I am sorry that this chapter ends on a bit of a cliffhanger. I will do my best to upload another soon. I always love to hear from any and all readers, be it good, bad, or otherwise. It does a great deal to spur me forward. Please enjoy.
Clint might have been impressed had he not been more worried that a nearby resident might come out of their home and see him attack the girl. She had done a fair job of hiding. Unfortunately for her, it was an incredibly obvious spot, and Barton had a surprising amount of experience finding people that were good at hiding, among other things.
He might have also been impressed at the amount of fight the girl had in her, even as she gulped down the chloroform vapors and her clearly oxygen deprived blood swept it through her system. She had stayed partially conscious longer than he had expected, especially since she had been holding her breath for so long. Her hands even kept scrabbling weakly across his for a few seconds after he was certain she was unaware of anything else.
Clint had always admired the way the human body could push its own limits, especially with adrenaline coursing through it. The body could survive incredible trauma, deprivation, and stress. In Barton's experience, it was usually the will of the person that broke before their body did.
As he carried the unconscious girl back to the idling vehicle, the agent ran through his options. He could cruise around the area looking for where she had come from (or where she was going, more likely) until the girl recovered from the chloroform and could tell him exactly what he wanted to know; he could bring her back to S.H.I.E.L.D and risk losing his target; or he could bypass the formal S.H.I.E.L.D protocols and take her to a safe place of his own and get what he needed from her by himself.
Agent Barton decided that scouting the area until the girl came to was the most prudent option for now. Long term decisions could be made after that.
After loading the limp body into the passenger seat and driving a few blocks down, Barton turned down an alleyway and parked the car. Before anything else, he knew he had to make sure his captive was not a danger when she woke up. Using several zipties from the glovebox, Barton bound the girl's wrists together and to the plastic handle of the car door. Thinking back on previous experience, he decided that it would be wise to secure her ankles as well.
/
I felt wrong. My lungs burned, my head spun, my fingers were numb and tingly at the same time, and I just felt horribly wrong. I felt like I had fallen asleep in the middle of a movie. I was missing something important; I had some unfinished business. I decided to take an inventory to figure out what was wrong.
Fingers first. I was suddenly afraid that the tingling in my fingers might mean that they were not there. Carefully moving the tips of my fingers, I felt them touch a hard surface. Good, they were still where I needed them to be.
Next, my legs. After gathering my concentration enough to shift my legs a tiny amount, I could feel the position they were in. I could feel that I was sitting on a cushioned surface, but I couldn't figure out why.
Now that I felt comfortable that all of my appendages were still present and accounted for, I could work on figuring out what was going on outside my body.
Eyes. I needed my eyes for this. It seemed like an almost impossible task to open my eyes, and even more of a herculean effort to make them focus on anything. After a few moments of struggling to make out what I was looking at, I was able to make out a few shapes. I seemed to be leaning against the window of a car and staring down at the plastic handle.
I was beginning to feel much more in control of my body, but the fog of confusion still permeated my brain. Lifting my head a bit, I was able to see my arms out in front of me. They were resting on the plastic handle of the car door seemingly of their own accord. I puzzled over his for a few more moments.
Then all in one great rush, I realised how much trouble I was in. An amused sound from the space next to me made me jump and press myself against the car door in surprise. Being unable to bring my hands up in front of me just added to my terror. Barton was leaning casually against the steering wheel, watching with vague amusement.
/
Clint was almost worried that the girl would not wake up for a long time, almost. It had been nearly forty minutes since she had succumbed to the chloroform, and he was getting impatient. He must have misestimated how long the girl had been holding her breath while she was hiding. Without the oxygen in her blood, her cells would have leapt at the chance to fill the gaps with chloroform molecules.
When the girl finally showed signs of coming to, he pulled into a nearby alley and waited for her to fully wake up. He couldn't help but chuckle at her jerky movements and the way her brows knitted together in confused concentration. When she jumped at the noise he made, Clint decided that she looked very much like a startled rabbit, suddenly frozen in hopes that it would not be seen.
/
I stayed pressed uncomfortably close to the plastic curves of the door, unable to speak and painfully aware that my hands and feet were immobile. My heart threatened to pound straight through my ribcage.
Barton waited a while before speaking. Just long enough that the uncontrollable and blind terror had begun to be replaced by the deeper terror of logic and understanding. Struggling was not going to save me right now. I had to deal with whatever it was Barton might want as a human not as an animal.
"Well," Barton began almost casually. "Now that you are awake, I want you to tell me where it is that you are staying?" Barton started the car, making me jump again. He pulled out of the alleyway and drove to the spot where he had found me walking. Pulling over to the side of the road, he looked at me pointedly. "Which house were you going back to?"
My gut clenched and I bit my tongue. I knew that I could not tell him where I was headed or I would render everything that everyone had done to help Loki and I escape, completely pointless. I owed it to Tony, Natasha, Darcy, Steve, and even to Loki to keep that secret safe. I didn't want to sacrifice myself, but I knew that I had to. Everyone else had already sacrificed so much. Now it was my turn to do my part.
Barton still seemed to be waiting for my answer and it took most of my courage to shake my head in response. He shifted slightly and I curled into myself unconsciously. I stared at the white plastic ties that were pulling on my wrists.
/
Barton sighed as Elizabeth refused to look at him. He knew he had to get her to acknowledge him or there was no chance that he would get the information he needed.
In his most gentle tone he said "Elizabeth, look at me, please." At the same time, he leaned a little forward and placed his hand slowly on the edge of her seat, just within her peripheral vision. She raised her head just enough to look at him cautiously over her shoulder. Still moving as slowly and unthreateningly as he could, Barton raised his palms to her in an almost pleading gesture. "Elizabeth, please. I just want to help."
She seemed to relax a little bit and Barton decided to push on. "I want to help you, but you have to tell me which house you are staying at." Barton watched Elizabeth's brows push together and tears began to gather in her eyes. "Please Elizabeth," he urged. "You have to tell me."
Elizabeth scrunched her eyes closed and took a couple of hitched breaths. Barton waited with dwindling patience. He watched as a few tears trailed own her cheeks and she twisted her wrists against the zipties halfheartedly. Then she choked back a sob and shook her head feebly.
Barton sighed and sat back into the driver's seat. "I didn't want to do this, Elizabeth." he told her sadly. Elizabeth looked back at him with her tear stained cheeks.
/
I looked back at the man, not sure what he meant. As soon as I turned, His demeanor changed from the gentle pleading from before to threatening. He drew a handgun from his side and I closed my eyes again. My heart pounded even harder and I pressed myself into as tight of a ball as I could. I pressed my face against my balled fists and the plastic bit into my wrists. My ankles pulled against their ties and whatever Barton had attached them to under the seat. I felt the cold barrel of the gun press above my knee and I tensed my body even more.
Barton wrapped a hand around my thigh. "I don't want to hurt you, Elizabeth." he said sounding almost apologetic. "But if you don't tell me, I am going to have to." He paused for a moment, then I heard the click of the hammer being pulled back. "Please Elizabeth," he said again. "Don't make me do this."
/
Barton kept the gun pressed lightly to the girl's leg, waiting for her next move. She was cowering as far away from him as she could manage in the small space. Her breathing was shallow and hitched on sobs while tears streamed from her tightly closed eyes, smearing her makeup in the process. Barton pressed the gun a little harder against her. Finally she started to make small noises through her clenched teeth. He leaned closer, trying to make out what she was saying.
As soon as she felt his presence get nearer, her voice raised with panic and Barton finally understood what she was saying. He grimaced with frustration. He had gotten nowhere with the girl.
/
Barton pressed the barrel to my leg hard enough that it started to hurt. My heart raced and my stomach felt like it had jumped into my throat. He got closer and I felt sick with panic. Before I knew what was happening, I felt myself shaking my head violently and an unending stream of sounds slipped through my lips. "No" I kept hearing myself say. " . .No."
/
Barton knew he had failed. The girl had shut down. Even when he removed the gun from her leg and resettled into the diver's seat, she showed no sign of relaxing. He sat back and considered his options now that he was certain he would get no answer from the girl now. His first decision had to be where to take the girl. Should he give her over to S.H.I.E.L.D. and trust that Fury will extract the information in time, or should he take the situation into his own hands.
Clint knew that he would not be satisfied until he knew that Loki was back where he deserved to be, and Barton wanted to be the one to put him there. This would probably be his best chance at getting his hands on Loki, and Clint did not want to give that power to anyone else.
Barton looked back to Elizabeth. She was still tensed against the door and her protests had devolved into barely contained sobs punctuated by the occasional 'no'. As Clint quickly drove away from the houses, he noted that Elizabeth grew quieter and began to shake.