A/N: Hi everybody! Here is another chapter all cleaned up and ready to go. Since I forgot to last time, I figured I would thank everyone who left something on this story to no matter what it is, be it comment or something else. Receiving anything makes me over the moon and I am super glad people are enjoying the store so far. I cleaned this chapter and changed a few things but not too much. I think my writing has improved some since I wrote this the first time so I wanted to improve it. I hope you all like it!

I think that's all for now, happy everyone!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC and the plot.

Alone No More

Clint

Three days. It had been exactly three damn days since he last saw the girl he rescued. It was driving him damn near insane not knowing anything about how she was doing or what was happening to her. After he got back to the tower and cleaned up, Coulson came and had a chat with him and advised him to hold off on going to check on the girl so it would make him seem more impassive to the whole thing and keep Fury from finding out about everything.

He really wanted to object to the idea and tell Coulson to go suck on the end of one of his exploding arrows but he knew Coulson had a point. As annoyed as it made him, the more he interacted with the girl without having reason to the more Fury was likely to catch on that something was going on. So, he forced himself to obey the order.

On the first day he did nothing but pace his room all day. On the second day, he decided that he would go shoot at some targets to try and take his mind off of her. At first it felt glorious but after a while the niggling feeling soon returned. His need to see that the girl was alright was far out weighing his need to beat the shit out of something. After a few hours of restless shooting, he returned to his room and started pacing again.

By the third day, he was positively jumping out of his skin. It was driving him insane and it felt like he hadn't slept the entire three days at all, not that he ever slept regularly anyway.

Exiting his room, he slammed the door behind himself and started striding down the hallway. His awareness seemed to be all over the place for some reason but he tried to ignore it.

Halfway to the medical wing, his awareness started screaming code blue at him. Stopping in his tracks, he turned around and saw that Natasha was in the hallway standing a ways away from him. Crossing her arms, she leant against the wall and gave him a look that promised pain in the form of a training session later. She would interrogate him to find out was going on with him and he would tell her one way or the other.

What concerned him more than anything was the fact that his awareness has started perceiving her as a threat. That was the last thing he wanted. He still cared for her deeply just maybe not in the way she wanted him to.

Turning away from Natasha, he continued his trek down the hallway until he found the medical wing. Entering the wing, he stopped the first medical personnel he came across and it happened to be a young nurse. He knew that he could work with this.

"Say, you wouldn't be able to tell me where they brought the young girl I found three days ago, would you?" He asked kindly, turning up the charm as much as he could.

It worked a hell of a lot better than he thought it would.

"Agent Barton, hi! Sure, she is still under sedation in room four down in the intensive care wing. Is there anything else I can do for you?" She asked suggestively, fluttering her eyelashes.

He had to hold back a shudder. This chick was blond and buxom but totally fake in personality and appearance, her face was painted on and he would bet money that her tits were probably fake too. Not his type at all. How she got this job in the first he did not know but it probably involved a lot of sleeping around.

"No thank you, sweetness. But thank you for the information." He replied, saluting her as he walked away.

Despite having absolutely no use for that chick, he preened a little at the fact that he could pretty much make any chick do anything he wanted. It was a great boost to his ego. It was too bad stuff like that would never work with Natasha.

Finding the intensive care unit pretty quickly, he looked for room 4. Stopping at the door, he let out a long, deep breath. He had no idea what she would look like cleaned up or what they did to her. He could only hope that they found a way to remove that stupid piece of shit collar from around her neck in the very least. Opening her door, he stepped into her room.

From where he stood, he could only see tufts of dark, brown hair sticking out from the mass of sheets and a couple of tubes. As he got closer, he could see that they cleaned her up well. Despite all the tubes, she looked comfortable and was sleeping soundly. Pulling up a chair, he situated himself next to her bed and watched her. Now that she was cleaned up, he could see that he was right in his assessment that the girl was very sweet looking. Even more so now that she was clean. His curiosity was nagging at him about the collar. He had to know if they managed to get it off of her.

Carefully, he moved some of the blankets out of the way and was pissed off to see that the offending piece of shit still around her neck.

"Fuck me gently." He hissed angrily.

He was seeing red. He had to go question the assholes who were supposed to be in charge of caring for her. As he got up to do so, the door swung open and Coulson stepped in with a fat manila folder in hand. He sat back down and Coulson approached him. He didn't look at all surprised to see him there so that was probably a really good thing. Coulson inclined his head in greeting and dropped the fat folder into his lap.

"Agent Barton, here are the girl's files. Every piece of information we could find on her is in that folder. I trust you will keep this to yourself?" Coulson stated knowingly.

Clint nodded obediently. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Of course sir, if you don't mind me asking why is that collar still around her neck?" He asked, forcing himself to keep his voice even.

Coulson sighed and for the first time he saw emotion leak onto his stern features.

"The medical personnel tried to remove the collar. But every time they tried, it electrocuted them. It seems that whoever left her there to rot had a plan if she was ever found. The girl's files will tell you more." He explained.

Clearly Coulson had already read those files. Clint could tell that the older man was trying to keep the emotion out of his voice as he tried to explain the whole fucked up situation. He was failing miserably and he couldn't blame the man.

"One more thing Agent Barton, I have assigned you to watch over her. Look after her and make sure she settles in alright. Fury will want to see her and she needs to be ready for it. Make sure she is." He ordered.

Before Clint could utter a word, Coulson abruptly turned around and exited the room. He would never ever admit it out loud but he could have kissed the man. Now he had a reason to be with the girl all the time. He owed Coulson big time. Looking down at the folder in his lap, he debated whether to start looking at it now or later. He decided later on would be the wiser option. If he got pissed off enough to start throwing shit he didn't want it to be around here.

Sighing softly, he started stroking the girl's head pushing her hair out of her face. He noted that it now felt soft and clean instead of dirt caked and oily. What a difference a good wash made. He could see the freckles on her face clearly too now that it was clean. She made a small, slightly distorted noise and tried to turn her head in the direction of his hand. He frowned at what the noise sounded like.

That was the second vocalization that she made that sounded a little bit off. It made him wonder what she was hiding under that stupid collar. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't good. However, he was happy to see that being chained to that stupid dumpster hadn't destroyed her ability to move completely. He sat there enjoying the silence with exception of a couple of machines beeping.

A good two hours later, he made the decision to get up and go back to his room. He had to know what was in those files even though it was probably going to piss him off badly.

Getting back to his room, he locked the door behind himself and threw the folder onto his table. He put on some coffee and sat down. He didn't always like the way he felt after drinking coffee, but he didn't think he would make it through this without it.

Sitting down at his table, he pulled the folder closer to himself and opened it carelessly. He started with her basic information.

Name: Charlie Fraser.

Age: 19.

His left eye started twitching when he saw there was no birthday. Those bags of dicks couldn't even be bothered to record her damn birthday. He decided to save that piece of information for later, at least he knew what to call her now and he didn't have to refer to her as girl anymore. He continued reading.

Location: subject was found at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Age she was retrieved at: 15.

Mutation Class: 5.

Mutant Code Name: Lightfire.

Mutation Type and Abilities: Empathic, Psychic. Can create energy from the palms of her hands depending on her emotions, can 'feel things' based on what she touches.

Clint swallowed hard. Not only was this girl stuck in that hell for 4 years but she was taken from a place that was supposed to keep her safe. How in the fuck did that even happen in the first place?

He didn't know much of the school but he knew it was supposed to keep children with mutations safe and nurture then. Another thing he couldn't comprehend was why weren't they looking for her?

Surely somebody would have heard something somewhere. He wondered that maybe her mutation was really that bad that they all just gave up on her. But the file stated that she was found there, maybe she was taken from there and they just gave up on looking for either way it was bullshit and it royally pissed him off but it would explain a lot.

Like what in the fuck happened to her after he rescued her and she tried to activate her mutation. They must have slapped that collar onto her to control her mutation so she couldn't hurt them. He was positive that it was the people who experimented on her who put the collar on her and it wasn't something that happened to her when she was at the mutant school. He skipped through the rest of the basic information (which he would read later) and got to what the actual experiment was about.

The ultimate goal of this project is to create the perfect mutant weapon. Finally, we have located the perfect subject with the perfect mutations. Where others have failed, we will succeed. Together with the findings of the Weapon X program and our own we will combine them to make this project a reality. As soon as the subject is brought here, Phase 1 will begin immediately.

Phase 1: Prep subject for surgery to implant mind control chip. Surgery was successful; test of the mind control chip in the subject was successful.

Phase 2: Found the appropriate feral mutant for mutation gene transplant. Transplant was successful; subject is exhibiting signs of feral mutation. Hearing, sight and sense of smell are all enhanced. Subject can now heal herself when injured.

Phase 3: Graft adamantium onto her skull and bones. Graft went successful; Subject lived through the procedure. Subject went to cardiac arrest twice due to pain threshold overload.

Subject has survived all three phases and testing can now begin. Should the subject pass all of the tests, field trials can begin. Should the subject begin to fail the tests and become uncontrollable, a memory wipe might be necessary. If that situation ever occurs, three shots to the head with silver bullets only should do the job. No more, no less.

There were pictures and detailed descriptions of each procedure she endured. Looking at them made him feel ill. When he figured out who they were, these fuckers would pay. He would make sure of that but for now he would take care of her. He now made it his personal goal to make sure that she was well cared for and that she knew that there was somebody out there that did in fact care about her. The pictures went on until they had her ready for field work. It seemed that they tried experimenting with other mutations along the way too but none of those stuck. They tried to turn her into some kind of Frankenstein, hodge-podge mutant from hell. He forced himself to read through what happened through the field tests. As much as he would rather set fire to this shit, he needed to know why they abandoned her.

Subject has started field testing today. Subject has returned from her first field mission successfully. There were no glitches in the control chip.

For weeks it went on the same way, it seemed that they would send her on a mission, she would come back successful and they would note that there were no glitches in her control chip. He continued to read until 3 or so months before he found her.

Subject has started to disobey her handlers; her mutation seems to be compromising the control chip. Subject's mind has been wiped clean.

He knew what that meant; it meant that those fuckers shot in her the head with silver bullets three times. This happened four more times before they finally gave up on her and decided to try and dispose of her. There was one last entry before that happened.

Subject no long obeys her handlers; her control chip has been compromised beyond repair and she will have to be terminated. Subject was terminated.

After that, it just ended. There were no more reports no nothing but it was clear that they never 'terminated' her because he found her. He could only assume that the person charged with her disposal suddenly grew a heart like the tin man because he found her alive and not dead. It was either that or the pile of shit was just too much of a coward to do the job all of the way.

Regardless of that, the poor girl shouldn't have gone through this shit to being with. He put his head in his hands and sighed. After reading all of that, there was something that still bugged the shit out of him. Why the fuck wasn't the school trying to look for her? Somebody somewhere must have seen or heard something. Was her mutation that bad that nobody wanted anything to do with her?

There were too many damn unanswered questions for his liking.

Letting out an annoyed growl, he shoved all of the papers away from himself hard. Some of them fell onto the floor but he couldn't bring himself to give a shit.

However, when something else fell out with them he did. Getting up from the table, he bent down to sift through the fallen papers and pulled out a small memory stick. He picked up the memory stick and examined it. Maybe it would hold the answers the sought, he could only hope it would start him in the right direction and he wouldn't need Natasha to bail his ass out.

For now though, he had enough info to start helping her and that was his main priority at the moment.

Suddenly, his awareness flared to life and he knew that Charlie needed him badly. He wasted no time in getting back to the medical ward as fast as he could.

Charlie

Charlie's violet eyes fluttered open and she tried to take in her surroundings. She didn't know where she was but she wasn't tied to the dumpster any longer and for that she was extremely grateful. Being tied to that dumpster had been the most humiliating thing she ever had to endure in her entire life. She couldn't believe her handlers just left her there to rot.

The worst part was that whole time that she was tied to the dumpster, she knew that people came and went because she could smell them but nobody wanted to stop and help her. Either because she smelled too bad or they just didn't care. Sometimes homeless drunken men would try and provoke her mutation into activating just so the collar around her neck would shock her on purpose.

Letting out a soft sigh, she reached up to see if the collar was still around her neck and was not shocked when her fingers came in contact with the offending metal. Of course it was still on her. So the people in this place (whatever it was) couldn't get it off of her either. She sniffed the air and her nose wrinkled slightly. She quickly determined that she was in some kind of hospital. She hated hospitals but it was better than being tied to that dumpster.

Her mind wondered to the man who saved her. She had been so delirious with hunger and fear that she couldn't remember exactly what he looked like except for his eyes and his smell. He had eyes like the ocean and smelt like all things good. She couldn't remember very much of what happened but she remembered him.

She wished he was here right now with her; she didn't like this place very much. It smelled sterile and gross. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted when a doctor and a nurse came into her room. They smelt funny and she didn't like it.

"Well look at you, up and awake. How are you feeling?" The doctor asked her warmly.

Unfortunately, she couldn't respond because she couldn't talk. Her handlers once told her that she talked too much and absolutely hated it when she sang. So, they did something about it. They cut her throat not enough to kill her of course but enough make her loose the use of her vocal chords. All she could do was give the doctor sort of a so-so gesture.

"Oh dear, you seem to be able to hear but you can't talk can you? Can you sign?" He asked her again.

She shook her head indicating that no she couldn't talk and then nodded indicating that she did indeed know sign language. The doctor smiled at her.

"Are you in any pain? How are you feeling?" He asked, repeating his earlier question.

"I am feeling alright, not in any pain." She signed back.

The questioning went back and forth for a bit until the doctor started inquiring about the fact that she came in with blood smeared all over her thighs.

Immediately, she began to clam up and she didn't want to answer anymore of his questions but he kept pushing her and pushing her. She didn't want to tell a complete stranger that she didn't trust (doctor or not) anything about what she went through.

Her breathing became more rapid and she could feel the mutations inside of her warring to be released, this time the feral part of her won out and she knew that the collar couldn't stop her. It only shocked her when she tried to produce white energy from her palms.

Her violet eyes turned cat like and her fangs grew. She bared them at the doctor. Letting out a low distorted growl, she lunged for the doctor and suddenly she had four people on top of her.

She saw that one of them carried a needle and knew that they were going to try and sedate her again.

She knew that this wouldn't end well at all.