I'm too cold to move, like it has paralyzed me. I should move so I can warm myself, but I don't.

My eyes open at the door opening, and I sit up slightly to see Mom and Dad coming in. My mouth parts just enough, and my teeth start chattering uncontrollably. I even do the childish thing of holding my lips together with my hand, as though that will make a difference.

"Rory?" Dad whispers cautiously, regarding me with soft brown eyes. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"C-c-cold," I stammer, wishing my teeth would stop for one second. "C-can I get, like, a-a-a hundred b-b-blankets or something? M-maybe something scalding h-hot to sip on?"

Mom's eyes are wide in awe. "It worked," she whispers.

"M-Mom, I'm only c-c-cold. How did it w-work?" I rub my arms. I make no heat.

"This is a sign!" she says excitedly. "We have to keep a sharp eye on you for a while, but I think it worked, Rory! The experiment worked!" Her eyes—my eyes—look as though she's a kid at Christmas.

I cringe. I don't like the word "experiment".

"I need to go make a note of this." Mom kisses Dad quickly before fleeing the room. I eye Dad strangely, his eyes remain soft.

"You're so brave, Rory." He kneels down at my cot. "You're doing a good thing for us."

"A-at least I'm not d-d-dead." I shudder. I want to say I feel the heat in my cheeks, but I don't. "I-I eavesdropped a time or t-two."

He smiles warmly, but then it falters. "You're not out of the clear yet, though. We have to make sure your body is handling the change all right. Some have made it to your stage, and their power overwhelmed them." There's a crease in his brow. "There's a chance that can happen to you. But it won't, because you're strong."

Yeah, strong. Not strong enough to run away when I realized what my "help" really was to my parents. Not strong enough to put my foot down and keep it down once I realized I was going to be a guinea pig for a bunch of scientists.

Dad puts a hand on my face, and I see his arm quiver. "Phew, you're ice, sweetheart."

"I told you." My smile almost feels like it's chattering in tune with my teeth.

"Maybe this means something more, Rory. Maybe this means your gift will be an element. Are you hungry?"

I nod mutely. "Anything you got, give it to me. I-I think I'm entitled to some food. But make it hot."

He tousles my hair like I'm a little girl again. Through this process, Dad has remained the same. I can't say the same about Mom. Am I her daughter? Yes. I don't think she sees me as just that anymore. I'm something more to her now.

A possible success story. A new breed of mankind.

An experiment gone right.

~*~

I draw ice prints on the nearest wall out of boredom. I still refuse the entertainment—magazines—that have been sitting, collecting dust for the past week now. I, grudgingly, accepted the food and clothes after a while, because the food was going to get stale, and I was tired of my outfit being the same one I'd worn since my capture.

I snort softly to myself. I remember when I first was brought onboard with Hydra. I hadn't known what I was getting into. I hadn't known that I was going to be more than a helper. Back then, I hated it. I had the fear of death, the fear of disappointing my parents.

Now, so many years later, I'm proud to be a success story. I'm proud of my powers. The cold hasn't bothered me for years. Once I got used to it, I guess you could say it numbed me.

I don't turn my head at the familiar opening of the door, I continue to focus on my ice art.

"Staying sane?"

It's not Black Widow who says it, but her counterpart, Hawkeye. He's joined Black Widow in today's meeting. He's armed with his bow and quiver of arrows. I watch him with guarded, suspicious green eyes. Black Widow hasn't gotten protection before. Why now?

Maybe it's because a few days ago I decided to launch an attack on her. I didn't use my powers, though I knew I should have, in hindsight. She gave me a bruise or two, but I got her way worse. That shows on her face, with her purpling cheek and one eye. I smirk at my handiwork. I can't say that I'm sorry for what I did. I'm not going to sit here and be treated like a caged animal. Caged animals get restless and fight back.

"Back for another round?" I ask pleasantly, watching my ice disappear from the wall. "I'm good to go. How about you, Romanoff?"

"You try anything, and I put an arrow in you," Hawkeye tells me flat-out.

"Ooh," I say dramatically. "An arrow. Remember the last time you tried that, Bird Boy? Where'd that get you?"

"Well, you ended up here, so...I guess it got me a better outcome than it did you."

I frown. "What's that you got there?" I direct the question to Black Widow.

"Oh, this?" She opens the folder, sifting through papers. "Don't know how much Stark told you about our invasion. He siphoned all the information from your databases and stored it on a flash drive." She smiles ruefully. "Hydra never learns to wipe their data clean when we're coming."

"It's because nobody thinks clearly when everyone is panicking and trying to come out alive," I snap, turning so that my legs dangle off the side of the cot. "If that drive has all the information you need, I don't see why you need me."

"Oh, that information we...couldn't find," she says slowly, and I hear the disappointment in her tone. "Most of the data collected were test subjects, like you." She gauges my reaction, I keep a good poker face. "This," she waves the folder, "is your file."

I swallow, trying not to have a chink in my armor. My file. My file. They compiled a file on me. Shit, shit, shit. God only knows what Hydra databases kept on me for their record. Whoever didn't think to destroy that data, I hope they're dead. If they're not, I'll find them and kill them myself.

My fingers grip the edge of the cot so I can keep my temper. I'm not scared that Hawkeye will shoot me; I'm scared about if the arrow's tip contains anything special, anything to sedate me.

"'Aurora Harper Taylor,'" Black Widow reads aloud. Hawkeye keeps his attention on me, but I know he's listening. Her voice echoes today, it sounds like. "'Born September fourth, nineteen-eight-seven. Twenty-eight-years-old. Height, five-foot-seven.'" She briefly looks up and nods in affirmation. "Sounds accurate. 'Mother: Nina Felicity Taylor. Father: Kade Oliver Taylor.'"

My fingers hug the edge of the cot tighter. Keep it together, Rory.

"Oh, look at this: they even have the day they started the experiment." Black Widow thumbs through the papers. She frowns as she reads. "'For experiment details, see Taylor, Aurora diary records, authored by Nina Taylor.'"

Hawkeye takes out an arrow and begins twirling it absentmindedly at his side. They're doing this on purpose. They want to anger me. They want me to react. This time, I don't want to.

"The things you find when a place is empty." Black Widow scrolls through some papers before finding what she's looking for. "'Entry one: Subject is prepped and ready for test. Subject experienced accelerated heartrate, extreme convulsions, and had numerous epileptic episodes.'" She pauses. "'Entry five: Subject has voiced various complaints of being unbearably cold. A side effect of the experiment. A sign in the right direction? This is the most crucial stage. It is all up to the subject's body now on how to handle the transformation.'"

My upper lip twitches. I remember that day vividly, something that I wish I could block out. I remember screaming so loudly my eardrums should have shattered. I hadn't felt intense heat that day, more like extreme cold. Like someone was drowning me in a tub filled with ice water. I remember thinking I was going to die then and there, feeling the alarmingly fast pace of my heartbeat.

That day, the first day, I had thought I wasn't going to survive. I had thought I was going to die on the table—they had to strap me down for precaution. At some point I thought the restraints would have failed. They just barely held.

"Clearly, you were strong enough to fight," Black Widow notes calmly.

I nod sharply. "What's this about?"

"We have files on all personnel in that base, your friends, your parents, everyone. We've been doing some reading of our own."

"So, what made you join the bandwagon?" Hawkeye asks me. "Mommy and Daddy didn't love you enough, so you wanted to prove yourself to them by volunteering?"

"No." My teeth feel like they are about to break and splinter with how tight they're clenched.

"Did they force you into it?"

"No."

"So you volunteered."

I shoot the two Avengers daggers. I'm glad it says nowhere that I volunteered. At the time, I had only wanted to help out my parents, because I had been so interested in how amazing they made their jobs sound. Their descriptions had been so vague, something that appealed to my curiosity. Did they do that intentionally? I have to wonder.

I shake my head mentally. No, they didn't do it on purpose. It just happened that way.

"If you're willing to listen, we can make a solution," says Black Widow.

I snort. "A solution? You want one? How about I destroy the flash drive and burn all those files you made?"

"Don't think so," comments Hawkeye. "We're not like your buddies over at Hydra. We don't treat prisoners like they do."

"I wasn't a prisoner!" I'm on my feet, and Hawkeye has his bow loaded.

"You sure about that?"

"Do it, Bird Boy. I'll take the rematch." I can feel my rage on the tipping point. I'm ready to ice him.

"Clint," Black Widow coughs, glaring at Hawkeye.

"Not until she sits down," he mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes, and appease him, plopping my ass back down on the cot. As promised, Hawkeye takes the death threat away. "Happy?"

"So, the compromise," Black Widow tries to steer our conversation back on track. "We'll let you out of here, but you have to be under supervision by at least one personnel at all times. Should things turn hostile, we're given clearance to use whatever force we deem necessary. The better your behavior and streak, the more time you'll have. Eventually, maybe if you're really good, you'll upgrade to a room with a view." She flaps my file shut. "How about it?"

My lip quirks into a thoughtful line. "Interrogations stop too. No more of this." I wave in their direction. "I don't want to hear any more of my file, I don't ever want to see it again."

"We didn't say you could negotiate," Hawkeye tells me.

"We'll try it and see where it goes," Black Widow appeases me. Hawkeye gives her a questioning, slightly pissed look.

I expect Black Widow to have nerves of steel, to not budge and let me negotiate. I want to claim my terms as victory, but maybe she's appealing to me for my cooperation, and maybe for some phantom information she thinks I may have.