Chapter 25

On another floor of the building, she was shown into a room that was reminiscent of her room at the Hydra compound.

"Get some rest, Frankie," Clint told her.

She looked at the bed doubtfully, "I don't know if I can."

"Do you want me to send for the doctor to give you something to help you sleep?"

She seriously considered it before shaking her head. She was going to have to deal with it sooner or later. Maybe she was tired enough it wouldn't matter.

"There will be agents outside at all times. If you need anything, just let them know."

She nodded.

"Hey," he turned her to look at her face, "you're going to be alright here."

When she didn't respond, he turned and left the room with one last worried look at her.

She approached the bed like it was something dangerous, easing herself down onto the soft surface. Taking just a moment to pull off the borrowed shirt from Bucky, she crawled under the comforter and curled up into a ball. She was asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.


She was hungry and needed to pee, but Amanda's boyfriend had come over to help her babysit and Amanda had told her to stay in her room until she was told she could come out. That had been a long, long time ago.

Her bladder spasmed, hurting. Surely Amanda didn't mean for her to pee on the floor like Mrs. Whitmer's old dog?

Going to the door, she turned the knob. She was big enough to reach it without having to stand on her tippy toes. Pushing the door open she peered out. She could hear Amanda and Bobby on the couch making funny noises, but she couldn't see them. The bathroom was on the other side of the living room, so she would have to go right by them.

Tip toeing out of the room, she crept quietly across the living room. When the couch came into view, she looked over. Bobby was on top of Amanda. He was hurting her from the sounds she was making. She stopped and started crying.

Amanda looked over at the sound, "oh, shit, Bobby, stop."

"What the hell?" Bobby sputtered, then looked over at her. "God damnit! You said she was asleep." He sat up, pulling his pants up.

Amanda huffed and stood up, smoothing her skirt down and straightening her shirt, coming over to her and taking her hand. "Do you need to use the bathroom?" she asked.

She nodded her head and sniffled.

"Come on, I'll take you."

In the bathroom, Amanda helped her up on the potty. As she peed, Amanda squatted down in front of her and looked her in the eyes.

"You don't need to tell your Mother about Bobby, okay? If you promise not to tell, I'll give you a cookie when you're done and an extra one after dinner."

Smiling, she nodded eagerly. She loved cookies.


Frankie woke up feeling much better. She stretched before she remembered her sore ribs.

"Ouch! Damnit."

Through the window over the desk, she could see the sun was low in the sky but couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. Looking around the room for a clock, she saw that it had been stripped bare except for the furniture and the bedclothes. There wasn't even a TV, though there was a spot on the wall where one had been mounted until recently.

Getting up gingerly, she explored the room. There were three doors. The one opposite the window was the entrance, she remembered that much. On the wall opposite the bed were two doors. Opening the one closest to the outer wall, she found an empty closet. The other door led to a small bathroom with a shower.

Her nose wrinkled. She needed a shower badly. Looking around, though, she couldn't find any towels.

"I guess they don't want me to turn them into weapons," she smiled.

As she shut the door, there was a knock on the main door.

"What?"

The door opened a crack as an agent looked into the room. Seeing Frankie standing in her bra and skirt, he shut the door quickly. She giggled.

Another knock sounded.

"Come on in," she called out. "I'm not getting any more decent without clean clothes."

This time a female agent opened the door and stepped inside. She had a stack of towels in her hands.

"Hi, I'm Laura," she greeted Frankie with a smile. "Thought you might like to get a shower and change," she held out the stack.

"Thanks," Frankie said, taking them from her. "Um, what time is it?"

The agent looked at her watch, "4:00 pm."

"What day is it?"

"Sunday."

So, she hadn't been here for 48 hours yet. "Thanks, I'll just go get that shower."


Feeling much better after a shower, Frankie dressed in the clothes that Laura provided. The shirt and pants were same style and cut as the agent's but instead of black they were a dull gray. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she was ready to follow the agent and her partner to her next encounter.

She was surprised when the agents led her to the infirmary instead of another interrogation room. Once she was seated on an examination bed, Laura cuffed her to the bed's rail.

"Is that necessary?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

Laura snorted, "you're not fooling anyone. We've been briefed on how resourceful you can be, so we're not taking any chances."

"Can't blame me for trying."

"No, but I will put you down without hesitation if you make one move to harm anyone," Laura looked her straight in the eye while she delivered the threat. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yep," Frankie nodded.

"Good." Laura stepped away to stand against the wall with her partner who hadn't spoken to her yet. "Dr. Bennet will be with you in just a bit."

"I wonder why they always say that, even when they know it's not true?"

"What's not true," an older woman in a white lab coat asked as she came into the room.

"That the doctor will be with them in just a 'bit'," Frankie made finger quotes around the word.

"They're not lying," she said as she picked up a chart and looked over it. "They're just on doctor time, not real-world time."

"And 'a bit' in doctor time is…?"

"Anywhere from right now to three hours from now," the doctor smiled and came over to stand by Frankie. "I'm Dr. Bennet and you, young lady, have been through a lot recently."

"Yeah, you could say that," Frankie agreed, eyeing her warily.

Dr. Bennet noticed her unease. "Relax, Frankie, I'm not going to do anything to you that you don't consent to. I promise."

"Right," she responded skeptically.

Dr. Bennet sighed, "well, let's take this one step at a time, shall we?" She turned to the agents, "I'll need you to stay outside while I examine Frankie."

Laura shook her head, "no can do, Doctor. She's dangerous."

Dr. Bennet wrinkled her nose at Frankie, "are you dangerous, Frankie?"

She shrugged, "If I'm threatened."

Turning back to the agents, the doctor waved her hand at Frankie, "well, there you go. She's only dangerous if she's threatened and I don't plan to threaten her, so go."

Laura rolled her eyes, "how about I stay and Roberts steps out?"

"Is that okay with you?" Dr. Bennet asked Frankie.

"Whatever, let's just get this over with."

After agent Roberts left the room and shut the door, Dr. Bennet got her height and weight, then took her vitals.

"Looks like you have a low-grade fever. How do you feel?"

"A little tired, but I haven't been sleeping well the past few weeks," Frankie told her.

Examining the entrance to the gunshot wound first, she pursed her lips and prodded around it, "does this hurt?"

"A little, especially when you get close."

Walking around so she could see the exit wound, she prodded and asked again. This time, the pain was more noticeable.

"Ouch," Frankie complained.

Dr. Bennet circled back around to look at the healing cut on the other shoulder, "this one needs to be re-stitched. And it's warm to the touch."

She came back around to stand in front of Frankie, "You have a low-grade infection, but some antibiotics should take care it. That might be why you're not sleeping well."

That would be wonderful, Frankie thought.

The doctor unlocked the medicine cabinet and started preparing a couple of shots.

"What, what are you doing?" Frankie asked, trying to stifle the panic rising. There was no way she was going to let someone anywhere near her with a syringe. Not after the last incident and some of the nightmares she had been having.

"I'm going to give you a shot of antibiotics to kick the infection in the ass. You're going to still have to take pills for a few days, but this should have you feeling a lot better quickly," the doctor said without looking up.

"And the other?"

"It's just a local so I can get some stitches in you without too much more pain."

Frankie chewed the inside of her cheek, "what if I don't want the shots?"

Dr. Bennet paused and turned to face her, her brow furrowed, "you'd rather I stitch you up without the local?"

"I'd rather not have any needles near me at all."

The doctor considered her for a long moment then, sighing, put the syringes and vials back in the cabinet and locked it back up.

"I guess I could put some more butterflies to hold it and use skin glue instead, but you'll have to come back every couple of days for me to check it."

"And the antibiotic shot?"

"I'll give you pills, but they'll take longer to act, and you'll have to take them for ten days."

Frankie nodded, "I'm okay with that as long as you keep the needles over there."

"Funny, you don't look like someone that would have a fear of needles."

"It's not the needles I'm afraid of," Frankie almost growled, "it's what's in them."


After getting dressed again and dutifully swallowing the pills Dr. Bennet gave her, Frankie was escorted to another part of the building and into another room. Again, she was surprised. This time it was a small conference room with a dark wooden table and comfortable chairs surrounding it. Once seated with her back to the window, agent Roberts removed the cuffs.

"So, you don't think I can do anything in here?" she mused, looking around the room.

"If you can take out two agents with nothing but chairs," Laura told her from beside the door, "then we don't deserve to be agents."

Frankie nodded, "I can respect that."

The door opened and Clint walked in.

Frankie groaned out loud, "you again?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said," he frowned as he slapped a file down on the table. "I tried to explain to Fury that this is not my strong suit, but he insisted since we have a history."

"Lucky us," she said with thick sarcasm.

"We'll be right outside if you need us, sir," Roberts told him, opening the door for Laura.

"Hopefully, I won't need you."

"Better stay close," Frankie called as the door shut behind them.

"You never stop, do you?" he asked.

"Stop what?"

"Acting like a spoiled teenager."

"Why?" she leaned forward in her chair and smiled. "You want to spank me?"

Clint shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, "Fury must hate me."

Frankie sighed. She wasn't helping herself acting this way, but it was a hard habit to break. On the streets it had kept others unbalanced, always scrambling for a response to her smartassed quips. People tended to underestimate her because of her childishness, which gave her an advantage. Plus, it irritated them, and irritated individuals made mistakes; another advantage. Finally, it kept others at arms' length. While having friends had its advantages, being close to people was always a liability. The mess with Rory was a perfect example.

Right now, though, she needed the man sitting across from her to trust her. That was the only way she was going to get out of this.

"Sorry," she smiled wryly, deciding to just tell him the truth, or as much of the truth as she could, "it's a habit."

Clint didn't answer. He just stared at her, his dark blue eyes seriously appraising her, trying to determine what she was up to this time. The silence stretched out uncomfortably.

"Okay," she breathed, trying not to squirm in her seat, "can we start over?"

"From what point?" he asked. "This interview? The pentagon? When you stabbed me?"

"That's fair," she bobbed her head. "I've already explained why I stabbed you, though."

"Then tell me about the pentagon."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Well," she took a deep breath, "I'll need to go back further if you want the full story."

"I'm listening."

Here goes nothing, she thought and plunged in. Starting at the Quinn jet crash, she told him about the Hydra facility, her time there, and the training she went through. She left out any reference to Rory and his involvement, though.

"So, they just rescued you from the crash?" Clint looked skeptical.

She shrugged, wincing when the motion pulled her wounds uncomfortably, "it was a case of the enemy of my enemy thing. They thought since you were kidnapping me…,"

"Apprehending."

"Whatever," she replied automatically before continuing. "They assumed I would be a willing recruit."

"Were you?"

She gave him her best 'don't be stupid' look, "just because I stabbed you doesn't mean I want to be a part of some global, super-evil organization. Anyway, I'm a loner, not a joiner."

"But you did join them."

"Well, yeah," she snorted. "I was trapped in their evil lair. What else was I supposed to do? It wasn't as if I could just say 'no.' I went along with it, always looking for a way out. The pentagon was supposed to be it. But then you showed up and everything went sideways, and I had to improvise."

"Didn't work out exactly as you hoped, did it?"

Frankie giggled at the memory, "no, but you should have seen the look on your face."

Clint frowned, obviously not as amused by the memory as she was. "What was your assignment?"

"I was just supposed to provide a distraction for another operative."

"Who? What was their assignment?"

"I don't know," she lied. "They keep everything compartmentalized, so that if one person gets nabbed, they can't spill all the beans."

He asked her several more questions about the operation, but she added nothing else other than her part. She told him she didn't even know the person that was part of her distraction, even though he was her partner. Then he moved on to the facility itself.

"I honestly don't know where it was. They blindfolded us and transported us in an enclosed van with no windows."

"You really expect me to believe that you spent months there and never found out anything?"

"Okay, I did get a couple of things," she smiled slightly. "We were in the mountains. I could tell that from the road and my ears popping. And there was a river, or maybe a lake nearby, because we went across a bridge soon after leaving the compound."

He leaned forward, "and?"

"I'm sure it was under ground with an exit in a building above ground. And it was big. I mean, like really big. There were at least five levels and a hanger."

She went on for several more minutes, describing the facility, the teams, and the security. She skipped the part where Glenda had her tortured. At one point, her stomach growled loudly.

Clint struggled to conceal his smile, "have you eaten?"

"No, I didn't wake up until 4:00 and they took me straight to see the doc then here."

"Then we're done for the day," he pushed his chair back and stood up. Going to the door, he opened it and motioned for the two agents to enter.

"Take her back to her room and get her something to eat. Next time make sure she eats first," he frowned at them.

Both agents nodded their understanding.

Before leaving her with them, Clint turned around and regarded her, "we'll pick this up again tomorrow morning."

She nodded, "got cha."

He left without another word.


Back at her room, Roberts brought her a tray laden with food. Despite her hunger, she just picked at the food. She ran the interrogation with Clint over and over in her head, making sure she didn't let anything slip that she didn't want him to know. It helped that she didn't lie that much, basically everything she said about the compound was true. She just left certain details out. She didn't care if SHIELD found the place once she got Rory out. In fact, she would gladly help them. Rory just had to be out of harm's way first.

Speaking of Rory, why hadn't he reached out to her yet? She was beginning to get worried. What if Glenda had made her move and he was her prisoner or worse? She needed to get back there. He needed allies in his power struggle against Glenda.

"What makes you think I need your help?"

Frankie dropped her plastic fork and stared, open mouthed, as Rory spoke from the shadowed corner of the room.

"You're not real," she whispered.

The shadow Rory raised a shoulder, "does it matter? You can see and hear me just the same."

"I'm losing my mind," she shook her head. All the trauma in her life finally broke her.

"You haven't answered my question, Frankie," he shifted restlessly.

"What?"

"What makes you think I need your help?"

"Glenda is working against you," she swallowed her panic.

"And you don't think I already know that? Really?" he scoffed. "I have everything under control."

"No," she stood up and took a step towards the dark corner. "You don't have everything under control. You can't. Rory, you're working for Hydra!"

"Exactly," he leaned forward just enough for her to see the light reflecting in his eyes like a predator. "I have what I've always wanted: the means to take control of my destiny and change the destiny of the world. If you would quit fighting it, you could have that kind of control also."

"What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you tired of running and hiding? What wouldn't you give to be able to stand in the light and face the world without fear?"

"I don't live in fear," she protested.

"Really?" the shadow laughed harshly. "You've lived in fear your entire life. From being afraid of you mother's boyfriends to Mother Superior at the orphanage. From being afraid to the twisted men and women that stalked you when you were homeless to the police that you avoided. You were afraid of being alone, that's why you took me in. After you lost me, you avoided getting close to anyone else because you were afraid you'd lose them too. Now you're afraid of SHIELD. If you're telling yourself anything other than that, you're lying to yourself."

"I wasn't afraid of my mother's boyfriends!"

"No?"

She searched her memories but what she came up with didn't seem right. "I…, I'm not sure."

"Not sure?" he mocked. "You're not sure about your own memories?"

"No," she said to herself. "I'm getting things confused. It's all so jumbled up."

"If you can't trust your memories, then you need to trust me."

Frankie looked up and met his shining eyes, "can I trust you?"

"You can always trust me, Frankie."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, he was gone. The shadowed corner where he had stood was empty.

"I'm losing my mind."

She needed someone to undo whatever that Glenda did to her head. That was the only explanation for her hallucinations and screwed up dreams. Frankie was no longer sure which dreams were her memories and which ones were manufactured and it had her on edge more than she was happy to admit. But to get help, she had to first trust and she wasn't sure she could do that.

Pushing the tray aside, she stripped and crawled into bed, still feeling the effects of the infection from her wounds. Hopefully, she would figure it all out once she felt better.