"Oh Mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law

Lawman has put an end to my running, and I'm so far from my home

Oh Mama, I can hear you a-cryin', you're so scared and all alone

Hangman is comin' down from the gallows, and I don't have very long"

- Styx

A/N: This is a super-long filler chapter. Some would dare say, exposition dump. But I figured this was the best way to establish the rest of this fanon. More Tony-centric stuff will be coming soon!

Danny wasn't exactly sure how long she had been unconscious. When she came to, she was met by blinding fluorescent lights coming down from the ceiling. She moved to brush her hair from her face before noticing an arm had been handcuffed to the bed.

It felt as if something ice cold had been shot through her veins. Panic. Then, a sound – a voice – surprised her by saying, "Oh. We weren't sure when you'd wake up."

Danny abruptly sat up in the bed. Much to her chagrin, one of the dark and honeycombed walls had opened to reveal a hidden port opening. She stared down the bald man standing at the entrance. He was dressed in a dark gray suit, pressed like some corporate douchebag. "Who the hell are you?" Danny asked, hoping her voice seemed firm and not at all afraid. She tried once more to pull at the cuff digging into her wrist.

"My name is Agent Jasper Sitwell," he answered. "I'm with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

You've got to be fucking kidding me. "Would you believe I recognize the name?" she asked rhetorically, thinking back to the old files that Dr. Reddik had back at The Workshop. Danny held back a potentially cynical laugh, shaking her head.

The man pushed dark-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose before tucking a black folder under his arm. "Then as you may know, we're an extra-governmental military, counter-terrorism, and intelligence agency," he elaborated, taking a cautious step into the room. "I know you must have a lot of questions, but –"

"Where am I?" Danny shot out, interrupting his spiel.

"We're currently in our headquarters, in New York City."

Danny glared at Agent Sitwell, inhaling slowly. Her chest still hurt from whatever the hell Clint had shot her with, and she was mildly surprised that she felt it. Clint had shot her. Lowly, she asked, "Where's my brother?"

Sitwell reached for a chair that was up against the far wall, and he placed it at the foot of Danny's bed. He sat, gave a forced smile, and then opened the file folder. "Look, Ms. Barton," he started, "I don't want you to be here any more than you want to be here. We've just got some assessments to go through, to make sure you're fit to be added to our Index."

"Assessments?" Danny spat out, her eyes narrowing. She raised her arm as much as she could, giving a pointed look to the agent. "I have one for you: You've got me cuffed to a bed."

"I suppose you won't be going anywhere any time soon, then," Sitwell mused, looking down at the papers. "Sorry, bad joke. It's… merely a precaution on our part. I'm sure you understand."

Huffing once more, Danny asked again, "Where is my brother?"

"Probably having an audience with our Director. Agent Barton was supposed to be doing this Index Asset Evaluation and Intake report, but he didn't have the heart." Sitwell's eyes flickered up to Danny's, and he did a double take. Off of her look of confusion, he gave a wry smile. "He never told you?"

What the hell is this guy talking about? Danny's eyes narrowed once more. "Frankly, we didn't get a chance to catch up much before he shot me."

"Your brother is one of our finest agents," Sitwell said, acting like he didn't hear her snide comment. "Director Fury tasked him with bringing in… well, you."

The Voice in her head spoke up for the first time since regaining consciousness. He is lying.

Danny tried to hide the shiver that went through her body. "How do I know you're not lying?" she muttered, taking slow breaths to calm herself.

"We were given a call from Metro-General Hospital about a woman who had come in with multiple injuries, and fully healed the next morning."

Danny did remember overhearing her doctor on the phone with someone; never in a million years would she have considered this turn of events. Flashes of dead, bloody bodies came to memory. Dryly, she said, "I'm sure that wasn't the only call you got that night, Agent Sitwell."

"No. No, it wasn't." Sitwell filed through some papers before pulling one out. He sat back and looked Danny in the eye. "Do you mind answering some questions for me, Ms. Barton?"

"Depends. Do I have much of a choice?" She rattled the handcuff again. Sitwell's only response was a blank stare. Danny couldn't read his face, and she wondered what he could see in hers.

"You were a little hard to find after discharge," Sitwell deliberated, giving her a look. "Fortunately, Ms. Potts did sign you out. Even your brother found it surprising that you had ties with Stark Industries, considering –"

"Leave her out of this," she said. For some reason, she didn't trust him any more than she could throw him (which, with the new super strength, was probably far). But on God, if Pepper somehow found out about her… condition… "I'll answer anything you want."

"As you wish."

Danny should be kicking herself right now. She had fallen for his ruse, dangling a threat to Pepper to get her to talk. If she wasn't still on-edge, she might have been impressed.

Sitwell's eyes scanned the contents of his file. He started, "Anna Daniela Barton. Born May 26, 1989, to Edith and Harry Barton. Says here your only remaining family members consist of your eldest brother, Charles, and Agent Clint Barton."

Danny blinked a few times, not believing her ears. Barney's really still alive then.

He continued, not having noticed Danny's change of demeanor. "Parents died in '93, after which you and your brothers were placed under foster care?"

"Uh – yes. Briefly," Danny muttered, taking a second to realize he was asking for confirmation. "I remember going 'round with a circus for a while."

"Agent Barton noted that you were taken from them after four years. What happened?"

Danny's eyes scanned the room once more, noting the single surveillance camera at the far corner of the ceiling. She swallowed, shifting her sitting position. "I'm not entirely sure. I was, like, eight. Social services turned me over to this orphanage called Saint Agnes. Pepper Potts fostered me for a few years after, but you probably already knew that."

"And you went back into the system?" The agent scribbled notes at the margins of his papers, and all Danny could do was watch in silence. "You were enrolled in five different schools between the years of '97 and '05?"

Danny frowned. Jesus, what kind of fucking agency is this? Warily, she asked, "What's that got to do with this evaluation, or whatever?"

"We're just trying to figure out a timeline. Iron out some kinks," Sitwell answered lamely, which only irritated Danny more. He sifted through a couple more papers. "Your third set of foster parents pulled you out of school before your senior year, right?"

Danny's eyes fell, brows knitting together. The high fevers, the chest pains; being symptomatic for months – it all came back, and it made her angry. "Yes," she replied bitterly.

"How did you end up with your… your abilities, I should say?"

Now that was a question which she was half-expecting.

"Cliff notes version? I got cancer. Some assholes came knocking, saying they were working on a cure. They figured I was the right candidate for their horrible experiments…"

"Right." Sitwell nodded thoughtfully, crossing one leg over the other. "An orphaned kid with cancer, and shitty foster parents that didn't want the responsibility. If anything went wrong, there wouldn't be much of a problem. Until…" He leaned forward cautiously, placing photographs at the foot of the bed. Three photos appeared to be from a morgue prior to coroner's autopsy, picturing a headless scientist, a lacerated assistant, and dead security guards; the last was a grossly disfigured woman evidenced in an alley. "These. Do you recognize them?"

Of course, she did. Danny recognized them all. Their blood was on her hands, whether or not she was in the right mind. She felt her eyes moisten with tears and looked away, her frown deepening. It was all the confirmation that Sitwell needed.

"What did they do to you?"

Upset was a word that truly underestimated the hurt she was feeling. Memories of The Workshop had only haunted her dreams, but now SHIELD was tainting her reality too. Danny's voice broke as she asked him, "Why are you doing this?"

"What happened with the experiments?" Sitwell pressed, picking up the photo of Reddik's corpse. He held it to where she could see. "What did he do to you, Barton?"

Danny took in a shaky breath. Don't you dare, the Voice started. Tell him, and just watch how fast he neutralizes us. Her eyes met Agent Sitwell's, and she couldn't read his expression. Was he scared, or determined? Would she kill him?

What the hell did Clint get himself into?

Finally, Danny cleared her throat, beginning, "I spent months on chemo before they started putting me on gamma radiation."

Agent Sitwell perked up at her answer, straightening up. "What kind of gamma? Like with the army's Bio-Tech? That's highly classified information."

Danny merely shrugged. "They'd stolen a shit ton of redacted research from government agencies – you guys included, from what I can remember."

"Noted."

"I, uh…" Danny hesitated. She started wringing her hands; the backs of them where the claws would come out were aching.

In a surprising gesture, Sitwell said, "Take your time."

Danny's eyes flickered up to the camera. She wondered if her brother was watching. If he was, why the hell wasn't he helping her get out?

"There were injections from vials. Blood transfusions, probably –"

"What were they?"

"Blue shit and blood plasma? I don't know. All I know is, I was… getting better. Stronger. They…" Danny looked at her palms, balling her hands into fists. "I remember overhearing Reddik talking with one of the other scientists about… a born-again program –"

"Project Rebirth?" he suggested. Sitwell was tense, she could tell.

Danny managed a glance up at him before staring down again. "Yeah," she said quietly, "sounds familiar."

Sitwell shut his folder, putting both soles on the ground, and leaned forward on his elbows. "What else do you remember?"

She shook her head, frowning. "Nothing much more about that. He always talked to himself, but he usually said nonsense about trying to activate or mutate a gene, or something."

"Did he?"

"Did he, what?"

"Activate a gene?" Sitwell clarified, almost scrutinizing her. The tone in his voice made her think he was putting dots together, while she was still in the dark about it all.

"Not to be rude, agent, but how long is this going to – ?"

"As long as it takes," he responded harshly. "Did he cure you?"

"If he did, he almost killed me to do it." Danny hated digging up the hell she had gone through. She hated having nightmares about it. But she also knew that she had a better chance of getting out from under this guy's microscope if she cooperated. "There were these few days where I thought I was as good as dead, nearly drowned in a tank. I don't remember shit except for him excited about… 'bonding with DNA from Weapon X'?"

Sitwell placed another photo on the bed. This one was different – an x-ray image of someone's arm, with what looked like metal spikes coming along the forearm. It took Danny an embarrassingly long time to realize whose it was. "Care to explain these?" he asked, raising a brow. "These are from Metro-General. Their biopsy came back inconclusive as to what metals they are; those claws match the patterns seen on all the victims."

"They were surgically implanted," Danny answered weakly. "Reddik put me under, just a few months ago. I coded, apparently. The second time, he was successful, but I was comatose for more than a month."

Sitwell opened his folder and wrote down more notes. "Is that why you killed him?"

"What?"

"Do you have control over it? Do you kill when you want to?"

"It wasn't –" But you did kill him for that. "I can explain –" They'll just think you're crazy. "Shut up!" Danny grabbed the sides of her head, tears threatening to pool over as she attempted to force the Voice back into her subconscious.

"This is Sitwell. We have a situation!"

It wasn't until Danny heard him stand and pull out his gun that she realized the broken chain of her restraint was dangling at her side. Moments later, the door opened again, revealing Clint and what she assumed was a SHIELD team meant to kill, if necessary. Everyone but her brother had some sort of weapon drawn and aimed at her. The thought scared the shit out of her, seeing the red dots hovering on her torso.

She felt like a deer in headlights. "Wait – please!" Danny scrambled off of the bed and onto her feet, keeping her hands out in front of her. Her heartbeat had picked up considerably; she could feel it in her ears. Her vision began blurring with tears, but she blinked them away. "I'm not… alone, up here, okay?" she offered truthfully. Danny's voice was shaking, and she was shaking, and she didn't know what to do to stop it.

Clint took a few cautious steps forward, wearing some sort of uniform that she didn't recognize. "Dan, what do you mean?"

How could she explain this and not sound crazy? Danny tried to think on her feet. "I'm like the Hulk. But like a wolverine, and less… green."

His eyes scanned over her, noted the scared look on her face, and the lack of any weaponized claws. "Stand down," Clint ordered, half turning back to the agents behind him. They all lowered their weapons.

Agent Sitwell started to fight his decision. "Barton –"

"I said 'stand down', Sitwell. Does she look like she's going to hurt anybody right now?" Clint waited until Sitwell lowered his gun. "All of you, get out of here."

Sitwell and the other agents exited the room, leaving Clint alone with Danny. He pulled her into a hug, one that she clearly did not to want. She started hitting his chest half-heartedly, holding back sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he kept whispering into her hair. Clint held her until she stopped fighting, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his chest. "They wanted to make sure…"

"What the hell was that?" she said, muffled. Danny sniffed, her voice still evidence of her crying. "You shot me, and I woke up cuffed to a bed, interrogated by some asshole that knew way too much about me."

Clint had no excuse for her. Just bare-boned apologies and a promise to keep her safe. A promise that he had broken once before, but one that he likely aimed to keep this time around.

"Did I at least pass the asset report?" she asked suddenly, a little bit of humor coming back to her.

He didn't respond, deciding only to scan her face and sigh. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm not going to… to 'Hulk out' or whatever, if that's what you're asking."

"Good." Clint continued wiping tears from her face. Danny felt a sense of déjà vu. The roller coaster of emotions over the last day – had it been a day? – was exhausting her. "Stay here, and I'll be right back."

Danny grabbed his wrist, her grip strong. "Clint."

"I'll be back," he pressed. "I promise."

"What do you want, Clint?" Sitwell sat back in his chair, giving a pointed look at the assassin standing in the middle of his office.

"My sister's sit-rep," he answered simply. "You're putting her on the Index?"

Sitwell flipped open the SHIELD folder that he had taken with him, glancing at the dossier provided and the notes he had put in the margins. "She's eligible for the Enhanced data pull, but I have to be frank with you: She's a live wire, worse yet, an exposed nerve. That girl is not only a danger to herself, but a danger to –"

"I'd watch what you say next, Jasper." Clint crossed his arms over his chest defensively. If he was being honest, he never really liked Sitwell. He was a damn good agent, almost as good as Phil Coulson, but there was just something about him that rubbed Clint the wrong way.

"I just call what I see, nothing personal," Sitwell sighed, looking from his fellow agent to the photo of Daniela Barton in his file. "Look, you've seen the bodies. The shit she went through? She's more than just unstable."

Clint's lips pressed tighter together. "If not the Index, then what?"

Agent Sitwell avoided his eye. "If she was any other person at her threat level, the only reasonable action would be to cross her off."

"No fucking way, asshole –"

"Hey, don't bite my head off! It's just an option. One you clearly will fight not to utilize." Sitwell ran a hand over his face, tapping his fingers on his desk. "Director Fury assigned you to be her supervisor. I just do the paperwork. Responsibility of what happens to her is on you."

Clint stood frozen to the spot, thinking. His sister of all people was a Hulk-level danger to the world. He just got her back. But if Bruce Banner could be kept alive, albeit on a short leash, so could she. "Index her," was his final, firm answer. "We're not crossing her off."

As Clint exited Sitwell's office, the man yelled out after him. "You're welcome, by the way!"