She woke up with a splitting pain in her head and the sound of screaming in her ears. Jo opened her eyes, staring fixedly at the dark and sparse ceiling, feeling the hard mattress under and the thin blanket over her body. The screams became louder and louder, her head seemed to burst with it, and she wanted to scream back, wanted it to stop, but she couldn't. She tried to sit up, but her hands didn't move and, looking down upon herself, she realized that her hands were cuffed to the bed frame.

She inhaled sharply as images appeared before her inner eye, of people lying on the ground, unconscious or dead, she didn't know, pictures of a strange man, a cruel laugh and the feeling of fear.

Blood, everywhere.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and pinned her on the bed. She could feel a hand on her face, calloused fingertips gently stroking her cheek. And she heard a voice, familiar, yet strange at the same time. A silhouette appeared before her.

"Jo, snap out of it, you hear me? You're safe here!"

She blinked, shaking her head. The screaming stopped and the silhouette slowly turned to Clint.

"Focus, Jo," he said insistently. "Focus."

Once again, she shook her head, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her breathing became more regular. "What happened?"

He gave her a wry smile. "I'm going to open the handcuffs, but lie still, alright?" He vanished for a short moment and she could feel her arms come free. "They cut in quite deep, but it's no miracle, you've been thrashing around pretty hard."

"What are you doing here, Clint?" She sat up and rubbed her hurting wrists.

He looked at her for a few long seconds before he answered. "I couldn't bear your screams any longer," he said then.

She shook her head in confusion. "But I didn't scream," she said bewilderedly.

Clint chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Oh yes, you did," he replied. "It's been a long time since I heard someone scream like this."

Jo swallowed hard. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

The question caught her off guard. "I don't know," she said, surprised by her own words.

"What's the last thing you remember for sure?"

"I don't know," she said again. "I think I… it… I think I got into a cab, but I don't know for sure."

"Nothing else?" He didn't smile but just looked at her with a certain sad determination she couldn't quite collate.

Jo closed her eyes again. "There's pictures, and sounds," she said then. "Of a man, I don't know him, but I know that I should be afraid of him. He's making me do… things. Stuff I don't want to do, but I'll do it anyway, because I know that something bad would happen if I didn't. And there's so many people, and… I don't know what happened to them."

"That's all you remember?"

"I'm not sure I even remember this, it's like a bad dream. Steve and Natasha were in it… and it didn't end well" She shivered.

"Jo, this wasn't a dream."

Had he hit her in the face, the moment of shock couldn't have been bigger.

"Focus, Jo," Clint said urgently. "Focus and stay calm."

"What did I do?" It wasn't even a real question. And actually, she didn't really want an answer. She had a feeling she knew it already, but she needed to make sure. Staring at the wall she listened to Clint telling her how they thought she must have been activated, as he called it, some weeks ago, and how they hadn't realized it until it was almost too late.

"What did I do?" she repeated, more urgently this time.

"There was a man, the one you just told me about," Clint started. "You and him entered the Triskelion yesterday afternoon and made your way up to Nick's office. He initiated a silent alarm and locked the upper floors. He evacuated Fiona and some others via his private elevator before you arrived in his office"

"What was I doing there?"

"Nick initiated a Code SO-27. This means that all the data of our undercover agents was going to be revealed to the public eye. Their missions, their whereabouts, their aliases, everything"

She swallowed hard. "You're talking conjunctive," Jo observed. She didn't allow herself that tiny bit of hope, or at least she tried not to.

"Indeed," Clint admitted. "You didn't get very far, and those few you could reveal were alarmed by a signal Nick initiated at the same time he was giving you access to the data, right before you knocked him out. The guys from coordination are still trying to contact some of the agents you blew, but they're quite sure they made it out in time." He paused.

"There's something else." Again, it wasn't a question.

"Do you remember any of the events I'm telling you about?" He looked down on her observantly.

"Not really," she replied. "Maybe fragments, I don't know." She shook her head. "Clint, what aren't you telling me?"

"What do you remember about Steve and Natasha?"

"No!" She almost screamed it. "No, no, no, no, no, tell me I didn't do this," she whispered manically, drawing up her legs and slinging her arms around them, still staring at the wall. She tried to concentrate, to focus on her breathing, but she was failing miserably.

"Jo, it's alright," Clint said soothingly. "Everything's fine."

"Alright?" Finally, she looked at him, her eyes wide open, horrified. "I killed him." Black fog seemed to creep over her.

"No, you didn't," he replied and placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her steady. "You shot him, yes, but he's okay-"

"Nothing's okay, I tried to kill him! Why are you even talking to me? Clint, I tried to kill him. I thought there had been a bit of me left, but I would never do this, Clint, I wouldn't, I swear, they did something to me I can't control, you need to get away from me, please!" She was talking so fast, she wasn't even sure the words that left her were distinguishable or made any sense at all, she only knew that this couldn't happen again.

"Jo, it's okay," he said again, gripping her shoulders harder and forcing her to sit still. "It won't happen again, Nat took care of it." He tried to look her in the face, but she avoided his gaze and looked at her legs under the blanket.

"How?" She didn't believe him, but she wanted to know why he was so sure.

"Cognitive recalibration, as she calls it."

Jo did look up now, staring blankly at Clint.

"She's hit you really hard on the head, got you some stitches on the way. It works, she did the same with me almost two years ago," he elaborated. "Got a god out of my head that way, and believe me, I did worse."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, I did worse," he said bitterly.

"No, that's not what I mean. Are you sure they are… gone? She's not coming back?"

He relaxed his grip on her. "Mostly, yes. We're going to keep a close eye on you for the next while, but Nat knows her job. Especially when it comes to something like this."

She nodded slowly. Maybe, just maybe he was right. Maybe... she… wasn't coming back. Maybe it was going to be alright.

No. Not everything.

"Want to go and say hello to the Captain?" Clint's voice tore her out of her thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Jo looked right at him, seeing the concern in his face and relaxed, just a little.

"He's just down the corridor and should be awake by now." Clint shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly trying to make her feel better.

"I don't think he wants to see me," she answered bitterly, looking away again.

"Come on, Josie, don't be stupid"

He was calling her Josie again. He only ever did this when he was really worried about her.

"It's not stupid," she said. "I wouldn't want to see someone who's tried to kill me"

Clint chuckled and it seemed like he really was amused this time. "Got a point there," he admitted. "But the Captain's not like this. Guess he was more worried about you than about himself all the time"

Jo sighed. She had to see him sooner or later anyway. Tell him she was sorry for what happened, even though she didn't really remember it. "Okay," she said. "Let's get going"

She stopped dead in front of the door, her hand frozen in midair. Voices were coming from the room, muffled, but they sounded… normal.

"I can't go in there." She turned around to Clint, who was standing right behind her.

"Of course you can," he said and reached for the handle.

"No, don't!"

But he had already opened the door and had pushed her into the room.

Steve was there, in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown. From under his right sleeve some white bandages popped through. An IV needle was sticking out of his right forearm, but he sat upright, leaning only casually on the back of the bed. Natasha sat on a chair next to the bed, leaning back on it as well. They were chatting animatedly and only stopped when Clint banged the door closed behind himself.

Steve and Natasha looked up at them, a slight smile creeping on Natasha's features.

Steve stared at her for several seconds. "Josephine," he said then. His voice was quiet.

He was alive. She wanted to run to his bed, to hold him, to tell him how sorry she was, wanted to hear his heartbeat with her ear pressed on his chest, to do anything at all, but her legs wouldn't move and she just stood there, staring at him, when Clint gently shoved her further inside the room until she was standing next to Steve's bed, right opposite Natasha, her hands gripping the bed frame until the knuckles turned white.

"You're alive," she whispered, barely audible.

He smirked. "What was this about Captain Obvious again?"

She couldn't help but smile in return, but only for a second or two. "I'm sorry," she said. "For… everything I did to you."

"It's not your fault," Natasha said. "It wasn't you who did these things; none of what happened is your fault. Clint and I did worse. A lot worse."

"Yeah, whatever," Steve put in and grinned.

"They overdosed the painkillers on him, I wouldn't take him too seriously," Natasha said when she saw the look on Jo's face.

"Are you… are you going to be okay again?"

"Give me a few days in a bed and I'll be good as new," he giggled. He really giggled – how much painkiller had they given to him? But even so, she saw him cringe when he shifted position.

"How bad is it?"

"Not too bad," Natasha said, while Steve was still laughing quietly. "You missed pretty much everything that matters, except for the circuits in Nick's wall, but they can be repaired, really." She smiled at her encouragingly, and Jo had a feeling that it was real.

Slowly, she nodded. She still felt bad and for a while, nobody said a word, and only Steve's occasional laughter broke the silence.

"Yeah, boys and girls, Nat and I are gonna go, grab a cup of coffee. You want some?" Clint broke the silence. Of course it was him.

She shook her head as Clint and Natasha stood up, horrified by the very idea of being alone with Steve, but he said that he'd love a cup of decent coffee and broke down again, giggling. They left the room. She looked after them even when the door was already closed.

"Josephine, what about you?"

She looked back at him. He had stopped laughing and seemed earnest again. "What do you mean?"

"You're okay again? You're back?"

"I think I am," she answered slowly. "Clint said I was, after all. Are you in pain?"

"Just a little," he said dismissively and grinned. "No need to be worried, I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"Got that," he grinned. "And again, it's alright. Nobody blames you. Well, Fury does, because the third bullet you fired hit the wall and destroyed an electric circuit, or whatever. I think Natasha just told you, I wasn't listening. He said you're shooting had never been worse." He chuckled and did his best not to cringe as he did so. "Thank god you're such a lousy shot. Or maybe you're just that good – missing that much is an art in itself."

For some moments, he was, once again, consumed by his own laughter. Then he laid his hand on hers and gently started to ease her fingers from the frame. "You look bad," he said then. It confused her, his switching from serious to giggly and back again within a few seconds. "But you don't remember the past few weeks, do you?"

She just shook her head and watched the clear liquid in the plastic bag drop down steadily into the IV tube while she felt his warm hands upon her fingers when suddenly she saw him fall to the floor, saw Natasha's shocked face, heard the cruel laugh of a stranger. She jerked her hand away from him, staring wide eyed at Steve and stumbled backwards.

"Josephine, what's wrong?" He seemed alert, but his voice sounded muffled in her ears, as if she was under water.

She stopped, her hands in fists, her fingernails almost protruding her skin, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, relieved to see nothing but black. "I've seen it again," she whispered. "What if it never goes away?"

A/N: Thank you very, very much for the nice reviews! I know it's been too long, but I really do hope you enjoy it. Please let me know, I'd really be happy to find out!

CJ/OddBall: Aww, thank you so much! I really, really appreciate it! And it means so much to me that your heart is breaking for Jo! I'm cruel, I know.

Guest1234: Your review was, I guess, pretty much what I needed to start posting again. It's not as if the first and second part of the story isn't long since finished, it's just that my real life seems to be consuming me :(