F is for Frail

"Let's start with something easy, shall we?" A cool voice sounded in her ears, but she couldn't quite focus on the face. "Tell me, Miss Lewis, how do you feel?"

Frail. Fragile. Flimsy. Darcy tried to pull her mind back into some kind of order, tried to stay quiet. "Floaty?"

Damn it.

The drugs coursed through her system. She could almost feel the burn of them in her brain, dragging at her. She felt like she was one step back from her body, watching everything, but unable to control anything. A hand patted her arm. It felt like a slap, but she couldn't move. Her mind skittered away from the touch.

The cool voice came again. "What is your full name?"

"Darcy Marie Lewis." It came out slowly, like it was being dragged across wet cement.

"Good, good, excellent, Miss Lewis."

Doctor Harland…jackass…mad scientist…oh yeah, now she remembered the face. Cold eyes…cold, cold eyes…damn it, she needed to focus. What the hell had he given her?

"The Veridicos drugs appear to be affecting the subject," he continued in a monotone. "Subject clearly has no desire to answer questions, but seems unable to resist. Answers are slower than normal; subject's personality may prove more resistant to drugs than normal. Future experimentation slated if possible to test varying levels of the drug mixture."

She didn't like the sound of that. Who was he talking to?

He moved into her line of sight. He reached out and pinched her arm. She whimpered. The small pinch caused a sharp burst of pain, but she couldn't move. He spoke into a recorder. "Subject shows no physical reaction to contact." He looked at her face. "You clearly felt the pinch, Miss Lewis."

"Hurt."

"Why did you not react? Pull away in some manner?"

"Couldn't move." Frustration built up as she found herself unable to resist answering.

His lips curved in a pleased smile. "Excellent." He lifted the recorder. "Subject confirms previous experiments. The combination of hyper-ketamine, venom, and the Erskine excipient has proven an effective method of both control and chastisement. The new dosage has rendered the subject incapable of the majority of her voluntary movements while still allowing verbal responses. It is recommended for future use as the higher levels of pain at lower levels of interrogation should provide a more efficient return for time spent."

He stepped out of her sight. She tried to follow his movement, but her body still would not respond to her. He could release all of the straps right now and it would do her no good. She was trapped in her own body. She could barely move her jaw to answer his questions.

She could hear him talking, but it was too low for her to make out any words. After several minutes he returned to stand over her. "If I were you, Miss Lewis, I would answer our questions and then remain useful to the science department." His clinical voice and detached expression terrified her more than the most vicious of threats. "Should we cease to find you valuable, we have orders to turn you over to security." He gave a tiny shrug. "I do not believe you would find their plans or their company…agreeable." A loud crash brought his head around. "Now what?"

He walked out of her view. She heard the door slam open. The sounds of gunshots, fighting, assailed her ears. Another closer, but quieter crash ended with a garbled cry.

"Darcy!"

She knew that voice. She couldn't look, but she knew that voice.

A shadow moved into her vision. It drew closer and coalesced into a form she recognized.

She smiled. "Hey, Cap." Her voice sounded broken, soft even in her own ears.

"We're going to get you out of here." The pure conviction in Steve's voice relaxed the tight knot inside her. A tear slid free and trickled out of the corner of her eye. He reached towards her.

"No," she breathed out.

He frowned and pulled back. His eyes scanned her. "What is it?"

Another face came into view before she could answer.

"Tasha."

"Darcy." Natasha gripped her arm. She jerked away when a small moan slipped out of Darcy's throat. The green eyes went dark with concern. "What?"

Darcy's lips twisted. "Drugs." She took a breath. "Can't move." Another breath. "Touch hurts."

"Who did this?" Steve asked.

"Mad scientist." She gave a soft sniff. "Harland." She blinked. "Was here…headed towards the door when we heard the crash."

Natasha moved away, but Darcy could still hear her in the room. She heard a ripping sound and then Natasha was back. The red-head held up an identification card. "Is this him?"

Darcy forced herself to focus. "Yeah." Her sight went a little hazy, and she blinked to try and bring them back in focus. "That's him." Her eyes shifted to Steve. "I don't feel so good." A long, slow blink darkened things and when they came into view once more, the concern in their faces had grown.

"Darcy," Natasha leaned over her. "Darcy, I need you to stay awake, okay? I'm not going to lie to you, it's going to be hard and it's going to hurt, but we have to get you to a doctor and you have to stay awake."

"Tired, Tash."

A strange look flickered over the spy's face at Darcy's use of Clint's nickname for her. "I know, little sister, I know." She brushed a lock of Darcy's hair back. "Try for me, okay?"

"'kay," Darcy mumbled. She tried to hold back the whimpers as they released the straps holding her down. She focused on Steve's shield, Tasha's hair, any point of color or brightness or movement she could see to try and stay awake.

She was losing the battle.

"I'm going to pick you up now, Darcy," Steve stated quietly.

Her breath stuttered. "Okay."

"Everything's going to be alright," he encouraged her.

He picked her up.

Agony flared across her body. She managed to strangle the scream as he began moving. She wanted to pass out. In some ways, she needed to pass out.

She forced herself to stay awake. Tasha had told her to, and she wouldn't have if it wasn't important.

Each jolt of movement, each sudden connection caused its own torture. Tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She stayed quiet. They couldn't fix her, and they couldn't stop.

She wanted the pain to stop.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted to see everyone.

She wanted that damn spice mocha.

Oh, God, she wanted the pain to stop.

Everything went hazy, soft. The edges of her vision grew dark. The world and all its voices slowly faded away. She gave in and welcomed the darkness.