E is for Ether
Darcy moaned as pain splintered through her head.
"Good evening, Miss Lewis."
She cracked her eyes open to stare at an older man in a white coat standing over her. He should not look scary with his glasses, balding head, and short stature. He should look like any number of the SHIELD scientists who stayed buried in their labs all their lives. The frightening part came from his expression – impartial, indifferent, and remote.
She tried to move, but found herself strapped down.
"I would apologize for the rather drab surroundings-"
"Don't bother," she interrupted, trying for annoyance. "Who the hell are you?"
A cold smile settled on the man's face. "You may refer to me as Doctor Harland." He reached out and grasped her chin, forcibly turning her head. His other hand prodded at a sore spot behind her ear. She flinched and he stepped back. "The men were a little too anxious I think. We will need to wait a bit longer."
"For what?" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"We need some information, Miss Lewis," he answered with another chilly look. "Unfortunately the best drugs we have may not work properly with a head injury. We shall wait for another hour or so before beginning."
"You need information? Like what – my best brownie recipe? My filing system?" She rolled her eyes, hoping he would not notice her heart racing. "It's not like I've got much for someone."
"You are quite wrong, my dear," he said, tapping a finger on her cheek. She pulled back from his touch and a hint of cruelty threaded through the ice in his gaze. "We are after the Avengers." She started to reply, but he grasped her chin with bruising force. "Don't even try, Miss Lewis. We have been watching very carefully, and our organization has eyes even within the mighty SHIELD. You are central to the team. Even the most anti-social among them has been seen enjoying your company." He paused, staring at her. "I must admit to some admiration. I wonder what it is that has impressed both the reserved Black Widow and the aloof Winter Soldier?" Her eyes must have flickered or widened. "Yes, we are aware of the Avengers' newest acquisition. Do they truly trust him?" Then he shook his head. "Never mind for now; it is something to follow up on later. It will be interesting to find out."
"You won't-" she started, trying to force the words out despite his tight hold of her.
His hand tightened even more. She could not hold back the gasp of pain and his pitiless smile grew. "Oh, I think we will. I think you underestimate our abilities." He examined her once more. "What is it about you, hmm? Thor and Captain America are easily understood; they seem to like everybody. Hawkeye jokes with you while Iron Man has actually been known to actively listen to you. Impressive." He moved his face closer, still holding her painfully still, until he filled her sight entirely. "And why does the Hulk listen to you?" He continued staring at her with callous curiosity. "Phil Coulson, a man who has never seen the need for a full-time assistant, not only hires you, but makes you the key contact for his team." She tried to pull back, tried to become part of the table just to get away. He held her for a long moment before finally letting go and stepping back. She could feel the bruises forming on her jaw. His slight stature was deceptive. "You are an enigma, Miss Lewis. I never could pass up on a mystery." He brushed her hair back from her face. She could not decide which bothered her more – the fact that he touched her at all or his complete indifference as he did so. "We shall speak again soon, Miss Lewis. I believe it will be a most profitable conversation." He strode out.
She quivered and then tried to draw in a deep breath. All she could think of was her mother's old advise 'fake it until you make it'. "Now I know how a fly feels when the spider's looming," she muttered. Her head pounded. "Really?" she continued in the low whisper, trying to buoy herself with false bravado. "What ever happened to chloroform or ether?" She twisted, squirmed, all to no avail. They had her well and truly trapped.
She looked around the room, noting the blank walls, broken only by a single door, an air vent, and a large piece of one-way glass. She lay alone in a small cold room. It fit the clinical man who just left. She would call him a robot, but that seemed to be an insult to DUM-E.
God, all she had wanted was a spice mocha.
She wanted to go home. She really wanted to go home.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she forced them back. Not yet, it was too early for her to cry. She needed to hold on; she needed to give them time.
Her head hurt.
Darcy closed her eyes in supplication. "Okay team," she mumbled. "Now would be a good time for some thrilling heroics."