Alex blinked at a cold piece of toast on the table next to the bed. A little spoon with a cream-yellow glob sat beside it on the plate. Butter? Okay… Why was there toast? And whose bed was she in?

The memories came back faster this time. The island. Rayner and Magnum. Clint. Bruce. She looked down at her arm still wrapped in blue and flexed her fingers. There was only a little twinge this time, like the bone just really needed a good crack instead of it crackling into a million pieces.

She eased herself onto one elbow and slipped her legs over the side of the bed. Clint's chair was empty. The toast was probably him, right? But it could be from Bruce. She decided that she didn't care and snatched it off the plate, taking a big bite.

Her eyes fluttered closed, a heavy exhale hissing through her nostrils. How did some crusty piece of bread taste so good? Come to think of it, when was the last time she'd actually had toast?

For that matter, what year was it? Funny how time was this quiet little thing in the background until she had no way to tell it.

Shoveling the last bite of bread in, Alex limped over to the window. Three stories. Well, if she was planning on running, it wasn't going to be out that. She tested the door next and found it surprisingly unlocked.

So… could she leave? Was she supposed to, or would they be mad if they caught her wandering around? Everything about this was so weird. She had no idea what to do or how to behave. Make no mistake. Alex didn't miss Rayner one bit, but at least with him she knew how to avoid a beating.

She stepped into the corridor, peering left and right, but neither man was in the hallway. She closed her eyes, straining to listen over the hum of electricity in the walls. There was the faintest faraway mumble of voices. She couldn't quite make them out, but she could definitely smell them both. Bruce's trail was older, heavier, like the anger ground his scent into the walls. Clint had been through recently. An hour ago, maybe, wafting through the halls like a little line of steam.

So the toast was him.

She followed the scent down the hall and up a flight of metal stairs, padding on sock covered feet.

This was crazy. She should be running away, not strolling up to her new handler like a good little lap dog. But something told her if she took off, he would only find her again. Nothing she'd seen at Safeguard even came close to the electric buzz of technology vibrating in these walls. Back at the compound was all cement and steel and fluorescent lights. It looked like a kennel because it was. Just with extra. This… this was on a whole new level.

Plus the whole jet-copter thing. Rayner definitely didn't have one of those.

The hallway turned down a corner and Alex almost ran right into Clint. Both of them jumped back, her eyes finding the floor. Her heart was pounding, but the surprise in his scent faded off fast.

He cleared his throat and she could tell that something was wrong.

"Good morning," he said. "Er, or afternoon really."

She peeked up in time to watch his hand droop from the back of his head.

"Good morning," she whispered back, mostly because she felt he expected it.

"How's the arm?"

She lifted the brace up, turning it slightly. "Better."

"Good." There was a pause before, "So… Dr. Banner found something in your bloodwork."

Her eyes met his then, panic flooding her. Bloodwork? Of course, the little red vial. Oh God. If they had access to any of Rayner's research, they'd know. They'd know what she was, what she could do. Some of it anyway.

"Come on." And he turned back the way he came.

Alex froze for an extra half second of hesitation before following. Here it was, the moment she got shot, or collared, or both. It wasn't like both had never happened together. As if to prove her point, both hers and Magnum's collars were sitting on the counter of the lab when they got there. Bruce turned around to greet them, eyes flashing over her when she planted her feet just outside the doorway.

Clint frowned at him and turned back. He blinked at her fingers clutching the switch. His head shook.

"We're not putting them on."

She shot him a look before returning her eyes to the collars. He stepped a little further inside and waited.

Her eyes shot around the room. The chemicals? Maybe. She didn't know what they did, but she doubted any of them would feel good if she threw them at their eyes. The scalpel? Possible, but Clint was probably too fast for that. A stool? There was an empty one she could smash over their heads if they tried anything. There were pliers and glass vials and a solid mug of cold coffee. It wouldn't burn, but ceramic shattering over a head might slow one of them down at least.

And boy had she been standing there a while. Too long. Swallowing, Alex inched into the room. She kept Clint in her line of sight and one ear on the doctor. Bruce stayed perched on a stool at the counter, watching her.

"Hi," Bruce said. He nodded toward her arm, "How's are you feeling?"

"Better." Her voice was tight.

"Good. We can look at it later."

She'd really rather not.

He sighed, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how to tell you this, so I'll just come out and say it."

Alex swallowed.

"I think you're from an alternate universe."

She blinked. Huh? Out of all the things that could've possibly come out of his mouth–Fuck. That wasn't even on her list. They were kidding, right? This was some kind of cruel joke? Was this how they planned to torture her? Mess with her mind?

"This is a lot," Clint said, taking a single step forward. He stopped when her eyes snapped back to him.

Bruce tapped his glasses on the counter. "The collars, they have the same signal, but this one," he pointed to hers, "has a weird sort of energy. It's.. out of sync."

She glanced over him, eyes going back to Clint. "Why are you telling me this?"

What did it matter?

"Because we need to know if there's another you in our universe."

Alex's eyes rushed to the new voice. Feminine. Steady. The kind of tone that conveyed authority. It was a woman with dark tied back hair and ice blue eyes. She wore a tight, one piece suit with a pair of boots and a gun strapped to her hip.

"Maria Hill," the woman said, "Pleasure to meet you."