The feel of metal around his wrists was the first thing Spencer became aware of as he regained consciousness. It was by far one of the worst ways he could've woken up. The feel of cold metal around his wrists, of the uncomfortable bed underneath him, and the beeping sound going around him, all of it spelled out one thing, one terrifying thing-he was back in the labs. Horror gripped Spencer and had his whole body bucking up in the bed even as his eyes snapped open. No! No, he couldn't be back there, he just couldn't!

He remembered being tranq'd, but hadn't that been… wasn't that Damien who did it? Or was that wrong?

His struggles only made the metal bite into his wrists even more, which sent Spencer's panic up even higher. Unknown to him, his powers were lashing out, an almost debilitating terror shoving out around him, pushing through all of medical and dropping more than one staff member to their knees. And this new power, the one he hadn't even known was there, it started to pulse, making the objects around the room start to vibrate and shake. Every bit of Spencer was vehemently protesting his capture. He wasn't going to go back to being an experiment again. He just wasn't!

The doors to his room burst open and people came stumbling in, tripping over themselves as they fought against something, trying to make their way to the bed. Spencer thrashed even harder in his efforts to get free. When one got close, he snarled, a feral sound that sent the person stumbling back.

He had to get out of here! Terrified, Spencer did the only thing he could think of to do and he flipped that internal switch until he became she. Then, with her wrists just a bit smaller, she was able to slip out of the cuffs. The doctors weren't prepared for it as she launched up out of the bed.

The only thing that saved her, and the medical staff, was the presence of one single man storming his way into the room as if he owned the place.

Phil Coulson marched in without a single hitch in his step or an ounce of worry in his emotions. "Everyone, clear the room." His voice was firm and steady. Perfectly in control. There wasn't a part of him that didn't seem controlled in that moment.

It was exactly what Spencer needed. She froze, half on the bed and half off, her eyes locked right on him. There was no one out there who could do that good of an imitation of Phil. Nor could anyone imitate the way a mental and emotional signature felt to her. This was really Phil. Calm, steady, dorky, deeply caring, Phil. The man that Clint trusted not only with his own life, but with Laura's, and with Spencer's. The man who Natasha liked to joke was Clint's father figure, and therefore Spencer's grandfather, and who had threatened them all calmly while the trio had laughed uproariously and yet, had felt a tiny bit pleased at being included.

This was really Phil. He was here. And if he was here, that meant that she wasn't there. This… this had to be SHIELD.

Everyone else left the room at Phil's command. By the time he was standing in front of her it was just the two of them in there. Spencer stayed frozen in place as Phil came to a stop right in front of her. "Phil." There was a tiny tremor in Spencer's voice she absolutely hated, yet couldn't stop. She fought to keep it out of there as she asked "What happened?"

"Agent Burke felt you were out of control and no longer capable of making rational decisions." The way that Phil said it, the small twist in his emotions, made it clear to her just how stupid he found that, and how irritated it made him. Not as much as his next words did, though. "When you went to shoot Dr. Scott Lockett, Agent Burke took you down with tranquilizers to prevent you from killing him. They then collected you, Dr. Lockett, the lab assistants, and the people that were being experimented on, and called for transport. You were kept sedated until your arrival here exactly one hour and two minutes ago."

Shock had Spencer's mouth falling open. Damien had really… he'd tranq'd her? He'd really, seriously shot her with a tranquilizer and then proceeded to keep her under until they got here?

Then the rest of it sunk in. Horror had Spencer's eyes going wide. They'd brought Scott back here. He was here, on base, at SHIELD. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She was going to be sick. She was going to throw up right here on Phil's shoes.

A hand came to rest on Spencer's shoulder. It brought to her attention that she'd bent forward and was hyperventilating a bit. "Breathe, Spencer." Phil said, keeping his hold on her shoulder. "You need to breathe before you pass out."

"How bad is it?" She gasped out. When he didn't answer, she sucked in a breath and made herself look up. Her glare didn't pack its usual power; it was hard to be intimidating when you were wheezing. But it had enough warning in it to let him know she wasn't in the mood to screw around. "Phil—how bad is it?"

For a moment Phil stared at her. Then he sighed. His hand tightened just a little more on her shoulder. "He wasn't quiet on his flight back here. He told plenty about who you are, about what they'd done to you. About how they made you and the programming he'd personally put into you. And Agent Eun has been… more than willing to share those facts."

Which meant that everyone knew, now. Everyone knew the things he'd been saying. For some, they might give Spencer a chance to defend herself. But most of them wouldn't care about any kind of defense Spencer had. This would just be confirmation of the negative thoughts they'd already had about her. Not that there was any sort of defense Spencer could give. Dr. Scott wouldn't need to make up lies to paint a horror story of Spencer's past. "I need to go." Spencer whispered. The words were torn from her, yet she knew they were true. She had to go.

Phil nodded like he understood. Then spoke as if he didn't understand at all. "Clint should be arriving within the hour. I can arrange for him to meet you at your apartment if you wish. Or you can head to Natasha's quarters and wait for her arrival. By last check in, I'd estimate she'll arrive in the next five to ten minutes."

There was no point in telling Phil that she hadn't meant 'go' as in 'leave the medical bay'. She'd meant it in a much larger way. He likely knew that and was choosing to ignore it. Spencer didn't have the energy or the mental capacity to argue it right then. Every inch of her was screaming Go, go, go, go, gogogogogogogo.

When she climbed up to her feet, Phil didn't stop her. Nor did he stop her when she walked right past him. She started out at a walk; chin held high, refusing to look at anyone as she passed them. The more people that stared at her, the quicker her footsteps became.

When she moved from walking to running, she didn't know, only that suddenly her feet were pounding the ground and her chest was heaving as she ran and ran and ran. It was both surprising and yet not when she found herself at the door to Natasha's room. Clint wasn't here, he didn't have a room here anymore, and neither did she. Natasha's was the safest place to be. It was the only place she could think to go with her control as shaky as it was. She couldn't break down where anyone could see her and she could feel it building, a breakdown like she'd refused to let herself have. All because of him.

Spencer let herself into Natasha's rooms on autopilot. She hurried in, hands shaking so bad she could barely turn the knob. Need to get inside, get out of sight, away from anyone. Go, go, go, go. She kicked the door shut behind her and raced across the room, straight towards the safest place she had. The one place that Natasha and only Natasha knew about.

They'd both disabled the cameras in Natasha's suite ages ago, and made sure they stayed that way, so no one would've seen what Spencer ended up doing to the closet in the hall between bedroom and living room. No one would've seen how Spencer had made a small movable panel in the ceiling, one that took her up into a crawlspace that wasn't really that large. It was just enough space for Spencer to have made a small nest up there. She grabbed the blankets off the top shelf of the closet as she went and pulled them in with her. Then she burrowed down into them and, finally free from everyone, let herself break just the slightest bit.

There was no one to see her as she curled up there in the dark and held herself tight enough to leave bruises if she didn't heal so fast.

Here, in her safe little nest, she held on tightly and yet still tried her best to keep the tears from falling. Memories she'd worked so hard to avoid were playing in high-def in her head. Scott had been a major part of her life before she'd come here. He'd been in charge of her powers, all of them. The ways that he'd tested them… Spencer gagged, though there was nothing in her stomach to bring up. He couldn't be here. He just couldn't! The implications of what he'd told to others, how it would impact her life here, those were things she couldn't even begin to think about yet. She was too caught up in the sheer terror of the idea that he was on the same base as her little family. What if he got free? What if he came for one of them? She thought of what he might do to Natasha, to Clint, to Jason or Phil, and her panic soared even higher until she was gasping in breaths.

A familiar sensation tugged at the edges of Spencer's mind. Natasha. The mental and emotional signature that made her up in Spencer's mind. Feeling it broke through just a small piece of her panic; enough for her to feel and notice it. When she did, she shamefully latched on, clutching it tight to her. It was a sensation she had a hard time describing. Natasha...Natasha was the rainforest on a warm day, with a hint of a storm off in the distance, and the potential for something dangerous with each step. She was the soft warmth of a river, ever flowing and always changing, and the threat of dangerous rapids just up ahead. She was passion and control; fear and doubt. She was a love so strong it was humbling and yet, tamped down, hidden like some secret even from herself.

The fact that Spencer could feel her that openly meant that Natasha knew she was here. After Spencer taught her how to make empathic shields, she rarely left herself open, and almost never left herself this open. She was doing it to let Spencer know that she was here, that she wasn't a threat.

It was probably a good idea, too. Spencer didn't uncurl or even try to attack when the little panel slid open and Natasha climbed right up into the nest with her.

Touch wasn't something that Natasha—or Spencer, really—was good at. But she was good at understanding what it was that Spencer needed sometimes. All it took was one look and the woman moved through the tight space until she was right at Spencer's side. Their hips pressed together as Natasha settled in—facing their entrance, of course. She was letting Spencer know that she was there and she would stand guard. The knife that appeared in her hands made that even clearer.

This wasn't the first time Natasha had stood guard for her. She'd done it when Clint wasn't around and Spencer had one of her more terrifying nightmares. Clint had done the same as well. He'd sat by her while she'd tried to calm down enough to sleep, his bow in hand and arrow near enough to grab in an instant. There was something extremely soothing about having someone she trusted watch out for her like that.

Having it now gave Spencer enough strength to slowly get her breathing back under control. Eventually, her heart stopped trying to break out of her chest, and each breath didn't feel like she was being shredded from the inside out.

It was only then that Natasha spoke. She didn't go for platitudes or questions. Instead, she calmly told Spencer "Phil was in his office when I arrived. He was still there when I left. Jason is still with the BAU, so he's not on base. Clint hasn't arrived yet, and Phil assured me he'd intercept him as soon as he arrived and detain him safely in his office until you're ready to see him. And I personally checked out Lockett's security. He's in detention cell 1 and has none of the necessary skills to attempt a break out."

The simple statement of facts eased a bit more of Spencer's tension. Detention cell 1 was made to hold people like, well, like Natasha or Spencer. Someone like Scott wouldn't be able to just break out of there. He was secure. So was everyone else that was important to her. They were all as safe as they could be at the moment.

"How much did he tell you?" Spencer whispered into the darkness.

"Everything."

Of course he had. Phil was thorough like that. He wouldn't have let Natasha come in here without knowing what it was she was going to face. Plus, Spencer had given permission a while back for Jason—and by extension, Phil, when he would take over as her handler while Jason was gone—to share any important information with Clint and Natasha. She'd been surprised to know that it wasn't just being shared, before. Privacy was a sort of foreign concept to her.

Spencer licked her lips and tightened her arms around her waist. Her knees drew up closer to her chest. "I couldn't kill him." The words were soft, just barely there, yet she knew her friend would hear them. "I wanted to. I really did. I don't care if they punish me for what I did-I wanted to kill him so badly. But even if Burke hadn't tranq'd me, I wouldn't have been able to kill Scott. I tried and I just… I physically couldn't. I never have been able to."

A low humming sound came from Natasha. "It's not uncommon in programs like we went through. They need a way to make sure we don't take out any important players."

She spoke so casually of it; it had Spencer relaxing a bit without even realizing it. "My powers prevented them from fully programming me." She admitted. It was the first time she'd said it out loud. Somehow, it seemed easy to do here in the dark. Natasha would understand, she knew. She was probably the only one that would. "They were able to do enough to keep me from being able to kill them to escape, but any of the commands they wanted to put never lasted more than a week. My powers seem to… overwrite them."

"A good skill to have."

"He… he told everyone, Tashi. The whole base is going to, to know what I was. Am." When she lifted her gaze, her eyes were clear and dry. The tears would come later, somewhere else. Here, there was only a cold practicality that ran deep and hurt like nothing she'd ever known. "I won't be able to stay here."

Sadness and understanding showed in Natasha's eyes. "I know."

And she did. She saw exactly what Spencer saw. They both knew there was no way Spencer would be able to work on a team with anyone here now. Too many people had heard Scott's words. The things that he'd said, the way that Spencer hadn't been able to deny it, they would remember that and they'd spread it around the base quickly. Any trust she'd built with these people the last few years, it was going to be shattered. They wouldn't want to be anywhere near her now that they knew some of the truth about her past.

That was the worst part of it. This was only some of the truth about her. It wasn't all of it—wasn't even the worst of it. Spencer had done worse than Scott had said. So much worse. This whole thing… it was going to ruin her.

Letting out a shaky breath, Spencer leaned forward and pressed her forehead to her knees. "I don't know what to do, Tashi. I want… I want…" Spencer paused, making a frustrated noise low in her throat. Even after all this time, and all the effort Clint, Natasha, and now Laura, had put into trying to help her, it was still so hard for Spencer to voice her wants. She couldn't help herself. Wants were things that were used against you; promised and then taken away. Wanting anything had been tortured out of her. To voice them now, it was so damn hard, especially with her brain still stuck so much in the past.

Natasha understood that. She understood it better than anyone Spencer had known. After all, she'd had the same sort of treatment. "All right, malen'kiy voin." She said easily, giving a small nod. She didn't make it seem like it was a big deal or anything, for which Spencer could've kissed her in gratitude. Like always, she remained calm, and she broke it down for Spencer in simple, easy terms. "It doesn't all need to be figured out right now. Right now, he's secure, and we have time to handle everything."

She was right. He was secure; they could take their time to figure this out.

"Let's focus on what we can do first." Natasha continued, still in that same calm voice. "We can stay here for a while. No one knows we're here and no one could come in and bother us."

That sounded great, but it wasn't what Spencer wanted, and Natasha must've been able to see that because she nodded again and moved on.

"I could leave you here to relax until you feel safe enough to come down."

No, no. That had Spencer shaking her head quickly.

The knife in Natasha's hand flashed a little from the hint of light peeking up into their hideout. "We could stay right here until Clint gets here. Then the three of us can stay in my suite for as long as necessary

Now that… that held a lot of appeal. Spencer wouldn't have to leave the safety of her nest yet, a huge plus, and once Clint got here the three of them could stay safely hidden in Natasha's rooms where no one would be able to get at them, because no one got into Natasha's rooms that she didn't want there. But… tilting her head a little, Spencer peeked over at the woman beside her. "You won't… leave?"

The soft words created what felt like a warm breeze through Natasha's emotional signature. That breeze blew over to Spencer and wrapped around her, soothing away some of the ache inside. "Only to get food, lapushka." Natasha promised.

It wasn't ideal, but Spencer supposed she could accept it. She knew Natasha would do her best to get food and come right back. Then, they'd all be in here together. Nodding her head, Spencer settled in once more, waiting for the rest of her family to return.

The two were still in their hiding spot when Spencer picked up on the presence she hadn't even realized was getting closer. Feeling Natasha's emotions so close had kept her from focusing on anything else. Yet she felt it now and her head shot up just seconds before there was a knock at the front door.

Natasha didn't have to ask who it was. Spencer's reaction was enough of an answer for that. The two moved out of their hiding spot, Natasha first, and then the older woman went to answer the door. Spencer was just stepping out of the closet when she heard Clint's voice demanding "Where is she?"

The tremors that Spencer had fought to hold at bay came roaring back to the forefront. Every fear, every insecurity, every trembling and terrified part of her, all the things that made her feel weak and childlike, they all broke free past her control at just the sound of that voice. Spencer stepped out of the hallway and looked over to the person she knew she could always trust to catch her if she fell. Looking at him, she couldn't stop the word that slipped past her lips, a word that had somehow moved from the joke it'd started as into something… more. Something real. "Abbu."

Clint's eyes shot her direction. One look and he was clearing the room. Spencer barely even saw it happen. Just, one second he was near the door and the next he was right beside her and she was being gathered up in his arms. Clint pulled her in close with one arm and with his other hand he firmly cupped the back of her neck and held there while she buried her face against the side of his neck. Spencer lifted her own arms and flung them around his neck. There, she held on, her whole body shaking while the last threads of her control slowly frayed until she knew they were seconds away from snapping.

A slender, gentle hand ran over the back of her head, smoothing back her hair. "I'm going to speak with Phil and get us some dinner. I'll be back in no longer than thirty minutes." Natasha murmured to Clint.

She could feel it as the archer nodded. "I'm holding you to that."

There was one more gentle touch to Spencer's head, discreet in that way of theirs that showed just how little Natasha was used to giving or receiving comfort. Then the hand was gone and Spencer felt Natasha's walls slowly draw around her until there was almost nothing left to leak free. Only then did the sound of the door opening and then closing fill the room.

As soon as the door shut, Clint was turning to press his face in against Spencer's hair and making a soft shushing sound. "I got you, squirt. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, but I'm here now. I gotcha."

Spencer hated the pathetic little sound she made when Clint started to move them. He shushed her again and kept moving. He didn't let go, though, so that was okay. So long as he kept holding on Spencer was willing to let him move wherever he wanted to. When she felt him start to sit, she bent with him and didn't argue it when he pulled her to sit in his lap and not beside him. This wasn't the first time she'd curled up in his lap. Of course, it'd only happened before when she'd just had a nightmare or was overloading, but this was close enough to that. Only this time, it wasn't other peoples' emotions she was overloading on—it was her own.

She didn't know what to do with this. She held him tighter and pressed in as close as she could, but it didn't completely take away the burning feeling in her eyes or the ache in her chest. Her breath was hitching again, shredding her throat like there were knives in there, and she swore she could hear the sound of her own heart. Part of her mind knew what was happening—a panic attack. She just couldn't seem to do anything about it.

"Shit." Clint breathed out lowly. His grip shifted, cradling her a bit gentler than before. "All right, sprout. You're all right. We've been here before. This is just a shitty fucking panic attack, that's all. You're all right. You're going to be all right."

The breathing exercises that some of the SHIELD staff had recommended for these things never really worked for Spencer. What she and Clint had discovered did work was giving her something to hold on to amidst the panic. Her powers weren't always in control mid-panic, so she couldn't hold on with them. But she could hold on to the sound of Clint's voice.

She held on to it now as Clint launched into a story about the remodel he and Laura were doing to the farm. It involved a lot of power tools, some paint, and what sounded like one hell of a mess. Spencer listened to it and focused on the sound of his voice, the faint hint of a Midwestern sound to his words that only came out around people he was really comfortable around.

Little by little Spencer got her breathing under control again. As she did, she was mortified to realize that her face was wet. Oh, God, she'd actually cried? It was hard to remember the last time she'd unintentionally done that. Shame burned low in Spencer's gut. She curled her body in a little, turning to press her face against him a little more, and a slightly mortified sound— that was definitely not a whimper, thank you very much— left her lips.

Clint turned his head in enough to press a kiss against her hair. "I hope you realize just how much I'm resisting the urge to point out how adorable you look right now." There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Spencer scowled and purposely wiped her face side to side against his shirt. "Technically, you just did."

Most people probably would've made some comment about how gross it was for her to wipe her face on their shirt. Hell, she would've made that comment at any other time. However, Clint just curled one hand over the back of her head and tilted her enough that he could bring up the hem of his shirt with his other hand so he could use it to wipe at her face. Spencer couldn't help snorting out a laugh. "That's disgusting."

"Says the kid who already wiped their nose on my shirt." Clint pointed out. He swiped his shirt under her nose, chuckling when she jerked back from it.

"Shut up." Spencer grumbled. She let him finish wiping her face, though.

A bit calmer now, Spencer drew her arms down from his neck and curled them up towards her chest. She was sideways in his lap, the side of her head on his shoulder, and she brought up one of her hands to rest over his heart. It felt good to sit there with him. Better even than when she'd sat in her nest with Natasha. There was a comfort here that came nowhere else. Spencer drew in a deep breath and, as she let it out, her body slumped down against Clint a little more. "I take it Phil told you what happened?"

"Yeah. I haven't heard him that pissed off in a long time." Clint said, voice hard and flat. He must've felt Spencer's flinch at those words because he started to rub at her arm. "Oh, hey, no, don't start that. He's not mad at you. None of us are. Now, Burke on the other hand…" Something dark entered Clint's tone there and made it clear just how he felt about that.

Funny enough, the idea that Damien had knocked her out didn't bother her anywhere near as much as anything else. She was sort of used to the idea that people couldn't be trusted. It was something she'd carried with her each time she worked with someone outside the 'family'.

Clint sighed and rubbed his one hand over her thigh. "I heard Phil's side of things, but we both know what comes over the comms isn't always the best." He paused, then, "Can you tell me what happened?"

Immediately she shook her head.

He didn't seem all that surprised by it. Tipping his head, he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "Can you show me what happened?"

That was an offer Clint had started making after some of her nightmares. Sometimes she couldn't put things into words. However, she could use her powers and show him. She didn't like to do it often; if she wasn't careful, too much emotion came through with it all, and usually after a nightmare she didn't have all the necessary control to be careful. Plus, there were just some things she didn't want him to know. This time, though? This time, she needed him to know, because she needed him to help her figure out what to do. So, with a soft nod, Spencer reached out to the familiar presence of Clint's mind and she… showed him. She showed him everything of the mission, straight up to when she raced from medical to Natasha's door.

By the time she was done, Clint's body had gone tense. "Fuck." He breathed out, once she was done. "Fuck. He fucking tranq'd you?"

Of course that was going to be the part that Clint got stuck on. Of course it was. He wouldn't focus on anything else, on the things Spencer had done or the people she'd killed, or how she'd gone just a bit crazy. He wasn't even focusing on the asshole from her past whose presence was going to ruin everything. No, he focused straight on the person who had done something to hurt her in his eyes. The one he could still physically get his hands on. A startled laugh bubbled up inside Spencer. She let it out softly, turning her face in to nuzzle just a little better at his neck. "God, Abbu… don't ever change."

"Don't plan on it." Clint quipped easily, his smile evident in his voice. "If it hasn't happened by now, I doubt it's gonna anytime soon." There was a brief pause, and then, "Does that mean you're not going to freak out if I have a little chat with him…"

Spencer cut him off quickly. "Don't even."

"Figures. You're ruining my fun, I hope you know."

"It's what I live for."

The dry response had Clint chuckling. Even Spencer smiled a little. Teasing with Clint always set her at ease. Staying here in his lap helped. There was still a part of her that said that she shouldn't do this, that it was weird and wrong and just… something she shouldn't do. Touching people was something she shouldn't—wasn't supposed—to do. But, Clint had told her before it was all right. She figured it must be one of those weird things she kept discovering that was all right around him but not with anyone else.

The two were still sitting like that when Natasha came back in. She didn't flinch, not in body or thoughts or emotions, at the sight of them. She just came in and shut the door behind it, clicking the locks into place before she made her way over with the tray of food she carried. It was set down on the coffee table right by them. The woman folded herself down onto the other end of the couch. She didn't shy away from them; instead, she sat in her seat with one leg drawn up towards her and the other extended enough that her foot brushed against Spencer's.

"So," Natasha said, taking a plate of burgers and fries off the tray and handing it over to Clint—one plate for both him and Spencer, as if she'd just known. "What's the plan?"

That was cutting right to the chase. Spencer sighed and slumped a little in her seat. Because she knew it'd appease Clint a bit, she reached out and picked up a fry. "I can't stay here." It was the same words she'd said earlier.

Neither one argued with her. In fact… "You'll come home with me." Clint announced. He said it like it was just some forgone conclusion. Setting the plate on Spencer's lap, he adjusted his one arm around her and shifted her enough to better be able to sit up and eat. His other hand was already scooping up his own burger half. "Laura will love the company and you know I always want you around. Going there will give you peace and it'll give us time and distance to really figure out what we're going to do."

'We', not 'you'. Spencer smothered a smile at that word choice. Be serious. It's not time for this! That reminder had any urge to smile melting away. She reached out and picked up one of the fries, studying it for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "I understand tactical retreats, but are you sure it's the best option? We've be leaving him here where he's free to say or do just about anything. We won't be able to stop anything, only deal with it after the fact."

"Coulson will be here." Natasha said.

Unspoken was the fact that they trusted him to watch out for them. All three of them did. They trusted him to keep an eye on things for them.

Spencer nibbled on her fry as she listened to Clint and Natasha plan out what would need to be done for all three of them to take some time off. Natasha seemed sure that Phil would make sure she and Clint had the time off, and that he might be able to help them get it past Fury for Spencer to be off base for a while. Naturally, they'd probably want to keep her around because of all this. Spencer ignored the plans the two built on how to get her out if there was trouble. She had faith they'd figure out how.

What she needed to figure out was what she wanted to do about Scott. Curled in against Clint, safe and secure for the moment, Spencer listened to her friends while, inside, she built a plan.

Her plan was ridiculously easy to start. All she had to do was wait until her two personal guards fell asleep. Clint went first, and Natasha was nudged along next. Spencer shamelessly used a bit of empathy to project sleepiness to them. Then, once they were under, she used a bit more to make sure they'd stay under long enough for her to get out of the room at least.

From there it was even easier to get down to Scott's cell. By the time she was on the detention floor and outside his room, the only place she didn't know how to avoid cameras, she was sure she was ready for what she was about to do. The minute she'd stepped in front of the door a timer had started, she knew. A countdown of how long it would take for someone to get to her. With as far away as the guards would be—and really, she should write up a report for Fury to let him know that just because they had great electronic shields didn't mean they should trust them so completely, considering how easily they were fooled—she had five minutes and twenty seven seconds, give or take three seconds, to get in and do what she wanted before people would arrive to stop her. With her inside the room, and the door between them, it'd grant her another twenty seven seconds. Forty three if she could jam something against the door.

Spencer licked her lips and moved quickly to get the door open. As she moved, her internal timer started to count down, letting her know just how long she'd been going and how much time she had left.

The door to Scott's cell slid open and Spencer moved quickly inside. What she found had her stomach clenching. Scott was sitting calmly on his bed, staring over at her with a smile on his lips and a satisfied look in his eyes. A look that made it clear he'd been expecting this. He'd expected her to come in here after him. To talk, or to get him out? The idea of him expecting her to free him-something she would've done without hesitation years ago-made her want to vomit.

"If it isn't my darling little lab mouse." Scott said pleasantly. He folded his hands in his lap and smiled up at her. "Hello, darling. Took you long enough."

Stay strong. Don't let him get to you. Stay STRONG. "I'm not here to play games." Spencer made her voice as cold and hard as she could make it. If there was ever a time to be Erinyes, now was it. It was the only thing she had that might keep her safe in here. "I'm here for answers, Scott."

The man didn't seem bothered in the least by that. He did, however, shake his head at her and click his tongue. "You've lost your manners, Erinyes. They've let you run free for too long, I suppose. You've forgotten your lessons."

She resolutely ignored the shiver she felt at the reminder of those 'lessons'. Her brain focused instead on the word choice of the rest of what he said. "Let me? You imply they even had a choice."

The smile on his face turned patronizing. She found herself fantasizing about punching it off of him. The idea was… satisfying. "Oh, little mouse. The fact that you think they didn't, or that you think you did… it's kind of adorable, in a sad sort of way."

Every inch of Spencer froze. Was he implying…no. No, it couldn't be. There was no way. And… and yet…it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. It was entirely plausible for the Facility to have allowed her to be here, while all the while somehow running a plan of their own. Spencer took a step forward every part of her was screaming threat now. Lesser people had cowered underneath that look. "What do you know?" She snarled at him. If there was a plan here, some kind of threat against her family, she was going to find out about it-no matter what.

Scott smirked. "So much, my dear. And more than you ever will."

"I won't let you touch them."

The words were out of her before she could stop them. Once said, she could've hit herself. Never show weakness. That was rule number one in her world. Admitting attachment to anyone-that was a huge weakness. One that Scott had absolutely no compunction about exploiting. He actually laughed as he looked up at her. "Oh, this is precious! Have you made friends, Erinyes? Real, actual friends?" He let out another laugh, just as terrifying as the last. Too many times she'd heard him laugh like that. It was never for good reasons. "Oh, Erinyes." Once more he was grinning at her. "I'm going to have so much fun once we get you back home. With you and your friends."

What Spencer did next wasn't something that she was proud of. The internal countdown told her how little time she had left, as did the sounds she could hear coming towards them, and the threat he made-not against her, but against her family-snapped the very last thread of control that she had. Spencer fell away and Erinyes took over completely. Cold practicality replaced fear inside of her. Not a single speck of hesitation showed as she stepped towards the man. In one fluid move she was on him-she pushed him down to the bed with a hand over his throat. There was no fear there, not yet. Not until she straddled his chest, knees pinning his arms, and her hands moved to either side of his head. Then she saw the fear. Inside, the dark part of her thrilled at the sight of it. "You really shouldn't have threatened them." Erinyes murmured.

Then, she reached.

What she did was something she didn't really have the words for. She tore through his shields like they were wet tissue and forced herself directly into his mind. The scream he let out was barely a concern. One hand moved to cover his mouth while the other slipped up to press palm flat against his forehead. Her eyes lost focus as all her attention turned inward.

Spencer dove through his memories and drew in every single one of them that she could. She didn't take them on as her own; no, instead, she pulled them in, pushing them to a part of her head that she carried other facts. Like he was a book or a puzzle she was drawing information from, she took all of it and put it into that section, like making a box titled 'Scott' and shoving everything inside. She took it all, leaving nothing behind.

It wasn't the first time she'd taken information from someone's mind. It was, however, the first time she willingly did something the Facility had only ever made her do once before-and something she'd refused to ever do again.

As she drew out of his mind, she wasn't gentle, wasn't kind. She didn't mask her presence or minimize the damage. Instead, she let loose her powers and ripped him apart.

When she drew back, there was a part of her deep down inside that was still humane enough to want to recoil in horror at the sight of the man drooling underneath her with empty, vacant eyes. The rest of her was satisfied. There was nothing left of the man that had been Scott Lockett. Everything he was, everything he had been, was now gone, ripped apart as Erinyes had pulled away, leaving behind nothing more than an empty shell.

She rose up from the bed and stared down at the man who had been responsible for so much of her pain. And she smiled.

Erinyes was still in control as she turned and made her way to the door. What she felt out there had her tilting her head curiously. There wasn't a group of SHIELD agents out there-at least, there weren't more than two. Two who she hadn't expected to see. They should've still been sleeping down in their rooms.

The door slid open and Erinyes stared at the two people there waiting for her in full gear. Clint's eyes ran over her and then behind her, taking in everything, while Natasha looked at her as if she'd already understood it all. As if to prove that, the Black Widow gave her a small nod, one of understanding. Her voice was sharp and to the point. "We need to go." She said, shifting the duffle bag she held.

Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Getting far away from here.

"Spencer…" Clint began.

It was Natasha who cut him off. She gave a small shake of her head and repeated "We need to go." This time, she added, "We need to get to the streets. Once we're clear, I've got a car."

This was something Erinyes could do. She'd mapped out multiple exits from SHIELD a long time ago. It only took her three point five seconds to find the most likely one from their current location. With a gesture she signaled the two to follow her. Then she was moving on silent feet, ghosting forward and up to the wall where the nearest vent sat. Without a word, the other two followed.

It only took them eight minutes and two seconds to exit the SHIELD base and reach the streets. There, Erinyes handed over the lead to the Widow, who took them quickly and easily towards a getaway car. Erinyes wouldn't let them inside until she checked to make sure it was clear. Once she was sure, they all piled in, Widow driving and Clint taking the passenger's seat while Erinyes took the back.

The bags that Widow-and this was definitely Widow, not Natasha at the moment-tossed back held things like clothes, for all of them, and weapons. Erinyes gleefully pulled out her weapons and uniform from one bag. It felt good to have them back. She didn't put them on yet, just held them close, let them be near. Her hand curled around one gun and stayed there.

It's not like we need a weapon, her mind whispered. We are a weapon.

That thought made that strange place down inside of her quiver a little. She tried to push it down-they weren't safe yet! They were still on the road, trying to leave behind the scene of the crime, and they weren't yet safe, SHIELD was too strong to think this would hold them off for long-but that little part of her was pushing back, trying to grow bigger, and demanding control once more. Once, this had been a normal way of being for her-for them. The parts that were Spencer were shoved deep down inside and wrapped in a protective shell where nothing could hurt. The parts that were Erinyes took over. Erinyes was stronger. Erinyes could keep them safe. It was only with SHIELD-with Clint and Natasha-that she'd begun to learn how to let them be one in the same person.

Right now she couldn't afford that luxury. Right now, nothing else mattered except keeping Spencer and everyone else in this car safe. Later, she could let herself be human again, let herself feel. For now, she sat in the back of the car and watched, making sure no one followed them. "Where are we going?" She asked. It'd be good to know the location of their safe house.

Clint was the one to answer her. "Home." He turned to look at her, his eyes both sad and tired in that moment. "We're going home, kid."

It took a second for Erinyes to understand. Home. Such a foreign concept to her. What was home? For herself, she didn't know. But for Clint she knew it meant the farm. It meant Laura.

Erinyes tilted her head to study the archer. "Are you sure that's wise? I have a few fallback locations, many of which are in closer range."

"Until we're sure of how much we've been watched, assume they're compromised." Widow said. "The farm is the only location we're sure is safe."

The logic of it had Erinyes nodded. Without another word, she settled back into her seat and once more took up watch. They had at least 2,500 miles to drive, which could take anywhere from thirty two to thirty six hours, depending on speed and any stops they made. She would keep them safe until they arrived. Then, once they were there and the place was secure, then she would sit down and sift through all that new information and find out what exactly was going on.