The ceiling stared down at her as Three lay in the bed she had finally convinced herself to sleep on after what happened with her father.

What was she supposed to do with herself? She was useless. A loose end. So what was her purpose?

No escape.

Useless.

The energy was gone. The motivation. The want. All of it. Gone. There wasn't even any reason to get out of bed.

A tear slipped down the side of her face and into her ear. Not even that mattered anymore.

--

It was noon and she was still in bed. Friday had told them as much. Both parents glanced at the door, unsure of what to do.

"Can she get sick?" Natasha ventured to ask. This never happened. Nadia always had a set, self-inflicted schedule. Wake up at 5:30, breakfast, work out until lunch, eat again, then the cycle would repeat until bed promptly at 10:30.

"I mean, I can't." Steve shrugged, taking out food to make for lunch, "But her genetic enhancements aren't exactly like mine."

"I'm going to check on her."

--

Footsteps, the heartbeat of her mother, and finally the soft knock came.

Time was up. If she didn't get out of bed then they'd think something was wrong. Did that even matter? Nevertheless, Three had to pry herself out of bed at some point. Did she?

"Yes?" She answered when the knock came again. Odd how they knocked as opposed to simply bursting in.

The floor was freezing as Three tiptoed her way across the room to her closet. Lavender. The lavender shirt. Yes. Jeans. No. The sweatpants from her dad - her biological father - The Captain. The target? Whoever he was. Yes.

"Just checking if you're okay," Her mother's voice came in through the door, "You've been in bed for quite a while."

Lavender blouse and sweatpants. Terrible mix. Her father's hoodie. Yes. Much better. Comfortable.

Before slipping it on, Three paused. She must have malfunctioned again. Deep scratches were healing on the tops of her arms and there was more blood in the corner of the closet.

Lapse in memory was a new one.

"Nadia?"

Answer. She had to answer. What was the question again? Fine. Was she fine? No. Not at all.

"I'm fine, ma'am. Just accidentally slept in." Were the words that came out of her mouth instead. What would happen if she told them? Termination?

"Okay, lunch is going to be ready in 10" The soft padding noise of her feet as she walked away.

Her thoughts were fragranced. Fragmented? Yes. No. Yes, that was a right word. Infuriating. It was so. Very. Infuriating.

There was a cracking noise before Nadia realized what she had done. Her head had just made a rather large indent in the wall. Loss of control. Not good. No pain. Annoying but good.

Now, to get sustenance and decide how to proceed from here. She had just had clothing bought for her and here she was wearing her father's clothing again. Unacceptable. Three took the clothes off and grabbed the long sleeved, honey yellow shirt and dark blue jeans. There. At least she looked presentable.

--

Steve sent a smile over to his daughter as she finally trudged in. She was actually wearing the clothes they bought her. A good sign.

"Good afternoon, sleepy head." The attempt to keep the tone light was undercut by the glance he tried not to send her way.

"I apologize for waking at a later hour." Nadia looked away, her skin having a light tinge of pink in a blush, "I stayed up later than my usual, listening to the device you gave." She was lying. The monitor said she turned it off within half an hour of using it last night and hadn't touched it since.

"Find anything good?" He grinned, if she didn't want to say then there was no making her. Or maybe there was. "And you don't have to lie. Sleeping in is fine, just wanted to know if you're sick or not and if you're okay."

The girl nearly dropped her glass, her skin going pale now, "I - I apologize, sir." What did she think he was going to do? His heart sank at the moment of fear in her eyes. Hadn't it been established already that they wouldn't hurt her?

Considering how she was raised- his stomach dropped, "No, no it's fine, kid. I'm just saying, you don't have to."

She nodded, every muscle tensed, "Yes, sir." The cut of the shirt clearly showed the scar on her neck and Steve realized they had yet to have her checked out.

"How's your wound?" He gestured with his head towards her as he dished out the bacon onto the three plates on the table.

Again that fear flashed across her face for that millisecond before disappearing as her hand snaked up to her neck, "It was fine even in my cell, sir. I heal fast." She glanced at the knife on the table meant for the cheese, "I could give a demonstration if it is desired?"

"No!" Steve shook his head, "Hurting yourself is out of the question. I don't even want you being hurt in general much less by yourself." Why the hell?

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He grabbed the knife and put it away for good measure, "Tuck in and then we're starting you on school. It is Monday after all."

--

Interesting. His response confirmed her suspicions. It had been the right choice to conceal her malfunction. If they didn't kill her for it then they would at the very least lock her up.

Sitting at a desk that had been placed in the corner of the living room, facing the rest of the small living space, Three took stock of the books before her. She had failed again. They gave her above the grade she'd aimed for. Not that any of it mattered anymore.

The book of Algebra II stared at her. Mathematics. Enjoyable. Better than killing people. Well, depending on her mood. A nice, bloody murder would be exquisite right about now. It'd been weeks.

The book. Open it. Unit 1. Lesson 1. Good.

"Hey, kid," Sandwiches strolled through the elevator doors, "Where's your mom and dad?"

"Mister Rogers is on some form of mission and Romanoff has told me she is arranging an appointment and will return in 15 minutes." Three didn't look up from the book, skimming through as the information was not new.

"What ya doing for school?" He leaned over, hands on the desk. Very close. Would that be a good enough excuse to kill him? No.

"Kid, no offense, I have no interest in you in that way." His voice had a small laugh to it, "I just forgot my contacts here and can't see for shit."

The tension released some - she had been tense? How had she not realized? What was wrong with her? She should be able to tell what was happening with her body and control her reactions.

"Well go get them before I die from your halitosis." Came out before she could stop herself. Shit. She said that out loud. He shifted and the flinch came unbidden. "S-"

But he was already moving away, chuckling, "Knew I shouldn't have eaten that garlic bread for lunch." Turning, he went presumably to get his contacts.

Back to arithmetic.

--

C: She's fine, Nat. (I have contacts now btw.)

N: Thanks. Didn't think it would take this long. I owe you one.

C: I was in town anyways. But hey if you want to watch the kids while I take Laura out be my guest! ;)

Clint stuffed his phone in his back pocket and started towards the door. Passing the lab on his way down, he decided against bothering Tony. He seemed completely engrossed in whatever was before him, a long forgotten cup of coffee by his side. The way the guy could be so focused on things it was a miracle that he hadn't been killed by some disgruntled woman or employee yet.

--

"Mister Ivan Maslovi, I see you've finally decided to come back to consciousness." The deep voice came languidly through the gloom, as though the speaker were relaxing at a spa instead of seated in the corner of a makeshift torture chamber.

Maslovi couldn't even manage a groan, his head hung down as he tried to blink the blood away from his eyes. How could he have even imagined defecting was possible? There was only one way you escaped Hydra.

"Speak, before I make you do so." He was speaking in Polish now, the voice still as cool as a mountain stream. Water. That would be nice.

The glittering of instruments beside the man reminded him of what would happen sooner if he didn't talk. How could all of it be so impeccably clean?

Hot, raging fire started across his lower back. The screaming was coming from somewhere distant and yet so close. His back arched, what was left of his face contorted with pain.

"Enough, my puppet." The low, quiet command that brought the source of the pain away. Whoever was doing this to him had yet to be seen, always blindfolding Maslovi when there was a possibility that the torturer would be seen.

Maslovi sagged, staring at where his legs had once been, and managed a hoarse, "Please,"

Doctor Grante gave a distant, curious smile, "It's only been a day, Maslovi. Are you already reduced to manners?"

"Please," His voice broke, he would have caved into himself if the bonds stretching out the stumps of his arms let him. "Please, just kill me already." A sob came unbidden to his lips, "I'm no use to you now! I told you everything!"

"Oh, young man, you are very useful to me." The doctor crossed his legs, "Science like this wouldn't be possible if not for volunteers such as yourself." With meticulous care, he plucked a syringe from the table and started towards him, "You chose to become an unwanted variable in my delightful little experiment with the rogue subject."

He smiled, a sick glint catching his eye as he inserted the needle, "Now you have the pleasure of furthering science. I thank you."

The screaming had started again by the time Doctor Grante returned to his chair.

"Back to playing, puppet." Came filtering in from a great distance, "He'll heal well enough soon."