Hello! I'm so very happy with how well this story has been received, and I love that you all like it! Note: in this chapter, there is a long flashback scene which is written in all italics. Thank you, and goodbye. -L

Skye POV

She rested her head against Steve's arm as Bucky stood across from him, holding her hand. The captain's arm shifted as he leaned over to whisper something to the other man. He looked down at Skye, nodded, and disappeared out of the room.

Seconds later, he reappeared in front of her window, talking to Bruce. They occasionally glanced at her, their faces grim. Eventually, Dr. Banner lifted his hand in front of Bucky, his mouth moving as he lifted each finger slowly. Skye realized he was counting something.

Her soulmate looked back at her, his face sewed with worry. He lifted his hands and put them on top of his head, something Skye had come to realize was his way of dealing with stress. That, and punching things. Punching a lot of things.

She caught a reflection of light off something on Bucky's arm, worrying her for a second, before she realized it was probably a watch. Either way, her eyes remained fixated on his arm.

That was, until, his arm moved to press against Bruce's shoulder, pushing him back. The doctor looked back at Bucky with shock, until he punched the younger man in his face. Skye gasped, and Steve followed her gaze. She looked up at him as he rolled his eyes and ran out of the room, her eyes moving back to Bucky. Their brief argument had become an all-out brawl, with her soulmates right in the middle. Steve pushed Bucky away, before grabbing his arm and pulling him aside. The other man resisted, causing the captain to grab him by the arm again, roughly, dragging him away this time. In all the turmoil, Steve's super-strength had ripped Bucky's shirt sleeve off, leaving him an awkward looking "half up half down" look. But also, an exposed arm.

A metal exposed arm. Her breathing sped up, thinking back to the last time she had seen an arm like that. But it couldn't be. It couldn't be, right?

Skye sat, bound to a chair in front of Whitehall, two guards beside her.

Where could she possibly go? How could she escape? Was her team even coming to get her?

His beady eyes looked at her, smiling when he saw the damage that his men had done. "Are you ready to tell us the coordinates now, or must we continue to make you cooperate?"

Skye hated that word. Cooperate. She sighed, realizing what must be done.

He bent down, staring at her, "What'll it be, sweetheart." Skye gagged, trying to hold back her lunch that threatened to overflow onto the man. Would that be so bad though?

"Never." She told him, her voice trying to mask the fear manifesting itself in her stomach.

"Ah. I hoped you would say that." She glared at him. If looks could kill, well, then she'd be responsible for mass murder.

He stood up, craning his neck to look away from her. "GUARDS! Bring in the soldier." Her heart rate picked up. She hoped he wouldn't be as bad as she imagined, but no one called "the soldier" could ever be a nice person.

On que, a man walked in. His hair looked like it hadn't been cut in a while, and he had a mask covering half his face. If those hadn't been red flags to her, though, his metal arm certainly was.

His eyes were glazed over, and his posture looked perfect.

The perfect soldier.

"Soldier?" Whitehall started, the unknown man turning to face him. "Do I need guards in here, or can you handle her on your own?"

The man glanced at her before turning to him, "I know my orders."

Whitehall grinned. "Perfect." He made hand motions towards the guards before he left the room, the remaining guards following him.

That left just the man, and her.

Skye wanted to say something. To make a snarky comment or a joke, but nothing came to mind. They had broken her.

No. She wasn't broken. Not yet, not ever. She just needed to focus. Pick up any hints as to where exactly she was.

Looking towards the man, she saw he had gone over to a corner, a set of squeaky wheels informing her that this was most likely torture. But, she had dealt with this before. She just needed to distract herself.

Her head tilted up, focusing on a small crack in a dim corner next to her. Just focus on the crack, Skye. Just. Focus. On. The. Ceiling.

She let out a scream as a knife plunged into her leg. She wanted to look down. She wanted her team. She wanted to be home.

FOCUS SKYE.

She blinked, slowly, staring back at the crack. The knife plunged into her other leg. And her arm. And her shoulder.

So, this was what torture felt like.

Skye thought to the present, trying to draw her mind out of the nightmare that was her past.

The world was dark and ominous with her eyes closed, Skye thought, but trying to open them felt too hard, so they stayed closed.

And the world remained ominous.

And life remained dark.