffice. He sat next to the woman who looked down at him with only concern. She ran a hand through his neatly combed raven hair, and kissed his forehead.

"You know, not all strength comes with a sword," she began softly, lifting his down cast gaze by tilting up his chin with a finger.

"What other strength is there?"

"There is strength in knowledge. In fact, I have beaten your father in battle by using it."

"Really?" little Loki's eyes widened in wonder.

"Oh yes, it's why he chose me to marry. I can teach you, if you'd like."

Loki nodded, suddenly excitied by the prospect of being his mother's pupil. For years she dedicated her time to teaching him the wit in battle, and what we would call magic. She was an intelligent woman, and caring. She understood that Loki's strengths were much different than his brother's. She taught him how to win with brain not brawn. Frigga, his mother, loved him as a mother should, and he loved her back. While Thor liked to show off his strength to his mother, Loki took to giving her small presents that he knew would make her smile. That never changed. Even as Loki grew in size and age. When he went off with Thor and Odin to fight wars in other realms, or simply attend some odd event he would collect different seeds that could be planted in Frigga's garden. Things did not change between then until he was an adult, and the pressure to be better than Thor was too much for him to handle. He spent less time earning his mother's smile and spent more trying to impress his father, a feat that was near impossible.

In the end of all things, he was imprisoned. He had shunned his mother, the only one willing to try and visit him, announcing that she was not his mother. Shortly after, the palace was attacked and all the prisoners save him were set free. In the same day, he learned that during the attack Frigga was killed. The last thing he ever said to her was that she was not his mother.

Loki watched his own memories pass before his eyes, feeling the familiar ache of pain and regret as he saw her face so clearly in his eyes, but it was only an illusion, and as Lily's touch left him, so did his mother's face.

"I see," she mumbled, "She loved you. You might have been her favorite. Parents say they don't have favorites but they do. You were more like her even if no blood linked the two of you. She loved you though… I want you to know that. Even in the end, after all you had done. She loved you."

"You pretend to know such things, but in truth you know nothing. You lie to gain my compliance! You did not know that woman and she was not my mother!" he stood to glare at her.

"Your biological mother left you to die on Jotunnheim. Frigga took care of you as if you were her own. A mother is someone who loves you unconditionally, she gave you life in her own way. Her magic was your life, your place among them."

"She did not love me." he growled, walking slowly towards her.

"You tried to kill her son, and steal the kingdom, you killed countless humans, and almost started a war across the nine realms, and yet… she still came to visit you, and she brought you books to read in prison. She fought to be sure you would not be killed, or harmed in your imprisonment. And it is because of her that you live now. If you still think that she is not your mother then you never deserved her. I will agree that your Father was not good to you, and in Thor's youth he was an absolute ass, but Frigga, was your mother, and she was a very good one at that."

Loki glared at her in outrage, trying to find someway to deny her. Lily stared up at him steadily for a few moments, then closed the small distance between them and reached up to touch his face. Her touch brought no feeling except that of her skin, and her warmth.

"We accept the love we think we deserve… you could not accept Frigga, because you did not think you deserved it. You accepted what Odin gave because you thought that was all you were worthy of. But you were only a child. And children are ignorant, and innocent of their ancestor's crimes. Children are just children. Frigga treated you as a child should have been treated in your youth, and as a son as you grew."

"What of it now? She is dead."

"Forgive yourself for not claiming her. In her heart she knew your love. In her heart she still saw you as the child who did anything to win her smile," Lily instructed in a soft voice.

"Forgive myself?"

"What's done is done. Let yourself mourn her, not because you wronged her, but because she was your mother." with a gentle push from her powers, Loki's will to resist her command came crumbling and tears washed down his face. He sat heavily on the sofa and covered his face in his hands. Lily sat at his side, and pulled him close, as she knew she must and hummed a tune from his childhood, to fully break him. She coaxed him to lie with his head in her lap as he threaded her fingers through his hair, and sung the Aesir lullaby that Frigga always sung when the world had been unusually hard on her youngest child. When she found him asleep, she bestowed a gift from Thor to Loki. It was their mother's locket with a family photo and a picture of both Thor and Loki inside. They were both very young and Thor was hugging his brother in the photo, and Loki was hugging him back. She placed the simple gift around his neck and left the room.

As she reentered her own room, she started creating her report on Loki's progress for the day, so she could email it to Fury and be done for the day. She sat on the sofa with her laptop on her lap. Natasha was out completing tasks of her own. And Clint was probably in a nest somewhere enjoying solitude. She hadn't spoken to Steve that day yet, and she really didn't feel up to it. Today would be a work day, no time for complicated emotions, or emotion based talks. All she wanted to do was her work and be done with it. Her fingers ghosted over the keys quickly making the only sound in the room.