AN: Thank you everyone who left comments! It really does mean a lot to know you are enjoying it.

Jane Foster balanced a stack of papers in one arm, an Amazon box in the other, and the tote bag over one shoulder, as she fumbled for the door knob and let herself into the apartment. With her foot she slammed the door closed again and set everything down on the floor. She grabbed the mail from out the tote back and headed into the living room, where she stopped dead.

She gave a long, weary, sigh.

It was, she admitted strange. Most girls did not sigh, or at least sighed in pleasure, when they came home to find their boyfriend had decked the living room out in roses and had the table set for what was clearly planned to be a romantic dinner.

But then most girls didn't have boyfriends who'd set out to sweep them off their feet five times in the past two weeks alone.

When she'd tried to talk to Darcy about it, Darcy had been less than sympathetic.

"So you're upset because the incredibly hot alien you're dating is too perfect? Allow me to find the world's smallest violin and cry you the smallest puddle I can possibly make."

This reaction had kept Jane quiet for the past two romantic gestures but enough was enough.

"Thor!"

"Ah! Jane! You are home." He strode into the room. "I have a surprise for you!"

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Ah but more than flowers: I have gone and got dinner from your favorite restaurant. I got one of everything on the menu so you can try it all!"

For a moment Jane stood there, stunned, thinking about how much food must be waiting for her in the kitchen. It was an overwhelming idea. She shook her head, set the mail down on the coffee table, and moved to the couch. "We need to talk. Now."

Thor frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Sit."

Thor crossed over and took a seat. Jane sat beside him and turned to face him. "What is wrong?" he asked, searching her face.

There was real concern in his voice, and his posture was more natural than it had been in weeks. He clearly thought something was wrong with her or had happened, and his immediate shift into being there for her so completely touched her. It almost made her waver. But no. He was willing to be there for her when she needed it, she had to be there for him now, whether he realized he needed it or not.

"Thor…what's wrong, is all of this." She swept her hand taking in the room around them. "Don't get me wrong, you've planned some amazing date nights that I have loved lately, and I'm really touched that you're going to so much trouble to try and make me happy. I just think you're going to too much trouble."

"It is no trouble. I'm happy to do things to make you happy. I enjoy the time we spend together. I love you Jane."

"Thor," she smiled. "I love you too. Which is why I have to say this." She took a deep breath and took the plunge. "I think you're trying to avoid dealing with a lot of issues right now and so you're over compensating here just a little with me."

"I don't understand. I am not dealing with anything."

"That's impossible. Thor you just lost your brother and your mother. And you haven't spoken to the Avengers in months."

"That's not true. I saw Bruce just three weeks ago."

"Three weeks is a long time when you used to see them almost daily. And you saw Bruce for about five minutes when you went to grab something from the Tower. That's not the same. I'm worried about you."

"Because I want to treat you well?"

"No, because you're over doing it and you know it! Look Thor, I love having romantic evenings with you, but I also love just hanging out with you. You don't have to sweep me off my feet every week. And you didn't think you had to either, before you found out about Clint Barton."

Thor stood up and abruptly and began to pace.

"Thor…I just think you'd be happier, as backwards as it sounds, if you admitted that you're not okay right now. It's okay to not be okay." He shook his head but had frozen in his pacing. Jane gave him a moment and then stood up and came towards him, taking his hand in hers. "You've lost a lot this year. And you don't talk about it. Not to me and that's okay if you can't, but you don't talk about it to anyone else either."

He gave a weak shrug and she reached up to place a hand on his cheek.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "That's all in the past. What is important is the here and the now. With you."

"But the past is in the here and the now too. You're carrying it with you and you're in pain. You don't face it now it's going to come at you like a ton of bricks somewhere down the road. Believe me. I want to be here for you Thor. Will you let me?"

There was a long silence. "I don't know how. I've never…" He took a deep, unsteady breath.

It's what she'd expected.

She led him back to the couch. "Why don't you tell me about Loki." Of the three issues besetting him this seemed the simplest place to start.

He blinked at her, surprised. "You don't really want to hear about Loki."

She'd long since suspected that Thor had kept his grief for his brother largely hidden away since moving back to earth. She supposed it would be hard to expect the Avengers to lend a sympathetic ear on the subject and yet…she still felt a brief flicker of anger at them for it. Thor needed this. Asgardian culture, she suspected, had not taught him any better than the Avengers had, how to deal with his pain.

"Of course I do. He was important to you. He was your brother and you loved him."

"He attacked your world."

"That doesn't mean you lost the right to grieve about him to me. From what I understand we have an insane amount of food waiting for us in the kitchen. So I'm going to get some, and you're going to tell me all about growing up with him, all the times you got into fights and all the scrapes you pulled each other out of. The times he drove you crazy and the times he made you laugh. Okay?"

Thor smiled a little wistfully and leaned back into the pillows of the couch. She saw the tension from his shoulders dissipate and then he gave a nod of agreement.

"I would like that."

She kissed him again and got up. He's going to be okay.

Clint tensed as the door to the cellblock opened and he heard a number of footsteps enter. Several armed guards appeared on the other side of the bars, and then he saw those two. Pietro, had been the name she called him? But what was the girl's name?

The guards had their weapons pointed, one unlocked the cell door and in the blink of an eye Pietro had swept in, and Clint felt his hands being grabbed and handcuffs clicking into place.

Clint blinked. It was a disorienting feeling having that speed used again you. It took your breath away.

He accessed the situation. Five guards with guns, he might be able to do deal with even handcuffed, but the girl was an unknown factor, her abilities too much of a mystery, and with Pietro's speed? No. He didn't think he could manage against him unless he found away to take him out first and that wouldn't be easy. Not with the girl watching him like a hawk.

He took this in at a glance and then turned his eyes on Pietro. There was that look again. That intent, disdainful look of dislike. It felt as personal as ever.

Clint cocked his head to one side. "Why do you hate me so much?" he asked.

If he'd hoped to surprise Pietro, he was bound for disappointment. Pietro merely grinned. It was a humorless grin. "What's there to like old man?"

Clint actually laughed. "Old? The present generation: so disrespectful."

"We're just tired of the rot."

"Perfectly understandable," said Clint pleasantly, "just one quick question. What part of the rot am I supposed to represent here?'

Any hint of a grin slid off Pietro's face. "You're an Avenger."

That was unexpected. And there was certainly a story there. Whether it was lies fed to the man by Hydra or something else. He filed it away and gave a chuckle. "Well isn't that ironic. The Avengers hate me because I'm Hydra, and Hydra hates me because I'm an Avenger. Leaves me wondering which exactly I am."

He saw the flicker of surprise in Pietro's face. But before he could continue one of the guards snapped: "Strucker's waiting."

And Pietro was pushing Clint towards the cell door. Clint did take in the exchange of glances between him and the woman. He couldn't quite read what it meant, but he'd at least elicited some emotion other than dislike. Depending on what it was, he might be able to build on it. If he survived whatever he was being lead to…

Clint was taken down several halls and stairs. He had the sense of being taken into the bowels of the compound. He kept looking for an escape with at least a mild chance of success but none presented itself. The guards were keeping too close an eye, and paired with the two with powers, it just wasn't possible.

They reached a dark, gloomy room in one of the basements. Strucker was there, watching two technicians making working on something in the back of the room but he turned his attention to Clint as he was escorted in, and smiled. "Ah, Barton. I haven't yet properly welcomed you to the base. One of the last, true bastions of Hydra."

"Just about the kind of dank hole I'd expect."

Strucker chuckled. "And that's just the type of banter I would expect. I've long since been impressed by you. I've read some of your mission reports, and of course no one can deny that the Battle of New York was a truly extraordinary feat. Your late activities have been somewhat beneath you. But your skills are…remarkable. It's a shame that you are here in the capacity you are. I could have truly used a man like you to pull Hydra back together again."

Clint shrugged. "Well you could always undo my cuffs and we could discuss it."

Strucker smiled and shook his head. "I think not. I doubt that would be a healthy choice for either of us. No. Besides, what I want from you now, is much less about what you can do and much more about what is in your head."

Ah. So that's what this was. Clint had wondered if he was being led to his execution. It seemed instead it was to be an interrogation. He could deal with that. And it would buy him time and perhaps a chance later. Torture was hardly something one looked forward to, but when compared with what it could have been…

Mentally, he began to prepare himself.

Strucker was continuing to talk. "There are many things I'd like to know. Who sent you here for the scepter is one. But the most important information you can give is about Hydra's current, greatest threat: the Avengers. You've lived, worked and fought alongside them. The intel you could give would be invaluable. Pardon me, I meant the intel you will give."

"I gave intel on Avengers once before to a mad man. I'm not planning on doing it again."

"Yes…Loki and his scepter. Which perhaps you've forgotten, though you really shouldn't since it's what you came for, we have."

Clint looked up sharply, unable to control the sharp intake of breath. And then Strucker was laughing as if he'd just told the joke of the century.

"Oh Barton. Is it really so easy to break through that wall of yours? It will be far easier than I had expected to break you if that's the case. No, I admit, using the scepter to control your mind would be such a simple solution. Sadly, our scientists have yet to figure out how to unlock that particular aspect of the scepter's power."

Clint realized his heart was racing in a way that the prospect of his impending torture had not induced. He forced himself back in control.

"No," said Strucker, "we cannot use the scepter to control your mind. And while Wanda here," he gestured at the red haired girl, "has extraordinary power over the mind, its use for extraction of specific information is too uncertain yet and you too valuable an acquisition to serve as a lab rat."

"Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment."

"So you see," said Strucker, ignoring the interjection, "we will have to use more traditional methods to extract from you what we want. And I would advise you, to save yourself a lot of pain and give in now. It's not as if the Avengers will be shocked at the betrayal, will they?"

Clint's face remained impassive, but the comment hit home and stung. He hoped the Avengers would not believe he'd hand over to Strucker with the information he wanted, and feared they would.

I've given them little reason to doubt it.

"Now a man of your caliber," Strucker was saying, "requires methods to match. Thankfully, we have some extraordinary methods at this facility."

By this point the technicians had finished what they were working on and stepped back. Strucker turned and gestured at their work. It was a chair. At a glance Clint could not tell exactly what all its parts considered of, but it looked decidedly…unpleasant.

"We had to adapt it," said Strucker, taking on a confidential tone. "You see originally this chair did the exact opposite of what we require. It actually wiped the memories. Which obvious would be of very little use to us in this case. It was designed for the Winter Soldier. We had a number of these chairs placed at facilities throughout the world. For you know every now and then, the asset would require a reset. He worked more…smoothly that way. But Hydra engineers are nothing if not resourceful and imaginative. The pain this chair can cause is a symphony; it is a work of art worthy of the Louvre. And works of art should be appreciated, don't you agree?"

"I'm more a beer and football guy myself."

Strucker chuckled. "You amuse me Barton. So this will be a real pleasure for me." He nodded towards two of the nearby guards. "Put him in the chair." As Clint was strapped in, Strucker added: "The memory features have been removed; the pain will be very much the same. I have never experienced the chair firsthand, but I did once have the pleasure of seeing the asset in it. A man who lost one arm, had a metal one fused in without anesthesia and underwent Dr. Zola's tender loving care, found the pain unbearable. We're both in for a treat Barton." He turned to the man stationed at the controls. "Turn it on."

Wanda started as the first scream echoed around the room. Pietro reached for her hand. She stood and watched, her hand gripping his, until fifteen minutes had passed and she could not bear it anymore. She turned her back, and listened to the screams as she continued to hold her brothers hand.