Chapter 46 - Rusticis

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Your heart races - pounding in your temples and your throat as you peer down on Agent May from the observation room above. In her hospital bed, dressed in a paper-thin blue hospital gown with greasy hair, she clearly isn't well. And the look on her face - the blank, emotionless stare, is one you know all too well.

Despite pulling her memories back together, she hasn't healed enough emotionally to work on her broken mind. Not yet. From experience, you know that takes time. But by stringing those core memories together, you've bought her that time.

Yet despite the hope you hold for Agent May, you hold very little for yourself. Tony is relying on you to march in there and get answers. To talk. Debrief.  But panic laces every heartbeat. Even though you know you're safe standing here behind the glass panel that separates you from her hospital room, you know the moment you step foot in that room your memories of HYDRA will come rushing back - the very ones you've tried to keep buried. 

Your breathing turns labored, and flashes of past readings slip through your mind one after another. A little boy, recently twelve, cowers in the chair he's strapped to as he cries out for his mom. An old woman sits patiently in a chair, burn marks down her arms. And a red-headed man with his face caved in lies dead on the table. Sticky, coagulated blood soak his gentle curls.

Agent May had been put through something just as horrible as each of them. And now it's your job to go find out what. And why.

But you won't be successful if you walk in there struggling to breathe, with violent and bloody images flashing through your head. So you move to the center of the observation room, kicking a chair out of your way and taking a seat on the carpet. The fibers are rough. They burn your palms as you sink to the ground and cross your legs. Following Phil's teachings, you place both palms flat on your thighs, letting the warmth from your body ground you as you close your eyes and take deep, measured breaths. The longer you breathe, the quieter your mind gets and the duller those memories become. Until they're nearly gone all together. 

Sitting there on the floor it's quiet. Empty. Numb.

Until a tickle on your neck catches your attention. A light scratching sensation. 

Loki. 

With eyes still closed, your fingers trace the threads of Loki's golden ribbon, neatly woven into your hair. The motion calms those final, ugly worms of anxiety in your stomach - the nervous jitters you couldn't quite cast out in meditation.

"Time's up, Agent."

You jump as the door to the observation room flies open. Director Fury stands in the threshold, arms crossed against the cracked, black leather of his floor-length coat. 

"I'm not your Agent," you huff, eyes still closed.

"Just get off the damn floor and let's go," he barks. 

With a final centering breath, you rise to your feet and follow him out of observation and to the door of Agent May's room. Waiting for you are Tony and Steve. 

"Hey squirt," Tony says. "You get enough time to...do whatever it was you were doing?"

"No down time in the field," you quip back. "Isn't that what you always say, Steve?"

Concern creases Steve's brow. "If you need more time, you can-."

"Nope," Fury chimes in. "She goes in now, or not at all. This isn't a yoga class, Rogers."

Your teeth snap together inside a clenched jaw, but you ignore Director Fury. "I'm fine," you answer Steve. "Agent May wants to talk. So...let's talk."

Steve nods and starts to push open the door when Tony catches his wrist. "Actually, Cap, if you don't mind I'd rather go with her this time."

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